Miami, despite its incongruities and illogical ways is finally starting to feel like home. There are several reasons for this stealthy transformation, two of which are facilely identified.
1. Cervantes. No, not the underappreciated father of meta, but my new feline companion. Cervantes (nee Ronald) came to me from the 95th street animal shelter last Wednesday, a dashingly cute brown and dark grey tabby, with green and golden eyes. I hadn't planned on choosing a tabby cat, since they're *so* mundane and ordinary looking, but this little guy was too cute for words. Plus, the guy who worked at the shelter said that it was his favorite cat.
He is certainly good natured, and a priceless addition to the household; makes me feel all "responsible" and stuff, feeding him and taking care of another little being. Of course, I still haven't taken him to the vet, which I was supposed to do within 4 days of bringing him home...it's only been 5, so I'm not too irresponsible. Yet. So far we have had very few mishaps with rearing a kitten, save Cervantes's psychotic morning transformations.
I usually wake up at about 5:30, feed the cat, shower, and start my morning routine. This is all well and good, since the cat is usually awake when I get out of bed. On Saturday, however (and again this morning), the furry thing does a Jekyll and Hyde number, decides that he wants to attack my hair and ears, gnaw on my toes, and try to disembowel my stuffed animals. It's a little disturbing, but it only happens from the hours of 6:30-8:00 am. I'd say it's hormonal, but for god's sake, he's neutured! I'm just hoping he grows out of it. I'd also like to think that when he nuzzles his cute little nose into my shoulder to ask for his head to be scratched, he's not just doing it because I put kitty food in his dish and make sure that his litter box is cleaned. I mean, there's got to be some sort of intrinsic love in there, doesn't there?
All of my TFA friends have taken to him as the token pet in D-Place, which is fun. If people don't want to visit me, at least they want to play with the cat.
2. The other marked improvement in 266 NE 53rd is the new paint job in the living room. Mary and I worked from noon till five yesterday painting our living space a lovely light orange, with a stripe of green around the ceiling. We even have our front door 'goldfish orange' on one side. I'm not kidding, it matches the salty cheddar snack food so well that we put out a martini glass full of them on the coffee table for decoration.
The apartment is starting to feel quite a lot more like home, which is nice, now that I think I'm settling into the routine in teaching, gettting used to my new life (sort of). Dave is coming down, and there's another football game on Thursday night; I think a bunch of us teachers might make a cameo.
3. The third and final elment of the heimlich that has returned to my life (in complete and total regression to high school...but in a good way, I swear) is the Hot Hot Saturday Night. Ashley, Amanda, Virginia, and I went to CocoWalk to see Garden State, extravagantly treating ourselves to an outrageously priced bag of popcorn to accompany the movie. I love good movies so much, and it's funny that an outing such as last night is enough to constitute a good social evening. Plus, in true cyclical fashion, there were some lovely philosophical musings about the nature of "home" which made me both nostalgic, expectant, and sad all at the same time. Zach Braff is my new hero.
The last element that's missing is one that is soon on it's way; once we start having company over, it will really feel like a home instead of a living space. Got some phone calls from old friends who are far away, and that was comforting, especially when they might be on their way South. The place is almost presentable, and I can't wait to introduce them to D-Place. "Hi, this is where I live."
Sigh, the calling of independent life hearkens: there is laundry to be done, groceries to be bought, and a small cat chewing on my flip flop, which is still on my foot. I should get going, so I can be home in time for dinner.
If, on a winter's night a traveler outside the town of Malbork, leaning from a steep slope without fear of wind or vertigo, looks down into the gathering shadow...on the carpet of leaves illuminated by the moon around an empty grave, what story there awaits its end? -italo calvino
Saturday, August 28, 2004
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
tuesday?
surly students, desk thrown at me, racial slurs, upperclassmen stalking my class, morning with the police (no, i will NOT press charges), tears, "CRACKER," more ID pictures, students grabbing stuff from me, my desk, more referrals, 20 hall passes signed, 120 7-digit codes, "you can't handle the lesson I had planned for today," what grade are you in?, "nobody respects you in this class 'cause you don't yell enough," that is inapppropriate, that is disrespectful, leave. my. class. now! After school 'visits' after hours, official observtions, sunshine state standards, gradebooks, and administrative checklists. The copy machine is broken, Miss.
over.
more tears. wine, nutella, then more work to do tonight: school starts bright and early.
over.
more tears. wine, nutella, then more work to do tonight: school starts bright and early.
Sunday, August 22, 2004
Week 1, D-o-n-e.
Since time immemorial, Sundays have been a time of regrouping, organization, and work. Thus, in true Thea fashion, I have embarked on the great sojurn of getting my life back in order today. I have several important people to call, 2 more classes' homework and grades to calculate, and a bunch of errands to run. However, I feel as though I've gotten a jump start on the day's work, and that deserves a gold star in my gradebook.
I'm starting a small garden in the back yard of the apartment, which is interesting mostly because Design Place, like the Haverford College Apartments, used to be housing projects. Yes, folks, I've been living in the projects for 5 years. I dug up all manner of construction debris while trying to find some arable land for my basil and oregano. Yet dig I did, and filled a formerly concrete and sandy indention with fresh potting soil so that my herbs can survive the Florida heat. I"m shooting for pesto in 2 weeks. Shit, that means I'll have to buy a blender. Isn't my birthday coming up shortly?
Now that it's nearly 11:00 pm, there have been several more tasks crossed off the To Do list: printing and mounting my Botanical Garden 8x10 pic's, buying more school supplies, filling up the car with gas, finishing grading, calling parents, and sweeping my room (and endless and utterly futile task, but I try). Hmm, I guess I haven't been too useless today, all things considered. I even got two of my important phone calls done, and only two more must wait until tomorrow. Okay, maybe three.
The one thing that I haven't done (apart from find a DVD player that I can use at school) is lesson plan for the rest of the week, so I need to get ON that before it's to late. No more sleep deprived Thea for next week, I'll have none of that. Hasta pronto, all.
I'm starting a small garden in the back yard of the apartment, which is interesting mostly because Design Place, like the Haverford College Apartments, used to be housing projects. Yes, folks, I've been living in the projects for 5 years. I dug up all manner of construction debris while trying to find some arable land for my basil and oregano. Yet dig I did, and filled a formerly concrete and sandy indention with fresh potting soil so that my herbs can survive the Florida heat. I"m shooting for pesto in 2 weeks. Shit, that means I'll have to buy a blender. Isn't my birthday coming up shortly?
Now that it's nearly 11:00 pm, there have been several more tasks crossed off the To Do list: printing and mounting my Botanical Garden 8x10 pic's, buying more school supplies, filling up the car with gas, finishing grading, calling parents, and sweeping my room (and endless and utterly futile task, but I try). Hmm, I guess I haven't been too useless today, all things considered. I even got two of my important phone calls done, and only two more must wait until tomorrow. Okay, maybe three.
The one thing that I haven't done (apart from find a DVD player that I can use at school) is lesson plan for the rest of the week, so I need to get ON that before it's to late. No more sleep deprived Thea for next week, I'll have none of that. Hasta pronto, all.
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Hoarding
I never understood why on earth teachers would get so irritated when they had to stay after school for a meeting, administrative workshop, or conference. I mean, I stayed after school every day for sports, yearbook, and all sorts of reasons so why couldn't they? Then I became a teacher.
All of a sudden, every free hour of my life is a precious gift, not to be squandered on such activities as "commuting" "working out" and "cleaning," but intensely guarded and cherished for things like "lesson planning" and "sleep." Leaving the two hour informational meeting about a Master's degree from Florida International University, I returned to my apartment feeling as though those two hours had been violently robbed from me. I wanted to physically snatch them back, wind the clock with my bare hands, or whatever other physical force I could muster, and go back to 2:30 when the bell rang after my 4th day as a High School teacher.
The first day was [relatively] easy, as predicted, because who wants to be an asshole on the first day? Day two slid downhill as my 5th period class of now 31 decided that they would rather throw things at each other and scream rather than interview each other. I decided that we should write an essay about working in a group. Day three with 5th period was a definite improvement over day two, especially with the implementation of the "clap once if you can hear me" policy. Then, I got three new students. Every day, in every class, I have a new student. I don't know where the come from; they seem to be hiding in the walls, ready to pop into my doorway schedule in hand. Sure enough, they all say "WILLIAMSON T" on their schedule, and should all be in RM 0014. To my dismay, I fill out another column in my gradebook, hand them a numbered index card with their assigned seat, and (of course) forget to hand them the rules and a letter for their parents.
Today, 5th period was a little better, but both Reading classes almost fell apart. I teach 3 sections of English 1 for 9th graders (and four 10th graders who failed the FCAT) then 2 sections of "Intensive Reading" which is essentially remedial English. In the past two days I have given a lecture on the word origins of "faggot" three times, explained the latin derivation of "bisexual" "autobiography" and "scholarly," as well as taught the proper procedure for tearing paper out of a notebook; using a pen; and saying one's name. Yes, I'm teaching high school.
As the first week ticks by, I laugh when veterans joke at the end of the day "178 days left, huh?" but I won't lie and say that I haven't thought about counting down too. I know intellectually that things are improving, and that at some point there won't be so much work to do at school that I want to sleep immediately after unlocking my front door, but right now that's hard to imagine. I know that there will come a time (hopefully not in the too distant future) when I won't be planning the night before each class, and decorating at 6:40 am before the students get to school, but right now that's where I'm at.
Another thing that is astonishingly difficult to comprehend is what exactly it means to earn a 9th grade student's respect. It was clear at the outset that it would be "hard" to do, but knowing that a task will be difficult is categorically different from confronting that difficult task. When I stand in front af 34 students, some of whom have probably been arrested, seen a friend shot, or don't see their parents every day and tell them "you may not leave my class until I dismiss you, not the bell" there is a certain degree of incredulity that these children will ever respect me. Perhaps the first thing to remember is that they are indeed children.
They like cartoons, Sponge Bob is a favorite; their parents drive most of them to school, even if they might drop them off an hour early because they have to be at work by 7:00; most of them care more about their hair and the brand of shoes they wear than about who's paying the electric bill; a 'teacher look' can still make them squirm in their seat.
I wrote my first office referral today, shamefully, because I couldn't maintain discipline in my class, but what frustrated me is that it wasn't indicative of the progress that we've made in 5th period towards becoming a functional unit. 90% of the class seemed willing to stay until I had explained the homework assignment, but when one student sprinted out the door, I lost them. 34 students streamed towards the two exits to my room, and I could only block one. In a last-ditch effort to regain some sense of authority, I reached for the outswung door handle which that energetic little thing had opened, and yanked, pulling a little harder than was necessary.
The heavy iron door began to swing, and once I had set it in motion, I knew that there was no going back. Oh well, at least I was going to prove a point. My frustrations flung into that door, and as it gained speed I prepared myself for what was about to happen...THWAACCKKKKKK. It sounded almost like a gunshot as the metal door hit the metal frame, and immediately the 90% of my class that was in the room whipped around. I think I even saw several students scurry back to their seats. To any seat, as long as I didn't see them trying to leave. A curt "get back in class" rounded up a few more stragglers, who sat wide-eyed as I explained in dulcet tones (and I do mean drippingly sweet and mild-mannered) that they should save their classwork to use tomorrow, and that there would be a quiz on rules and procedures the next day.
One of the girls who had refused to do her work for the past two days even looked a little taken aback. In almost schizophrenic fashion, I told them that they were now dismissed, and to have a nice day. As a slightly more orderly mass of freshmen moved to the door, I heard that same girl remark "dang, she feisty!" At least I'm not a pushover, right? A fellow '04 corps member from Haverford told me at the end of the school year that I'd be fine, because I'm supposedly "tough as nails." It's not often that I feel that way, but I like to think that I hoard little bits of it to save for the right moments. Hopefully today was one of those moments.
Every day I suppose that things get a little bit better, but it's pretty sad when an accomplishment is not having students yell at each other too much, or walk across my room in the middle of class. I should also probably be thinking more from my students' perspective; maybe they've gathered up all the respect that they're going to give to authority this year, and I've got to bargain for it no matter how high the cost. I hope they've saved at least a little for me to earn.
Abstract concepts like "trust" "free time" and "respect" become so much more tangible, infinitely more important in the midst of an arbitrary bureaucracy and completely opaque administration caught up in state audits and local politics. I get the privilege of seeing amazingly beautiful Miami sunrises every morning, and every second of sleep is that much more precious. I also haven't spoken to old friends in a long time, and have to take 20 or 30 minutes after school to even fathom organizing the 6 new memos on my desk, let alone alphabetizing 5 classes of homework that I need to take home and grade.
At least we have gas for our stove (but the oven is still broken) and an internet conection (although the router won't function), and I have a desk to sit at (if not a real chair). Shit, and it's late already; I've got a quiz to write for tomorrow, and I need to leave my house in 8.5 hours so there's no more time to waste!
All of a sudden, every free hour of my life is a precious gift, not to be squandered on such activities as "commuting" "working out" and "cleaning," but intensely guarded and cherished for things like "lesson planning" and "sleep." Leaving the two hour informational meeting about a Master's degree from Florida International University, I returned to my apartment feeling as though those two hours had been violently robbed from me. I wanted to physically snatch them back, wind the clock with my bare hands, or whatever other physical force I could muster, and go back to 2:30 when the bell rang after my 4th day as a High School teacher.
The first day was [relatively] easy, as predicted, because who wants to be an asshole on the first day? Day two slid downhill as my 5th period class of now 31 decided that they would rather throw things at each other and scream rather than interview each other. I decided that we should write an essay about working in a group. Day three with 5th period was a definite improvement over day two, especially with the implementation of the "clap once if you can hear me" policy. Then, I got three new students. Every day, in every class, I have a new student. I don't know where the come from; they seem to be hiding in the walls, ready to pop into my doorway schedule in hand. Sure enough, they all say "WILLIAMSON T" on their schedule, and should all be in RM 0014. To my dismay, I fill out another column in my gradebook, hand them a numbered index card with their assigned seat, and (of course) forget to hand them the rules and a letter for their parents.
Today, 5th period was a little better, but both Reading classes almost fell apart. I teach 3 sections of English 1 for 9th graders (and four 10th graders who failed the FCAT) then 2 sections of "Intensive Reading" which is essentially remedial English. In the past two days I have given a lecture on the word origins of "faggot" three times, explained the latin derivation of "bisexual" "autobiography" and "scholarly," as well as taught the proper procedure for tearing paper out of a notebook; using a pen; and saying one's name. Yes, I'm teaching high school.
As the first week ticks by, I laugh when veterans joke at the end of the day "178 days left, huh?" but I won't lie and say that I haven't thought about counting down too. I know intellectually that things are improving, and that at some point there won't be so much work to do at school that I want to sleep immediately after unlocking my front door, but right now that's hard to imagine. I know that there will come a time (hopefully not in the too distant future) when I won't be planning the night before each class, and decorating at 6:40 am before the students get to school, but right now that's where I'm at.
Another thing that is astonishingly difficult to comprehend is what exactly it means to earn a 9th grade student's respect. It was clear at the outset that it would be "hard" to do, but knowing that a task will be difficult is categorically different from confronting that difficult task. When I stand in front af 34 students, some of whom have probably been arrested, seen a friend shot, or don't see their parents every day and tell them "you may not leave my class until I dismiss you, not the bell" there is a certain degree of incredulity that these children will ever respect me. Perhaps the first thing to remember is that they are indeed children.
They like cartoons, Sponge Bob is a favorite; their parents drive most of them to school, even if they might drop them off an hour early because they have to be at work by 7:00; most of them care more about their hair and the brand of shoes they wear than about who's paying the electric bill; a 'teacher look' can still make them squirm in their seat.
I wrote my first office referral today, shamefully, because I couldn't maintain discipline in my class, but what frustrated me is that it wasn't indicative of the progress that we've made in 5th period towards becoming a functional unit. 90% of the class seemed willing to stay until I had explained the homework assignment, but when one student sprinted out the door, I lost them. 34 students streamed towards the two exits to my room, and I could only block one. In a last-ditch effort to regain some sense of authority, I reached for the outswung door handle which that energetic little thing had opened, and yanked, pulling a little harder than was necessary.
The heavy iron door began to swing, and once I had set it in motion, I knew that there was no going back. Oh well, at least I was going to prove a point. My frustrations flung into that door, and as it gained speed I prepared myself for what was about to happen...THWAACCKKKKKK. It sounded almost like a gunshot as the metal door hit the metal frame, and immediately the 90% of my class that was in the room whipped around. I think I even saw several students scurry back to their seats. To any seat, as long as I didn't see them trying to leave. A curt "get back in class" rounded up a few more stragglers, who sat wide-eyed as I explained in dulcet tones (and I do mean drippingly sweet and mild-mannered) that they should save their classwork to use tomorrow, and that there would be a quiz on rules and procedures the next day.
One of the girls who had refused to do her work for the past two days even looked a little taken aback. In almost schizophrenic fashion, I told them that they were now dismissed, and to have a nice day. As a slightly more orderly mass of freshmen moved to the door, I heard that same girl remark "dang, she feisty!" At least I'm not a pushover, right? A fellow '04 corps member from Haverford told me at the end of the school year that I'd be fine, because I'm supposedly "tough as nails." It's not often that I feel that way, but I like to think that I hoard little bits of it to save for the right moments. Hopefully today was one of those moments.
Every day I suppose that things get a little bit better, but it's pretty sad when an accomplishment is not having students yell at each other too much, or walk across my room in the middle of class. I should also probably be thinking more from my students' perspective; maybe they've gathered up all the respect that they're going to give to authority this year, and I've got to bargain for it no matter how high the cost. I hope they've saved at least a little for me to earn.
Abstract concepts like "trust" "free time" and "respect" become so much more tangible, infinitely more important in the midst of an arbitrary bureaucracy and completely opaque administration caught up in state audits and local politics. I get the privilege of seeing amazingly beautiful Miami sunrises every morning, and every second of sleep is that much more precious. I also haven't spoken to old friends in a long time, and have to take 20 or 30 minutes after school to even fathom organizing the 6 new memos on my desk, let alone alphabetizing 5 classes of homework that I need to take home and grade.
At least we have gas for our stove (but the oven is still broken) and an internet conection (although the router won't function), and I have a desk to sit at (if not a real chair). Shit, and it's late already; I've got a quiz to write for tomorrow, and I need to leave my house in 8.5 hours so there's no more time to waste!
Saturday, August 07, 2004
AWOL?
in design place at last, trying like hell to get
1. gas for the stove
2. a telephone line
3. internet
4. working doors
5. air conditioning
6. pot hooks
7. THE FIRST DAY'S LESSON PLAN
organized before i become a high school english teacher in 8 days. fuck fuck fuck.
hey...at least i'm in miami, even if i haven't gotten a chance to visit the beach.
1. gas for the stove
2. a telephone line
3. internet
4. working doors
5. air conditioning
6. pot hooks
7. THE FIRST DAY'S LESSON PLAN
organized before i become a high school english teacher in 8 days. fuck fuck fuck.
hey...at least i'm in miami, even if i haven't gotten a chance to visit the beach.
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