Hate the flaw, love the flaw victim?

I absolutely despise my shortcomings. I think the worst part, however, is the fact that while I'm indulging in these shortcomings, I'm completely unaware of, or completely unwilling to change, said faults. One of these things is talking too much (surprised, anyone?). Another is a terrible sense of time. If I'm not constantly looking at the clock, I'm so completely prone to losing track of time that I'm late for things or I completely underestimate the amount of time it will take me to do something... anything, really. Many of my friends have referred to my world working on what has been dubbed, "T-Time", which differs drastically from Standard Time. If Standard Time dictates that Activity X should take 10 minutes, T-Time will mean it will probably be 15 or 20. If I ever told someone 6:30, they could expect no problems if they arrived at approximately 6:43. If I say I'll meet you in 20 minutes, don't worry if you don't get there for 30. This turns into the obvious issues of always being late and never providing myself enough time to do things.

I'm absolutely certain this was one of the main factors that prevented me from earning my million when I was painting on a piece-work system two years ago. And it also directly impacts my teaching, since teachers have to learn to budget their time extremely well in order to get through the intended lessons and curriculum. When looking long-term, I'm not terrible, but in the short term things are absolutely awful. I'm sure I get this from my mom (since my dad has had to deal with the fact that she's late, or, at least not early, well, ever), since it seems like her genetics have pretty much hit me like a tonne of bricks since I was kid (fair skin, early hair loss, average height, bad joints, propensity to gab, atrocious memory) and they continue to manifest themselves quite regularly. And really, I blame my mom's genes for all the obvious things which she suffers from that I see in myself. I've always wondered how certain sets of genes can so overwhelmingly control the fate of one offspring... not quite like the pea pods and curved thumbs that we studied in high school biology.

The point of this is really to say that, in my slow attempts at getting ready and putting my life in order before heading out the door, I realized I was late and that I was going to miss my bus. Which I did. Which is why I'm stranded here at the University, waiting for the next bus out to my sponsor school. Oh joy, oh bliss. I think I'm just trying to make excuses, because I find that things are easier to accept when you don't have control over them. Maybe not all things, but I've got a pretty large Hakuna Matata attitude, so I find that its pretty easy to deal with. Particularly those things that make you feel like a big moron. Oh well... not much I can do at this point in the game. Thank goodness for silent reading at the start of class.

- T

Do you ever have days...

... that seem like they go on forever? Today is one of them. If only I had some clever quote about being kicked in the teeth with a golf cleat then having the victime smile because they're optimistic. I don't think this makes sense. G' night.

-T

100 posts

I think it should be a celebration!

Okay, maybe that's a bit absurd. If I were to celebrate my own incessant rambling, it would be like celebrating how much I love myself. And, well, that's simply a bit strange. And egocentric. And just ridiculous. So I won't. But this is post #100... weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Now that I'm finished with that, onto other things.

I used to be a voracious reader. I had a strong appetite for a variety of fiction (usually Canadian) and loved spending time at coffee shops on my own just enjoying the fact that I'm alone and I'm okay with that. Needless to say, it's been a long time since I've had a chance to enjoy that sort of time. Between school, work, social and familial committments, there's not a massive amount of T-time left. The odd walk and time on my own either browsing the internet or doing schoolwork is about all I have. Not that it's anything to cry about, but I sometimes miss the days where I could put in my headphones, go for a walk down to the local java hut, and just lose myself for three or four hours eavesdropping on a variety of interesting and not-so-interesting conversations while DMB filled my ears and the smells of chocolate and coffee grounds and toasting sandwiches filled my nostrils, all the while getting lost in the adventures of Timothy Findlay or Douglas Coupland. It's just been a long time since I've been alone.

And it looks like this weekend might be the first time that I have that time. Time to work on my resume, waste time watching crappy TV, drinking coffee at a shop that I've never been to, and just getting my mind together. Sure, it gets a little lonely and I'm a bit of a social butterfly, but I've always been fairly good at being on my own. K might be heading back to visit her family again this weekend since they recently put down a rather large creature of the bovine family which has been turned into a wide variety of choice cuts that are coming to my deep freeze at the most reasonable of prices (and they need to be picked up and brought out here). K wants me to go with her for the drive, but I've been going somewhere and doing something every weekend for the past 3 months, and it might be nice just to have the weekend off. Of everything. Including 16 hours in the car, even though I thoroughly enjoy car rides with my hunny.

So, I guess here's to a year of blogging, 100 rants, and a self-indulgent attempt at immortalizing my less-than-exciting life. I only hope that a little pleasure comes from this from time to time (for my 3 or so readers per day!).

- T

My life as a pilly sweater

I was obviously very tired yesterday. As my friend/colleague N.T. were on our way back into town from school, this thought came into my head and I had to share it. I looked over and said something along the lines of, "I feel fuzzy. I mean, my hair does. I think I need a haircut. Do you ever feel like your head looks like an old, worn-in teddy bear? I do, and my hair feels like that right now." I laughed out loud to myself, and said, "Ah... my life as a pilly sweater! I should write a book about that." I looked over at N.T. and inquired, "Would you buy a book by me titled, 'My life as a pilly sweater'?" She laughed and I felt like a bit of a meathead. Still funny.

Yesterday just felt like the longest half-day of teaching I've had since being here. I'm sure some of it was caused by a mediocre sleep (or just lack of spring-break sleepins), but nonetheless I needed a bit more of it. Then I had two hours of volleyball after I got home and cooked, then marked until 11pm before finally crawling into bed (where I fell asleep immediately after hitting the pillow). Today is gonna be another long one, but I have a limited amount of work to do and tomorrow's Friday (oh joy, oh bliss). And next week is a short week and so is the week after. And then after those 2 weeks, I only have 3 more weeks after that until I'm certified. Not that I'm counting. Okay, maybe I'm counting. And it's springtime. And there's ice cream in the freezer. So really, life's swell. Other than darn kids giving me migraines, life's swell.

- T

Cute things I saw as I was driving to the school today

I had to get some photocopying done, and as I was driving, I saw some pretty funny things....

One billboard read,

"My wife and I had words last night... I just didn't get to use mine."

Another one read,

"Fat is what you get for breaking the feed limit."

The final entertaining thing I saw was a group of kindergarteners waiting on the side of the road and pumping their arms in the air. At first I wasn't sure what they were doing, but then I heard a deep, loud honk coming from the cement truck. They successfully got the cement truck to pull his air horn, hence the arm-pumping motion. During sport road trips back in junior high and high school we used to do that to passing semi's all the time. That, as well as reaching out the window and making paddling motions as we passed people (yes, like in a canoe). Fun times.

- T

How I communicate:

Interestingly, I did this once and had "You Communicate Like a Man" come up. I then went back and changed only one answer, and this came up. Interesting, very interesting...

You Communicate Like a Woman

You empathize, talk things out, and express your emotions freely. You're a good listener, and you're non-judgmental with your advice. Communication is how you connect with people. You're always up for a long talk, no matter how difficult the subject matter is.

Do You Communicate Like a Man or a Woman?

In other news...

I had a really enjoyable trip back to Alberta last weekend. It was great to see a huge number of friends and acquaintances, as well as my family. As always, it never seems like long enough, but it's enjoyable all the same. I'm glad that I have the opportunities to see everyone from time to time.

I was also thinking about where I'm going to be in the next few years. I've been asked repeatedly if I plan to go back to my home town or to Alberta in general, and my response keeps coming back to, "I'm not sure." I'm sure some people think that I hesitate because I don't want to be close to my family, or that I really despise Alberta. However, this isn't really the case at all.

There's no doubt that I love my independence and the fact that I can make a life on my own (with K, of course) outside of the place where I grew up. Other people have difficulty with this. But the fact remains that I simply love B.C. I feel pretty much at home here, and now that I'm in the interior, I'm really enjoying the fact that K and I can drive home for our holidays rather than shelling out money for a flight. This is the real reason I'm hesitating at the move back home. Along with the fact that only a few of my friends still live in Lethbridge and I have many here in B.C. makes me want to stay. The real reason we're considering the move back to Alberta is our families, and as we start considering having a family of our own, we'd like to be closer to them all. If they were in B.C., I wouldn't be planning a move back to the 4-0-3, but since they are there, we're slowly moving closer and closer as time moves on.

Another consideration is where I get a teaching job. I'm hoping to get one here in the valley, but I have no idea if that's going to happen (even though I'm hopeful and moderately confident). I'll probably apply for jobs all over the place, and maybe even send in an application for my old mentor's teaching position. I don't know. All I know is that I've got a lot on my plate and I have no clue where I'll be in 6 months. Wherever it is, though, I'm sure I'll be happy...

- T

Certain all-consuming things

I was tossing and turning. My feet were slightly cold since we decided to leave the window open a crack in order to let in some of the fresh (but chilly) night air. And I was dreaming. Not about sunsets or puppies or eating cheeseburgers (do people actually dream about these things?), but about school. Not university either, but my upcoming return to my sponsor school after a generally enjoyable spring break.

As I rolled over for the tenth time, I grabbed my glasses so I could see the alarm across the room; it read 4:13am. I was awake. Actually, not just awake.... wide awake. I came to the realization that I had only two days to meet with my sponsor teacher about my unit plans for the upcoming 6 weeks, and I hadn't sent them off yet. Of course, this is typical me, but still created some stress.

I thought about what I needed to do, and even wrote down a few things on a post-it sitting on my bedside table. I had it all somewhat clear in my mind, although there were some unanswered questions that I'm still not sure about. So I tried to roll over and get some more sleep. The clock read 4:27. And then it read 4:35. I read it again with the same result a few moments later (the minutes passing by exceedingly slowly), so I just got up, turned on the computer, and started typing. It was early, but when you're awake, you're awake. Or, at least I am.

I didn't get a huge amount accomplished, but I laid out some things that I finished today and got rid of the demons that troubled my sleep. After typing up some of the plan and writing myself some notes, I had a glass of milk and crawled back into bed. And I'm still wondering why I'm doing far more work than almost anyone else in the program. I constantly ask others what is expected of them, and I keep running into the same general response: a limited amount. As long as they're doing a tolerable job, they have the class under control and they show a sense of competence, sponsor teachers are happy. And this seems to be the case in 2/3 of my classes. But in one, it's an all-consuming battle to meet expectations and try to figure this whole thing out.

- T

Walking... stories.

If I ever go for a walk, I often think about the people I pass or see from the sidewalk and wonder what they're doing, or where they're going, or what they're thinking. I look at a young man with his child at the park and I wonder if he has an interesting story to tell about the tatoos that crawl up and down his arms. I'm curious about the young girl with a heavy backpack, wondering if she's a good student, and wonder what her favorite subject is (or if she even likes school at all). Maybe it's not even school books in her bag. Not that it matters. I create a reality for the elderly gentleman nearby, who is walking his yappy pomeranian and smoking his tobacco pipe. The scent vaguely reminds me of someone from my childhood that smoked a pipe, though I don't recall who. Again, it probably doesn't matter.

I used to walk all the time... it used to be my way of shutting my mind off getting away from bitterness or frustration or from situations that I didn't know how to handle. After a fight with a parent or a miserable breakup, I would throw on my shoes and head for the park near my house. The bike path cutting through it led all over the west side. Sometimes I'd end up over at the house I grew up in. Other times I'd get all the way to my old elementary school. I guess it depended on the time of day/night and how cold I was getting. At one point in high school, I bumped into another troubled soul who had also taken off from her house to get away from an argument with her parents. Just as I was entering the park I noticed her and said hi. We went to school together, but hadn't really said more than a few words to each other in two or three years. I was a bit of a jock/prep/nerd type, and she hung out more with the wannabe misfits who hung out in the smoke pit and talked about Curt Cobain and Jim Morrison and the idiotic nature of the popular kids. I didn't always have to make up personalities and worlds of other people... sometimes they revealed themselves to me.

So yesterday, I went for a walk. I put my headphones in and let my mind wander aimlessly to the violins that always linger in the background of Dave Matthews' music. I strolled a few blocks and turned a corner toward the nearby strip mall. My objective: coffee. And not just coffee... but a delicious toffee-nut Americano (with cream, of course... I drink baby coffee). After turning the corner and tapping my fingers to the music in my ears, I notice a police car parked a block up the road. Since it was sitting just outside a parking lot, it seemed out of place. After a few more steps, I saw the officer standing near the corner. No radio. No radar. Just standing. He was young... maybe 30, if that. Probably got stuck here doing some sort of traffic duty while the vets ate muffins at the station or were busy breaking down the doors of meth houses. This young guy was probably thinking he'd rather be writing parking tickets than standing on the side of some road looking lost. I kept on walking, knowing that he probably had everything under control, even though he looked thoroughly bored. As I got closer to the coffee shop, I noticed another police car, this time parked in an apartment parking lot. Two officers were sitting in the car. No one in the back. No radar. No lights. Just sitting. This is even more strange, I thought. But again, I kept walking.

After reaching my desired destination and acquiring my delicious caffeine jolt, I return on the same route I came. Still, the two officers sat in their car. No lights. No radar. And again I passed the young officer on the side of the road. No radio. No radar. An ambulance then passed by the both of us, but didn't stop and kept going past. Same with a firetruck, sirens blaring. We both watched and wondered what the destination was... who was in trouble. And the officer remained, checking his pockets for something. And I kept walking.

I got in the apartment a few minutes later, wondering if the officer had a girlfriend waiting for him at home. Maybe he has a small dog sleeping at the foot of the stairs, waiting for him. I took a drink of my coffee. His job could be dangerous. How long would the dog wait? Probably a long time. Forever, if it took that long. That's the nice thing about dogs... their loyalty doesn't wane. What about the girlfriend? Is she as understanding and patient about his chosen career? Maybe... it's hard to say.

- T

My love for all things Canadiana and reflections about home

Maple Syrup
Beavers
Sock&Sandal Hippies
The NDP
Gretzky
Curling
This Hour Has 22 Minutes
Don Cherry
Passive-Aggressive Politeness
Prairie

All these things make up something uniquely Canadian. Now, some people won't identify with the prairies, or they may have an aversion to maple syrup, or they may see Jack Layton as a communist conspirator. Nonetheless, these things combined create something uniquely Canadian, whether we admit it or not.

A few quotes from Will Ferguson's Why I Hate Canadians should be appropriate here...

"The border between Canada and the U.S. was forged in geography, trade routes, blood, war, threats and ultimatums. It was not a psychological yearning that kept us clinging to the border, it was the combined threat of frostbite and Manifest Destiny."

"Could Canadians have chosen a less inspiring emblem? The Russians have a bear, the Americans a bald eagle, the British a lion rampart - and Canada? Canada has a beaver. If you want to play a round of Could'a Had, the list is long. We could'a had a timber wolf. Or a polar bear. Or a bison. Or a lynx. Or even the conveniently named Canada goose. But no, we got stuck with a 30-kilogram, bucktoothed rodent whose most heroic trait is that he thinks to slap his tail to warn his buddies before he runs away."

One thing I noticed last night (that may or may not be unique to other parts of the world at night), is that Canadian towns all look the same on the drive through. I was out on the Westside last night hanging out with a few friends when I came through the city's downtown. For a few moments, I wasn't sure where I was. I saw the fast-food neons, vacancy signs, the obvious Wally's World (a.k.a. Walmart), and side streets that slipped quickly and quietly into the suburban neighbourhoods off the highway strip. It could have been Kamloops, or Regina, or Winnipeg. The annonymity was a bit overwhelming, as I rolled down my window and wondered when this place had become so strange but at the same time so familiar.

It is still strange to me why certain things feel like home. When I return back to Lethbridge, it's the coffee shop. The familiar trips across the river. It's the recognizable faces. It's the dogs greeting me at the door. My family, friends, former acquaintances. Ex-girlfriends, ex-teachers. But once again I wonder... what's changed? The town may have grown a bit, and the staff at the local grocery store has probably turned over a time or two. I used to wonder why everything didn't just look so different, but why it felt so strange. I think I realized that the scenery doesn't change... just the eyes do.

I think about the coast in the same manner, and I yearn for that sense of what I know. I knew the ferry schedule really well. I knew exactly how long the #14 bus took to get from the stop across from my apartment to the school, and what days I should make sure I'm early in case one is too full to pick me up. I knew that the Moka House in Cook Street Village was a place I could always go for an escape. Even though I knew people that frequented the shop from time to time, I also knew that I could preserve my annonymity through headphones and a quiet table in the corner. I could also enjoy the fact that downtown was a mere 10 minute walk, and if I needed a taste of the ocean, I just had to hop on my bike for 10 minutes for that much-needed indulgence. I've been here in the valley for more than six months, and I still don't know my way around. I don't have a hangout (other than my sponsor school), and I'm still not sure what the best way to get to downtown is. Much of this has to do with the fact that my schedule doesn't allow such indulgences right now, but I'm hoping that it'll come. I do like it here... but it's going to take some time for me to make it feel like home.

- T

Oh, Happy Day

And I'm not talking about the old gospel tune.

Today is the day in every teacher's life that is just a little more bearable, more enjoyable, more glorious than other days past. No, it is not simply that it is Friday, although Friday is a wonderful thing on it's own. No, I'm talking about the final day before HOLIDAYS! Spring Break starts at 3:14 today, and I may be just the slightest bit excited. Maybe.

As per usual, things have been crazy lately. Luckily, I think they're going to be a bit more under control from this point forward (I hope) since I don't have any more coaching clinics to attend and there's only 5 more weeks of practicum time before I'm fully certified. Sure, I have to stay on until the end of the year so I can still keep teaching one class "in the spirit of volunteerism", but certification is coming oh-so-soon, and I'm just that much closer to being able to actually make a bit of money at this teaching gig. Not that I'm in it for the money, because if I am, I should go back to school and reacquire some math skills.

The sun was even shining over the valley this morning, which must be a positive omen.

Other things that have been going on:
- I met Paul Yee, a Governor-General award winning writer who came to our school a week ago for a presentation
- I finished my interim report for part one of the second practicum session I'm doing. It went well, but I still have some things to nail down before I'm approved as an excellent candidate for a teaching job next year.
- Now that the weather is better, I hate the fact that I'm not allowed to Barbeque on my deck.

And that's about all... I'll try to come up with something brilliant as time goes on.

-T

A few things mashed into one...

I was having a conversation with one of my sponsor teachers the other day, and she asked me to come up with my own list of what went well in the class and what I need to work on. As the term's progressed, this has been the strategy for her... moving away from her advice and criticism to a place where I can come up with my own ideas of being self-aware and self-critical. After filling out about three items in the "recommendations" column, I stared blankly at the "commendations" column. I tensed up, my eyes were getting a bit glassy, and I couldn't come up with a single thing to put in the positive column.

Now, it wasn't that it was a terrible day. I think it was simply... how do I say it... uninspiring. Lately, I've been dealing with the pressures of a boatload of marking, upcoming interim marks (both for my students and the second part of my practicum), getting ready to apply for certification, thinking about getting my resume together, beginning my unit planning for after Spring Break, spending time with Kerrie, coaching 2-3 days a week, and the list seems to go on and on for a long time. I've also been fighting off the early stages of a cold for nearly a week, and although I've been getting some sleep, it just hasn't felt like enough. I don't usually have really bad days... lately they have just been lacking epiphanies and inspiring feelings that I'm changing the world. She made a comment about pessimism and optimism, and how I'd been in the bottom of a whisky bottle if I didn't learn to positively self-reflect. And not grandpa's good whisky, either.

Every once in a while I get thinking about what I was like as a kid. I remember being goofy, but the amount of specific events I recall seem to be pretty sporadic. I have a sister that has the most creative memory on the planet and she claims she remembers all sorts of things that no one else can vouch for.

I remember thinking I was going to be a lawyer when I was in my early teens. I was really into Grisham novels and wanted nothing more than to save the world through my cunning intellect and saavy nature. I also considered being a psychologist, since I was a bit of a go-to guy for friends when they needed a shoulder. Early in university, I considered entering the philosophy and religious studies department to be a scholar of sorts. Anyone who knows me well has probably shared an extended, long-winded discussion with me about religion and philosophy in some form or another. Most recently (before getting into education), I thought my life was going to be in publishing or writing, since I originally moved out to the coast with ambitions of entering the creative writing program. However, I didn't declare a major when I first moved and all the spots for the intro writing classes were taken by creative writing majors. So, I went into English Lit. And four years later, here I am.

Don't get me wrong... I 'm definitely not complaining, because I really enjoyed my degree and my time out in Victoria. If my collective families were closer to the coast, K and I probably would've stayed (minus the fact she hated being on an island). Even when I was in high school and early university, I joked about the fact that I wasn't going to get married for a LONG time, likely in my 30's. Now, I'm the first of my friend group from high school to get married and the third out of my university friends. It's funny how life works out, and how we can have all the expectations and plans we want, but life takes it's own route.

I think reflective people are fatalists by nature. They look back on their lives, and have a hard time imagining how it could be any different. I go in and out of phases of fatalistism. Sometimes life seems so ordered. When looking back, it's hard to imagine how things could be different. But looking ahead... who knows? I'm sure I've quoted him before, but that C.S. Lewis guy is pretty clever...

"For the longest way round is the shortest way home".

- t

Only 2 weeks...

... to go until we get Spring Break. And it couldn't come quickly enough.

I got back into town last night from the Fraser Valley after coaching our first real club volleyball tournament of the year. The drive was a bit of a mess and after a long week last week, I was almost thinking of just staying home to relax, mark homework and catch up on my Z's. This was balanced with an urge to get out of town to do something completely unrelated to school, so in the end, coaching won out and it turned out to be a really rewarding weekend. The boys I'm coaching played well, I was complimented on my coaching by my coaching mentor, and we placed 10th out of 17 teams, which was good considering our "A" team only placed 7th. We actually lost a really tight game in the Consolation final which was a bit heartbreaking, and should have placed Top 8 (we were in a 3-way tie for 1st in our round robin pool, and came in second due to points scored) but the guys really played well nearly all tournament, so I have absolutely nothing to complain about.

Things around the valley are still crazy busy, though, and I don't think they'll slow down until March 10th. Obviously I teach all week, and the weekend coming up features yet another coaching clinic for 3 days, and then I get back here to the school all of next week (again, very obvious). But, it's winding down and it's going to be wonderful to have a few days to sleep in and relax, as well as to take some time to get back to Alberta to visit the families.

On a completely unrelated note, here's a great quote from Salman Rushdie on writing...

"What one writer can make in the solitude of one room is something no power can easily destroy"
- S. Rushdie

- T

We all have a bad test from time to time...

I received these pictures from one of my fellow staff members, and they definitely perked up my day. Hope you enjoy!

Click on the pictures to see a more clear view...

This kid is obviously a touch
more than frustrated!

Some days are just longer than others..

... and this may be one of those long ones.

After teaching all day, knowing that I have volleyball practice for 2 hours, as well as a boatload of marking, prep, and course work that was due a month ago, I'm just dreading the next 6 or 7 hours. This doesn't include the work I need to sort out for Friday, since I'm heading to the Fraser Valley for my first big club volleyball tournament. It also ignores the long day of dealing with 16 year olds who can't even handle 10 minutes of responsibility. But, I guess I just need to suck it up. Everyone's busy and stressed and overworked and underpaid, so I guess I should simply quit my excessive whining. Tomorrow's another day, and it's wonderfully sunny outside. Sure, there's plenty to do, but there's also plenty to enjoy.

On a side note... Hey you! That stranger from Airdrie who reads my rants here.... you should leave me a message to let me know who you are!

I'll hopefully have something more fulfilling to write about soon. Until then...

- T

Crazy animals doing funny things...

I got a good chuckle out of this. It's almost like a "Best Of" for clips of animals from AFV. Enjoy!

- T

First Friday of the week

The weekend is coming and it couldn't be soon enough.

It seems like this week has been dragging on. Much of that has to do with the fact that I had my coaching clinic all weekend, which didn't really provide me with an opportunity to get some much-needed rest. It was actually moderately stressful, since I wasn't sure if I was in over my head or not. Nonetheless, I'm excited that the weekend is here as of 4:00pm today. Tomorrow being a PD Day, I'm heading out to the mountains for a seminar on BC's forestry industry, which should be enjoyable. Outdoors, free lunch, no students to worry about... la dolce vita, I'd say.

On a somewhat related but otherwise unrelated topic, I hate being overtired. Interestingly, I act similarly when I'm either tired or really hungry, which means I manifest a serious attitude of jerkface. I can definitely be pleasant, but it's pretty easy to set me off in a negative direction and I've been known to, from time to time, take my fatigued bitterness out on those around me. Not typically at work or with friends, but usually on family. Why is it that we (or more specifically, I) direct antagonism toward those we really love, and not strangers? I don't know if everyone's like this, but I definitely am. I can be upbeat and chipper (maybe in a false way, but chipper nonetheless) to a total stranger, even if they anger me, but when I get home and I'm in a bit of a mood, I take it out on K or other family members far too easily. This has pretty much always been a character fault of mine, and I really hate it. At the time I lash out, I can justify my anger 6 different ways, but give me 10 seconds to think about it, and I realize that I just treated the love of my life like a piece of rubbish. I guess that's why it's love... these important people stick around even after you treat them like an enemy.

You may be picking up on a tone of guilt, which may or may not be the case. Still, I hate this fault. I was actually talking to one of my intern compadres about something similar, and mentioned that I'm terrible at disengaging when it comes to arguments. It gets even worse when I need to catch on my beauty sleep. I guess we all have our battles... this is just one of my most obvious ones.

On a much more unrelated note, K and I watched "The Departed" last night and I have to say that I loved it. Sure, it may be a bit on the violent side and the actors drop the F-bomb like there's going to be a massive lockdown on profanity in mainstream media, but it was extremely well put together and I always appreciate a good Shakespeare reference which makes sense when it's used and isn't just thrown in as an attempt to make the writing seem more intelligent. Rent it. Seriously. Rent it.

- T

The things in my life

School: really, the most time consuming part of my life. Even more so than spending time with my wife and sleeping, which I don't do often enough. The stories I hear about students and about teacher's experiences makes me think that this job takes a massive amount of both patience and responsibility. Cliched or not, we're in the people-making business, and there's little room for error.
On a completely separate note, even though my sponsor teacher is running me ragged with reflection and lesson-planning and big idea stuff that I can barely get my head around, I think she's going to do a world of good for my career. And, as I hoped, I just really love being with the kids. There's always something surprising that comes up, whether they drive me bonko or not.

Coaching: Taking up a massive amount of my spare time. Mainly, weekends. I finished my Level 1 Technical three weekends ago, and my Level 2 Technical this past weekend over 3 days (both for volleyball), and I have another 3-day clinic on March 3/4/5 to go to to get my Levels 1/2 Theory. Not to mention that I'm heading to the Fraser Valley for a tournament at the end of February, and to Calgary in May for Nationals. Although the weekday schedule is fairly light, it's still plenty time-consuming.

Everything else: I'm heading back to Alberta twice in March. The first trip will be to see one of my old teachers (and someone I hold in hugely high regard) who is retiring this year back in Alberta. Another former teacher and now VP of my old high school has organized a sort of secret send-off for him and another retiring teacher, and has invited many old theatre alumni back for it. I received an invite... for those of you who don't know, I did my high school musical in my senior year, acting as the mischievous Tommy Sloane in Anne of Green Gables. It should be fun.
The second trip is on the following weekend with my in-laws for a bit of a weekend getaway. K's parents, her brother (and his wife), and her sister (with husband and kids) are meeting us in Edmonton for some West Ed. action. We don't get together very often, so it's a chance for us to all be in one place at the same time.
K and I are also heading for bit of a resort getaway (only for one night, but nice all the same) in April, and then I'm back in AB in May for volleyball Nationals. Not to mention that I'm a certified teacher as of May 4th! Weeeee. My intern friend N.T. figured out that there's only about 45 teaching days left before certification. Crazy stuff, I know.

Okay, I've bored ya'll enough. Hope that update was sufficient, and I'll try to write more clever things soon. And I hoped you enjoyed the last post with my itsy story. Thanks for reading, K and L!

- T

A postcard-length short story I penned last night

For my English classes, I thought it would be a good idea to come up with an example of what a descriptive paragraph could look like, using some clear imagery and engaging with sensory-related experiences. So, I wrote this last night so my students could see what I meant in the directions. Let me know what you think... enjoy!


I walked out of the conference room toward the parking lot, shoving myself through the weighty door as I swung my backpack over my shoulder. I felt the hard thump of my laptop slam against the small of my back as I inhaled a cold, crisp November breath. The smell of diesel exhaust filled my mouth, heavy and bitter, like sucking on the gray sky that hung over the valley. But the gray above was so much sweeter than the pollution invading my lungs and causing me to hack. Stepping past a rusty Buick and a sloppy, muddy flower bed (which would be blooming with fragrant tulips in a few months), I could feel the pulse of my phone vibrating through my jacket. After being bombarded by voices all day, I needed a few minutes of solace and silence before I battled another request for attention. The partially frozen doors of my jeep creaked open, and I tossed my pack violently on to the passenger seat as I sat down on the cold, vinyl seats. My raspberry car freshener needed to be discarded. Flicking open my cell, I checked the number: home. I probably needed to grab a barbequed chicken or some salty take-out on the way home. Maybe she wanted to grab a sandwich at the jazz café up the road, listening to Duke Wellington and enjoying a glass of pinot noir. Checking the rearview, I backed out slowly, drifting in my mind to Dizzy Gillespie, hearing each note of the trumpet bleet out while the sax kept time in the background. It was like I was already there, as if it took only a moment to transport myself to the dark mahogany and rich maroon and yellow walls of the café. I pulled out on the main drag with a lurch and a grind, thinking about the sticky first gear. I heard a short burst of sound; a quickly-approaching screech, or something similar. As the sheet metal and fiberglass and vinyl and plastic crumpled around me and glass fell about my face, I was thinking about her in that café, smiling, laughing; she was thinking that maybe the day wasn’t as long or as hard or as bad as she originally thought.

Well well well... time to breathe

Well, I guess not a lot of time to breathe, but time all the same.

I'm taking a day off today, because I've been pretty nutso with work as of late. One of my sponsor teachers has had me running ragged getting ready to teach her class. I think maybe her expectations are a little severe, but I'm hoping that the fact that she wants to micro-manage my learning is going to pay off in the long run. I hope.

The new semester/practicum of teaching started this past Thursday, and I think I lucked out with my classes. I'm not perceiving any major issues beyond chattiness and a little bit of rambunctiousness, but the term is still young, and there's plenty of time for things to go wrong. I'm still coaching a bit of volleyball, which has been good, and I was able to get my Level 1 coaching certification partially done last weekend. The first part of my Level 2 comes up next weekend as well. The club I'm coaching for has volunteered to pay for my certification clinics, so I'm happy to let them rack up the $500 bill that will need to be paid when all is said and done. But, I figure it's a good way to get some experience under my belt, pad my resume a bit, and reward myself for helping out beyond the classroom. Not to mention, it may introduce me to some people that may help me get a job in the new year.

It looks like I'll be heading back to the prairies for a few visits in the next few months, and my big brother's coming out for visit as well. In the 4 years that I've been away from AB, he is the only one of my family who hasn't come out for a visit and finally it looks like he's coming at the start of May. It's kinda bad timing because I'm in the process of finishing up my semester of teaching a 75% load and in the middle of being certified, but he's coming out all the same and both K and I are excited. I'm also heading back to the 4-0-3 a few times. My old English teacher and pseudo-mentor is retiring from teaching this year, and the school is providing him with a bit of a send-off, to which all the old theatre alumni are invited. I only participated in theatre in my senior year, but I got to know P.M. pretty well in those formative years and used to go back to visit him fairly often. Ironically, the school is even performing an adaptation of the very play I performed when I did the musical. For a little added (and obvious) irony, I'm receiving my certification for teaching in the same year he's retiring. Meant to be??? I'm not quite sure. I was never really sure what I wanted to do for a career before I actually entered the teaching program, but I think I found a good fit.

I don't really know if there's anything worthwhile to add. My beautiful wife is doing well as always, and it seems as though any major natural disasters have avoided this part of the world as of late. Other than ripping a 6 inch hole in the ass of my nice khakis about 2 weeks ago, I don't think I have anything else to share. But I'll try to keep you loyal readers reading by posting a bit more often... ciao for now...

- T

Oh... I decided to remove my profile from the public view to create a bit more privacy... I've had some strange experiences with people having my online information as of late, so I'm going to try to keep a bit of a low profile.