Since I've entered the field of education, there has been a great deal of talk about changes taking place. Theoretically speaking, secondary teachers are not simply expected to "teach to the exam" (I'm sure this was never officially the policy, but it was, in fact, the practice for many teachers). Rather than focusing on evaluation via standardized testing, teachers are now to focus their efforts on getting students to successfully fulfill a number of prescribed learning outcomes for every course they take. Also, particularly around my school district, there is a big focus on Assessment for Learning (rather than evaluation of learning), where teachers take in assignments and look at them to learn what they need to focus on more in future lessons, and students receive analogous, non-evaluative feedback so they can focus their efforts on improving specific facets of the skills they are expected to acquire. Most of these outcomes are concerned with skills and concepts rather than the memorization and rote regurgitation of facts and figures. No longer are teacher expected to get students to memorize a series of facts to be recalled for a trivia-laden final exam. Nope... the concepts are the key.
Although this philosophical shift has been taking place in the theoretical environment, the fact remained that students were expected to take a standardized examination for most subjects at the end of their schooling (particularly in high school). In order to graduate and put oneself in a position to go on to college, a student had to successfully write a standardized provincial exam in all core subjects in order to be considered for any post-secondary programs and, in reality, graduation as well. For many subjects, a large portion of the test would likely be fact-recall based (particularly in history/biology). If you failed the final and the average of the final and the school mark were below that infamous 50%, no credit was given. So, the problem remained that the theoretical talk of concepts was overshadowed by a need to perform on a standardized examination. Again, this is somewhat specific to the course, but was a reality all the same.
Another part of the problem was seen to be the relevancy of the exams in general. In the OK Valley, only about 15-20% of high school students are attending post-secondary programs after graduating high school (college and university included). So the question being begged is this: why should students who have no plans to go on to post-secondary education be forced to write standardized academic examinations if they were successful in completing the learning outcomes for the course as designated by their classroom teacher? Also, the pressure issue was also in question... if students can satisfactorily complete the outcomes for the course as designated by their classroom teacher, why should the province require them to write an extremely stressful marathon-length exam in order to prove they deserve the mark they've received? This was even more so the case because the skills and concepts being taught might not connect with the content of the provincial exam at all. The Ministry of Education in BC thought long and hard about this and they came up with a response: students were no longer required to take provincial exams (other than English Language Arts 12 and BC First Nations Studies 12).
Now, the recommendation still stood that if, in fact, students were expecting at ANY point to attend university or college anywhere, they should still write the provincial exam in all of their examinable subjects. The reason was that universities and colleges still required a combined mark of the classroom grade and the grade from the provincial exam in any relevant subjects in order to be considered for admission. Also, since ambitions and attitudes about education changes in the minds of young adults, they were generally encouraged all around for anyone with the ability or interest to go on to post-secondary studies.
Even more interesting is the change that took place this week. The University of Victoria, my alma mater, recently published this notification on their website which states that the writing of any optional BC provincial exams is no longer required for entrance into the university. If an exam was still required for completion of the course (English 12 and First Nations 12), then the blended mark would be needed and accepted. Otherwise, the higher mark of either the classroom grade or the blended exam/classroom grade would be taken as the application grade for the course for non-mandatory exams. In essence, students could bomb their Bio/Chem/History 12 finals and as long as they performed well in class, they'd be fine (again, if they were only planning to attend UVic).
Now, this has some big implications for students and teachers around the province. Although I haven't been able to come close to sorting them all out, it will still cause quite a big stir. An interesting thing is that no other universities or colleges (to my knowledge) in BC have changed other than UVic... UBC Vancouver just recently rejected the possible amendment to admissions but apparently the vote was quite close.
My first worry is about transitioning to university. If writing those big standardized exams is no longer required, I'm worried that some students may crash and burn under the pressure of testing that takes place in university. Those people who have attended university know that class sizes are often large and impersonal, learning if generally a self-directed pursuit, and exams are based solely on lectures, reading assignments, and personal research. At least, that was my experience.
Another curiosity... are these bureaucratic changes going to have any effect on the way universities run classes or test students? My first response is a vehement NO. Since most university profs have no training in the teaching of their subject (but uber-amounts of training in the study of their subject), are they really going to change the tried and true format of lecture, assign readings, evaluate on examinuation? Again, my personal thoughts are, well, it's not likely. However, I also didn't think that university admin would aquiesce to the changes made by the Ministry of Ed here in BC.
I think I'm just curious about what the talk is going to be like around the schools... I think there's going to be a big division among teachers on how they are going to take the news.
As for me, I think I'm a bit ambivalent. I guess I'll just wait to see how it all comes out in the wash...
T
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Funny mid-week adventure
Being a TOC is always an adventure in written communication. The art of interpretation should never be underestimated. What seems simple may not be. What may be implied may be completely incorrect. And as a teacher friend reminded me... to "assume" means to make an "ass" out of "u" and "me".
Here's the story.
I received an email from S (the teacher I'm in for) relating to today's lessons a few nights ago. In the email, she attached the lesson plans for today. I've been in for her a few times previously, and since it was a requested day, she typically sends me the notes for the day ahead of time.
They were in a Word document, so I opened it up and perused the events for the day... on the left-hand side of the document, there were directions for the Dynamics 8 class (low English ability) that she teaches. I assumed that, since they were on the left hand side of the page, that I was going to teach that class first. Normally there's a piece of paper laying out the blocks for me, but since I know S and I've been in for her before, I guess the office staff didn't think it was a big deal. On the right hand side of the page were the directions for her AP Lit class (obviously in the afternoon in the second block).
Now, last time I was in, the Dynamics kids were only in the room for 1/2 the block (meaning the class was linear). On this school's schedule, the linear block would flipflop time schedules with another linear block. Last time, I taught the Dynamics kids in the first half and had a prep in the second. There was another teacher in for a Socials class, so I had to find somewhere else to work... yay for prep time. Again, I assumed that I'd likely teach the Dynamics class in the second half of the block.
So, first thing this morning, I was sitting in the room getting organized and a number of older students came in. Since I was kicked out of the room last time when another class entered, and since the Dynamics class is linear and only had 1/2 the block in the class with me, I assumed (in my infinite wisdom) that I needed to vacate the class and went to the staff room to work on the marking. I relaxed, drank some coffee, talked with another English teacher and marked some assignments.
I had to pick up some other books from her shelves so I could keep marking, so I went back to her room. I walked in and it was pretty empty (strange, since there was a full SS class in there last time). The first student that saw me asked, "Are you our sub?" Startled, I asked what class it was. The young lad responded by saying, "This is Ms. G's AP Lit Class."
As shocked as I was, I tried to explain the situation (i.e. the total miscommunication) as best as I could and ran back to the staff room to get my materials. Upon returning, I took a, "So, who was here at the beginning of class" attendance and got them working on their assignment. Apologizing profusely, I asked all the students to come back at the end of the block to let me know they were here. I also went on a spy mission with a couple of the students to figure out who was there after break and who checked in and then went missing again. It was espionage at it's most brutal, and our mission only returned satisfactory results.
I really only had a couple of students that were completely MIA, but needless to say it was an adventurous morning. It's kinda disheartening that something so ridiculous has already happened, particularly since it's only Wednesday! I can only hope that the rest of the day/week goes better. Hope ya'll are doing better than I! And remember, never assume... anything...
T
Here's the story.
I received an email from S (the teacher I'm in for) relating to today's lessons a few nights ago. In the email, she attached the lesson plans for today. I've been in for her a few times previously, and since it was a requested day, she typically sends me the notes for the day ahead of time.
They were in a Word document, so I opened it up and perused the events for the day... on the left-hand side of the document, there were directions for the Dynamics 8 class (low English ability) that she teaches. I assumed that, since they were on the left hand side of the page, that I was going to teach that class first. Normally there's a piece of paper laying out the blocks for me, but since I know S and I've been in for her before, I guess the office staff didn't think it was a big deal. On the right hand side of the page were the directions for her AP Lit class (obviously in the afternoon in the second block).
Now, last time I was in, the Dynamics kids were only in the room for 1/2 the block (meaning the class was linear). On this school's schedule, the linear block would flipflop time schedules with another linear block. Last time, I taught the Dynamics kids in the first half and had a prep in the second. There was another teacher in for a Socials class, so I had to find somewhere else to work... yay for prep time. Again, I assumed that I'd likely teach the Dynamics class in the second half of the block.
So, first thing this morning, I was sitting in the room getting organized and a number of older students came in. Since I was kicked out of the room last time when another class entered, and since the Dynamics class is linear and only had 1/2 the block in the class with me, I assumed (in my infinite wisdom) that I needed to vacate the class and went to the staff room to work on the marking. I relaxed, drank some coffee, talked with another English teacher and marked some assignments.
I had to pick up some other books from her shelves so I could keep marking, so I went back to her room. I walked in and it was pretty empty (strange, since there was a full SS class in there last time). The first student that saw me asked, "Are you our sub?" Startled, I asked what class it was. The young lad responded by saying, "This is Ms. G's AP Lit Class."
As shocked as I was, I tried to explain the situation (i.e. the total miscommunication) as best as I could and ran back to the staff room to get my materials. Upon returning, I took a, "So, who was here at the beginning of class" attendance and got them working on their assignment. Apologizing profusely, I asked all the students to come back at the end of the block to let me know they were here. I also went on a spy mission with a couple of the students to figure out who was there after break and who checked in and then went missing again. It was espionage at it's most brutal, and our mission only returned satisfactory results.
I really only had a couple of students that were completely MIA, but needless to say it was an adventurous morning. It's kinda disheartening that something so ridiculous has already happened, particularly since it's only Wednesday! I can only hope that the rest of the day/week goes better. Hope ya'll are doing better than I! And remember, never assume... anything...
T
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Welcome weekend (and a countdown to Christmas)
K and I just walked in from the gym. It's been approximately two weeks since we've actually done a lot of core and weight work, so today was our day to get in there and flex the pecs and abs and see if we could get back on the train. Even though I was panting throughout the routine, we made it through without any injuries and actually did most of the stuff we would typically do, so I guess that means it wasn't a total loss.
In reality, making it to the gym at all on a Sunday is a victory in itself.
I didn't work very much this week, but it seemed tiring nonetheless. I've been fighting off the early stages of a cold for about 8 days now, and even though it hasn't become much worse, it hasn't improved a massive amount and it's kinda taking away from my energy. I did two days at the end of the week for a teacher I've been in for a number a times, and I absolutely love teaching her class... her kids are really great, they respond really well to me, and they're never really high maintenance. Still... I was exhausted when I left yesterday. I found out some really interesting job-related stuff at the end of the day, but I'm going to postpone any discussion about work opportunities until I actually hear something concrete that goes beyond intention and gossip.
K and I have been keeping busy for the most part. We had her staff Christmas party at a really nice hotel last week, and we went out to see a friend of ours play (he's in a two-man band and is a phenomenal guitar player) at a local pub this past Friday. We also saw another band called the Hot Chochies, who play a sort of surfer-rock that seem to be inspired from both Sublime and the artists who sang "Wipeout", who were really good. I am now officially finished with my fall rec-league volleyball, but our team has registered in a tournament for next weekend, and I'm coaching at our local club team tryouts for about 4 hours later this afternoon. Then, K and I are heading to Salmon Arm on Wednesday Night to attend a play at the Caravan Farm Theatre... they're peforming King Lear, which I've never seen live. It's also an interesting venue for the winter shows... you're put on horse-drawn carriages and pulled around to different locations where the scenes are performed. I saw a performance of the Tell-Tale Heart last year with some students from my old sponsor school, and it was wonderful. That, and free hot chocolate... what could be better?
And work has been great lately... I keep meeting a tonne of awesome teachers at various schools (one of whom I'll be working with for my club coaching this year and who will be an awesome mentor), the kids are still really great (I had two students who knew I was teaching for their regular teacher on Thursday and Friday who left notes for me saying that they were disappointed that they'd miss me! I also had one who was late for class, who knew I was in, and bribed me with a slushie so I wouldn't put her on my very fake "Bad List"), and I am really finding myself comfortable at a number of different schools. I worried about this at the start of the year... I'm not generally that good at being a stranger in a new environment, and I absolutely loved my sponsor school last year during my practicum and didn't think I'd find another place I'd love as much, so that's been reassuring.
Lastly, I'm getting really excited to head home for Christmas. It's going to be an insane amount of driving (splitting Christmas between families is always an adventure)... I think we'll probably be in the car for approximately 30-35 hours in about 10 days, which doesn't thrill me so much, but I'm just excited to see everyone and have some time to goof off. We always try to cram more stuff in every year, and this year is no exception... after heading back to Alberta for about a week, we're trying to make it out to the Island for a few days to see some family and friends back there. Yes, this means more driving. But, gotta see 'em... it's been far too long, and the ocean is calling my name.
T
In reality, making it to the gym at all on a Sunday is a victory in itself.
I didn't work very much this week, but it seemed tiring nonetheless. I've been fighting off the early stages of a cold for about 8 days now, and even though it hasn't become much worse, it hasn't improved a massive amount and it's kinda taking away from my energy. I did two days at the end of the week for a teacher I've been in for a number a times, and I absolutely love teaching her class... her kids are really great, they respond really well to me, and they're never really high maintenance. Still... I was exhausted when I left yesterday. I found out some really interesting job-related stuff at the end of the day, but I'm going to postpone any discussion about work opportunities until I actually hear something concrete that goes beyond intention and gossip.
K and I have been keeping busy for the most part. We had her staff Christmas party at a really nice hotel last week, and we went out to see a friend of ours play (he's in a two-man band and is a phenomenal guitar player) at a local pub this past Friday. We also saw another band called the Hot Chochies, who play a sort of surfer-rock that seem to be inspired from both Sublime and the artists who sang "Wipeout", who were really good. I am now officially finished with my fall rec-league volleyball, but our team has registered in a tournament for next weekend, and I'm coaching at our local club team tryouts for about 4 hours later this afternoon. Then, K and I are heading to Salmon Arm on Wednesday Night to attend a play at the Caravan Farm Theatre... they're peforming King Lear, which I've never seen live. It's also an interesting venue for the winter shows... you're put on horse-drawn carriages and pulled around to different locations where the scenes are performed. I saw a performance of the Tell-Tale Heart last year with some students from my old sponsor school, and it was wonderful. That, and free hot chocolate... what could be better?
And work has been great lately... I keep meeting a tonne of awesome teachers at various schools (one of whom I'll be working with for my club coaching this year and who will be an awesome mentor), the kids are still really great (I had two students who knew I was teaching for their regular teacher on Thursday and Friday who left notes for me saying that they were disappointed that they'd miss me! I also had one who was late for class, who knew I was in, and bribed me with a slushie so I wouldn't put her on my very fake "Bad List"), and I am really finding myself comfortable at a number of different schools. I worried about this at the start of the year... I'm not generally that good at being a stranger in a new environment, and I absolutely loved my sponsor school last year during my practicum and didn't think I'd find another place I'd love as much, so that's been reassuring.
Lastly, I'm getting really excited to head home for Christmas. It's going to be an insane amount of driving (splitting Christmas between families is always an adventure)... I think we'll probably be in the car for approximately 30-35 hours in about 10 days, which doesn't thrill me so much, but I'm just excited to see everyone and have some time to goof off. We always try to cram more stuff in every year, and this year is no exception... after heading back to Alberta for about a week, we're trying to make it out to the Island for a few days to see some family and friends back there. Yes, this means more driving. But, gotta see 'em... it's been far too long, and the ocean is calling my name.
T
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Randomness and the start of a new month
It's over. However, I feel a little strange now that the obligation to post is gone.
Lately, I’ve felt like I’ve been sucked into a strange bizzaro-world. This may be a bit of an inaccurate way to describe life as of late, but I’m definitely experiencing some randomness. I won’t get into it all, but I will share a few really brief stories (if, in fact, I’m capable of such a thing)…
I didn’t get a call for work yesterday. Although I hate not working, I’ve been feeling the very early warnings of a cold lingering in my nose and chest, so I was okay with the fact that I wouldn’t have to face the germs of hundreds of hormonal teens during the peak of cold and flu season. So, home I stayed. About ten o’clock in the morning, I received a call from a lady from a number I didn’t recognize. She informed me that I had been referred to her by The City’s office as a contact for trapping a troublesome animal.
"Sorry? What were you calling about?" I responded. Disbelief and some giggling could both be found in the shaky nature of my voice.
"The City gave me your number. I’m calling you because I need to trap a raccoon that has been terrorizing my house, and I was told that you could come and trap it."
"Oh, sure, no problem. What’s your address? I’ll be right over. By the way, approximately how big is your raccoon?"
Okay, this isn’t how the conversation actually proceeded. In reality, I responded by laughing a hearty chuckle and saying I had absolutely no idea how the city provided my number, but I was definitely not the local trapper guy. I wished her good luck and hung up the phone.
Strange.
Also, how many people have been afflicted with inoperable windshield wipers? Well, I’ve never actually encountered anyone who has, but last week, this is exactly the part of the Hyundai that died on our car. We live in a pretty sunny place. However, western North American has been afflicted with some seriously wet weather (both rain and snow), and this has created a problem. No windshield wipers = issues. There haven't been any vehicular mishaps, but there was definitely potential yesterday.
After sitting around the house, I decided that I'd go to the gym while it wasn't raining and pick K up on the way home. There was even some blue sky, so as long as I didn't get a truckload of snow dumped on my windshield, I'd be fine. Upon leaving, I saw that it had, in fact, started raining. However, my pea-like brain thought, "You know, I could probably make it to K's work as long as I don't drive fast and stay on side roads. Windshield wipers aren't that important." Yes, I realize that I should've been struck by lightning for this comment, but in my naivety, I left anyways.
The parking lot portion of the drive was tolerable. The actual road, on the other hand??? Not so much. After about a block and a half, I slammed the button for the hazards, pulled into the Superstore parking lot, and started dialing people to rescue me. Luckily, a buddy of mine came by, picked me up, took me to NAPA to pick up the new wiper motor, picked up K and we both got a ride home. I learned a lot from this experience. The main thing: Don't be stupid when it comes to windows and rain. Period.
Although some small adjustments need to be made tomorrow, the new wiper motor is in and the wipers are again functional. All's well. I also won another Florida vacation (according to a telephone call)... but, I think that I'll pass on another free trip because who would really want to leave MY apartment? It's pretty wonderful in all it's whitewashed glory. Insert tongue in cheek.
T
I didn’t get a call for work yesterday. Although I hate not working, I’ve been feeling the very early warnings of a cold lingering in my nose and chest, so I was okay with the fact that I wouldn’t have to face the germs of hundreds of hormonal teens during the peak of cold and flu season. So, home I stayed. About ten o’clock in the morning, I received a call from a lady from a number I didn’t recognize. She informed me that I had been referred to her by The City’s office as a contact for trapping a troublesome animal.
"Sorry? What were you calling about?" I responded. Disbelief and some giggling could both be found in the shaky nature of my voice.
"The City gave me your number. I’m calling you because I need to trap a raccoon that has been terrorizing my house, and I was told that you could come and trap it."
"Oh, sure, no problem. What’s your address? I’ll be right over. By the way, approximately how big is your raccoon?"
Okay, this isn’t how the conversation actually proceeded. In reality, I responded by laughing a hearty chuckle and saying I had absolutely no idea how the city provided my number, but I was definitely not the local trapper guy. I wished her good luck and hung up the phone.
Strange.
Also, how many people have been afflicted with inoperable windshield wipers? Well, I’ve never actually encountered anyone who has, but last week, this is exactly the part of the Hyundai that died on our car. We live in a pretty sunny place. However, western North American has been afflicted with some seriously wet weather (both rain and snow), and this has created a problem. No windshield wipers = issues. There haven't been any vehicular mishaps, but there was definitely potential yesterday.
After sitting around the house, I decided that I'd go to the gym while it wasn't raining and pick K up on the way home. There was even some blue sky, so as long as I didn't get a truckload of snow dumped on my windshield, I'd be fine. Upon leaving, I saw that it had, in fact, started raining. However, my pea-like brain thought, "You know, I could probably make it to K's work as long as I don't drive fast and stay on side roads. Windshield wipers aren't that important." Yes, I realize that I should've been struck by lightning for this comment, but in my naivety, I left anyways.
The parking lot portion of the drive was tolerable. The actual road, on the other hand??? Not so much. After about a block and a half, I slammed the button for the hazards, pulled into the Superstore parking lot, and started dialing people to rescue me. Luckily, a buddy of mine came by, picked me up, took me to NAPA to pick up the new wiper motor, picked up K and we both got a ride home. I learned a lot from this experience. The main thing: Don't be stupid when it comes to windows and rain. Period.
Although some small adjustments need to be made tomorrow, the new wiper motor is in and the wipers are again functional. All's well. I also won another Florida vacation (according to a telephone call)... but, I think that I'll pass on another free trip because who would really want to leave MY apartment? It's pretty wonderful in all it's whitewashed glory. Insert tongue in cheek.
T
Friday, November 30, 2007
And so it is done
Although I was late on one day, and had an extra day tossed in, this is the final post of the Nablopomo. 30 days of posting in a row is quite the feat for me (and too many others), considering I haven't really posted much over the past 5 or so months. But I have to say, I did enjoy it.
I think I'll leave it there. For now, anyway. K and I have had a busy week, and I'm just beat. I got to teach a couple blocks of Foods today, so I've had a fun day. That, and a great dinner out on the town, and now that I've seen the Polar Express (for the first time), I'm content to roll into bed with my book and get to sleep early.
T
I think I'll leave it there. For now, anyway. K and I have had a busy week, and I'm just beat. I got to teach a couple blocks of Foods today, so I've had a fun day. That, and a great dinner out on the town, and now that I've seen the Polar Express (for the first time), I'm content to roll into bed with my book and get to sleep early.
T
Thursday, November 29, 2007
The 7 Weird Things Meme...
Okay, so I was tagged by sten because of the "clever foodiness" of my blog name. What comes below is a copy/paste/edit job from his blog.
Here's how it's done:
a. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
b. Share 7 random and or weird things about yourself.
c. Tag 7 random people from NaBloPoMo at the end of the Blog entry by leaving a comment on their blog saying that they've been tagged in the 7 Weird Things meme, and include links to your blog in a comment.
I apologize in advance if any of this dives into the territory of TMI... too much information. There's a good chance I'll keep it G-rated, but we'll see.
So, here goes (in no particular order)...
1) I love the smell of rotting foliage. You know... the smell of leaves and dying brush and muck that comes about in late fall and the very first days of spring. It's lovely and comforting and makes me think of pumpkin pie and espresso.
2) I have approximately 12 hairs that grow on the top of my back, which I pluck with tweezers (because they're sparse, reachable, and for some reason VERY annoying).
3) I often sing the lyrics to random commercials from decades ago in my head and even out loud. I mentioned an HP sauce commercial and a Milk commercial the other day, and that's just one. Catchy jingles are my enemy, but my wife and I sometimes recite them to each other.
4) I love giving my wife nicknames that she initially hates and ultimately ends up embracing. She used to watch a tonne of Gilmour Girls, and there was a crazy woman in the show named Babette. So, as a joke, I started calling K by the name Babette (in the most affectionate voice possible). She despised it at first, and now loves it when I call her that. A very fond moment for me when I realized that she did, in fact, like it.
5) Every chance I get, I shorted people's first names to the brief form of said name. If their name is Matthew, it's simply Matt, or Michael and Mike (so on and so forth ad nauseum). However, I hate the sound of my own name shortened. I let K get away with it, and I have an old friend that I've known forever that has always called me that.... and I guess my mom and dad call me by a variation on the shortened version, but otherwise I think it sounds quite ridiculous. Ironically enough, I called a fellow teacher (one I know moderately well) by the common shorthand of her name, and she didn't hesitate to correct me (she liked the full, unadulterated version) and explain why. It happened about 7 hours ago.
6) I often feel like I'm living in a circus, and the people around me are performers or jesters of some sort. I've asked people if they ever feel this, and I'm almost always met with a strange look.
7) I like using random terminology in everyday conversation. Words like rubbish, extranneous, spectacular, chump, and other such words. I try to work them in, sometimes in a pun or just in an explanation of whatever it is I'm talking about. For this I also get weird looks.
I'm sure there are things that are more strange (and likely more disgusting, personal grime) about me, but I'll leave it at that. Now, I'll try to randomly select a few meme victims for this. I'm not going to use the Blogroll, though, because it takes a million years to load, so I Googled "Nablopomo" and these are some of the findings...
Big Fat Deal... about the portrayal of weight in society... I like the hook!
Sophie Junction... to be honest, I thought it would have to do with something philosophy related at first (because I'm an English geek and that's what I assumed at the site name), but she had some cool artwork up, so there ya go.
Adventures of a Bad Ass... since he's a college prof, we are both in the teaching profession. And I like the blog name "badassturtle".
Life: The Ongoing Education... another clever name, chosen at random. Also a cool looking space.
And Ciboulette... I couldn't bother to spend time looking for another one, so she's my last victim! Sorry L!
Now, to bed.
T
Here's how it's done:
a. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
b. Share 7 random and or weird things about yourself.
c. Tag 7 random people from NaBloPoMo at the end of the Blog entry by leaving a comment on their blog saying that they've been tagged in the 7 Weird Things meme, and include links to your blog in a comment.
I apologize in advance if any of this dives into the territory of TMI... too much information. There's a good chance I'll keep it G-rated, but we'll see.
So, here goes (in no particular order)...
1) I love the smell of rotting foliage. You know... the smell of leaves and dying brush and muck that comes about in late fall and the very first days of spring. It's lovely and comforting and makes me think of pumpkin pie and espresso.
2) I have approximately 12 hairs that grow on the top of my back, which I pluck with tweezers (because they're sparse, reachable, and for some reason VERY annoying).
3) I often sing the lyrics to random commercials from decades ago in my head and even out loud. I mentioned an HP sauce commercial and a Milk commercial the other day, and that's just one. Catchy jingles are my enemy, but my wife and I sometimes recite them to each other.
4) I love giving my wife nicknames that she initially hates and ultimately ends up embracing. She used to watch a tonne of Gilmour Girls, and there was a crazy woman in the show named Babette. So, as a joke, I started calling K by the name Babette (in the most affectionate voice possible). She despised it at first, and now loves it when I call her that. A very fond moment for me when I realized that she did, in fact, like it.
5) Every chance I get, I shorted people's first names to the brief form of said name. If their name is Matthew, it's simply Matt, or Michael and Mike (so on and so forth ad nauseum). However, I hate the sound of my own name shortened. I let K get away with it, and I have an old friend that I've known forever that has always called me that.... and I guess my mom and dad call me by a variation on the shortened version, but otherwise I think it sounds quite ridiculous. Ironically enough, I called a fellow teacher (one I know moderately well) by the common shorthand of her name, and she didn't hesitate to correct me (she liked the full, unadulterated version) and explain why. It happened about 7 hours ago.
6) I often feel like I'm living in a circus, and the people around me are performers or jesters of some sort. I've asked people if they ever feel this, and I'm almost always met with a strange look.
7) I like using random terminology in everyday conversation. Words like rubbish, extranneous, spectacular, chump, and other such words. I try to work them in, sometimes in a pun or just in an explanation of whatever it is I'm talking about. For this I also get weird looks.
I'm sure there are things that are more strange (and likely more disgusting, personal grime) about me, but I'll leave it at that. Now, I'll try to randomly select a few meme victims for this. I'm not going to use the Blogroll, though, because it takes a million years to load, so I Googled "Nablopomo" and these are some of the findings...
Big Fat Deal... about the portrayal of weight in society... I like the hook!
Sophie Junction... to be honest, I thought it would have to do with something philosophy related at first (because I'm an English geek and that's what I assumed at the site name), but she had some cool artwork up, so there ya go.
Adventures of a Bad Ass... since he's a college prof, we are both in the teaching profession. And I like the blog name "badassturtle".
Life: The Ongoing Education... another clever name, chosen at random. Also a cool looking space.
And Ciboulette... I couldn't bother to spend time looking for another one, so she's my last victim! Sorry L!
Now, to bed.
T
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Almost done this NaBloPoMo thing...
Apparently I was tagged for a meme by some random guy, but for now, I'm going to delay posting.
I'm sitting in front of my computer in the dark. Typically, I have the warm glow of a lamp on, or maybe the less-warm glow of the room's very typical apartment light fixture. But the night sky is a wonderful, warm orange. Snow is falling quietly and gently, and the heavy, dense clouds are reflecting the city lights back down on the earth. It's peaceful, and few people are out. It's quite soothing. The Christmas countdown is still looming... the various TV stations have begun to show the standard Christmas shows, and everywhere you look there's a Starbucks cup with the tell-tale snowflakes on a background of red cardboard.
Today was quite productive... although I only worked a half-day, I attempted to sort out the busting volumes of notes and worksheets that I piled into my office closet at the close of my practicum in June. Since the job prospects look more and more promising, I feel the need to organize my life in case I do, in fact, land a job. Hopefully this ambition will prevent any panic come February. After organizing my teaching life, working for a half-day and playing a few hours of rec-league volleyball, I was able to enjoy a few beers in front of the TV before sitting in front of my trusty Dell to pen these last reflective notes of the evening. I have a full day booked for tomorrow, which will be one of those perfect days... marking and watching volleyball in the morning, and supervising/watching a movie in the afternoon. It is for this reason (and of course, many others), that I truly enjoy subbing. Particularly for friends.
But for now, I must turn in... the calm, soothing sky is turning me into a pumpkin, so to bed I must retreat. More meme-related response tomorrow.
T
I'm sitting in front of my computer in the dark. Typically, I have the warm glow of a lamp on, or maybe the less-warm glow of the room's very typical apartment light fixture. But the night sky is a wonderful, warm orange. Snow is falling quietly and gently, and the heavy, dense clouds are reflecting the city lights back down on the earth. It's peaceful, and few people are out. It's quite soothing. The Christmas countdown is still looming... the various TV stations have begun to show the standard Christmas shows, and everywhere you look there's a Starbucks cup with the tell-tale snowflakes on a background of red cardboard.
Today was quite productive... although I only worked a half-day, I attempted to sort out the busting volumes of notes and worksheets that I piled into my office closet at the close of my practicum in June. Since the job prospects look more and more promising, I feel the need to organize my life in case I do, in fact, land a job. Hopefully this ambition will prevent any panic come February. After organizing my teaching life, working for a half-day and playing a few hours of rec-league volleyball, I was able to enjoy a few beers in front of the TV before sitting in front of my trusty Dell to pen these last reflective notes of the evening. I have a full day booked for tomorrow, which will be one of those perfect days... marking and watching volleyball in the morning, and supervising/watching a movie in the afternoon. It is for this reason (and of course, many others), that I truly enjoy subbing. Particularly for friends.
But for now, I must turn in... the calm, soothing sky is turning me into a pumpkin, so to bed I must retreat. More meme-related response tomorrow.
T
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Interesting articles on everyone's favourite church signs
I'm sure most of you have driven by a local church either in your neighbourhood or on the way to work, noticing the sometimes cheesy, sometimes funny, sometimes ridiculous phrases advertised on the marquee signs. After seeing plenty of them myself, I had a good laugh when I came across this article that discusses these signs and the general reactions they get. Being an English geek, I often laugh (or sigh) at the clever (and not-so-clever) punning that often takes place on these signs (i.e. "Happy Hour here every Sunday"). Of course, such signs are not limited to churches... there's a storage place near my house that has one with something generally funny on it all the time.
Now, I'm not really sure what it does for bringing new souls into a building... I've done little organized research (read: NONE) on the topic. But I like to think that I'm one of those people who is swayed little by advertising, so a sign would never move me to come into a church for a Sunday service. For others, though, I cannot speak.
Another fantastic blog that I've come across (as is often the case) from Ciboulette is a grammar geek's dream: The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks. It's hilarious, and although the author does not judge the grammatical quality of the given signs to bring shame for the bearers' underdeveloped sense of proper punctuation, she does point out the vast variety of double-meanings that could be read when using quotation marks improperly. Sooo funny. Especially when on church signs, when they take on an inappropriate interpretation.
Although there was no work in today's forcast, I was quite productive and pleased with my level of achievement. And, there's only a trip to the gym, a cup of tea and some reading in my night's future, so it must be a good day, even though it's slushy and slippery outside and even though the bloody motor went dead in my winshield wipers!
Well, everything can't be perfect, can it? :)
T
Now, I'm not really sure what it does for bringing new souls into a building... I've done little organized research (read: NONE) on the topic. But I like to think that I'm one of those people who is swayed little by advertising, so a sign would never move me to come into a church for a Sunday service. For others, though, I cannot speak.
Another fantastic blog that I've come across (as is often the case) from Ciboulette is a grammar geek's dream: The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks. It's hilarious, and although the author does not judge the grammatical quality of the given signs to bring shame for the bearers' underdeveloped sense of proper punctuation, she does point out the vast variety of double-meanings that could be read when using quotation marks improperly. Sooo funny. Especially when on church signs, when they take on an inappropriate interpretation.
Although there was no work in today's forcast, I was quite productive and pleased with my level of achievement. And, there's only a trip to the gym, a cup of tea and some reading in my night's future, so it must be a good day, even though it's slushy and slippery outside and even though the bloody motor went dead in my winshield wipers!
Well, everything can't be perfect, can it? :)
T
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Long Mondays
Today I returned to the same middle school that I was at last Thursday... yes, the day of the jinx.
I guess I'm just experiencing a strange role reversal, since Fridays are supposed to be the tough days and Mondays are supposed to be the days where kids are docile and manageable. The first block of the day was fine (and they were fine last week as well), and since it was 9am, I expected so much. The next two blocks featured the grade 8's that drained my energy last week. Both blocks were dedicated to a major poster project, which only about half of them worked moderately well on. But, not in a mood to constantly harass students into working, I let them be as long as they weren't disrupting others or wreaking havoc. Although quite fatigued at the end of these two grade 8 blocks, I smiled on the rest of the day... I was told to... watch a movie.
In all reality, if a TOC is feeling uncertain about the day or simply tired and lazy, a movie at the end of class is the perfect end to a day.
Could a group of grade 9's handle that?
In a word... no.
They were throwing paper airplanes, texting their friends, kicking each other's chairs, poking each other, prodding one another, yelling things out, talking over the movie, and pretty much every other annoying, juvenile thing you can imagine. I like to think I'm patient... I cut kids slack and won't worry about the first offense or two. However, a few of them simply persisted in doing everything possible to be a nuisance. You'd think that watching about 80 minutes of Kirsten Dunst would be a treat for most kids. Could they deal with just sitting and watching? Ummm... no.
I blame some of it on the fact that the regular teacher has been sick for more than a week and he always expects to be back for the next class (which is part of the issue... telling kids that their regular teacher is going to be back next class is pretty normal... but when he doesn't come back and another sub walks in, they immediately have their backs raised). Another was that they thought they could push me without suffering any consequences. After a 15 minute earful after everyone else had left the room, I think the main contributors to the chaos clued in that this was not, in fact, the case.
Okay, enough ranting about my mediocre school day.
After getting done at school, I felt a headache lingering in the back of my brain, and didn't feel like going to the gym. I knew Kerrie was going to likely have a mediocre work day as well, so I thought it wouldn't be a big deal. When she got home, this was exactly the case. Still, since we didn't go to the gym on the weekend and my Friday workout was hampered by a sore knee (too much volleyball last Wendesday, I think), I decided to go regardless. I needed to blow off some of that pent up TOC frustration.
I'm glad I did. I got to listen to one of my favourite Counting Crows songs (it's actually a cover of a song written by a friend of Adam Duritz) called "Wiseblood" on the way to the gym and enjoyed a good cardio workout with some John Mayer and Amy Winehouse in K's IPod.
Just as I walked out the door, I felt the cold whiteness of the year's first real snow in town fall on my bare legs. It was peaceful, and relatively quiet, and tremendously beautiful.
Like always, the joy of some days is just buried among our every day stresses... it just takes two open eyes to notice from time to time.
T
Lyrics to "Wiseblood", performed by Counting Crows, written by Kurt Stevens...
I'm an outcast that no one can save anymore,
And the days of my youth are all long gone by.
I was the kind of boy the devil would offer a smoke or a drink to,
Or a ride downtown to some God-forsaken land.
One Sunday morning at dawn, you know they baptized my soul
But they held me down so long, Christ, I almost drowned.
I was the kind of boy who never learned to smile so I kicked and I screamed
'Til I tore myself loose from all these great big hands, yeah.
Wiseblood knows how to walk away the wind blows
And wiseblood hears grace whisper right behind.
My mama, she turned around and said,
"Little boy you'd better wake up 'cause you're walking dead."
She was the kind of girl who never touched a smoke or a drink,
And she smouldered like an empty church left to burn in the wind.
I guess I'm just experiencing a strange role reversal, since Fridays are supposed to be the tough days and Mondays are supposed to be the days where kids are docile and manageable. The first block of the day was fine (and they were fine last week as well), and since it was 9am, I expected so much. The next two blocks featured the grade 8's that drained my energy last week. Both blocks were dedicated to a major poster project, which only about half of them worked moderately well on. But, not in a mood to constantly harass students into working, I let them be as long as they weren't disrupting others or wreaking havoc. Although quite fatigued at the end of these two grade 8 blocks, I smiled on the rest of the day... I was told to... watch a movie.
In all reality, if a TOC is feeling uncertain about the day or simply tired and lazy, a movie at the end of class is the perfect end to a day.
Could a group of grade 9's handle that?
In a word... no.
They were throwing paper airplanes, texting their friends, kicking each other's chairs, poking each other, prodding one another, yelling things out, talking over the movie, and pretty much every other annoying, juvenile thing you can imagine. I like to think I'm patient... I cut kids slack and won't worry about the first offense or two. However, a few of them simply persisted in doing everything possible to be a nuisance. You'd think that watching about 80 minutes of Kirsten Dunst would be a treat for most kids. Could they deal with just sitting and watching? Ummm... no.
I blame some of it on the fact that the regular teacher has been sick for more than a week and he always expects to be back for the next class (which is part of the issue... telling kids that their regular teacher is going to be back next class is pretty normal... but when he doesn't come back and another sub walks in, they immediately have their backs raised). Another was that they thought they could push me without suffering any consequences. After a 15 minute earful after everyone else had left the room, I think the main contributors to the chaos clued in that this was not, in fact, the case.
Okay, enough ranting about my mediocre school day.
After getting done at school, I felt a headache lingering in the back of my brain, and didn't feel like going to the gym. I knew Kerrie was going to likely have a mediocre work day as well, so I thought it wouldn't be a big deal. When she got home, this was exactly the case. Still, since we didn't go to the gym on the weekend and my Friday workout was hampered by a sore knee (too much volleyball last Wendesday, I think), I decided to go regardless. I needed to blow off some of that pent up TOC frustration.
I'm glad I did. I got to listen to one of my favourite Counting Crows songs (it's actually a cover of a song written by a friend of Adam Duritz) called "Wiseblood" on the way to the gym and enjoyed a good cardio workout with some John Mayer and Amy Winehouse in K's IPod.
Just as I walked out the door, I felt the cold whiteness of the year's first real snow in town fall on my bare legs. It was peaceful, and relatively quiet, and tremendously beautiful.
Like always, the joy of some days is just buried among our every day stresses... it just takes two open eyes to notice from time to time.
T
Lyrics to "Wiseblood", performed by Counting Crows, written by Kurt Stevens...
I'm an outcast that no one can save anymore,
And the days of my youth are all long gone by.
I was the kind of boy the devil would offer a smoke or a drink to,
Or a ride downtown to some God-forsaken land.
One Sunday morning at dawn, you know they baptized my soul
But they held me down so long, Christ, I almost drowned.
I was the kind of boy who never learned to smile so I kicked and I screamed
'Til I tore myself loose from all these great big hands, yeah.
Wiseblood knows how to walk away the wind blows
And wiseblood hears grace whisper right behind.
My mama, she turned around and said,
"Little boy you'd better wake up 'cause you're walking dead."
She was the kind of girl who never touched a smoke or a drink,
And she smouldered like an empty church left to burn in the wind.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Touched by stories...
K and I are getting ready to sit down and watch one of my favourite movies: The Princess Bride. For the last hour, though, we've been watching a documentary called The Suicide Tourists, a production on CTV about people seeking doctor-assisted suicide through a group called Dignitas in Switzerland. Switzerland is the only place in Europe (and North America) that will allow doctor-assisted suicide for non-residents, which is why the group is able to perform services for people outside of Swiss borders. As a side note, Oregon is the only state in the U.S. (and place in North America, as far as I know) that allows doctor-assisted suicide.
The documentary is quite touching and covers the lives of a few different families who are considering and/or pursuing euthanasia through this group. The stories are extremely sad, as are the circumstances under which they are living. If you can track it down to watch it, I suggest you do... it's quite the show. I'll leave my more in-depth thoughts for another day.
T
The documentary is quite touching and covers the lives of a few different families who are considering and/or pursuing euthanasia through this group. The stories are extremely sad, as are the circumstances under which they are living. If you can track it down to watch it, I suggest you do... it's quite the show. I'll leave my more in-depth thoughts for another day.
T
Friday, November 23, 2007
Fridays
Generally, they are a TOC's waking nightmare. Rambunctious kids, a short fuse, and a whole building full of people who just want a weekend. Sometimes, you just don't mind getting a call.
Today, however, didn't live up to all the dreaded expectations.
It was a good day. Yes, even at a middle school on a Friday, it was a good day. Sure, the kids were a little wonky by the end of the day, but I was able to match their energy and keep the lid on things until the bell chimed at 3:12pm. I walked away feeling good about the day, and wondering what the weekend was going to look like. That's always a good sign... walking away from work and leaving it all behind.
On a separate note, I'm really enjoying this semester of subbing. Although there have been headaches, I generally enjoy going into most of the classrooms and dealing with the challenges of a whole new group of kids. It can be really fun, and it seems to be extremely rewarding... I don't think I've had as many compliments in the past few months as I've had in the past few years. I was even stopped in the Superstore tonight (while K and I were picking up some milk and hot chocolate mix) by a student I taught at one point recently (I couldn't even tell you what school he went to!) who came up to me in a grinning sprint... he stopped, smiled, and said, "Hey, you're the substitute teacher! How's it going?" I responded in an obviously surprised way by saying "hi" and "how's it going", and, still grinning, he simply said, "I'm good. Sorry to bug you! I just wanted to say hi"... [looking at K]... "He's a really good sub! See ya later!".
Random.
Speaking of random, I've had a number of random things pop into my head lately...
The lyrics from both an HP Sauce commercial and a Milk commerical, as well as one of the soundtrack songs from Cinderella.
I think I need help.
T
Today, however, didn't live up to all the dreaded expectations.
It was a good day. Yes, even at a middle school on a Friday, it was a good day. Sure, the kids were a little wonky by the end of the day, but I was able to match their energy and keep the lid on things until the bell chimed at 3:12pm. I walked away feeling good about the day, and wondering what the weekend was going to look like. That's always a good sign... walking away from work and leaving it all behind.
On a separate note, I'm really enjoying this semester of subbing. Although there have been headaches, I generally enjoy going into most of the classrooms and dealing with the challenges of a whole new group of kids. It can be really fun, and it seems to be extremely rewarding... I don't think I've had as many compliments in the past few months as I've had in the past few years. I was even stopped in the Superstore tonight (while K and I were picking up some milk and hot chocolate mix) by a student I taught at one point recently (I couldn't even tell you what school he went to!) who came up to me in a grinning sprint... he stopped, smiled, and said, "Hey, you're the substitute teacher! How's it going?" I responded in an obviously surprised way by saying "hi" and "how's it going", and, still grinning, he simply said, "I'm good. Sorry to bug you! I just wanted to say hi"... [looking at K]... "He's a really good sub! See ya later!".
Random.
Speaking of random, I've had a number of random things pop into my head lately...
The lyrics from both an HP Sauce commercial and a Milk commerical, as well as one of the soundtrack songs from Cinderella.
I think I need help.
T
Thursday, November 22, 2007
So, I jinxed it.
The lack of sleep finally caught up with me. Although I had a restful night, the debt stemming from the previous 6 nights finally took hold and deflated my sails. By the end of the day, I was ready for a big beer and a night in front of the TV. Reflecting on the day as I was writing my standard "TOC Notes for the Day" that I email to all the teachers I go in for, it didn't seem that bad.
But man, these middle schoolers can make me just plain exhausted.
I don't think I'm cut out for the 8th graders. Not long term (or without a serious increase in my coffee intake), anyway. Tomorrow's a new day, and for now, the pillow calls...
T
P.S. The scary omen staring me in the face is the fact that I'm at another middle school tomorrow (Fridays are generally the toughest), and it's going to be day #13 in a row. I expect Poe's raven will come tap-tap-tapping on my chamber door.
But man, these middle schoolers can make me just plain exhausted.
I don't think I'm cut out for the 8th graders. Not long term (or without a serious increase in my coffee intake), anyway. Tomorrow's a new day, and for now, the pillow calls...
T
P.S. The scary omen staring me in the face is the fact that I'm at another middle school tomorrow (Fridays are generally the toughest), and it's going to be day #13 in a row. I expect Poe's raven will come tap-tap-tapping on my chamber door.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Not to jinx things...
... but today was just a good day.
Even though I slept worse than I've slept in quite some time (it got bloody cold last night, which causes problems when you leave your bedroom window open a crack), I still had quite an enjoyable day.
I was dreading walking into a middle school today. The dread was even more severe on this particular day since I knew that the teacher I was in for had been sick all week, and had another sub the past two days. "Stranger Danger" was going to be extremely high on the kids' radar, so I was slightly worried.
However, at the end of it all, there was nothing to be worried about. After setting a pretty severe tone at the beginning of class number one and ultimately winning over a tough crowd with a few jokes and a tale from Norse Mythology, the rest of the day went quite well. Kids were behaved (even at the end of the day), the classes moved quite quickly, and before I knew it I had handed in my keys, chatted with a few of the school's teachers, and was stepping into the brisk chill of a gorgeous November day for my walk home. After cooking up some fried chicken and heading to two hours of volleyball (I play every Wednesday... recently I've been playing in both the high competitive and low competitive divisions), I came home to my beautiful wife, a delicious piece of carrot cake, and one of the best episodes of Criminal Minds I've ever seen (gotta love November sweeps).
Tomorrow's another day at a middle school. I can only hope that the kids are as good tomorrow as they were today. If that's the case, it'll be a good Thursday.
Until then, a funny quote from everyone's favourite Bard...
"When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married."
- Benedick, Much Ado About Nothing
T
Even though I slept worse than I've slept in quite some time (it got bloody cold last night, which causes problems when you leave your bedroom window open a crack), I still had quite an enjoyable day.
I was dreading walking into a middle school today. The dread was even more severe on this particular day since I knew that the teacher I was in for had been sick all week, and had another sub the past two days. "Stranger Danger" was going to be extremely high on the kids' radar, so I was slightly worried.
However, at the end of it all, there was nothing to be worried about. After setting a pretty severe tone at the beginning of class number one and ultimately winning over a tough crowd with a few jokes and a tale from Norse Mythology, the rest of the day went quite well. Kids were behaved (even at the end of the day), the classes moved quite quickly, and before I knew it I had handed in my keys, chatted with a few of the school's teachers, and was stepping into the brisk chill of a gorgeous November day for my walk home. After cooking up some fried chicken and heading to two hours of volleyball (I play every Wednesday... recently I've been playing in both the high competitive and low competitive divisions), I came home to my beautiful wife, a delicious piece of carrot cake, and one of the best episodes of Criminal Minds I've ever seen (gotta love November sweeps).
Tomorrow's another day at a middle school. I can only hope that the kids are as good tomorrow as they were today. If that's the case, it'll be a good Thursday.
Until then, a funny quote from everyone's favourite Bard...
"When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married."
- Benedick, Much Ado About Nothing
T
Tapping into my day
I know I already posted today, but upon perusing John Mayer's blog (I'm a bit of a fan), I came across a new song that he decided to release on his website. It was fully appropriate for the mood I've been in all day...
Go HERE for a listen...
T
Go HERE for a listen...
T
Looking out into the sunshine
I woke up at the usual time this morning. Although I felt that I had managed a restful sleep throughout the night, I could still feel the fatigue in my bones from a number of restless nights that have taken place over the last week. Changing weather... mind on work... pillow just not feeling right. Any of these things could have been responsible for my fatigue. But, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stumbled into the shower to start getting ready for a new day of work.
It was dark and cool this morning... not nearly as cold as yesterday where mitts and a window scraper were necessities, but cool regardless. I was wondering if the sun would make an appearance... the weather's been finicky as of late, and I'm never sure if the gray is going to hang over us in the valley or if the sun will peek out. Driving to the school, I was thinking of sunshine.
After helping in the library and laughing at the power outage that took place midway through the first block, I did my best to take a glance out the windows... it was light enough in the library for students to keep working. Well, those who weren't working on internet research, anyway. I could hear the frustrated groans from members of a class who were in an attached computer lab where only three students had saved their work before the cosmos (or BC Hydro) pulled the plug on the wonderful technology that we rely so much upon.
As I approached the classroom I'd inhabit for the rest of the day, I could see clouds parting outside the windows. Even without power, the room was plenty bright for writing an essay. Today was obviously a day to be a warm body... no actual teaching involved. So while students mulled over "Dulce et Decorum Est" and All Quiet on the Western Front, I peered out the window, wondering if there were people filling up the creekside walkways... wondering if others may have chosen today as their day to walk to work... or maybe to just enjoy a cup of coffee in the window of a quiet cafe. I could see a young lady pondering a short story, or maybe trying to sort out the syntax of her introductory statement.
The power came back on, but it made little difference. The day outside was brilliant and we didn't need the harsh flourescence of the lights to bother us. Students checked in novels, handed in essays, and left at their typical signal. More came, more wrote, more left. One more class came, wrote, left. All the while, I was out walking by the creekside... strolling to work... drinking coffee in a cafe. My body still sat in front of the chalkboards, eyes vacantly looking out onto students who were scribbling out first and second person references or rewriting words that were formerly contractions to ensure the obeyance of formal writing expectations. But in all reality I was out the door, past the houses and stores and streets, in the valley hills, face to the sun, smiling.
My long shadow smiled too as both of us exhaled in the crisp fall air.
T
It was dark and cool this morning... not nearly as cold as yesterday where mitts and a window scraper were necessities, but cool regardless. I was wondering if the sun would make an appearance... the weather's been finicky as of late, and I'm never sure if the gray is going to hang over us in the valley or if the sun will peek out. Driving to the school, I was thinking of sunshine.
After helping in the library and laughing at the power outage that took place midway through the first block, I did my best to take a glance out the windows... it was light enough in the library for students to keep working. Well, those who weren't working on internet research, anyway. I could hear the frustrated groans from members of a class who were in an attached computer lab where only three students had saved their work before the cosmos (or BC Hydro) pulled the plug on the wonderful technology that we rely so much upon.
As I approached the classroom I'd inhabit for the rest of the day, I could see clouds parting outside the windows. Even without power, the room was plenty bright for writing an essay. Today was obviously a day to be a warm body... no actual teaching involved. So while students mulled over "Dulce et Decorum Est" and All Quiet on the Western Front, I peered out the window, wondering if there were people filling up the creekside walkways... wondering if others may have chosen today as their day to walk to work... or maybe to just enjoy a cup of coffee in the window of a quiet cafe. I could see a young lady pondering a short story, or maybe trying to sort out the syntax of her introductory statement.
The power came back on, but it made little difference. The day outside was brilliant and we didn't need the harsh flourescence of the lights to bother us. Students checked in novels, handed in essays, and left at their typical signal. More came, more wrote, more left. One more class came, wrote, left. All the while, I was out walking by the creekside... strolling to work... drinking coffee in a cafe. My body still sat in front of the chalkboards, eyes vacantly looking out onto students who were scribbling out first and second person references or rewriting words that were formerly contractions to ensure the obeyance of formal writing expectations. But in all reality I was out the door, past the houses and stores and streets, in the valley hills, face to the sun, smiling.
My long shadow smiled too as both of us exhaled in the crisp fall air.
T
Monday, November 19, 2007
Work related paranoia
Upon entering my education program more than a year ago, I heard that my location in BC for teaching would provide a plethora of opportunities in the job market. I was excited to hear this, since I was moving to a nice half-way point between the coast and my family back in the 4-0-3 area code, and I would likely find work really easily. This was supposedly even moreso the case, since I was in arguably the best education program in the province. People actually said the words, "If you complete the program and you have a pulse, you'll have a job next year".
The year came and went. I was up to my eyeballs in coaching and marking and prepping and kids, and I barely had time to breathe. However, in the back of my mind I believed that it was simply a short few months and I'd be on my way to secure employment. There would be no need to worry about money because I, being the excellent prize that I was (in the best location possible) would definitely have a job and K would stop worrying so much. And, the spring came and went. As did the summer. And September. Still, there was not a job to be had by yours truly. Truth be told, part of the reason was possibly my own inaction combined with an administrative error (said administration believed inaccurately that I was leaving the district for more distant shores), leading to a less-than-glorious spot on the TOC list.
Now, at the beginning of the year, I loathed this position. I was jealous of my colleagues who had secured positions at various locations around the province (and the world), and was worried that my education was all for naught. Maybe I wasn't cut out for this whole teaching thing. Maybe my practicum wasn't as good as I thought.
Maybe I was just paranoid. I'm not sure.
But as of late, I've been hearing a lot of talk about contracts around town. A few English teachers from one school actually approached me and told me they wanted me to take a maternity leave for a teacher there that I get along really well with which would begin after spring break... there may even be a few extra blocks to fill it out (since it would only be 1/2 time), so that's extremely exciting. I met with the principal last week to touch base and introduce myself, but in all likelihood, I won't hear anything for a while.
Then I was at another high school that I've been to frequently this year, and I was approached by the VP who began asking me various questions about my teaching areas, background, etc. So, I talked about English and Socials and my coaching experience and the fact that I'm a big bookworm (he thought that was funny), and later that day, he popped into a senior English class I was teaching and sat down to observe for about 15 minutes. I was nervous, but some of the students said I was doing a great job, so in my happy ignorance, I'm going to believe them. I just found out today that an English/SS teacher is retiring in January and they haven't filled the position. In other words, I'm kinda scared... this is it. Real contract territory. And I don't know what to do.
Actually, that's not true. Particularly since my options are limited to: working as much as possible (as per usual) and doing my best to keep up my rapport and connections around town. But it's scary... it's the real world, knocking on the door, wondering if I'm ready to come out and play.
At some points, I think I'm sure.
During other, more weak and pitiful moments, I want to crawl into my closet and hide.
T
The year came and went. I was up to my eyeballs in coaching and marking and prepping and kids, and I barely had time to breathe. However, in the back of my mind I believed that it was simply a short few months and I'd be on my way to secure employment. There would be no need to worry about money because I, being the excellent prize that I was (in the best location possible) would definitely have a job and K would stop worrying so much. And, the spring came and went. As did the summer. And September. Still, there was not a job to be had by yours truly. Truth be told, part of the reason was possibly my own inaction combined with an administrative error (said administration believed inaccurately that I was leaving the district for more distant shores), leading to a less-than-glorious spot on the TOC list.
Now, at the beginning of the year, I loathed this position. I was jealous of my colleagues who had secured positions at various locations around the province (and the world), and was worried that my education was all for naught. Maybe I wasn't cut out for this whole teaching thing. Maybe my practicum wasn't as good as I thought.
Maybe I was just paranoid. I'm not sure.
But as of late, I've been hearing a lot of talk about contracts around town. A few English teachers from one school actually approached me and told me they wanted me to take a maternity leave for a teacher there that I get along really well with which would begin after spring break... there may even be a few extra blocks to fill it out (since it would only be 1/2 time), so that's extremely exciting. I met with the principal last week to touch base and introduce myself, but in all likelihood, I won't hear anything for a while.
Then I was at another high school that I've been to frequently this year, and I was approached by the VP who began asking me various questions about my teaching areas, background, etc. So, I talked about English and Socials and my coaching experience and the fact that I'm a big bookworm (he thought that was funny), and later that day, he popped into a senior English class I was teaching and sat down to observe for about 15 minutes. I was nervous, but some of the students said I was doing a great job, so in my happy ignorance, I'm going to believe them. I just found out today that an English/SS teacher is retiring in January and they haven't filled the position. In other words, I'm kinda scared... this is it. Real contract territory. And I don't know what to do.
Actually, that's not true. Particularly since my options are limited to: working as much as possible (as per usual) and doing my best to keep up my rapport and connections around town. But it's scary... it's the real world, knocking on the door, wondering if I'm ready to come out and play.
At some points, I think I'm sure.
During other, more weak and pitiful moments, I want to crawl into my closet and hide.
T
Sunday, November 18, 2007
An exercise in reflection
Since my day to day life is limited in exciting content, I find myself reflecting and wondering exactly what I could put on here... the stories I could add, the things I could talk about, etc. And I find that it's been quite the exercise in retrospective indulgence. So again, here's another recollection of memories related to my family. I think these are specifically present due to the holidays creeping up ever so quickly.
When we were kids, my parents would trade holidays with each set of grandparents... one year out in Picture Butte, and the next in Calgary with my mom's family. We'd spend Christmas at my grandparents house in the Northwest of Calgary. The drive was pretty familiar... normally, my brother and/or sister and I would be fighting over something ridiculous, or I'd have my head in an Archie comic, or I'd be staring out the windows onto the bald Alberta prairie. The drive was just over two hours to get from doorstep to doorstep, and the first hour and fifty minutes was surrounded by that very prairie. I'd often look out on the landscape, watching for hawks circling the skies. I've always loved watching birds circle high in the mountains or over the fields, looking for food or simply searching for the next updraft to take them somewhere different. Sometimes you'd see a hawk sitting on a fencepost, looking at the silly contraptions driving between cities.
Upon arriving, we could sometimes smell the salty deliciousness of a Christmas ham baking in the house. We could also smell the smell of the old Varisty house. I can never put my finger on what the smell actually was, but it was comforting nonetheless. My brother and I would haul the bags down to the basement and put them in the bedroom, and then climb the stairs up to the kitchen to get mauled by hugs and kisses from gran and a hug and handshake from gramps. We'd spend our time chatting around the table, playing endless games of blackjack and crib, and watching sports on the little TV that sat on the shelf in the dining room. When we were smaller, we'd also rummage through the corner cubby that hid all the toys in that same room and make a big racket, either zooming cars over the linoleum or bickering over who had which toy. Sometimes I'd just take over my grandpa's rocker and read the copies of Reader's Digest strewn around the coffee tables. Before he died, Chemo (my grandparents' husky) would scamper around, scared of the noise and all the excitement.
My brother and sister and I would lay awake late into Christmas eve, listening to our parents arrange the tree and the presents for the next morning. We'd fake sleep if we heard the door handle turning, or make excuses to get up and use the bathroom. We'd always get an earful for this, but we'd do it anyways. We were just so eager to get out and rip apart bows and ribbon and wrapping paper.
Between 5am and 6am, my brother and I would wake up (as would my sister), and we'd be asking to go check out what Santa left. My parents would be exhausted and tell us to go back to sleep (they had probably rolled into bed about 1 or 2 in the morning, but we weren't so concerned about that). But, after tossing and turning and talking under the covers, my parents would finally let us out into the living room to check out our stockings and nothing else... the other presents had to wait for gran and gramps to come down with cameras in tow and breakfast (particularly the coffee) would need to be started.
I'd do my best to grab my sock and dive into Grandpa's old, brown Lazy Boy, my favorite chair in the house (which now resides in my own living room... seen below!).
When we were kids, my parents would trade holidays with each set of grandparents... one year out in Picture Butte, and the next in Calgary with my mom's family. We'd spend Christmas at my grandparents house in the Northwest of Calgary. The drive was pretty familiar... normally, my brother and/or sister and I would be fighting over something ridiculous, or I'd have my head in an Archie comic, or I'd be staring out the windows onto the bald Alberta prairie. The drive was just over two hours to get from doorstep to doorstep, and the first hour and fifty minutes was surrounded by that very prairie. I'd often look out on the landscape, watching for hawks circling the skies. I've always loved watching birds circle high in the mountains or over the fields, looking for food or simply searching for the next updraft to take them somewhere different. Sometimes you'd see a hawk sitting on a fencepost, looking at the silly contraptions driving between cities.
Upon arriving, we could sometimes smell the salty deliciousness of a Christmas ham baking in the house. We could also smell the smell of the old Varisty house. I can never put my finger on what the smell actually was, but it was comforting nonetheless. My brother and I would haul the bags down to the basement and put them in the bedroom, and then climb the stairs up to the kitchen to get mauled by hugs and kisses from gran and a hug and handshake from gramps. We'd spend our time chatting around the table, playing endless games of blackjack and crib, and watching sports on the little TV that sat on the shelf in the dining room. When we were smaller, we'd also rummage through the corner cubby that hid all the toys in that same room and make a big racket, either zooming cars over the linoleum or bickering over who had which toy. Sometimes I'd just take over my grandpa's rocker and read the copies of Reader's Digest strewn around the coffee tables. Before he died, Chemo (my grandparents' husky) would scamper around, scared of the noise and all the excitement.
My brother and sister and I would lay awake late into Christmas eve, listening to our parents arrange the tree and the presents for the next morning. We'd fake sleep if we heard the door handle turning, or make excuses to get up and use the bathroom. We'd always get an earful for this, but we'd do it anyways. We were just so eager to get out and rip apart bows and ribbon and wrapping paper.
Between 5am and 6am, my brother and I would wake up (as would my sister), and we'd be asking to go check out what Santa left. My parents would be exhausted and tell us to go back to sleep (they had probably rolled into bed about 1 or 2 in the morning, but we weren't so concerned about that). But, after tossing and turning and talking under the covers, my parents would finally let us out into the living room to check out our stockings and nothing else... the other presents had to wait for gran and gramps to come down with cameras in tow and breakfast (particularly the coffee) would need to be started.
I'd do my best to grab my sock and dive into Grandpa's old, brown Lazy Boy, my favorite chair in the house (which now resides in my own living room... seen below!).
There would always be new socks (which is strangely one of my absolute favorite things on Christmas morning... the feeling of a brand new pair of socks!), new boxers, chocolates, sometimes ornaments, and other little things that fit inside. Once we could enjoy these little discoveries, my brother and I would either play our original Nintendo (if we brought it), or we'd go back to bed and keep warm. My sister always received similar things, but J and I were less interested in these... since he and I were only about 18 months apart, we hung out a lot and spent most of our holiday time together... A. would often get ignored. Once my parents were ready to make their entrance for the day, we'd all gather again in the living room, get out the cameras and do the big present opening. Pictures would be taken, hugs would be given out, and we'd all try to show off what we got. Then, it was upstairs to the dining room for the traditional Christmas day breakfast of Grandpa's omlettes, bacon, toast, juice, and slices of tomato. I'd likely drink about a gallon of orange juice at this time, and avoid the cheesy omlettes... I wasn't a fan of omlettes back then, and I would only eat them if they had about a litre of ketchup on 'em.
Once the present opening and breakfast were done, we'd start getting ready for the rest of the family to show up (if others were around). We'd play more crib, my dad and gramps would have the holiday beer and juice, and we'd watch videos of Garfield's Christmas and Charlie Brown's Christmas while the turkey was being prepared. More family would come, some more presents would arrive, and we'd spend the day eating, playing more cards, and making a lot of holiday noise. The kids would rummage through my grandparent's "storage" room (a.k.a. my uncle's old bedroom that was full of junk, but had a snooker table lying underneath, or we'd hit up the nintendo and play until we were ready for the big Christmas dinner. Gran would make sure that Kenny G's Christmas album was on the stereo, and later that night, we'd beg and plead to start up the Player Piano so we could sing carols around the wood-burning fireplace.
Now that I'm married and K and I are in BC, it's always harder to make time to see everyone. We also have to share Christmases with our own families, so it's always stressful/hectic to go home. But, I know that when I arrive, those Christmas socks and smells and feelings will come back... they may look much different now, but they still make me enjoy being home.
This is also the first time ever that none of the kids in my house will be waking up on Christmas morn at my parents' house... we've all flown the coop (albeit my brother and sister are only about 5 minutes away). I guess the only constant in life is change itself. Also, the older we get, the shorter our futures become and the longer are pasts are. Are we really growing backwards like Jeffrey Eugenides says? I think that he (and Cibi) might be right...
T
Random pictures from the camera (from the last month or two)
Periodically I change the quote the lies underneath my blog title, so in addition to the Shakespeare quote above, I'll add another favorite from The Bard:
"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
- Macbeth
I always try to get the kids to understand how wonderful this line is. Yet, they often merely groan in response. It's okay though... I'm happy celebrating my love for it, audience or not.
Just over a month ago, my best friend from high school came out this way for a brief visit with his lady, and along with K, the four of us spent one night here in town and then headed south for a night of October camping on Skaha Lake. Here I am cooking up a mean batch of steaks on my mini-barbeque...
Here's another of S and I at the campsite...
Then, a cute one of me and K before going out for something... I can't exactly recall what...
Finally, I rearranged my bookshelves today, and thought, Hey! Why not take a really boring picture! So, here's my shelf dedicated to Timothy Findley, Barbara Kingsolver, Douglas Coupland, and a few selected others...
I won't promise anything more interesting tomorrow... the muse is fleeting these two days...
T
"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
- Macbeth
I always try to get the kids to understand how wonderful this line is. Yet, they often merely groan in response. It's okay though... I'm happy celebrating my love for it, audience or not.
Just over a month ago, my best friend from high school came out this way for a brief visit with his lady, and along with K, the four of us spent one night here in town and then headed south for a night of October camping on Skaha Lake. Here I am cooking up a mean batch of steaks on my mini-barbeque...
Here's another of S and I at the campsite...Then, a cute one of me and K before going out for something... I can't exactly recall what...Finally, I rearranged my bookshelves today, and thought, Hey! Why not take a really boring picture! So, here's my shelf dedicated to Timothy Findley, Barbara Kingsolver, Douglas Coupland, and a few selected others...
I won't promise anything more interesting tomorrow... the muse is fleeting these two days...
T
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Second really brief post in a row
I thought I'd make more time to write today, but it simply wasn't meant to be. After getting a bit of a late start (as per usual on Saturdays), we had some breakkie and coffee and rolled out to the mall so K could exchange a dress for her upcoming work Christmas party. We had some grocery shopping to do, so we hit up Superstore and Costco, then headed home.
The afternoon consisted of more coffee (we're both overtired), and a whole bunch of cooking and cleaning. We're having 4 or 5 friends over for a potluck in about the next hour, so we cleaned from top to bottom, K baked up a delicious looking carrot cake, and I made a big pot of Spicy Chicken Stew... it smells delicious and I'm sure it's going to taste even better.
Off I go to make myself beautiful. It's a laborious process that I won't reveal here. More tomorrow related to work and having company and other such interesting things. Ciao for now...
T
The afternoon consisted of more coffee (we're both overtired), and a whole bunch of cooking and cleaning. We're having 4 or 5 friends over for a potluck in about the next hour, so we cleaned from top to bottom, K baked up a delicious looking carrot cake, and I made a big pot of Spicy Chicken Stew... it smells delicious and I'm sure it's going to taste even better.
Off I go to make myself beautiful. It's a laborious process that I won't reveal here. More tomorrow related to work and having company and other such interesting things. Ciao for now...
T
Two posts today (like many... to make up for yesterday)...
I'm just in quickly for now to put in a plug for an awesome website that a teaching acquaintance told me about.
It's called "Think Geek", and being the nerdy dude that I am, I thought this was hilarious. You can get something like this...
Yes, it's true folks... that's an Albert Einstein Action Figure! (I had another teacher friend who has a Shakespeare bobble head that I wish I could've stolen... it was awesome!).
There is also this shirt... definitely one of my favorites...
Yes, this is a shirt of the solar system that has the recently demoted dwarf-planet Pluto saying "weak." to the rest of it's solar system buddies. Awesome... simply awesome.
So, that's all for now. I'll hopefully be back later to get one more in!
T
Thursday, November 15, 2007
My beef with one of the world's richest ladies...
Okay, so I admitted it. I don't like Oprah. I used to watch her from time to time (only with my wife or mother, of course!) and liked the entertaining guests she would get on her show. However, this has changed. And never since I made the decision have I watched her show. Two events are responsible for this change, and here I will explain said events. My apologies if they're not chronologically accurate....
Event #1:
A number of people may remember the situation relating to James Frey. He wrote the memoir A Million Little Pieces and another book named My Friend Leonard. Both books received rave reviews, and when A Million Little Pieces came out, Oprah featured him on his show. She raved openly about how realistic and touching and moving his book was. She celebrated his honesty and put the book on her book club list (I'll get to this soon). It sold millions of copies and made him an instant celebrity.
One problem came of this: his book wasn't entirely accurate. He tried to get it published as fiction (since he made some of it up), but no publishers would take it. So, he changed the genre of the book to a "memoir" (ambiguous, no doubt) and ended up getting it published, which soon after launched him into the limelight. An even bigger problem? Oprah found out that it wasn't 100% true.
So Oprah decided to bring him back on the show and proceeded to slag him for being a liar, for betraying the public and making a fool out of her. She then went on to quote parts of the book, asking him how he could possibly think people would believe him (since it was obviously fabricated)! THE NERVE! SHE BELIEVED HIM! Not only that, but she didn't even read the whole book and made him a celebrity based on the words of her producers. She said she felt "betrayed", but it was her own damn fault for not going through the whole book herself! And she did her best to see that he would become a disgrace, embarassing him in front of millions.
Luckily for him, the controversy didn't make his next publication less popular (it may have made him more popular), and he's sold millions of copies of My Friend Leonard and still more copies of A Million Little Pieces. Good for you, James. Boo to you, Oprah... jerk!
Event #2:
First off, I do believe that Oprah has helped a number of really solid books sell well by putting her name behind it. But she's ARROGANT about it. Case in point: Faulkner.
For those of you who've read William Faulkner, you likely know that he's an American literary giant, and his books are classics. They're taught in schools and Universities throughout North America as American classics. However, Oprah seemed to think that she was the first American to read Faulkner in her spare time (FYI: I read The Sound and the Fury two years before he appeared on her book list). She actually said to a guest, "I'm so impressed! You read Faulkner before it was even on my book club list!"
Her and Martha Stewart are probably good buddies. If you don't know how good Oprah is, just ask Oprah. She'll tell you.
Sure, it sounds as if I'm bitter about things that I shouldn't be bitter about. Maybe some people think I'm over-reacting. But every time I turn on her show, it seems like she's gloating about how wonderful she is. And I can't stand it. Millions of people have read books from your book club BEFORE you read them. Good for you for promoting reading, but you don't need to be an ass about it because you're popular and rich. Hmmm... why don't I put a book on my list like Anna Karenina and trick myself into blieving that I'm the reason why Tolstoy is popular. Sure thing boss.
Okay, that's enough for tonight. I'm working on the west side of town tomorrow and need my beauty rest... I'll turn into a pumpkin any minute. Again, my apologies if I hurt the feelings of any Oprah fans. It just had to be said. G'night.
T
Event #1:
A number of people may remember the situation relating to James Frey. He wrote the memoir A Million Little Pieces and another book named My Friend Leonard. Both books received rave reviews, and when A Million Little Pieces came out, Oprah featured him on his show. She raved openly about how realistic and touching and moving his book was. She celebrated his honesty and put the book on her book club list (I'll get to this soon). It sold millions of copies and made him an instant celebrity.
One problem came of this: his book wasn't entirely accurate. He tried to get it published as fiction (since he made some of it up), but no publishers would take it. So, he changed the genre of the book to a "memoir" (ambiguous, no doubt) and ended up getting it published, which soon after launched him into the limelight. An even bigger problem? Oprah found out that it wasn't 100% true.
So Oprah decided to bring him back on the show and proceeded to slag him for being a liar, for betraying the public and making a fool out of her. She then went on to quote parts of the book, asking him how he could possibly think people would believe him (since it was obviously fabricated)! THE NERVE! SHE BELIEVED HIM! Not only that, but she didn't even read the whole book and made him a celebrity based on the words of her producers. She said she felt "betrayed", but it was her own damn fault for not going through the whole book herself! And she did her best to see that he would become a disgrace, embarassing him in front of millions.
Luckily for him, the controversy didn't make his next publication less popular (it may have made him more popular), and he's sold millions of copies of My Friend Leonard and still more copies of A Million Little Pieces. Good for you, James. Boo to you, Oprah... jerk!
Event #2:
First off, I do believe that Oprah has helped a number of really solid books sell well by putting her name behind it. But she's ARROGANT about it. Case in point: Faulkner.
For those of you who've read William Faulkner, you likely know that he's an American literary giant, and his books are classics. They're taught in schools and Universities throughout North America as American classics. However, Oprah seemed to think that she was the first American to read Faulkner in her spare time (FYI: I read The Sound and the Fury two years before he appeared on her book list). She actually said to a guest, "I'm so impressed! You read Faulkner before it was even on my book club list!"
Her and Martha Stewart are probably good buddies. If you don't know how good Oprah is, just ask Oprah. She'll tell you.
Sure, it sounds as if I'm bitter about things that I shouldn't be bitter about. Maybe some people think I'm over-reacting. But every time I turn on her show, it seems like she's gloating about how wonderful she is. And I can't stand it. Millions of people have read books from your book club BEFORE you read them. Good for you for promoting reading, but you don't need to be an ass about it because you're popular and rich. Hmmm... why don't I put a book on my list like Anna Karenina and trick myself into blieving that I'm the reason why Tolstoy is popular. Sure thing boss.
Okay, that's enough for tonight. I'm working on the west side of town tomorrow and need my beauty rest... I'll turn into a pumpkin any minute. Again, my apologies if I hurt the feelings of any Oprah fans. It just had to be said. G'night.
T
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Disturbing state of affairs
First off, a disclaimer:
I'm not generally one to slag law enforcement (unless I recently received a speeding ticket). I know a lot of people involved with related occupations, and I think they're definitely upstanding guys and gals who sincerely try to make the world a better place. Don't get me wrong... I think that some people do it because of little-man syndrome or they may have general rage issues and simply love being the guy in charge. Some teachers are like this too... funny how these two personalities show up in completely different occupations. Nonetheless, I was absolutely appalled by what I saw on the news tonight.
About a month ago, a story came out that a man in Vancouver International Airport was killed in a taser incident with police. I didn't read much about it, since I was busy with work and wasn't paying very close attention to world affairs. I'm not gonna lie... I assumed he was a nutcase or threatened police or had a gun or something.
However...
Tonight I turned on my TV and a video of the tasering incident had been released to news agencies, and with the standard warning of intense content, they showed the video. Likewise, they also gave the background story of the incident.
Go here, if you have a few minutes... it's the whole story including the link to the video. And I really suggest you go.
Here's the event in brief (according to Global News and what I could get from CBC and the video):
A man is blocking off an area of the airport with chairs near a security wing. He doesn't speak English (not a single word), and some spectators believe he's speaking Russian. He is obviously upset, but has no way of communicating with anyone in the airport. At one point, he throws a computer because he's so frustrated. Security personnel come and block entrance to the secure area that the man is in... there is no one else in that section of the terminal with him (he's totally alone). Four police officers finally show up on the scene. They approach the agitated, sweating man and try to communicate with him with no luck. They know he doesn't speak English and there's talk of getting someone in who speaks Russian. They order him over to a wall, and although he doesn't totally understand, he makes his way over to the appointed wall. Within a few quick seconds, the police pull out a taser gun and fire, hitting the man in the chest. The man immediately starts convulsing, hitting the floor and rolling around in serious pain. The electric shock is surging through him. On the tape you can hear "Hit 'em again!" by one of the police officers, and they hit the trigger again, sending another shock of electricity to him. While he is still convulsing, the officers (4 in total) begin to pile on him and once he is done being shocked, he writhes in pain under the weight of 2, then 3, officers. The fourth jumps on after he is finished zapping the guy.
One officer places his knee on the back of the man's neck to restrain him while the other three officers proceed to hold the man down and handcuff him. Even when the man stops moving altogether, the one officer maintains his full weight of his body on the back of the neck of the man. Within a few seconds, the man is still limp and the audio picks up a message of "Code Red". Another man steps in to check the pulse of the pinned "criminal" and doesn't seem to get anything. Emergency personnel show up a few minutes later and pronounce that the man is dead.
Never did this man threaten police. Never did this man make any gestures for a weapon. It took the RCMP a total of 25 SECONDS to use their taser on this man from the time they came on the scene. He didn't speak a word of English and they knew that.
So my questions are: WHY? And HOW?
This man came to Canada to immigrate and live with his mother in Kamloops. Before leaving, she told him to get to the baggage terminal and stay there until she showed up. He was in the airport for over 8 hours in total. His mother arrived, looked for him extensively, asked for help from the airport with no results, and ended up heading back to Kamloops, hoping to hear something from the airport.
The man was tired, agitated, misunderstood, and couldn't communicate with anyone. For 8 HOURS! This too, after a likely 7-8 hour flight (or more!). And for this agitation, he's dead.
Watch the video for yourself. I like to think of myself as fairly forgiving and understanding, but watch it for yourself. Please. This simply shouldn't happen. He was looking for a better life with his mother, and because he was exhausted and angry and misunderstood, he died.
He should have lived to see another day. Period.
T
I'm not generally one to slag law enforcement (unless I recently received a speeding ticket). I know a lot of people involved with related occupations, and I think they're definitely upstanding guys and gals who sincerely try to make the world a better place. Don't get me wrong... I think that some people do it because of little-man syndrome or they may have general rage issues and simply love being the guy in charge. Some teachers are like this too... funny how these two personalities show up in completely different occupations. Nonetheless, I was absolutely appalled by what I saw on the news tonight.
About a month ago, a story came out that a man in Vancouver International Airport was killed in a taser incident with police. I didn't read much about it, since I was busy with work and wasn't paying very close attention to world affairs. I'm not gonna lie... I assumed he was a nutcase or threatened police or had a gun or something.
However...
Tonight I turned on my TV and a video of the tasering incident had been released to news agencies, and with the standard warning of intense content, they showed the video. Likewise, they also gave the background story of the incident.
Go here, if you have a few minutes... it's the whole story including the link to the video. And I really suggest you go.
Here's the event in brief (according to Global News and what I could get from CBC and the video):
A man is blocking off an area of the airport with chairs near a security wing. He doesn't speak English (not a single word), and some spectators believe he's speaking Russian. He is obviously upset, but has no way of communicating with anyone in the airport. At one point, he throws a computer because he's so frustrated. Security personnel come and block entrance to the secure area that the man is in... there is no one else in that section of the terminal with him (he's totally alone). Four police officers finally show up on the scene. They approach the agitated, sweating man and try to communicate with him with no luck. They know he doesn't speak English and there's talk of getting someone in who speaks Russian. They order him over to a wall, and although he doesn't totally understand, he makes his way over to the appointed wall. Within a few quick seconds, the police pull out a taser gun and fire, hitting the man in the chest. The man immediately starts convulsing, hitting the floor and rolling around in serious pain. The electric shock is surging through him. On the tape you can hear "Hit 'em again!" by one of the police officers, and they hit the trigger again, sending another shock of electricity to him. While he is still convulsing, the officers (4 in total) begin to pile on him and once he is done being shocked, he writhes in pain under the weight of 2, then 3, officers. The fourth jumps on after he is finished zapping the guy.
One officer places his knee on the back of the man's neck to restrain him while the other three officers proceed to hold the man down and handcuff him. Even when the man stops moving altogether, the one officer maintains his full weight of his body on the back of the neck of the man. Within a few seconds, the man is still limp and the audio picks up a message of "Code Red". Another man steps in to check the pulse of the pinned "criminal" and doesn't seem to get anything. Emergency personnel show up a few minutes later and pronounce that the man is dead.
Never did this man threaten police. Never did this man make any gestures for a weapon. It took the RCMP a total of 25 SECONDS to use their taser on this man from the time they came on the scene. He didn't speak a word of English and they knew that.
So my questions are: WHY? And HOW?
This man came to Canada to immigrate and live with his mother in Kamloops. Before leaving, she told him to get to the baggage terminal and stay there until she showed up. He was in the airport for over 8 hours in total. His mother arrived, looked for him extensively, asked for help from the airport with no results, and ended up heading back to Kamloops, hoping to hear something from the airport.
The man was tired, agitated, misunderstood, and couldn't communicate with anyone. For 8 HOURS! This too, after a likely 7-8 hour flight (or more!). And for this agitation, he's dead.
Watch the video for yourself. I like to think of myself as fairly forgiving and understanding, but watch it for yourself. Please. This simply shouldn't happen. He was looking for a better life with his mother, and because he was exhausted and angry and misunderstood, he died.
He should have lived to see another day. Period.
T
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Tidbits
First off, thanks to Cibi, K, and a number of other people who suggested reading The Kite Runner before diving into All Quiet on the Western Front (or any of the approximately 20 books that I have purchased but still have yet to read)... I'm only about four chapters in and I'm really enjoying it already.
At the same time as this, I am also still reading Atwood's book on writing that I've discussed previously (extremely quotable), as well as selections from The Best American Short Stories of the [20th] Century, edited by John Updike. I've read a few of the stories already, and have to shout out my love for William Faulker's story "That Evening Sun Go Down". I read The Sound and the Fury a few years ago and really loved it, but he's an author that I really have to dedicate some time to, since his prose is quite slow and dense, and his stories never hurry.
I've been wasting some time checking out the Blogroll for the NaBloPoMo, and I noticed a few things:
1) There are a lot of moms out there who blog.
2) I'd venture to guess that most blogs are written by women (why, you ask? I have my suspicions, but since I'd likely come out looking like a chauvinist twit, I'll keep them to myself).
3) Many of the blogs are even less interesting than my own (yes, this comment is seeping with a touch of egotism... but then again, isn't that the nature of these things?)
4) And just like with perusing the shelves at a local bookstore, I'm very selective as to the random books I pick up in order to learn what they're all about. Ugly type-set on the book? No thanks. Terrible graphics? Pass. Tacky or cheesy or downright brutal book title? Ummm... next. The same goes with blogs... I only really read the ones with clever names. I guess I may also check out some that may be about writers or maybe teachers or related things. Again, most of these are women.
A few blogs that seem well-written and intriguing have to be Awkwardly Social (clever and intriguing title, particularly since I can be both awkward and social), Brushes With Adulthood (since it speaks of the doom and gloom of getting to be something more than a university student), and Canuckifornia (simply a good title and decent writing). That being said, I've only made it into the start of the "D" section, and haven't mentioned others I read periodically that may or may not be participating. But Ciboulette (repesented by the L.G. link to the right) will continue to be a favorite, methinks... she's a friend of mine from the coast who is also a teacher-on-call, and although most of our friendship takes place on Facebook and through our blogs, I echo her thoughts and believe that we are, in fact, kindred spirits. Her pictures are much better than mine, she is a big fan of cooking, and she's an avid reader... is there much more to say?
In a kinda-sorta-not-totally-related note, I'm almost positive I have no chance at any prizes or anything for the NaBlo thing... Blogger has butchered my posting time labels that are supposed to pop up with every post, and even though I've written something every day (except the once where I missed my day by about 2 hours), it shows that my posting has been really erratic. But, I'm going to try to hang in there because I've enjoyed the trade off, from crappy TV to spending too much time on the internet. But, thems the breaks.
And to finish off with something completely random... I really DO NOT like Oprah. I'll talk more about this later, but I find her arrogant and self-righteous. Period. I'm sorry for any and all Oprah fans (Sorry mom! Sorry sis!)... but I had to say it.
T
At the same time as this, I am also still reading Atwood's book on writing that I've discussed previously (extremely quotable), as well as selections from The Best American Short Stories of the [20th] Century, edited by John Updike. I've read a few of the stories already, and have to shout out my love for William Faulker's story "That Evening Sun Go Down". I read The Sound and the Fury a few years ago and really loved it, but he's an author that I really have to dedicate some time to, since his prose is quite slow and dense, and his stories never hurry.
I've been wasting some time checking out the Blogroll for the NaBloPoMo, and I noticed a few things:
1) There are a lot of moms out there who blog.
2) I'd venture to guess that most blogs are written by women (why, you ask? I have my suspicions, but since I'd likely come out looking like a chauvinist twit, I'll keep them to myself).
3) Many of the blogs are even less interesting than my own (yes, this comment is seeping with a touch of egotism... but then again, isn't that the nature of these things?)
4) And just like with perusing the shelves at a local bookstore, I'm very selective as to the random books I pick up in order to learn what they're all about. Ugly type-set on the book? No thanks. Terrible graphics? Pass. Tacky or cheesy or downright brutal book title? Ummm... next. The same goes with blogs... I only really read the ones with clever names. I guess I may also check out some that may be about writers or maybe teachers or related things. Again, most of these are women.
A few blogs that seem well-written and intriguing have to be Awkwardly Social (clever and intriguing title, particularly since I can be both awkward and social), Brushes With Adulthood (since it speaks of the doom and gloom of getting to be something more than a university student), and Canuckifornia (simply a good title and decent writing). That being said, I've only made it into the start of the "D" section, and haven't mentioned others I read periodically that may or may not be participating. But Ciboulette (repesented by the L.G. link to the right) will continue to be a favorite, methinks... she's a friend of mine from the coast who is also a teacher-on-call, and although most of our friendship takes place on Facebook and through our blogs, I echo her thoughts and believe that we are, in fact, kindred spirits. Her pictures are much better than mine, she is a big fan of cooking, and she's an avid reader... is there much more to say?
In a kinda-sorta-not-totally-related note, I'm almost positive I have no chance at any prizes or anything for the NaBlo thing... Blogger has butchered my posting time labels that are supposed to pop up with every post, and even though I've written something every day (except the once where I missed my day by about 2 hours), it shows that my posting has been really erratic. But, I'm going to try to hang in there because I've enjoyed the trade off, from crappy TV to spending too much time on the internet. But, thems the breaks.
And to finish off with something completely random... I really DO NOT like Oprah. I'll talk more about this later, but I find her arrogant and self-righteous. Period. I'm sorry for any and all Oprah fans (Sorry mom! Sorry sis!)... but I had to say it.
T
Monday, November 12, 2007
The Unintentional Humbug
I really don't try to be. Really. But it doesn't cease to amaze me how early Christmas begins every year. And for anyone who hasn't poked their heads out into the world of commercial business, Christmas has arrived.
Clue #1: Costco has been selling Christmas-themed wrapping paper for a number of weeks, along with rows and rows of Christmas sweets and sometimes-tacky decorations that feed the festive spirit. Sure, they have some cute stuff every year, but I think I'm scared off more often than I am intrigued.
Clue #2: Peppermint Hot Chocolate has arrived at Starbucks. This kicks off the Christmas season for K every year. Although Starbucks carries a mint syrup for their specialty coffees, the peppermint hot chocolate is only around for the holiday season. (Disclaimer: for any of you Starbucks fiends, I apologize if my information is inaccurate... if I'm wrong, I'll move on to even more obvious clues...)
Clue #3: Christmas cups have arrived at Starbucks. You know, the red ones with the snow flakes? If you don't, good for you... you obviously live in a town smaller than Williams Lake.
Just FYI: I think that Starbucks should grammatically adjust the name to represent the missing apostrophe. If I'm not mistaken, since the company is named after a character in Herman Melville's Moby Dick, shouldn't it be Starbuck's with the present apostrophe? Or, simply Starbuck without the "s"? Where's Lynn Trussey when you need her!
Clue #4: K has officially taken out all of her Christmas music and burned each CD onto her IPod.
Realistically, this is enough for me to get the hint.
For me, though, Christmas is family and friends and new socks on Christmas morning... late night games of cards when the snow is blowing outside... darts with the boys of the family in my parents' basement... having any and all excuses to enjoy a beer or Bailey's or two in the middle of the day just because, as my dad always says, "Who cares? You're on holidays!"... midnight mass... grandparents' houses (more of a past tradition now that I'm married and my parents always host Christmas these days)... cinnamon... Christmas carols... visiting my best friend's parents' houses to drop off cards and say hello... Christmas Day phone calls to those too far away... and Boney M and John Denver in my parents' CD player.
These things generally appear for me in the time immediately surrounding the actual holiday. Today is only a single day beyond Remembrance Day, and already my mom is nearly finished her shopping. Sure, this is prudent and practical, but it's so far in advance. I'm simply not ready for it. Although the days are shorter than previous weeks, they're still too long. And it's still too warm... and there's still too much work and too many weekends to go before that point. I'm just not ready to embrace it.
Some people make me think that I'm a bit of a Scrooge. But, when I'm able to watch the cartoons of Garfield's Christmas and Charlie Brown's Christmas, I'll know that it's time to relax and enjoy myself.
T
Clue #1: Costco has been selling Christmas-themed wrapping paper for a number of weeks, along with rows and rows of Christmas sweets and sometimes-tacky decorations that feed the festive spirit. Sure, they have some cute stuff every year, but I think I'm scared off more often than I am intrigued.
Clue #2: Peppermint Hot Chocolate has arrived at Starbucks. This kicks off the Christmas season for K every year. Although Starbucks carries a mint syrup for their specialty coffees, the peppermint hot chocolate is only around for the holiday season. (Disclaimer: for any of you Starbucks fiends, I apologize if my information is inaccurate... if I'm wrong, I'll move on to even more obvious clues...)
Clue #3: Christmas cups have arrived at Starbucks. You know, the red ones with the snow flakes? If you don't, good for you... you obviously live in a town smaller than Williams Lake.
Just FYI: I think that Starbucks should grammatically adjust the name to represent the missing apostrophe. If I'm not mistaken, since the company is named after a character in Herman Melville's Moby Dick, shouldn't it be Starbuck's with the present apostrophe? Or, simply Starbuck without the "s"? Where's Lynn Trussey when you need her!
Clue #4: K has officially taken out all of her Christmas music and burned each CD onto her IPod.
Realistically, this is enough for me to get the hint.
For me, though, Christmas is family and friends and new socks on Christmas morning... late night games of cards when the snow is blowing outside... darts with the boys of the family in my parents' basement... having any and all excuses to enjoy a beer or Bailey's or two in the middle of the day just because, as my dad always says, "Who cares? You're on holidays!"... midnight mass... grandparents' houses (more of a past tradition now that I'm married and my parents always host Christmas these days)... cinnamon... Christmas carols... visiting my best friend's parents' houses to drop off cards and say hello... Christmas Day phone calls to those too far away... and Boney M and John Denver in my parents' CD player.
These things generally appear for me in the time immediately surrounding the actual holiday. Today is only a single day beyond Remembrance Day, and already my mom is nearly finished her shopping. Sure, this is prudent and practical, but it's so far in advance. I'm simply not ready for it. Although the days are shorter than previous weeks, they're still too long. And it's still too warm... and there's still too much work and too many weekends to go before that point. I'm just not ready to embrace it.
Some people make me think that I'm a bit of a Scrooge. But, when I'm able to watch the cartoons of Garfield's Christmas and Charlie Brown's Christmas, I'll know that it's time to relax and enjoy myself.
T
Sunday, November 11, 2007
A day for remembrance
My paternal grandparents are getting on in years. I guess grandparents get on in years by definition. They're supposed to be old, wise, and potentially wary of the world. Living for eight or nine decades typically does this to a person (or so I assume... maybe even in a somewhat naive, Hollywood sort of way). It makes them stubborn and opinionated and sometimes impossible to deal with, but they also cherish many simple things that people often forget. Not even all the time, but at least some of the time.
I have a lot of memories in their house. Little has changed since I was a kid... the pictures on the cupboards in the dining room feature all the grandkids and (now) great-grandkids and family portraits from the years. The strange bison statue still sits on their family room coffee table, and to this day, a number of kids books line a small shelf between the living and dining room. The Louis L'Amour books still cover a shelf in the living room (my grandfather absolutely loves the old westerns and has read each a number of times), and living room in the basement is still adorned with the heads of whitetail and mule deer, as well as other trophy horns and a gaggle of stuff pheasants. A table in this same room is covered with fly-tying equipment, an old hobby of my grandfather's which my father still does today. My grandma always has stacks of Slovene magazines sitting near "her chair" in the living room. The garage still has an ancient Singer sewing machine that can sew through pretty much anything, including leather, as well as a pedal-driven grinding wheel and a host of fishing rods, reels and nets. The sewing machine is my grandfather's... he worked as a furniture upholsterer and a cobbler in town once he was able to afford his shop after moving over to Canada. The outside of the house is still covered in the same terrible stucco that I'm almost positive is made partially out of recycled glass beer and pop bottles.
My grandparents arrived in Canada in the early fifties. Surviving the war in Slovenia, including an intense occupation by both the Nazis and the Italians (it's a border country with Italy, Austria, Hungary, and Croatia) as well as a reorganized (and highly messy) communist leadership following WWII, they were able to flee to Canada a few years after the war.
I think back to their house because of the stories. I would sit for hours at my grandma's table, listening to her stories about the "old country". Some were sad, some were happy. Others were simply memories. My grandfather, though, only ever told stories of Canada. He would talk about first moving here, the jobs he worked, and his memories of the grandkids as they grew up. He loved to tell fishing stories and stories of his hunting trips that he and my dad or he and some friends took. To this day, he says that "fishing saved my life". He was battling some severe gastro-intestinal problems when he was trying to raise his family and keep a roof over their heads. He said his stomach was always "flipping over" and turning on itself. One day, while visiting the doctor's office, the doctor asked him what he did to relax. Dumbfounded, he asked the doctor what he meant. The doctor repeated the question, explaining that he needed to find some way to relax if he was going to live to a reasonable age (the stomach issues were stress related). So, the doctor suggested he go fishing. My grandfather, at that point, had never been fishing... he never had the time, and it sounded like a silly thing to spend time doing. The doctor replied that he should try it out, and that they should go together.
That was nearly 50 years ago.
In retrospect, it seems a bit funny... that he would find a lifelong passion because he was really stressed out. He became an active member of the fish and game (I think he pretty much ran it at one point), raised two sons who are both avid outdoorsmen, and even taught the Outdoor Ed. at the local high school for a number of years. My dad gets out fishing every opportunity he can, and I know my uncle loves shooting black powder and still hunts with his boys. My brother and I grew up fishing with him in the canal near his house, and shooting archery with him and my dad at the range in Picture Butte (which used to house the curling rink). We would go spot deer with him on weekends, and he would always take us into the garage and pick out a fishing rod for each of us when we were kids. My brother and I used to go peel potatoes at a local hall for the annual Fish & Game dinners where we would eat like kings. He would spoil us with Scotch Mints and wafer cookies and anything grandma had stashed in the house.
Even though my grandma was never an outdoorsy person like my grandpa, I can always remember her cooking up peliczinkas (again, pardon the spelling... crepe-like creations from the old country), cabbage rolls, perogies and pork and deer cutlets. The smell of her super-buttery mashed potatoes always put a smile on my face. We used to fight to the death for her butterhorns that she used to bake, too. We always had big family dinners out there during holidays. My dad and my brother and I still fight over the buterrhorns whenever she makes them. We'd play cards at the dining room table and tell stories about whatever came to mind. Grandma still has one foot dangling in Slovenia, and misses it terribly, even though she hasn't been in over 20 years. But she tells stories about it like it was yesterday... it's one of those things that I'll never mind hearing.
I think about these things mainly because I'm glad I have a chance to hear these stories and recall these memories. It's the blessing of grandparents and grandchildren I guess... you're able to experience all the good things, and let go of the less-good things. Grandparents never had to scold us, and even though they are stubborn and can be full of faults and imperfections and negative traits just like any other person, the blessings come in the fact that we can ignore these things, because all we ever experienced were the positives. And the memories. And can root ourselves in their history.
This was one of the main reasons I traveled to Europe... to get in touch with these roots. These roots on my dad's side and my Irish roots on my mother's side. In these things, I feel as though I find myself. I know it's a cliche, but often times "you can never really find yourself until you know where you've been"...
T
I have a lot of memories in their house. Little has changed since I was a kid... the pictures on the cupboards in the dining room feature all the grandkids and (now) great-grandkids and family portraits from the years. The strange bison statue still sits on their family room coffee table, and to this day, a number of kids books line a small shelf between the living and dining room. The Louis L'Amour books still cover a shelf in the living room (my grandfather absolutely loves the old westerns and has read each a number of times), and living room in the basement is still adorned with the heads of whitetail and mule deer, as well as other trophy horns and a gaggle of stuff pheasants. A table in this same room is covered with fly-tying equipment, an old hobby of my grandfather's which my father still does today. My grandma always has stacks of Slovene magazines sitting near "her chair" in the living room. The garage still has an ancient Singer sewing machine that can sew through pretty much anything, including leather, as well as a pedal-driven grinding wheel and a host of fishing rods, reels and nets. The sewing machine is my grandfather's... he worked as a furniture upholsterer and a cobbler in town once he was able to afford his shop after moving over to Canada. The outside of the house is still covered in the same terrible stucco that I'm almost positive is made partially out of recycled glass beer and pop bottles.
My grandparents arrived in Canada in the early fifties. Surviving the war in Slovenia, including an intense occupation by both the Nazis and the Italians (it's a border country with Italy, Austria, Hungary, and Croatia) as well as a reorganized (and highly messy) communist leadership following WWII, they were able to flee to Canada a few years after the war.
I think back to their house because of the stories. I would sit for hours at my grandma's table, listening to her stories about the "old country". Some were sad, some were happy. Others were simply memories. My grandfather, though, only ever told stories of Canada. He would talk about first moving here, the jobs he worked, and his memories of the grandkids as they grew up. He loved to tell fishing stories and stories of his hunting trips that he and my dad or he and some friends took. To this day, he says that "fishing saved my life". He was battling some severe gastro-intestinal problems when he was trying to raise his family and keep a roof over their heads. He said his stomach was always "flipping over" and turning on itself. One day, while visiting the doctor's office, the doctor asked him what he did to relax. Dumbfounded, he asked the doctor what he meant. The doctor repeated the question, explaining that he needed to find some way to relax if he was going to live to a reasonable age (the stomach issues were stress related). So, the doctor suggested he go fishing. My grandfather, at that point, had never been fishing... he never had the time, and it sounded like a silly thing to spend time doing. The doctor replied that he should try it out, and that they should go together.
That was nearly 50 years ago.
In retrospect, it seems a bit funny... that he would find a lifelong passion because he was really stressed out. He became an active member of the fish and game (I think he pretty much ran it at one point), raised two sons who are both avid outdoorsmen, and even taught the Outdoor Ed. at the local high school for a number of years. My dad gets out fishing every opportunity he can, and I know my uncle loves shooting black powder and still hunts with his boys. My brother and I grew up fishing with him in the canal near his house, and shooting archery with him and my dad at the range in Picture Butte (which used to house the curling rink). We would go spot deer with him on weekends, and he would always take us into the garage and pick out a fishing rod for each of us when we were kids. My brother and I used to go peel potatoes at a local hall for the annual Fish & Game dinners where we would eat like kings. He would spoil us with Scotch Mints and wafer cookies and anything grandma had stashed in the house.
Even though my grandma was never an outdoorsy person like my grandpa, I can always remember her cooking up peliczinkas (again, pardon the spelling... crepe-like creations from the old country), cabbage rolls, perogies and pork and deer cutlets. The smell of her super-buttery mashed potatoes always put a smile on my face. We used to fight to the death for her butterhorns that she used to bake, too. We always had big family dinners out there during holidays. My dad and my brother and I still fight over the buterrhorns whenever she makes them. We'd play cards at the dining room table and tell stories about whatever came to mind. Grandma still has one foot dangling in Slovenia, and misses it terribly, even though she hasn't been in over 20 years. But she tells stories about it like it was yesterday... it's one of those things that I'll never mind hearing.
I think about these things mainly because I'm glad I have a chance to hear these stories and recall these memories. It's the blessing of grandparents and grandchildren I guess... you're able to experience all the good things, and let go of the less-good things. Grandparents never had to scold us, and even though they are stubborn and can be full of faults and imperfections and negative traits just like any other person, the blessings come in the fact that we can ignore these things, because all we ever experienced were the positives. And the memories. And can root ourselves in their history.
This was one of the main reasons I traveled to Europe... to get in touch with these roots. These roots on my dad's side and my Irish roots on my mother's side. In these things, I feel as though I find myself. I know it's a cliche, but often times "you can never really find yourself until you know where you've been"...
T
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Embracing the geek and snapshot memories of a trip across the pond...
While I was on my backpacking trip, my traveling sidekick and I attended a performance of The Reduced Shakespeare Company's The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged). We were able to see them in this performance in a fairly traditional theatre off Picadilly Circus. Tickets were reasonably priced, and since we were only beginning our trip, we were a little more free and easy with our spending compared to the later stages of the adventure.
Since taking up teaching, I've done everything in my power to spread around my love for these guys... they are astoundingly funny and do a great job not only creating parodies of Shakespeare's creations, but really getting to the heart of why people still read the plays today. If you'd like to see some clips, YouTube abounds with them. So, in the spirit of sharing the experience, please go....
HERE.
Enjoy.
T
Since taking up teaching, I've done everything in my power to spread around my love for these guys... they are astoundingly funny and do a great job not only creating parodies of Shakespeare's creations, but really getting to the heart of why people still read the plays today. If you'd like to see some clips, YouTube abounds with them. So, in the spirit of sharing the experience, please go....
HERE.
Enjoy.
T
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
I know I messed it all up...
After all the ambitious posting, I threw it all away. It started off innocently... after dinner drinks with K and a friend of hers from work. I just walked in the door. K's a bit, shall we say, under the weather, and I'm ready for bed. Oh well... just wasn't meant to be. Socializing took precedent.
T
T
Flashing back
I was always a bit of an odd kid. Not always easy to get along with, but generally easy-going. A bit of a black sheep in my family... I've always been the book worm. As a teen, I was in love with Grisham novels and Archie comics. I've been a bit of an academic (I use that term loosely... it's not so much that I'm ambitious... I've just always had a relatively easy time with school). I don't watch college football or basketball (or, not often), and I was never a stellar athlete (I'm probably better at everything now than I ever was in high school). I'm a big fan of really cheesy jokes and controversial books. My mom always said (and still says) that I am a weird duck, and has commented a number of times on my reading of some "weird shit". I've tried to convince her that the books I read are pretty fantastic, but she's a bit of a hard sell. I was always the kid in the family challenging political views, religious views, personal views, etc. I wasn't always very good at keeping my mouth shut when circumstances dictated that this was the right thing to do. But I also felt more comfortable at the adult table during holiday dinners than I ever did at the kid table... I knew that I simply wasn't that cool, and to a certain extent, often felt uncomfortable with most people my own age. I followed around my big brother like a shadow for years. Even in high school, I would hang out with him and his friends from time to time... but I always tried to make sure I established myself as independent, even though that wasn't so true. Now that I've hit my quarter-life crisis mark, this is less often the case. Still, I always felt like I was older than a lot of people... not so much with the way I acted (I could be as immature as a character from an Adam Sandler movie), but I always just felt like I got on better with people older than me. Simply a feeling of uncertainty, awkwardness, a sense that I was out of place. Like on the Sesame Street song. That must be why I snagged K (she's a cradle-robber... two whole years older than me).
I was also the one who left Canada to backpack to Europe and who moved away to BC and never went back to the prairies. I also got married before finishing school, which caused a lot of anxiety with the parents... between my trip to Europe and getting hitched, they were really worried that something would happen and I wouldn't finish school). Although my career path has been anything but extraordinary, English lit was definitely not the plan when I went to started my first year of post-secondary. Neuroscience was the plan. Or, at least Bio-chem or general sciences. I loved chemistry even through my first year of uni. But I loved my other classes more... Philosophy, Religious Studies, Canadian Literature. It was in these classes that I found my passion. Classes where I could contemplate, argue, challenge my classmates, get riled up, have the foundation of my own beliefs challenged. This drove me. And still does. An example being: I'm one of the few people I know who would actually be interested in reading about Margaret Atwood's take on writing and being a writer. Like mom said... "weird shit".
I guess after reading L.G.'s blog today, I felt a touch nostalgic. I also got a message from my Europe travel-companion yesterday that had a clip from Anthony Bourdain's travels in Belfast, a city that both J and I really enjoyed. This, along with the perpetual question of, "What was I like as a kid?", makes me wonder how the world sees me. What I was like from the outside looking in?
Although I know Atwood was talking specifically about a writer being both a "person" and an "author" simultaneously... but maybe part of the sensation is related to what she talks about in her book, Negotiating with the Dead... ourselves as we live, and ourselves as we are seen... maybe even ourselves as how we remember ourselves. If that makes you dizzy... well... that's the point, I guess...
"Where does it come from, this notion that the writing self -- the self that comes to be thought of as "the author" -- is not the same as the one who does the living? Where do writers pick up the idea that they have an alien of some sort living in their brain? Surely it wasn't Charles Dickens the fun-loving paterfamilias, keen deviser of Christmas games for his kiddies, who caused poor Little Nell to die an early death? He cried the whole time his pen-wielding hand was pitilessly doing her in. No, it was the necrophiliac he carried around inside him, like a tapeworm made of ink"
T
I was also the one who left Canada to backpack to Europe and who moved away to BC and never went back to the prairies. I also got married before finishing school, which caused a lot of anxiety with the parents... between my trip to Europe and getting hitched, they were really worried that something would happen and I wouldn't finish school). Although my career path has been anything but extraordinary, English lit was definitely not the plan when I went to started my first year of post-secondary. Neuroscience was the plan. Or, at least Bio-chem or general sciences. I loved chemistry even through my first year of uni. But I loved my other classes more... Philosophy, Religious Studies, Canadian Literature. It was in these classes that I found my passion. Classes where I could contemplate, argue, challenge my classmates, get riled up, have the foundation of my own beliefs challenged. This drove me. And still does. An example being: I'm one of the few people I know who would actually be interested in reading about Margaret Atwood's take on writing and being a writer. Like mom said... "weird shit".
I guess after reading L.G.'s blog today, I felt a touch nostalgic. I also got a message from my Europe travel-companion yesterday that had a clip from Anthony Bourdain's travels in Belfast, a city that both J and I really enjoyed. This, along with the perpetual question of, "What was I like as a kid?", makes me wonder how the world sees me. What I was like from the outside looking in?
Although I know Atwood was talking specifically about a writer being both a "person" and an "author" simultaneously... but maybe part of the sensation is related to what she talks about in her book, Negotiating with the Dead... ourselves as we live, and ourselves as we are seen... maybe even ourselves as how we remember ourselves. If that makes you dizzy... well... that's the point, I guess...
"Where does it come from, this notion that the writing self -- the self that comes to be thought of as "the author" -- is not the same as the one who does the living? Where do writers pick up the idea that they have an alien of some sort living in their brain? Surely it wasn't Charles Dickens the fun-loving paterfamilias, keen deviser of Christmas games for his kiddies, who caused poor Little Nell to die an early death? He cried the whole time his pen-wielding hand was pitilessly doing her in. No, it was the necrophiliac he carried around inside him, like a tapeworm made of ink"
T
Just one of them days...
I think today was one of the longest days of my life. Lets just say I walked into the rowdiest class of my life today... 31 one kids... grade 8... ALL GIRLS. And they were the most unmanageable groups of kids I've had to deal with thus far. Their teacher must have the patience of Job, because she must be a better person than I. I know for a fact I couldn't handle that every day. I'd probably be in a looney bin. It's bad enough that I have a few grey hairs and a receding hairline at my age... I feel like I'm 40 now.
I decided that for days like this, teachers should pray to St. Jude because the classes simply feel like a lost causes.
Luckily, I was able to get some aggression out by attending not only one session of volleyball tonight, but two! So after smashing volleyballs as hard as possible at my other opponents for two hours (and know that I'm still alive and I still made a couple hundred bucks for the effort) and knowing that there's still some red wine waiting for me on the table, that not all is lost.
Maybe Saint Jude will have to wait another day.
"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace"...
And help me to hold back from strangling any teenagers during my call-in job tomorrow.
T
I decided that for days like this, teachers should pray to St. Jude because the classes simply feel like a lost causes.
Luckily, I was able to get some aggression out by attending not only one session of volleyball tonight, but two! So after smashing volleyballs as hard as possible at my other opponents for two hours (and know that I'm still alive and I still made a couple hundred bucks for the effort) and knowing that there's still some red wine waiting for me on the table, that not all is lost.
Maybe Saint Jude will have to wait another day.
"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace"...
And help me to hold back from strangling any teenagers during my call-in job tomorrow.
T
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
One piece of advice I gave to a new student teacher in English...
Since the beginning of the year, I've been fortunate enough to be called in for a number of English teachers throughout the district that I met in one capacity or another while doing my practicum. One of these teachers has had me in 7 or 8 times, and I absolutely love going to her classes... the kids are great, her classes are interesting, and I get along well with the staff.
During my first few days of going in for her, I ran into a girl who was doing her practicum this year at that very school, and the woman I was subbing for happened to be one of her sponsor teachers. "S" and I had actually attended a few classes together at my old University on the coast, and hadn't seen each other in more than a year. So, I felt like I could give her a bit of advice about my experiences from being a student teacher, particularly since they were so recent (as most know, I just completed my year-long practicum in June). After going off about classroom management and organization, I revealed that she should realize one thing about effective teachers: that they are, in fact, big geeks. And, in order to get through to kids, she should be comfortable with the fact that she falls into that category (of geekdom) and she needs to embrace in an effort to become more comfortable in front of 30 fear-smelling teens.
Now think about this... she was expected to teach Shakespeare to a group of 30+ grade 11 students, most of whom couldn't care less about a guy that lived approximately 400 years ago. She's up there facing this mob, trying to get them to engage with a text that looks only remotely like modern English. And, seeing as there's no hip-hop soundtrack to go along with it, figure out a way for it to become meaningful to the students.
I told her to consider her career path and it's training. She had spent the previous four years getting a degree that forces a university student to continually write 10/15/20 page papers about dead guys who talked about love and hate and the cosmos and so on. She chose to take 2 whole classes just on Billy Shakespeare! And now, she was training to be a teacher so she could wake up every morning and talk about books and writing and poetry and Elizabethan drama! Now, if that doesn't designate someone to be a bookworm or nerd or English geek, I don't know what does! Less than 20% of the valley population attends post-secondary in one of it's various forms. Probably only about 15-20% of those pursue University and maybe something humanities related. So, realistically, she represents about 1% (or less) of the population in that she absolutely loves talking about Shakespeare and reading his dense plays. Admit the geekiness, I told her. Embrace it! Show the kids why you love it so much by being passionate about it! And prove it's worth by your passion.
Realistically, I was being a bit facetious. There are a number of qualities that make a teacher good... even great. And I definitely don't have all those qualities. But one day I might, and I think if I keep up with the zealous passion not only for literature but for the students themselves, that I'll do alright. Only about 29.8 years left before retirement, so I have a ways to go. But hopefully I helped her embrace her inner nerd, no matter what the outcome would be.
T
Oh, I just finished Fury by Salman Rushdie. It wasn't quite as good as Shalimar the Clown, but it was still pretty enjoyable. I think Kite Runner or All Quiet on the Western Front are the next ones on my list. What do you think? War novel by Remarque or modern novel about Afghanistan by Hosseini? Let me know...
During my first few days of going in for her, I ran into a girl who was doing her practicum this year at that very school, and the woman I was subbing for happened to be one of her sponsor teachers. "S" and I had actually attended a few classes together at my old University on the coast, and hadn't seen each other in more than a year. So, I felt like I could give her a bit of advice about my experiences from being a student teacher, particularly since they were so recent (as most know, I just completed my year-long practicum in June). After going off about classroom management and organization, I revealed that she should realize one thing about effective teachers: that they are, in fact, big geeks. And, in order to get through to kids, she should be comfortable with the fact that she falls into that category (of geekdom) and she needs to embrace in an effort to become more comfortable in front of 30 fear-smelling teens.
Now think about this... she was expected to teach Shakespeare to a group of 30+ grade 11 students, most of whom couldn't care less about a guy that lived approximately 400 years ago. She's up there facing this mob, trying to get them to engage with a text that looks only remotely like modern English. And, seeing as there's no hip-hop soundtrack to go along with it, figure out a way for it to become meaningful to the students.
I told her to consider her career path and it's training. She had spent the previous four years getting a degree that forces a university student to continually write 10/15/20 page papers about dead guys who talked about love and hate and the cosmos and so on. She chose to take 2 whole classes just on Billy Shakespeare! And now, she was training to be a teacher so she could wake up every morning and talk about books and writing and poetry and Elizabethan drama! Now, if that doesn't designate someone to be a bookworm or nerd or English geek, I don't know what does! Less than 20% of the valley population attends post-secondary in one of it's various forms. Probably only about 15-20% of those pursue University and maybe something humanities related. So, realistically, she represents about 1% (or less) of the population in that she absolutely loves talking about Shakespeare and reading his dense plays. Admit the geekiness, I told her. Embrace it! Show the kids why you love it so much by being passionate about it! And prove it's worth by your passion.
Realistically, I was being a bit facetious. There are a number of qualities that make a teacher good... even great. And I definitely don't have all those qualities. But one day I might, and I think if I keep up with the zealous passion not only for literature but for the students themselves, that I'll do alright. Only about 29.8 years left before retirement, so I have a ways to go. But hopefully I helped her embrace her inner nerd, no matter what the outcome would be.
T
Oh, I just finished Fury by Salman Rushdie. It wasn't quite as good as Shalimar the Clown, but it was still pretty enjoyable. I think Kite Runner or All Quiet on the Western Front are the next ones on my list. What do you think? War novel by Remarque or modern novel about Afghanistan by Hosseini? Let me know...
Monday, November 05, 2007
Red Wine and new Monday night recipes
As I've mentioned, I've been getting the cooking itch over the past few weeks. I've become so sick and tired of the food I've been eating that I keep browsing through cookbooks to see if I can come up with anything interesting or exciting or, at least, make-able without spending $100 on ingredients I'll never use again. I'm only moderately creative in the kitchen, and although I rarely cook with a recipe, I don't typically like things like sauces from a can... too much blandness for me. So I'm trying to change that by endeavouring into the recipe books K has had stashed up in the cupboard since I've known her.
My first real foray into this new cooking adventure actually came long before my disdain for my typical dishes. While attending a family reunion in Alberta in August, I was lucky enough to try out some delicious Chicken Lasagna made by one of K's cousins. It was really wonderful. Gooey and creamy and delicious, and hands-down better than the beef lasagna that was there too. So, after a few weeks of being home, we finally hassled K's cousin J for the recipe, I made it the next night, and we made enough so that we actually still have some in the freezer, waiting for another delicious meal experience.
Since then, the itch has come and gone, but has returned with a vengeance over the past week or two. I've already talked about the delicious Whisky Squash Soup I made last week (let me know if you want the recipe), and today I dove into a bit of a soul-food classic: Hunter's Chicken.
I think part of the reason I chose this recipe was the fact that I'd have an excuse to open up and drink a bottle of red wine because the recipe called for it (and now that it's cold outside, my tastebuds have also been craving the glorious nectar of the gods, a.k.a., a luscious sampling of Cabernet Sauvignon). And I guess I'm just a fan of hearty dishes that fill you up and leave enough leftovers for the next two days. I do have to say... it was WONDERFUL! And it suited the robust Cab perfectly too.
So here I am, a few glasses into the night, full to the brim of pasta and chicken simmered in tomatos and peppers and garlic and spices and wine. Garlic and spices and wine, oh my! So, tomorrow's another adventure. I'll definitely have to do some extra cardio at the gym over the next few days... oh well... these are the sacrifices I'm willing to make!
If you're ever interested in the food I'm cooking, I'll send a recipe. But for now, my wine glass beckons...
T
My first real foray into this new cooking adventure actually came long before my disdain for my typical dishes. While attending a family reunion in Alberta in August, I was lucky enough to try out some delicious Chicken Lasagna made by one of K's cousins. It was really wonderful. Gooey and creamy and delicious, and hands-down better than the beef lasagna that was there too. So, after a few weeks of being home, we finally hassled K's cousin J for the recipe, I made it the next night, and we made enough so that we actually still have some in the freezer, waiting for another delicious meal experience.
Since then, the itch has come and gone, but has returned with a vengeance over the past week or two. I've already talked about the delicious Whisky Squash Soup I made last week (let me know if you want the recipe), and today I dove into a bit of a soul-food classic: Hunter's Chicken.
I think part of the reason I chose this recipe was the fact that I'd have an excuse to open up and drink a bottle of red wine because the recipe called for it (and now that it's cold outside, my tastebuds have also been craving the glorious nectar of the gods, a.k.a., a luscious sampling of Cabernet Sauvignon). And I guess I'm just a fan of hearty dishes that fill you up and leave enough leftovers for the next two days. I do have to say... it was WONDERFUL! And it suited the robust Cab perfectly too.
So here I am, a few glasses into the night, full to the brim of pasta and chicken simmered in tomatos and peppers and garlic and spices and wine. Garlic and spices and wine, oh my! So, tomorrow's another adventure. I'll definitely have to do some extra cardio at the gym over the next few days... oh well... these are the sacrifices I'm willing to make!
If you're ever interested in the food I'm cooking, I'll send a recipe. But for now, my wine glass beckons...
T
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Small town Saturday nights
This isn't the smallest town around, geographically speaking. Considering the Western Canadian landscape, it can even be considered a larg-ish town. But some days, it's simply far smaller than any geographical consideration could account for.
We attended a pretty "grown-up" dinner party last night. As K and I transition from living a college life to living one of the working class couples, we seem to be encountering more "grown-up" situtations, which one would expect. We're big fans of the potlucks, nights out with NO plans to get messy drunk (like the days of yore... for me, anyway), and quiet nights just chatting amongst friends. Last night was another of those nights... my coaching buddy J and his wife had us and another couple over for a pretty wonderful dinner with wine and homemade chow mein and games and talk. It was highly enjoyable, and before we knew it, it was going on midnight and this prince was about to turn into pumpkin. Funny things happen when you meet new people, and there just happened to be a few terrifyingly small-town-ish coincidences at the party last night.
So I've known J and his wife for just over a year, since K and I moved to the area. J and I coached a few volleyball teams together, did our teaching practicums at the same schools, and we now play on the same competitive rec-league volleyball team every week. When we received the invite, though, it was the first time we'd planned to get together with both couples, so K and I were really looking forward to it. When he made the call about last night, he definitely mentioned that another couple was going to attend. However, I know about 2 of J's friends and neither of them are married, so I had no clue who the other pair was going to be.
Shortly after arriving and being introduced to said other couple (also a member of the DINK's of which K and I, as well as J and his wife, are a part), A (the lady of said couple) mentions to K that she thought she looked familiar. After discussing work and habitual things we do from time to time, we realized that both ladies work in the same office complex, although they each work for separate bosses and in a separate building. Still, an interestingly strange coincidence nonetheless.
Even more strange was what was about to happen. I mentioned that K and I went to see Martian Child at the movies the previous night. It was pretty cute, really touching in some parts, and being a John Cusack fan, I thought it was pretty well done. A responded by saying that she and her husband also went to see it that same night. "Did you go to the early showing or the late one?" I asked. C responded that they went to the early viewing, the same time as we did. Within another few seconds, we realized that, not only had we attended the same movie theatre with the same movie and same time, but we were actually sitting about 6 feet away from each other in the same row! Now THAT made for a "Holy crap! Small World" commentary and series of laughter that lasted for the next ten minutes. Kinda scary! No wonder A thought K looked familiar!
After being worried about not knowing these people and facing the possibility of having some awkward silences, we had a great night of food and wine and games. Well, I had wine... a lovely bottle of Chilean Sauvignon Blanc all to myself, while some had water and others had some rye. The games were still a blast, and after being severely humiliated at Rummoli, the men vanquished the ladies in an intense game of Cranium.
Still, it makes you wonder how small this world really is, even with it's 6 or 7 billion inhabitants. Maybe that's just Canada... a land of small-towns stretched across a vast geographical landscape, all connected by movie showings and workplaces and pots of chow mein.
T
We attended a pretty "grown-up" dinner party last night. As K and I transition from living a college life to living one of the working class couples, we seem to be encountering more "grown-up" situtations, which one would expect. We're big fans of the potlucks, nights out with NO plans to get messy drunk (like the days of yore... for me, anyway), and quiet nights just chatting amongst friends. Last night was another of those nights... my coaching buddy J and his wife had us and another couple over for a pretty wonderful dinner with wine and homemade chow mein and games and talk. It was highly enjoyable, and before we knew it, it was going on midnight and this prince was about to turn into pumpkin. Funny things happen when you meet new people, and there just happened to be a few terrifyingly small-town-ish coincidences at the party last night.
So I've known J and his wife for just over a year, since K and I moved to the area. J and I coached a few volleyball teams together, did our teaching practicums at the same schools, and we now play on the same competitive rec-league volleyball team every week. When we received the invite, though, it was the first time we'd planned to get together with both couples, so K and I were really looking forward to it. When he made the call about last night, he definitely mentioned that another couple was going to attend. However, I know about 2 of J's friends and neither of them are married, so I had no clue who the other pair was going to be.
Shortly after arriving and being introduced to said other couple (also a member of the DINK's of which K and I, as well as J and his wife, are a part), A (the lady of said couple) mentions to K that she thought she looked familiar. After discussing work and habitual things we do from time to time, we realized that both ladies work in the same office complex, although they each work for separate bosses and in a separate building. Still, an interestingly strange coincidence nonetheless.
Even more strange was what was about to happen. I mentioned that K and I went to see Martian Child at the movies the previous night. It was pretty cute, really touching in some parts, and being a John Cusack fan, I thought it was pretty well done. A responded by saying that she and her husband also went to see it that same night. "Did you go to the early showing or the late one?" I asked. C responded that they went to the early viewing, the same time as we did. Within another few seconds, we realized that, not only had we attended the same movie theatre with the same movie and same time, but we were actually sitting about 6 feet away from each other in the same row! Now THAT made for a "Holy crap! Small World" commentary and series of laughter that lasted for the next ten minutes. Kinda scary! No wonder A thought K looked familiar!
After being worried about not knowing these people and facing the possibility of having some awkward silences, we had a great night of food and wine and games. Well, I had wine... a lovely bottle of Chilean Sauvignon Blanc all to myself, while some had water and others had some rye. The games were still a blast, and after being severely humiliated at Rummoli, the men vanquished the ladies in an intense game of Cranium.
Still, it makes you wonder how small this world really is, even with it's 6 or 7 billion inhabitants. Maybe that's just Canada... a land of small-towns stretched across a vast geographical landscape, all connected by movie showings and workplaces and pots of chow mein.
T
Fridays and weekends and "fall"ing back in time
I capped off my work week yesterday with a sort-of double-day. I received a call on Thursday night for a 1/2 day job at a middle school that, to be perfectly honest, I dread going to (never good luck there, particularly on Friday afternoons). But, since it was a morning job, I took it on and was happy that I'd still work, but I might be able to enjoy a bit of the afternoon. Yet just as I was getting up and furiously rubbing the sleep from my eyes, my cell rang again... with another job! It turned out that there was another English teacher at the same school who needed the afternoon off, so I ended up working a full day at the same school for two separate teachers. I'm pretty sure this is rare, but it was quite enjoyable to switch gears in this way.
Typically, these Friday afternoons can be a nightmare, particularly when there's a kid-oriented holiday mid-way through the week (even more particularly, a kid-oriented holiday that involves late nights and FAR too much sugar). But, I was fortunate to have a very understanding teacher to sub for yesterday afternoon, and other than one really brief short story assignment and a fun vocab activity for another class, she definitely prepped a few episodes of The Simpsons for me to show the class as a sort of tribute to Halloween (they do a Treehouse of Horrors episode every year... my favorite one, hands down, is in the first or second season where they spoof Poe's "The Raven", which is read by James Earl Jones. LOVE IT!).
To cap off this successful day, I also received an email from a local sportswear company to let me know that my club volleyball jacket was finally in! I've been waiting weeks for it and I was finally able to pick it up yesterday. The reason I was so excited is that I've been waiting since the spring to order/receive it, and it was a gift from my club volleyball players that I coached last year. It's wonderful and I'm definitely going to post pictures of it in the next few days.
Changing gears completely (so I can step out of talking about school/work and get into a more weekend-y mode), I've been on a big cooking kick lately. Well, in my head, anyways. Last Sunday, I decided that I was sick of waiting for two of my friends to send me their Squash Soup recipes (which I've been harassing them about for months), and I went to K's plethora of cook books to find an alternative recipe that I could make on my own. I'd never made soup from scratch before, so I thought, "Hey, that would be fun!". The one thing I haven't mentioned is that although I purchased my ingredients in the late afternoon, I cooked something completely separate for dinner, K was doing some baking and I was watching TV, I didn't actually start working on my soup until about 10pm! Now, this wasn't the smartest idea I'd ever come up with, but it was just one of those days that I was feeling ambitious so I went for it. After finally getting the soup cooked and pureed and cooked again, I ended up with about three litres of soup and noone to eat it! I'm a big eater, but I sure didn't have it in me to eat three litres of squash soup for dessert at 11:30pm on a Sunday night.
I ended up freezing most of it and keeping some to eat throughout the week. It was definitely delicious, so I have to thank the creators of the recipe for "Whisky Squash Soup" from The Girl Can't Cook cookbook... the book is actually really well put together and highly practical for the amateur chef. That's me.
But I keep trying to think up various things I could make... Hunter's Chicken might be on the menu for tomorrow if I'm feeling like another bout of ambition is approaching. For tonight, though, K and I are off to a friend's place for a little couples dinner party. Should be fun! And there will be wine, so double that dose of fun.
So, until after the wine and after the extra hour of sleep we get due to the wonderfully enjoyable Daylight Savings Time (I curse it in the spring and, to be honest, think the whole idea is a bit ridiculous in general), adieu...
T
Typically, these Friday afternoons can be a nightmare, particularly when there's a kid-oriented holiday mid-way through the week (even more particularly, a kid-oriented holiday that involves late nights and FAR too much sugar). But, I was fortunate to have a very understanding teacher to sub for yesterday afternoon, and other than one really brief short story assignment and a fun vocab activity for another class, she definitely prepped a few episodes of The Simpsons for me to show the class as a sort of tribute to Halloween (they do a Treehouse of Horrors episode every year... my favorite one, hands down, is in the first or second season where they spoof Poe's "The Raven", which is read by James Earl Jones. LOVE IT!).
To cap off this successful day, I also received an email from a local sportswear company to let me know that my club volleyball jacket was finally in! I've been waiting weeks for it and I was finally able to pick it up yesterday. The reason I was so excited is that I've been waiting since the spring to order/receive it, and it was a gift from my club volleyball players that I coached last year. It's wonderful and I'm definitely going to post pictures of it in the next few days.
Changing gears completely (so I can step out of talking about school/work and get into a more weekend-y mode), I've been on a big cooking kick lately. Well, in my head, anyways. Last Sunday, I decided that I was sick of waiting for two of my friends to send me their Squash Soup recipes (which I've been harassing them about for months), and I went to K's plethora of cook books to find an alternative recipe that I could make on my own. I'd never made soup from scratch before, so I thought, "Hey, that would be fun!". The one thing I haven't mentioned is that although I purchased my ingredients in the late afternoon, I cooked something completely separate for dinner, K was doing some baking and I was watching TV, I didn't actually start working on my soup until about 10pm! Now, this wasn't the smartest idea I'd ever come up with, but it was just one of those days that I was feeling ambitious so I went for it. After finally getting the soup cooked and pureed and cooked again, I ended up with about three litres of soup and noone to eat it! I'm a big eater, but I sure didn't have it in me to eat three litres of squash soup for dessert at 11:30pm on a Sunday night.
I ended up freezing most of it and keeping some to eat throughout the week. It was definitely delicious, so I have to thank the creators of the recipe for "Whisky Squash Soup" from The Girl Can't Cook cookbook... the book is actually really well put together and highly practical for the amateur chef. That's me.
But I keep trying to think up various things I could make... Hunter's Chicken might be on the menu for tomorrow if I'm feeling like another bout of ambition is approaching. For tonight, though, K and I are off to a friend's place for a little couples dinner party. Should be fun! And there will be wine, so double that dose of fun.
So, until after the wine and after the extra hour of sleep we get due to the wonderfully enjoyable Daylight Savings Time (I curse it in the spring and, to be honest, think the whole idea is a bit ridiculous in general), adieu...
T
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