Singing the Sky

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My bullshit tolerance is especially low today. I am supposed to be in an ESL training today, all day, to teach us methods to use with ESL kids (English as a second language learners) in the classroom.

It does not matter that I have a M.Ed. in Bilingual and ESL. It does not matter that I have received awards for teaching ESL. The years of experience don’t matter. No one cares! And yes, they DO know.

I hit my limit after having to make a “little journal” out of a piece of construction paper on which to take notes for the day. The notes included things like the definition of ESL.

I tried to sneak out, but disappointingly, the door in the back was locked. Foiled. The other teachers sitting in the back snickered. They knew why it was locked. We’d all try to escape! So I had to walk out the same way I came in, increasing the possibility that my name will be marked off the sign in sheet.

I am so frustrated with the ESL thing on so many levels I can’t even write it all down. The last thing I will say about it is that the district is offering a $300 stipend (I know, big whoop) to teachers who go to a couple of workshops and then take the ESL certification test. Do I get a stipend? Hell no. It just makes no sense.

I don’t want to go to the training tomorrow either. It is the annual training on how to physically control violent kids. After getting hit in the neck last year trying this method, I am not doing it again. They can tear up the whole classroom, break windows, throw computers, whatever. There is not going to be a thing I can do about it other than getting on the radio and calling for help. That training is worthless unless you are in some hellish job where you get to practice it enough to actually be able to use it. Four of us couldn’t control that kid using those methods, and one of us was a former boxer.

I have a bad attitude. I could blame it on hormones, but perhaps the wacky hormones simply paint the world in more realistic colors at intervals so we don’t spend too much time looking at LOL cats and rotting our brains…I dunno.

I’m sure I’m set to make a grand impression for our new principal. I don’t care.

I talked to a teacher who just moved from the alt school to the high school. I called him a traitor, and he said he was sorry, but he just couldn’t stand sitting in a box another year. I know what he means.

I’d really love to feel excited about teaching again.

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There’s one more week of summer left. Next week, Sage and Greg will be in New York, so it will be a strange week. Sky will be here, which I am thankful for. I’ve had enough alone time lately.

Sky is moving out soon. He has money saved, and he knows he doesn’t want to live here. That’s about all he knows. I don’t blame him. Shoot, I don’t want him to stay here. It’s stifling and repressive. I’ll miss him like crazy, though.

He’s probably going to go with the “safe” choice and move back to Austin since his dad lives about an hour away. Since he doesn’t have a license yet–no real reason other than lack of motivation–Austin is going to be a sucky place for him to live.

He’s thinking about other places, like Portland, OR, but he’s worried he won’t like it and will have blown his savings. He knows he likes Austin, even though he does think there might be something better out there. I’m encouraging him to take the risk of going wherever he wants. I told him he can always come back and work for a couple of months to get more money to go somewhere else. He’ll probably end up in Austin, though, and I’ll be sorta glad because I can visit him there. Probably. You know.

I’m actually a bit glad that summer is over. It highlighted how disconnected I feel here. Today, I went to a meeting at work and saw a bunch of people I really like and care about. I’m the mentor for the new math teacher, and Mr. Sir has finally retired. Oh!! Word is that Mr. Sir came into over $800,000 of money on an oil deal. Wonder if that improved his mood any…

This week is looking decent, socially. I’m going to a party Saturday night, a get together next Friday night and out to lunch twice next week. That may not seem like a lot to most people, but it’ll be the busiest week I’ve had all summer!

I have to face the fact that some of the social life problem is my own fault. I rarely initiate anything, and one of the guys from work has invited me to no fewer than four parties, none of which I’ve attended. Sometimes it’s the agor, sometimes it’s no babysitting, sometimes it’s just feeling like holing up in the house (depression).

So, I’m going to work on that.

I was going to join a church, since that’s what everyone seems to do around here, but even the Methodists say you have to believe in that “everybody raises up out of the grave when Jesus comes” stuff. I just don’t believe that, and I really am not good at pretending that I do, or ignoring it and going with the flow. There are no nice “liberal” churches here, unfortunately.

So I’m just blathering on now. Anyway. Yeah.

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I had this horrible insomnia last night. I finally was starting to drift off around 3:00pm when flashing red and blue lights and a loud banging on the door brought me out of any dreams I was starting to have.

Of course, I felt a bit scared! What on earth had happened that the cops would wake my family up in the middle of the night?

Turns out they wanted me to move my car. Move it from the place where it has been parked for two months. Why? Because apparently it is a no parking zone.

This couldn’t have waited until morning?

Would this have happened in the middle of the night in a nicer neighborhood, where the homeowner could have been a city council member?

What bullshit.

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Photo: Yelnoc

There’s been a lot of talk in the news lately about how much legal latitude parents should have when it comes to naming their children. I don’t know where I stand, actually. On the one hand, the libertarian side of me believes we should be able to name our children without government interference, while another side of me is more concerned with the child welfare side. One thing’s for sure–if you name your child something nutty, they’ll probably be legendary.

There was a family in the town where I grew up who was going to have another baby. They told their two older boys that they could name the baby anything they pleased. Well, when the mom popped out the kid, the two brothers told their parents that they wanted to name him Howdy Truckie. The parents, being the sort of people who apparently honored their word, put the name on the birth certificate, and that was that.

Howdy Truckie ended up having hardly any teeth by the time he was nine, owing to all the dippin’ tobacco he used, probably courtesy of his older brothers. Later on, he got gum cancer. That’s actually all I know about him, since I didn’t live in Texas when he was growing up.

I did, however, grow up with a child named Lace. I think Lace is a really beautiful name. The thing is, the boy who was graced with this name had absolutely no choice but to turn out to be flamingly queer. Not that being gay is a terrible thing, but this kid never had a bit of choice in the matter. I think he would have been better off with Johnny Cash’s “Sue”.

Then there were the twins two grades down from me named Annie and Zannie. They still live around here. People remember them better than their ten other siblings.

Of course, I may not be one to talk. My own kids have unusual names. Everyone knows who they are in school, which has been a good thing. Hopefully, it will still be a good thing professionally. Of course, if not, they can always change them. Unless they decide on something like Howdy Truckie.

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I’ve been researching this “make money online” thing for so long now that I’ve caught on. I came up with a great way to market credit cards and make tons of money. The thing is, I find myself putting off doing certain things that I need to do before I will get any leads. I finally figured out that I feel like I am going to be selling people into slavery by doing this.

I came up with a whole list of justifications. Foremost, that people make their own choices, and if they’re going to run themselves into debt, why shouldn’t I get a piece of change from the credit card companies while they’re doing it? Still, it feels wrong.

I am getting very, very frustrated. It seems that every avenue I go down that has serious profit potential has ethical issues. It seems like the only clean money would be if I grew pumpkins and sold them at the farmer’s market for a few bucks a week. Ack.

I really want money right now. I was stupid and unstable and didn’t save for Sky’s college. I want to have more options insofar as Sage’s education goes.

I really hate to have this knowledge and then not be able to use it and still get a good night’s sleep. The big affiliate money is in loans and overseas pharmas. I’m trying to find another product that would work with my marketing plan, but I’m not having much luck.

Ideas? Justifications?

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Check this out. Seriously. Just check this shit out. Crazy, huh?

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Spent hours yesterday looking at different towns, different countries. Imagined ways I could get rich, pay off house and move out of town. Go back to where friends are, go to where friends can be made. Run, basically. (But not to Flint.) I’m not whining anymore. But this is painful, living here. The house didn’t fix anything.

Has crossed my mind that the meds the doc gave me have induced clinical depression. Perhaps things just suck. Am not sure.

Discovered perfect way to exercise. One episode of The Office on Netflix (no commercials) equals one mile on the treadmill. Am living in the lap of luxury. Felt better after getting off couch, away from computer and promises of better life as expat in Costa Rica. Maybe things here can work. Maybe.

Being trained on how to teach gifted and talented children tomorrow. Have taught 14 years. Did not know how! Was teaching creative children who like spray paint about Banksy. Not really.

Do not like job very much because is not really teaching. Think this way every summer. After one month, like job again. Like students’ sense of humor. Cannot admit to this.

Found a blog that makes me laugh. (The Customer Is) Not Always Right. Have read 22 pages.

Don’t know how long writing will not have sufficient pronouns. Am having fun.

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I’m putting the whiny, personal posts under a password. Email me at mizchulita at gmail dot com if you’d like it. Otherwise, enjoy the rest of the blog, sans whining!

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I don’t do many memes anymore, but I really liked this one! Discovered at Fearfully Made. What you do is go over here to make the mosaic. You enter the URLs of photos from Flicker to create it.

Here’s mine.

1. Michelle, 2. Blueberry Bowl, 3. Marathon Dolphins, 4. soft fuchsia, 5. More Johnny Depp…, 6. tea, 7. The Face of Morocco, 8. pick-me-up, 9. The Garden Cottage Bed and Breakfast, 10. The Way Home, 11. End Of The Day, 12. Linguine Grooms Robb

How do you make it? Well, just answer the following questions with your favorite pic from the first page that comes up when you enter your answer into Flickr’s search. If anyone’s wondering, my answer to number 10 was “Sky, Sage”. I love that New Mexico land came up, since I have some that looks about like that. Weird, but it makes sense.

Here are the questions:

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you attend?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10.What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you.
12. Your Flickr name.

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Last night, I was asleep when Salsa started barking uproariously. I stumbled out of bed to see what was going on and found Greg on the front porch, reading. I asked him why the dog was having a fit. He told me that a man had just came up to the porch, pulled one steak (still wrapped) from his front pocket, and asked him if he wanted to buy it.

“No man, I’m good,” is what Greg said.

The man left.

I remembered this incident in the morning, and had difficulty distinguishing it from some sort of weird dream. Later on, I asked Greg, “Who the hell buys stolen meat from people in the middle of the night? I mean, is there actually a market for this stuff or what?”

Sky spoke up and let us know that his roommate Zack had scored the household 20 steaks (for a dollar each) from just such an exchange.

This is such a weird place sometimes.

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