I haven't had a professional eval yet this year, but there is an instructional coach in the district, and I kinda like her, so I asked her to sit in on what I thought was going to be a really cool class. This jinxed it, I guess, because they were MONSTERS! I didn't get shit done, and I was mortified. I was certain she thought I was the worst teacher in the world. We talked the usual teacher speak about reflecting o n the lesson and what to different next time, but I was just convinced inmy mind that I was shit for teacher, and I should go kill myself right now before this school also decides to fire me. BTW, I know you guys probably wonder where this inadequacy complex comes from? Probably from getting FIRED.
So I decide not to kill myself after eating my feelings a little. A lot. And I go to an inservice later in the week. Allfour campuses of this charter school meet once a month on a Friday for PD, and this week the theme was pre-reading strategies. Sarah, who witnessed me crash and burn, is conducting the PD, so I am reminded of the huge suck that is me, until I read the PD schedule for the year as it is passed out. I notice that next month, under during reading strategies, she has listed at least four of my active reading techniques, things that I invented myself. I had talked to her about them, and she had seen me teaching one of them, so I asked her, "You stole my shit, didn't you?"
"Sure did. It's good shit. You're a good teacher. Everybody has days like that."
Huh.
And secondly,
We went to the Denver Art Museum, Robert and I and our friend Marcus, who later that night asked us in a drunken haze whether we wanted to have a threesome, to which we gave a resounding no--there's one friendship that is now pretty awkward, but I digress. There's a statue on the fourth floor of the Hamilton building that I find just fascinating. It's not really anything special, just your typical nude cut in marble with an unrealisticly sized wang. I stare at it for a minute, as one does with art if one has any class at all. Robert comes up behind me and says, "PP, it's you!"
"Don't be ridiculous." I reply. "Mine's not that big."
"No, PP. I mean the leg" I look down. The statue only has one leg, and its stump is shaped just like mine. I didn't even notice.
My aunt asked me yesterday if I have adjusted to living in Denver, and I am still not sure how to respond. I don't even think to ask the question of myself. The whole idea of "How am I doing in this strange city?" or even, "How is life here different?" doesn't occur to me. I live where I live. Things are as they are. I have one leg. How have I adjusted? Funny, I don't remember adjusting.
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Adjusting...such an awkward word (but not nearly as awkward as the three-some guy who is now feeling like a total 'tard). I'm adjusting. I miss home. And when I say this, I don't mean Colorado. I miss having people. I'm getting there, but even the person that I hang out with the most here is always getting homesick and going to see her parents on the weekend (like an hour away). Which in all reality, is ok, because I spend my weekends writing essays about the Bible and grading literary analysis on Beowulf (PS...what is the plural of analysis?). I needed a break today. So, I decide my kids are going to illustrate two characters from the prologue of Canterbury tales to me...then I gave them a questionnare and they had to act like the character in modern day and answer the totally ridiculous questions. It was fabulous. I typed two essays and graded five papers in the course of one school day. Yea, I'm adjusting. We start King Lear on Monday with my sophomores and a condensed lehman version of The Odyssey with my freshmen. I've never read either...now that makes for another exciting weekend. Plus, my bball team is working concessions at the football game tonight. Woohoo! Not so much.
Like I said, I just miss having people. Maybe I mean Jordan; maybe I don't. I'm kind of over it...really, but it's like, I knew I always had someone to do everything with. I want that...not in a lonely, I'm desperate kind of way, but it's nice to go sit at a friend's house and grade papers on their couch...just sitting there, saying nothing, knowing you don't have to.
One of my good friends from high school lives in Seattle. I finally got his phone number, and we're gonna try to hook up sometime in the next couple weeks ("that's what she said..."). I need it though...furreal. I need to see a familiar face. I don't miss Colorado. I miss faces. I miss you both. I miss fucking Judi Ingelido. Now I do all my classes online and there's no face to put to a name (even if it were icewoman). I never stop doing homework...and I realize that I basically did TIRP for nothing, which basically sucks donkey dick.
Anyway, enough mumbling and jumbling. My kids are kick ass. I can't complain about that. Brandon, your reading strategies dominate the likes of the best of 'em (I still have to try out the sound effects one...sounds pleasant). I told my one class today that I had a Russian teacher in college who smelled horrible and said "fuck-us" every five seconds...as opposed to focus. They died laughing. Is that ok? I was like...wow, I just said fuck...and they're laughing...this is great...can't wait for them to go home and tell mom and dad.
Alright...popcorn and hot dogs are calling my name. Peace out girl scouts.
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Wow. You miss fucking Judi Ingelido. I didn't realize you two were that close.
Brandon,
I must know your awesome reading strategies.
WOW! We are so teachers, whether we realize it or not. Sometimes, when I think about how can I connect with these kids I realize that. :) Talking about new ideas is what makes us GREAT teachers. Otherwise, we'd be those stuffy 40 year old teachers who are just ready to retire.
Anyway, wierd about the threesome. Ha. :)
It was good talking to both of you today. I wish I could say that I didn't miss Colorado, but I do. I miss my famiy and friends. I miss everything about it. The look of mountains and grass and trees, not just cacti and desert hills. But, I am getting used to living here. It's weird how you adapt.
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