Welcome to the Circle of Death- population, me

Ok, here's a "happy" update about my life. Note the sarcastically placed quotation marks around happy.

I could go into some intense details about the drama and adventure that is my life, but I will spare you all the long story and simply share the short. I am no longer in New Mexico. I have relocated back to Ohio. Not willingly, mind you.

Due to an EPIC FAIL by my university (which, strangely, I still love despite all this), I cannot get a copy of my official transcripts. No officials means no transferring my teaching license (which, by the way, I shouldn't have according to university policy. Fail #217) from Ohio to New Mexico. No NM license means no teaching after 90 days in NM. So, for the last week before Thanksgiving, I was a LONG TERM SUB in my own classroom... wow, does that sound fun! (sarcasm alert). I came back over break to try and work things out with the university, but fat lot of good that did since each and every office/department I talked to saw fit to blame everyone else but themselves. I would just like to take this moment to say how proud I am of my university for owning up to their mistakes... oh wait, they didn't. I own up to mine, I do. I failed to obtain a loan my senior year to pay off that remaining balance due to the fact that I paid for my education myself (excepting help one year from my grandmother and dad) and due to the fact that I have NO credit and therefore could not get a loan to save my life.

And so now, the circle of death: step 1- graduate owing the university $13,000.00. Step 2- Come to find I cannot keep/obtain a job without official transcripts. Step 3- Cannot get official transcripts without money/credit gained through having a job. Step 4- Cannot get job w/o transcripts... See how this begins to spiral into an eternal circle of death? Welcome to my life. So, if you, or anyone, knows where a broke girl with no official transcripts can either get $15,000 (got to love 1.5% interest per MONTH) or a job which will pay enough to enable me to make payments/get a loan, please let me know. Seriously.

Cardboard boxes and Collages

 Cardboard boxes are useful, under-appreciated tools. Not only can you pack your treasures into them, they can also be end tables for lamps, a castle/rocket/fort for a child, and an endless source of material for projects. It is amazing to me how much you can really put into a cardboard box if you try. When I was packing all of my things to move, I realized how very little I truly had. I thought of it as packing up my life, and if that's the case, then my "life" takes up a minuscule amount of space compared to others. I can literally fit everything into about 5-6 boxes, and all of that can fit into my little Dodge Neon. What a ridiculously small life I must have that I can cram it all into one vehicle.

Reality check on me: all of my stuff is not "my life." Thinking about all the movie characters and books and people who have said "I'm packing up my life" in reference to moving and having to shove everything into boxes, I am faced with the truth- we define our lives by our stuff. Not in a materialistic sort of way (though people tend to do that as well), but in a tangible sort of way. How quick we are to say our lives are ruined when something is destroyed or lost, whether it be as small as a note or as big as a house. We feel the need to identify our lives with things rather than see them for what they are- a collection of memories and moments, days and hours, that, when strung all together, equal one giant collage that is the essence of ourselves.

We overlook this simple picture in favor of physical pictures: photographs, dishes and carpets, knick-knacks and collectors editions. We rank the success of our life based on how many boxes we fill with meaningless junk. And at the end of the day, when our so-called lives are packed away and labeled for shipping, the only truth that remains lies in the single word- FRAGILE- written on so many of these boxes. Life is indeed fragile, though it does not break when a boxes of photo frames falls over and it does not shatter when a crystal glass slips out of a hand, even if that glass was a gift from a grandmother or those photos treasured pictures of the past.

I am glad that my so-called life fits in only five boxes. I am contented with my life as it is- I have no real complaints and, all in all, nothing is lacking. I don't need 15 more boxes to feel that my life is well lived. I am thankful for my five and the fact that they have shown me how simple it is to appreciate what you cannot put into a box.

Sing in me, Muse...

Currently, my kids are reading Homer's "The Odyssey". It amazes me how much what we read resembles real life. I tell my kids that the word Odyssey means "a journey", and here I am on my own wild and bumpy journey. Odysseus faces monsters like Scylla, a 6 headed beast with bite, while I feel like I'm being ripped into 6 pieces sometimes by all of the work I have to do or places I have to be. It's not necessarily a bad ripping- I love being busy, love having work to do and places to be. This is all just very different from what I imagined it would be. They (being the lovely ed department) never tell you exactly how hard life is going to be, or how much you will have to do. Ignorantly, we as college students believe that life will get easier because we won't have classes to attend or homework to do, but we are still in class all day, and instead of doing homework, we are grading it.

Odysseus also finds himself facing Polyphemus, the cyclops with a bad attitude, and every day I find myself facing teachers or administrators or students who seem to have only one focus, and that focus cannot be changed. I stand in awe at those people who are ingrained in their ways, refusing to change despite the fact that an obvious change is necessary. They seem to literally only have one eye, and since they are so bent on looking at one thing, they have no other means to see a second or third option which is available.

There are, to my chagrin, one too many Circes at my school as well- women (and men) who are sorcerers or enchantresses, wooing people under their spell and spending all of their energy pulling people to "their side". They are absorbed in the politics or gossip of the school, and they seek to suck in everyone else around them or else condemn them as nothing more than pigs (if you haven't read "The Odyssey," please pardon my excessive references).

Speaking of gossip, enter in Charybdis, the eternal whirlpool of death, ever sucking people in to her bottomless pit. The students gossip, teachers gossip, administrators gossip. I admit to falling prey to the gravity of the gossip pool myself, and it really is incredibly difficult to pull one's self out once pulled in.

I could carry on with references to the cannibals or the lotus-eaters (which, by the way, I explained to my kids as being the same as today's stoners. They definitely got THAT reference), but I shall desist and spare you all a brutal monologue.

I shall say this- life is a journey full of lessons learned, and we all must face bumps in the road or storms on the sea. I sometimes feel as if I am constantly facing trials, but then, I do tend to place myself in these situations. After all, I moved here with little more than a car full of semi-important junk and a head full of hopes. I wish I had been better prepared, but looking back, I can't imagine how I would have known that I was lacking information or that I wasn't fully ready for life as an adult. Hopefully my adventures and mis-adventures will not be the stuff of epic poetry, but rather a story to tell to others to spare them some troubles (and inspire some laughter).

So I keep forgetting....

I keep forgetting to update this. It's not that it isn't important (it is), but the last couple of times I've tried to log on, my computer went all wonky and kicked me off. So not fun.

It's November now (in case you missed that)!!!!!! We just finished out Gothic Lit/Poe unit and had a test today. I love the look of scared children in the morning... ahhhh smell the fear. And they were afraid. Very. And why shouldn't they be? After all, we've been on this for a month with repeated practice and discussion and quizzes. So, no excuses, I say!

Now, we're taking a breather for some descriptive writing, then jumping into... wait for it... The Odyssey!!! I did this last year with my kids and had a pretty good time, so I'm expecting some fairly good results this time. Oh, and I already conveniently have all my notes/papers/tests/EVERYTHING from last year, so, uh, win for me!

As for the world outside of school, I have been sucked into a group of people courtesy of Ty Flom, our neighborhood instructional coach who also happens to be one of the few 30 and under non-married people in the school. His girlfriend, Adrienne, is an amazing person, and so I've met a bunch of her friends and have now become one of the group as well. We went to a Halloween party on Saturday night (pic below), and get together for dinner every Monday. It's a nice change of pace, and I really enjoy it. On Sunday, I went trick-or-treating with Candy, Ronnie, Paul, and Cadence. Paul was a fireman, CayCay a princess (AURORA!!!). And me? Well, I started out believing I was Peter Pan, but apparently I also looked like an elf, leprechaun, plant thing.... I haven't done that in years, and it was nice to go from door to door and beg for free food. :0)

(The person next to me here is Whitney- she was Ginger Spice from the Spice Girls, and a bunch of our friends completed the group as Sporty, Baby, Scary, and Posh.)

Birthdays

First I should say a big thank you to everyone who made my first real birthday away from home wonderful. I thought it would be a very low-key birthday with little to no excitement. Apparently, I am an idiot. The ever wonderful Candy ensured that I was embarrassed beyond all belief at every turn of the way.

To begin, there were no classes on my birthday; it was, instead, an all day professional development day. So here I am, innocently thinking no one will mention what today is, and then Ty, the head of the recognition committee, kicks off the meeting with a loud publicizing of the fact it was my birthday, including a balloon, card, and off-key round of "Happy Birthday" (keep count people, this is song #1).

I naive thought that, should we go out to eat for lunch in between sessions, I would be safe, but I has proved the fool again as Candy somehow got the whole staff (as well as every person) in Quiznos to sing Happy Birthday to me (#2).

Mortified beyond all belief, I fled back to my cave of a room at the school where I was met with more singing by the office staff (# that's 3, in case you lost count) in the parking lot. I blame Candy for this, though I'm not sure if she was at all at fault.

The remainder of PD went well, and several of us planned to meet at Applebees for dinner. Looking back, I realize how foolhardy this was. My mother called to tell me happy birthday (song #4) while I was at A-bee's, as did Colin (my brother) and Erin (my sister). Little did I know that when I answered the phone and distracted myself, Candy would pounce yet again. She informed the staff at Applebee's that it was my special day, and so when dessert came, I was serenaded by not only the staff, but also several patrons in an off-beat round of, you guessed it, Happy Birthday (#5).

Despite all the singing and merry-making, it was a wonderfully enjoyable birthday full of unexpected surprises and fun. Thanks to my friends here (Candy, Jeanne, Wanda, and everyone else at HMHS) for a great day.

Dishes and contemplation

I always swore that when I had my own place, I would keep it immaculate. I'd do dishes every night so there wouldn't be a big pile, I'd keep the floors clean, and I wouldn't leave papers lying about. My apologies to my mother for ever saying this when she demanded that someone clean. Yesterday I did a "big clean". I washed dishes, swept floors, cleaned sinks, wiped off mirrors... and it only took 20 minutes or so. Amazing! Why did I put all of this off?

I suppose it's easy to say you'll do something differently when given the chance, but much harder to actually follow through. I have the best intentions disease, always saying I'm going to get a task done or act differently, but then when the time comes, I fall into the routine of indolence, content with sitting around and reading rather than getting off my backside for 20 minutes and getting work done. I have the same problem lately with grading- I have so much to do, but I put it off in favor of watching a movie or reading a book or sleeping.

People don't realize how different teaching is from "normal" jobs. It is not, contrary to popular belief, a 9-5 job. Nor is it an 8-3 job. It is a 7-7 type job, with no weekend or overtime pay but with demanding work that must be done in your "free" time. What you assign, you must grade, and inevitably, the grading must take place at home on your own time. There is no end of the day whistle, and you cannot leave your job at the office. It comes home with you, overruns your kitchen table, invades your living room. Slowly but surely, the over-sized bag you received as a gift for "school stuff" becomes so packed that the seams rip and you desperately try to figure out what has to go home and what can stay at school.

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As I stood washing dishes yesterday, I began to think (a dangerous pastime, I know). I realized how incredibly smart God is. So many times in my life (and yours, I daresay), something happens which cannot be explained or immediately understood, but wait 5-10-20 years, and suddenly, an epiphany occurs and you realize how the dots connect.

I wouldn't say I've had an exceptionally hard life. In many ways I have been blessed beyond belief. However, I would say (and I say this without expectation of pity or sympathy, only with a desire to share what I've learned) that perhaps I have been "through the mill" more than your average person. I could catalog every little thing in my life that has gone wrong, all the loss and pain and sadness, but to do so would only mire me down in depression. Instead, I prefer to reflect on my life and, through said reflection, come to realize what has come out of it. And a great deal has, as they say, risen from the ashes, my friend.

Let's go back in time... way back to understand exactly what I mean in order that you may understand how I ended up here today. When I was 7, my parents divorced and, as a result, my family moved from Pennsylvania to Ohio. A devastating blow, to be sure, but I came to understand many years ago that, without that move, I would have never attended Camp Bethany. Perhaps without CB I would have found God somewhere else (I am sure I would have- it seems my soul had cried out for Him for years), but without the love of camp and the camp itself, I would have never ended up there as a counselor. Now, in keeping with the chronological order, we shall return to this point later. When I was 9, I told my neighbor that, when I grew up, I wanted to be a poor English teacher who was married with 7 kids living in a shack with no money. Dead serious. And now look at me, all grown-up and a poor English teacher. No shack, husband, or kids, but halfway there is good. I decided early on I wanted to work with kids, and though it took many forms (teacher, missionary, counselor), I always knew that's the direction I'd take. Well, that or a chef.

High School (or rather the 4 years of high school) was, to be completely honest, a hell I would not wish to repeat ever. It was not school- I thank God for school as it kept me sane- but the multitude of events surrounding it. Depression, suicidal thoughts, emotional abuse, weight issues, insecurity, and the news of my senior year that I would, in all likelihood, never be able to conceive children. Let us just say that those were not the golden years of my life. I hated those years and saw no rhyme or reason for the suffering I endured during them. However, hindsight is 20/20, and now it seems God has deemed it right for me to understand it all.

After this year of teaching, I will either continue teaching full-time while going for my Master's or else go full-time for my Master's while working on the side. Either way, I will be getting my Master's in Counseling and will, hopefully, end up in a school somewhere and be able to help all (or some) the kids I see suffering on a daily basis. And now, the big picture.

Learning that kids really aren't an option for me made me love kids all the more and desire to help them, a desire that was developed and encouraged through counseling at camp and teaching. Said desire, I think, would never have existed had I not experienced so much in my past. I am the person I have become because of my experiences and choices, and I am proud of that person. I finally understand how all that I have done and been through and seen has molded and carved me. God always knows what He's doing, even if I don't, and I need to be more trusting of what He's up to in my life. Sometimes it seems life isn't going well, but that's only because I am seeing the now, not the eventual.

Lots of thought, but I felt like getting it all down. :0) Peace out, girl scout.

Oh my spirit week

So this week is homecoming/spirit week at good ol' Miyamura High, and boy has it been interesting. First, let me say that spirit week runs a bit differently here than at home. There are inter-class competitions going on during the week, which runs the risk of causing more disunity than unity. However, we've made it work.

In case I didn't mention this fun fact, I have the pleasure of being the freshmen class advisor. Why would I volunteer for this, you ask. Why risk my health and sanity? Well, for one, I get paid extra. WIN! Also, though, I really like being more involved with the school and a lot more students know me now, which I see as an overall plus. I helped with the planning of the events and days, and I've been overseeing events as well. On Monday, everyone dressed in their favorite sports team's jersey, and we decorated the hallways for each class after school. I loved spending time with the kids, getting signs made and watching them get involved. On Tuesday was "class colors day," and the freshmen were "patterns" since we had to avoid school colors and gang colors (yes, there are gangs here. Not in Kansas [Ohio] any more Toto). Then after school were class games. Highlight of the night? Watching the male students dress as women in leggings, a bra, and a blouse. There are no words to describe how awesome it truly was. Wednesday followed with Hawaiian day (and might I say I looked pretty good in a tropical dress, red sandals, and "sunset" make-up) and then the junior/senior powderpuff game (Seniors won).

Today, though, was the piece de resistance (say it with a French accent please): 80's DAY!!! Imagine me in black heels, rainbow leg warmers, black leggings, jean shorts, and baggy, off the shoulder purple shirt, blue tank underneath, PUFFY, curly hair, and rainbow make-up on the eyes. Oh, and the classic pink hairband to hold back my bangs. I know, I know... I am awesome. Tonight is the bonfire- we're making it huge and uniting the school by (hopefully) buring a scorpian effigy (our rivals). I say hopefully because I said I would try to make one. Not sure how that's going to turn out... wish me luck!

There's no place like home

It's Sunday, and in AU world, this means that it is the day after bid day. Maybe that doesn't mean anything to you, but to me it means I am the most homesick I have been yet. My job and my life outside of school keep me busy, but today as I am watching football (Steelers rock!) and relaxing with friends, I find myself wanting to cry and get on the next available flight so that I can meet my new sisters. 


It's not that I don't miss my biological family (I do), and I'm sure I'll sob like a small child when I get home just out of sheer joy and overwhelming emotion, but I spent my last 5 years at AU. I formed a family there, and some of my favorite people in this universe currently still reside there. They are, as we say, half of my heart, and the fact that I am not there, wearing my new bid day shirt (which are adorable), hugging my little, eating cake and singing Phi Mu songs, makes me miss home like nothing else could. I look at hundreds of pictures, but they don't do the whole scene justice. In my head I hear "I will be t-r-u-e TRUE to P-h-i-M-u Phi Mu" and in my heart I feel a little tug that doesn't seem to want to leave. 


I suppose the pain is worse because I know I won't be back in Ohio until mid-December, and by then all my sisters will have left campus for Christmas and they won't return til I am back in New Mexico. The same goes for May as well. Unless I am blessed with time off and enough money, a return trip to AU just doesn't seem feasible, and this is heartbreaking for a girl whose best memories involved her sisters. 


So here's to you, Phi Mu ladies- here's to the sleepovers, the late-nights, the long conversations, the hugs and the laughter. Here's to remembering what it is to feel connected to someone who isn't a blood relative but who you know should be. I would attempt to list all of your names here, but you know I cannot. There are too many of you (and that is something of which I am exceptionally proud). Here's to my second family, my home away from home, and the people who know me best. Here's to Phi Mu. 

Well I totally forgot to title the other one... so...

(Side note: forgot to title the post below. Fail. )

Ever since I moved to New Mexico, I've been thinking about Camp Bethany back home. I usually think of camp quite frequently, but it's been on my mind a lot more as of late. I consider myself, and have considered myself for the last 5 years, a counselor of sorts. No, I don't have a psychology degree and no, I don't charge $100/hour. But I've been thinking about Camp, and about all the work that we do there, and really, there isn't a better term for it. Some people may scoff at the term "camp counselor" and boil it down to an over-paid babysitter who leads activities and keeps kids in line, but those people clearly have never seen the work that we do and the time invested in our, for lack of better term, "job."

At camp, I'm not just a facilitator, monitoring kids and making sure they don't act like wild animals. I'm not just a game leader, selecting different activities for the kids to play and encouraging participation. Yes, we do all those things, but there's so much more to it. As camp counselors, we bare our souls and share personal stories in the hopes that explaining our mistakes will save at least one other person from the same pain and suffering. We invest our time and our lives in these kids, giving them an open ear, someone who won't judge them or attempt to put them on meds (not that we could, even if we wanted to do so). We SHOW them love and compassion and friendship, somethings they may not see but for one week a year. We give them advice, and not just generic, cliched empty words, but advice centered around Christ and around God.

For one week a year, I feel I am my truest self. And for several of the kids, the same is true. There is no pressure from us to acheive great things, only encouragement and support. We stop the name-calling and abuse where others would just turn a blind eye. And for many kids, we give them the opportunity to finally share a burden that has weighted down their hearts for weeks, months, or even years. I would never say that I "saved" a person; only God can do that. But I would say that God has used me to lead others to salvation, to safety, and even to peace. And in turn, I also have been led to peace.

I suppose I am writing all this down and thinking about it because, to be honest, there are certain aspects of the classroom that get to me. So much underhanded abuse takes place, so many snide remarks that can't be taken back or fixed. I see kids with cut marks on their arms or who shy away from people, and I want to stop teaching, pull them aside and just chat with them. I love teaching, but I think I finally understand is I love teaching not because of the subject (though English is great) or because of the opportunity to run my own classroom, but because it is a way to change lives.

This summer, when I contemplated the possibility of not having a job, I thought a lot about what else I would do with my free time. The one idea that constantly stuck was that of getting my Master's, but I was torn between getting my Master's in English (and then becoming a professor or writer) or in Counseling, and working in schools or churches... anywhere that kids were. I feel called towards the latter, and though I wish I had gotten said call a little earlier, I remember that God has this funny way of making everything work towards His glory, and clearly all of this will work itself out. After this year, who knows where I'll be? Perhaps I'll stay and work on my Master's while teaching. Perhaps I'll return home and focus on my studies yet again...all I know is that the best times of my life, the most wonderful memories and greatest feelings, are all connected with Camp and what has happened there. My heart always has, and always will, find it's home in that place and with those people. Now all I've got to do is figure out what's next.

[I'm lame and forgot to title this, so here it is]

This last week has been chalk full of fun... not really. First of all, the school decided to give me my paycheck rather than direct deposit it, so I had to wait for 4 days (Fri-Mon at midnight) for it to deposit... jolly good. Thankfully, after it did deposit, I was able to get groceries, pay bills, etc. I tell you, being an adult isn't all that fun sometimes. I mean, a paycheck is nice, but not when you watch it all twiddle away. And it isn't even as if I am spending it on random, unneccessary items. I count food, electricity, car payments, and rent as MUCHO NECESSARY (what is the Spanish word for necessary... must look that up).

In other news, I have managed to re-read the entire HP series and am now reading the Percy Jackson series (something quite popular with my kids). I'm trying to keep up on their lit not only because it gives us something to talk about, but also because a good chunk of young adult fiction is actually well-written and enjoyable. Hopefully the good grammar and word choice rubs off on my readers, especially since we are now on our first big project- the narrative essay!!!!! Most of them waste class time, which is shocking because, really, why would you NOT get your work done at school and get a good grade, thereby saving you valuable free time after school and on weekends. It is beyond me.

My sickness factor is about a 3 right now- still hacking up a lung and blowing my nose every 1/2 hour or so, but it's not too bad. Apparently my immune system is in for a wild ride this year. Thanks in advance, kids, for the strep, bronchitis, colds, flu, and whatever else it is you're going to give me. Thanks a million.

I absolutely love my department right now. We had an Eng. Dept. meeting yesterday, and let me tell you- the sarcasm was abundant and wonderful. I understand why teachers can burn out so fast. Between the annoying kids, the grading, the ridiculous paper work forced upon us by the state, the random inspections, and the limited budget/materials, I'm surprised we're not all dead. Thankfully, we can depend on each other and our witty banter to make it through the day.

I have another thought I've been mulling around, but I'll turn that into another post. Toodles!

Oh No You Didn't...

Dear punk student sitting in the corner, disrupting my class, making sexual references, complaining about your punishment from last week... OH NO YOU DIDNT! You did NOT just interrupt my teaching YET AGAIN to ask a pointless question meant only to cause problems. You did NOT just ask if you could, in response the to prompt "what would you change about yourself", say you'd change your "stuff" and then point at your crotch. Oh yes, and you did NOT just ask why you were written up when you FELL ASLEEP in my class last week and failed to finish a test. I'm sorry, I just don't care. You know what you DID just do? You just got yourself a one-way ticket to the office. Have fun.

In other news, my kids now think I am awesome/scary, and I have earned respect from many of them. Several opt to eat lunch with me and Candy. This makes me feel super-di-duper awesome. Yeah!

That is all.

A week of "whoas" (and woes)

First of all, let me just say how much I detest being sick. Seriously. I rarely am sick, so when it happens, it catches me off guard, and I do not appreciate it. Monday brought with it a terrible upset stomache which ruined my schoolday and made short and snippy with the kids (I know, but Maggie- you're already short. Shove off, you.). I hate being a meany (a surprise to any and all who have seen me at camp, perhaps. But then, I've always hated the 'law enforcer' role. It's the voice- when you can be heard a mile away, people tend to make you the "yeller".) *Side note- a LOT of parentheses today. Sorry*

Any who, I went home Monday and proceeded to vomit several times over the next 4 hours. Then I tried eating... and vomited again. Oops. It was a bad night. Now, I've got this ridiculous head cold that is making me stuffy and disrupting my whole "happy chee".

Ok, complaining over, moving on. School has been a B- this week. We started the week with more grammar (a personal favorite)- nouns, pronouns, adjectives, and adverbs. The kids are picking it up, and I'm not doing a lot of difficult work, just the basic parts of speech (there are 8- anyone know them?) and their functions. Wednesday I gave the GATES test, a test that gauges their level and their knowledge of vocab and reading comprehension. It was a light day for me since the GATES takes 55 minutes and class is only an hour. Today (Thurs), I had to split what I was doing since both 5th and 6th hour don't have class tomorrow due to an early release (lucky little....). So, in my first 4 classes, we did CBMs (quizzes that check for weekly comprehension), a writing prompt (describe the best or worst movie you ever saw), and a book review activity which helps the kids begin to understand plot, character, and theme.

But I'm sure hearing my wonderful lesson plans isn't nearly as fascinating as it should be, so story time!
   I've been going over to Candy's house on a regular basis since I get lonely and talking to myself just isn't a viable option, although it occurs with startling frequency these days. Her kids had taken to calling me 'Miss Maggie,' of which I approve, but yesterday I was upgraded to 'Auntie Maggie' since I brought them presents in the form of a Cars juice cup, and Disney Princess plate, and Capri Sun juice jammers. I am the favorite :0). I've never been an 'auntie' before (thank God. If my siblings are reading this- DO NOT HAVE KIDS YET!) and it was a pleasant surprise. Of course, this means I am now fair game for all manner of nonsense, including (but not limited to) climbing on me, hitting me with notepads, chucking plastic screwdrivers at me, reading stories, and being hugged. I don't mind the hugging part (or even the rest of it), but hitting and such is a big no no, so now I must also lay down the law and tell them no. Let me tell you, oh ignorant world (excluding those who have or had children- bless you all)- little children under the age of 3 do NOT like being told no. At all. And they do not respond well to that word. It's like working with my high schoolers. Well, scratch that- these kids are often a step above the high schoolers. :0)

Now for the 'whoa' of the week- I had a wonderful (insert sarcastic tone here) encounter with a student who thought it would be beneficial to call a book a "queer book" and then a "fag book" because some of the characters are gay. Then, after being told not to use that language, he proceeded to call the book "the brokeback mountain of novels". Good analogy, bad timing. I was livid with him. I'm used to hearing that kind of language, but to so openly show hatred for this particular group while in a classroom setting after being told not to do so... oh man. You can imagine how well that went. I laid the smack down on him. He became my first kid to stay after class, my first discipline write up, and the first kid I sincerely wanted to boot out of class. The next day, the same student asks if he "had to take the stupid GATES test," and even after I said he did, he layed his head down and went to sleep. There were 48 questions- guess how many he answered. ZERO! So I had the rest of the class pull out their heaviest books, and on my count, they slammed them down as hard as possible. The kid jolted up and looked around, and while everyone else laughed, all I said was, "You don't sleep in my class. Ever." It was menacingly awesome.

Accent on the Accent

I have a problem. Well, it's not really a problem, more like a quirk. I have a weird habit of picking up accents wherever I go. It's not, by any means, intentional. In fact, I'd say it's probably a subconscious effort to blend in, if anything. It happened when I was in London last summer. Two friends came to visit (they were in Ireland), and one of them commented on my having a slight accent. I couldn't hear it, but it seems some of my words were a bit more British than American. Ialso had a slight twang after going to Georgia with Gabri last winter. And now, I think the same thing is happening here in New Mexico.

It could probably be helped, if I thought about it consciously and made an effort. Funny thing is, I really don't mind. My only concern is offending people. I made it a point to tell my colleagues where I'm from, and now my students know too. However, if you put me in a room with a group of native New Mexicans, I find myself matching my vowels and accent to theirs ever so slightly. I'm hoping they don't think I'm crazy or attempting to mock them. The sound of the language is so beautiful and unique here- it's not so much a different accent overall, but a different accent on sounds and words. Certain words mean more, so they are more emphasized. Towns and names are pronounced in ways I never would have guessed. I'm an English teacher, and I can't even sound out the name Sradha (it's hard, I assue you. My kids already mock me).

In other news, today is our first day of classes. It is terrifying. I don't have the advantage of observing and studying a seating chart like I did during student teaching. I don't get a list of what to teach from a co-op. It's all on me. First period was rough- the kids, I think, smell new teacher. However, with every step and every instruction, I felt more confident, more sure of myself. Once I have names down, I'll feel much more in control. I'm working on "working the room", a style of walking around students while talking in order to minimize side discussions and texting. My desks are in a U shape with a "stage" area, so I have space to move about. Hoepfully 3rd period will go more smoothly than 1st, and 4th than 3rd... etc. I think this will work, I've just got to keep the kids busy and invovled.

Adventure is Out There!

**Special thanks to the movie Up! for today's blog title**

First of all, you people should know that the bulk of my time this weekend was designated to watching the entire 4th season of Criminal Minds on DVD. A few notes on the wonder that is this show:

1) Dr. Spencer Reid is my husband. He just doesn't know it yet. Courtesy of a run-in with a magician date my freshman year of high school, I have been averse to all males pawning off magic tricks in an attempt to impress ladies. However, Spencer can show me magic tricks any time.

2) Despite having seen some episodes before, I could watch them again and again because they are incredibly well written and witty.

3) Normally watching this show (1-2 episodes) didn't phase me. However, I now live alone (this is becoming a common theme). Therefore, it seems fate is against me because I always end on an episode where some single woman living alone or walking by herself meets a grisly and untimely end. Not cool. So, of course, I shut off the t.v. and roll over on the couch (where I currently sleep for convenience's sake) and am faced with a giant picture window covered in light curtains which allow shadows to be cast. Not good. I, of course, then imagine I can see two people standing outside my window discussing how they can break in and kill me. These people are, inevitably, nothing more than tree branches that happen to be in the wrong place. Note to self: purchase chain saw.
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Ok, now on to life. Many of you will be proud to know that I had my first "chili" run-in today! The infamous "red or green" question presented itself when Candy (you will hear much about her. She is my first New Mexico friend) took me to Rocket's Cafe for lunch. Now, I could have caved and gone with my typical standby of pasta, but I felt emboldened by my surroundings and went for the tostadas. These delicious little nibblers came with the choice of red or green chili sauce on the side, so I went for the green. Holy tamale Batman!!!  It was definitely not what I was expecting and my digestive system was effectively cleansed after a mere spoonful on my first tostada. Candy laughed at me, but she did confess that the green chili was "a bit hotter today than usual". Candy is, of course, a native New Mexican, so hot stuff was, as she put it, "fed to her in the womb." Thanks, Mom, for neglecting that part of my culinary education while I was in utero. I appreciate having no spicy food tolerance... (*sarcasm alert. Here is my sarcasm sign). I feel that, given enough time, I might be able to build up to eating spicier food. It's a pity the average human lifespan is only 80 years. With the wasted 24 down, I fear I might not ever get beyond Taco Bell mild sauce.

Scare Myself Silly

There are moments when, in the middle of an activity or moment, you realize what you are doing is completely idiotic and you question your sanity. Yesterday, I had one such moment. After a wonderfully tiring day of moving into my classroom, hanging pictures, driving to Arizona (will be explained later), and shopping for groceries, I decided a quiet evening watching movies was in order. 

 

 Another teacher, Candy, has been kind enough to feed me and aid me in my moments of panic, and while I was at her house yesterday for lunch, she showed me her movie collection and created a pile of "must-see movies" for me. I took two of them home with me to watch this weekend. Now, if you know nothing else about me, you must realize this: I am afraid of hot food (it burns...) and I HATE scary movies. Why anyone would willingly subject themselves of an hour and a half of terror for entertainment's sake is beyond me. Not only that, but scary movies are, by definition, meant to SCARE you, so the residual effects of the movie extend way beyond the initial 1.5 hours of fear. Pointless, I say. But, I digress...

   One of the movies she gave me was "Copycat" starring Sigourney Weaver and Holly Hunter. Basic rundown: psycho-analyst turned agoraphobe courtesy of a life-threatening experience has to assist the San Fran PD solve a serial killer mystery. Toss in some gruesome deaths, scary music, creepy villain, and unexpected "jump out of your seat" moments, and you've got yourself a grade A thriller designed to turn me into a scared little girl. So what do I do? I decide at 9 at night out in the desert in a house by myself to watch this movie. WHAT ON EARTH WAS I THINKING????? Oh wait, I wasn't. That explains it.

 

  Needless to say, I had to pop in a more family friendly movie after Copycat was over (I couldn't not watch it...). The sounds of Ratatouille soothed me to sleep after a quick run-through of the house and strategic placement of boxes in front of the doors so I'd heard someone break in. I know, it's pathetic. But you try living by yourself on top of a mountain-hill in the desert, and then you can talk to me. 

  Now, to explain the Arizona adventure. I found out only a day before I moved that the one thing New Mexico lacked was a Chase bank. There are none in the state. At all. The nearest one is a lovely 1.5 hrs away in Show Low, AZ, and so I hopped in my car yesterday afternoon and drove the 120 miles to my bank so that I wouldn't get charged any fees and so I could deposit a check. Objective number one on my list right now is to switch to a closer bank... soon. However, should I remain at Chase, I don't think I'll mind the trek all that much. The drive was wonderfully simple and afforded me some of the best views the Southwest has to offer. Arizona is much greener than where I am living, and I had the pleasure of driving through a mini storm which just served to make the landscape even more breath taking and stunning. This place is an artist's dream, and if I possessed even an ounce of talent with a brush, I would be outside for hours at a time trying to capture it. I will try to take some pictures so that the people back home can see what I see, and maybe then you'll understand why I gave up everything and moved out west. 

A Week of Firsts

This week has been a week of firsts. Primarily, it is my first time living by myself, first time in my own house, first "adult" job... it is, to say the least, overwhelming in its wonderful-ness. There is something eerie about living alone in a house by yourself, especially the first night. Not knowing the noises or the way the light filters through the windows can put a person ill at ease. It also does not help that I have had a perpetual fear of coming home and finding someone in my house/apartment who proceeds to rape/attack/kill me. Ridiculous, I know, but for someone who has lived with 4-5 other people all her life, it is quite a relevant and realistic fear. It did not help that the first night I was home (Monday), there was a large rainstorm with rolling thunder. Every clap of thunder or rumble afterwards caused me to jump and scan the room nervously, expecting danger to jump out of my closet or from the next room. 


I suppose, to help with visualization, I should describe my house since no one I know has actually been there. It's a rustic white, one-story ranch house with a small front porch shaded by a tree (breed of which I do not know). The front door, situated on the right, leads into a living room which features a very 1970's style brown carpet that must be a cousin of the ever popular shag carpet. To the left is my dining room, currently featuring a card table and two fold out chairs. Through an archway is my kitchen, one of the best rooms of the house. I have lamented wood floors (you know... fake), a brand new electric stove, and cute wooden cupboards lining the walls. Straight through the kitchen is my laundry room, complete with washer and dryer. Through a door on the right wall of the kitchen is my study. The carpet is a mottled mix of orange, green, and tan (again, very 1970's), and there's a wonderful shelving unit on one wall which now houses pictures and souvenirs from my travels. If you turn immediately right, you run into my bathroom which has a girl's dream: a wall of shelves and cubbies for storage. Finally, through another door, is my bedroom which I have yet to sleep in. It currently is home to my shoes and clothes as I am comfortable on the convertible couch in the living room (which is connected by a door to the bedroom). So, in essence, my house is a rectangle. It's relatively small, but I love it and feel comfortable there. 


 The school I will be teaching at is still in its final construction stages, and for the last 4 days the teachers have been barred from the building because the fire marshall has yet to approve it. So, my room remains barren and bland, screaming out for color and wall decorations. I hear its cries, but I am powerless to help. Instead of moving in, the district has kept us busy with random (and sometimes pointless) morning meetings that inevitably end early and leave me with hours and hours of free time. So far said free time has been spent watching 6 movies, writing classroom expectations, and creating "Ms. McLinden's Top Ten Reasons for Not Allowing Cell Phones in Class" list. I am a fan of #4, which reads: "Unless monkeys are taking over or aliens are invading, there is no emergency so massive that it cannot wait 50 min. And I assure you, if such an emergency occurs, I will know before you." Most of the other reasons are just as ridiculous, but it helps to break the ice. 

On the road to greatness

Driving 14 hours in a car by yourself is, to say the least, an adventure. By hour 3 I had named my GPS "Lulu" and had begun to talk to her... or perhaps at her, since she doesn't really respond. I named her thus because she has a British accent and whenever she gives me directions, I get a little thrill saying "will do, Lulu."
 Insanity is not inherited- it must be bred out of necessity and cultivated by lack of comradeship.


Having been on the road for 14+ hours, I made the wise decision to stop at a hotel. I kept pushing myself, insisting that I would stop when I reached 950 miles or when it was 11:00pm home (Ohio) time... the excuses kept coming. Finally, I passed a hotel that featured wireless, a pool/hot tub, air conditioning, and a relatively decent price of 39.95. Sadly, I did not stop, because Lulu insisted that my exit was 127C even though the only exit in existence was 127A. Bad Lulu. I ended up on a toll road (something which I had sworn to avoid) and managed to drive another hour only to find myself stopping at an over-priced (ok, so it was only 41.99) hotel with no pool and no continental breakfast. However, I made the best of my situation by taking 2 bars of soap and 1 role of toilet paper from the hotel to stock my new house. 


By the end of the day, my right leg had begun to spasm, and I could actually feel it twitching as I drove. Being the resourceful person I am, I switched to driving with my left leg- not an easy feat when your entire 4 door sedan is packed tight with boxes and your right leg now has no where to go. Imagine if you will the scene of me sitting in the driver's seat, left leg extended and pressing down on the gas pedal while the right leg is situated underneath being used as a prop to help the left leg remain stable. Meanwhile, I am using my right hand to take pictures while I drive with only my left. All of this, mind you, is being done on a highway with a speed limit of 70mph. I am, of course, going a healthy 75. 


Day two began at 6:30 in the morning (7:30 OH time) because I couldn't sleep any later due to the fact that my body insisted I get up. I left the hotel hungry (darn you Super 8 and your lack of continental breakfast!!) and drove as many miles as possible until my stomach began to digest itself then stopped for gas and ate a burger I had purchased the day before (yay brunch at 8:30 am!). 


Through all of this, I managed to see quite a bit of the US: Indianapolis, St. Louis, David Cook's hometown (the 2008 American Idol... not sure what town), most of Kansas (including the town where Dorothy's house is- I drove on the 'yellow brick road'. No, there were no yellow bricks), the panhandle of Oklahoma, the top of Texas, and across the entire state of New Mexico. I never thought that I would see so much and in such a short amount of time. I suppose the word adventure really does cover it all quite nicely. Now I am officially moved into my own house (eek!) and am beginning my lesson planning and preparation. Who knows what adventures (or misadventures) will follow. Hopefully many.