What I’m Reading
Jan
2
Welcome, 2012!
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You guys! I’m so glad we all made it through 2011 together. There were definitely a few rough patches along the way and I was a bit worried, for all of us really, but it looks like we survived the worst of it. Luckily I feel really good about the way things ended and 2012 is already shaping up to be a great year.
Still, the dread of having to return to work tomorrow after having an amazing week off for the holidays has definitely set in. The next few months are probably going to be worse than ever, since tomorrow starts our big union fight for a contract. Picketing is now mandatory. Every teacher is walking in and out of the school building together at our exact contract hours. We’re not allowed to bring any work h0me with us. Normally this kind of workplace stress would send me into a frenzy of anxiety and worry- how will I get everything done? What will I do with the kids? When will I plan lessons? But somehow I have this feeling it’s all going to be okay.
Plus, I printed out the forms for a year-long sabbatical before I left for break.
What would I do with a year off? Right now I have no idea. All I know is I’d really like some time away from school and this district and the stress it has brought me. It still remains to be seen if I’ll ever fill these forms out, but just the physical presence of them in my work bag makes me feel a little better.The possibility is there. It’s tangible. I could do it.
The other reason I feel like it’s all going to be okay is because in addition to having amazing and supportive friends and family, I also have this amazing guy. I guess in the era of Facebook I’ve never really “announced” being in a relationship, so I didn’t fully realize that people would be ALL up on it when I did. But the comments and likes on my relationship status change were hilarious and lovely, so I thank those of you who saw it. Plus, I think he’s one of the best people I know, so I’m pretty sure that those of you who come to visit me will dig him. All we do is laugh. Besides my really close friends, I don’t think there’s anyone whose company I’ve ever enjoyed so simply and purely. Basically: he is lovely.
So that’s that. I hope the first few days of your new year have been as joy-filled as mine. Cheers.
Dec
1
Well, it’s been two years in the making but this afternoon my school district finally voted to go work-to-rule. In non-educational-politics terms this basically means that we are boycotting doing anything outside of contractual hours until the town gives us a contract that isn’t insulting. Sounds extra fun, right? Because picketing these last three weeks has been AMAZING, let me tell you. I can’t wait to tell parents I’m no longer going to be doing anything except check out books.
Wait. That’s what most people think I do anyway. Sigh.
Anyway, in the spirit of hating my work life and having zero holiday cheer, I thought I’d help all you out. I present to you a list of all the presents a public school teacher will hate you forever for making her lug them home:
- Candy
- Cookies
- Cookies with candy in them
- Anything Lilly Pulitzer
- Anything from Vineyard Vines (maybe this is just a Massachusetts thing?)
- Gingerbread houses (I will kill you)
- Ornaments with a teacher theme (apples, chalkboards, bullwhip)
- Homemade cards with nothing in them but sentiment
Presents for which I am happy to make five trips to my car:
- Wine
- Gift cards (notably: iTunes, amazon, and Starbucks)
- Cash monies
- Books
I’m nothing if not helpful. You’re welcome!
Luckily, all is not terrible. I had a lovely birthday-slash-Thanksgiving that I was able to spend with family and friends and a cute boy who brought me flowers. And I know in the long run that the school thing will work it out. (Although, between you and me, I already applied for a different job than the one I’m currently doing. Shh.) Plus, on the way home I saw such a magnificently gaudy display of lights on a Town Hall that I actually smiled despite myself. Maybe this weekend of holiday movies with the aforementioned cute boy will snap me out of my holiday funk.
Nov
20
The fact that I have two and a half days to get through this week is the only thing that’s keeping me from calling into work tomorrow with a sudden acute case of malaria. Or tuberculosis. Or whatever disease will keep me from having to deal with third graders for a little while longer. See, the thing is, my birthday is on Thursday, which also happens to be one of the biggest holidays of the year. Which means none of my friends will be around to help me celebrate because they all have families and people that love them and shit. THE NERVE.
Not that my family won’t be around on my birthday. They will. It just feels like I’m going to get gypped, celebration-wise; like no one has to make a particular effort to see me because we’re all going to be together anyway. I don’t want my birth to be secondary to cranberry sauce, dammit! But I already know it’s happening. Last night my bestie and I had a joint birthday party at our new place and zero family members showed up. As in, the people who are obligated to love me couldn’t be bothered to drive the 35 minutes to light some candles and sing to me. So I guess that’s where I stand with them.
Luckily I did have a whole bunch of friends swing by to do it up. They wore party hats and made cupcakes and brought champagne and it was pretty lovely. I also have plans on Wednesday with a boy I like. I’d tell you all about him, but I don’t want to jinx things. We’ll just leave it that I am genuinely enjoying his company, which makes it even nicer that he’s going to celebrate with me.
I sincerely hope you all stuff your faces full of turkey and have an extra slice of pie in my honor. Maybe you could stick a candle in it and whisper the happy birthday song to me. Because that wouldn’t be creepy at all! And as much as I love this holiday, I’ll be really glad when I can stop reading Facebook updates on all the boring things people are grateful for.
Happy thanksgiving!
Nov
5
High School, Beer, and Cheese
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As someone pointed out, my last post was in October. It is now November, which I suppose means I should write my monthly update. Truth be told, I’m not sure how I went from writing every single day to feeling overwhelmed at updating every couple of weeks, but there you have it. I’d straight up blame it on the fact that my job is insanity and I’m taking two classes, but you know if I didn’t feel so crazytown anxious every time I opened a blank post I’d still be writing all the time regardless of what else was going on.
But things here are pretty good, all things considered. I’ve finally settled into a schedule at work. That’s not to say I enjoy it, but at least it doesn’t feel wholly overwhelming every day of my life. Sometimes the kids are crazy cute, sometimes they’re crazy disgusting, and most days they’re just plain crazy, but you know, they’re little. It’s mostly okay.
I took a trip last weekend to visit a friend in Wisconsin. I can now say that if you ever feel like drinking a massive amount of beer in a short amount of time, Milwaukee is the place to do it. It’s like Wisconsin was sitting around trying to decide what to do for the 10 months a year it’s uninhabitable and someone suddenly shouted out “BREWERIES!” I can’t explain it; they’re everywhere. Regardless of how they ended up this way, Milwaukee is home to approximately one billion breweries and twice as many cheese shops. They also serve bloody marys at brunch that have bacon and cheese ON THEM, with a beer chaser. Actually, in retrospect, it’s a good thing I don’t live there. I’d need a crane to lift me out of the brewery I died in.
In other thrilling NPW news, my 15-year high school reunion is this month. HEY NOW I’M OLD. I’m not going, obviously. The reasons are many, but really, I just went to a wedding in October of one of my high school friends and I swear to you, every person I would have any desire to see was at this wedding. Including my high school French teacher and my junior semi formal date. So I don’t exactly feel the need to catch up, you know? It just seems like it would be a lot of me awkwardly trying to remember people’s names and inwardly wondering whether we’re already friends on Facebook but I immediately hid them, which happens more often than you’d think. A couple of my friends are trying hardcore to convince me it’ll be hilarious and even tried to buy my ticket for me, but it all seems the opposite of hilarious to me. What do you think? Should I suck it up and go?
(I really hope you’ll all say no.)
Oct
3
And Yet, It’s October
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Today a second grader came up to me and said, “Ms. NPW, Sam just stuck his tongue out at me!”
I replied, “Oh no! Do you need to go to the nurse?”
I am so going to get fired.
Anyway, things at school are still far less than ideal. I don’t actively want to kill myself every day, but by 11:00 I am ready to put my head down on my desk and give up for the afternoon. Seeing literally hundreds of kids a day is as wearisome as you’d guess. Still, at least I know a few names now, so at least it’s not a constant stream of “You In The Pink Shirt, stop touching the Girl In The Purple Glitter Shirt. YES YOU. STOP TOUCHING PURPLE GLITTER.”
Despite being insanely busy while at school I still feel woefully behind. 670 kids once a week is not enough time. I honestly don’t know how they’re going to learn anything at all. Class of 2024: I’m sorry you won’t know any Caldecott Medal winners when you grow up. I just didn’t have time.
Oct
2
Writing Is My Boyfriend
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In the past year or so I’ve come to realize that when it comes to relating to other people, I have a very real personality flaw. I can be hilarious, or charming, or adorable, or flirty, but when it comes down to it I have a really hard time being any kind of vulnerable. Which, as you can imagine, makes for some interesting dating stories. I guess the rub is that I pretty easily hook people in; I’m great at being engaging and for the most part dudes always seem to enjoy my company.
But I am really, really bad at being open.
Partly I think that comes from working so actively to be interesting and fun that I end up having no idea whether or not I feel that the boy I’m with is too. Mostly I leave first dates feeling frustrated that I have no sense about this person with whom I just spent two beers worth of time. Sure, I can gauge whether I thought he was cute. I know if he had interesting things to say. But I have no idea if I liked him.
Which brings me back to not being open. Lately I’ve been trying to share more than funny anecdotes and talk about real things. I won’t lie, it feels strange to be sharing something substantial with someone I’m potentially interested in knowing better. It doesn’t come naturally like it once did. In a way, I think blogging has really helped me with this over the past two years. Writing is where I can choose to be vulnerable. Posting pieces of my heart and my head to the random masses is liberating in a way.
So I’m trying to equate dating to writing. Luckily, when one is meeting potential suitors online, writing is where the magic begins (at least, for me it is; maybe not so much for the 98% of Boston who are seemingly illiterate). I don’t need to spew every detail of my life to someone on a first date, obviously, but it feels better to at least be open to the possibility that I could like someone enough to tell them some details, someday. I guess otherwise, what’s the point?
Really though, boys of Boston: hit that spell check button once in a while. I’m just looking out for you here.
Sep
28
You Haven’t Gotten Rid of Me Quite Yet
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There’s nothing quite like the actual inability to post to make a girl want to write. That is to say, my blog was legit broken and suddenly I had a million things I wanted to talk about; so many things to tell you that I didn’t even know where to begin. Finally I got off my duff and started emailing sad sack messages to everyone I knew asking (or more to the point, begging) to tell me if they knew of ANYONE who could fix my poor blog. Which contains close to seven years worth of my writing. Which was quite possibly lost forever.
Commence freak out.
Luckily, the lovely and talented Allie recommended her brother-in-law and two days later, BOOM. All fixed. That man is a miracle worker, and not the kind that works with the deaf and blind.
Now that I have my venue back I want to go into details about so many things: how crazy it is working with kindergarten through fifth grade, my new apartment in the city, dating, how I signed myself up for another school-sponsored technology class that is sure to be filled with amazing anecdotes of teachers who don’t know how to turn on a computer monitor, how ridiculously excited I am to have every episode of Felicity available to me on Netflix instant, how my nephew is going to be turning one next week and I can’t believe an entire year has gone by already.
But for tonight, it’s enough for me to know I have my blog back. I’m glad I didn’t give up on it.
Sep
5
Too New
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Normally I hate when people start telling me about dreams they had unless they involve me directly, in which I was doing something amazing like curing cancer or starring in the second season of Firefly, but last night’s dream involved neither of those things. Instead, I had a dream about going back to school that was so vivid it took me almost fifteen minutes after I woke up to convince myself it wasn’t real. The saddest part, though, was that everything awful that happened in my dream were things that seemed entirely plausible based on my six years in public education:
- The first day of school they told me I’d be working in the high school instead of elementary (I really wouldn’t be surprised if this actually happens to me one year)
- They showed me to my classroom, which was a bathroom (you know some of my classes have 30 kids, and some days I have two classes in the library at once? Space is at a premium!)
- I was informed that they already had a librarian at this new school so I’d be teaching English, and my curriculum was all magazine-based, then handed me a stack of ancient National Geographics and Forbes(because WHY NOT?)
If you didn’t already guess, tomorrow is the first day back with the kids and I am nervous as shit. I mean, I know the kids are 5-10 years old and there’s nothing to actually be worried about, but I still feel that roiling anxiety every time I think about it.
Really though, it’s not just the new school, and all the new kids. It’s also that I just moved into a new apartment in the city two days ago and I’m still only half unpacked. I’m going on a date tonight with someone new. For a person who does not cope well with change, EVERYTHING IS TOO NEW.
My catchphrase recently has been “I can’t deal”. Not the best outlook on life, I realize, but whenever something comes up that in any way fucks with the plan I had in my head I immediately, internally, say I CAN’T DEAL. There are too many things up in the air. Even as I’m writing this, I feel shaky and queasy and I should be getting dressed to go out tonight with a very nice man who I’m sure has no idea he’s picking up a girl in anti-everything mode.
If I make it through this week without shouting in someone’s face about not dealing, I will owe myself one very large bottle of champagne.
Aug
10
I’m Really Good At Not Working
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Howdy. I’m still here. I’m still on vacation, despite forcing myself to go in to my new school a handful of times (read: two times). I’m still pretty tan, in keeping with my sole summer goal to be bronzed and sun-damaged. Sadly, I have the sinking feeling that the summer of relaxed NPW is about to come to a screeching halt: September 1 will see me starting a new job and moving to a new place, making my way back to the city. Until then, I have many thoughts to share with you about the past month. Ready?
Searles Castle
Back in May I won an evening playing pretty pretty princess in a castle, with five of my nearest and dearest. I chose to bring my family, since they were all at the charity event with me when I won, and also because, you know, they’re my family and would’ve punched me if I didn’t. We rolled up to the front of the castle stylin’ in my Altima, and were greeted by the castle’s butler and an endless supply of champagne. A candlelit table for six was set, dinner was consumed (including the ever-popular flaming bananas foster), and we got the grand tour, including all the places that regular castle visitors are not allowed to see. It was a fabulous evening, marred only by the fact that it was over 100 degrees and castles are not known to have air conditioning. I think you can see from my pictures that we got both progressively more sweaty and progressively more tipsy as we tried to rehydrate with champagne. By the end, all of the ladies were shoeless and feeling like we were meant to be dazzlingly rich.
Beach Time
This has been the summer of exploring beaches around the area. I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time applying sunscreen and hefting my beach chair around, but even more time napping, reading, and chatting on the beach. Don’t be jealous, but in the past two months I’ve been to Plum Island, Salty Brine State Beach in Narragansett, RI (where I drank ‘Gansett Beer!), Scarborough, Nahant, Winthrop, Constitution Beach (which is really more just Boston Harbor, with a fantastic view of the runway at Logan Airport), Portland Maine, Rye Harbor, and Castle Island in Southie.
I’ve also consumed more lobster rolls than any one human should be allowed.
Coming Up
I’ve been dreading the end of summer; not just because I have to go back to work, or start at another new school, or create six separate lesson plans per week, but because my new principal is certifiably insane. Now, I know she works in an elementary school, but that is no excuse to send me emails written in purple comic sans with no discernible punctuation. The other day I sent her an email asking multiple questions about training sessions, the budget, and school procedure. A legit five paragraph email. When I checked, she had written back to me: “Yes”.
That is it. “Yes”.
I am going to take her “yes” as an answer to all my questions. Can I spend $1000 on new picture books? Can I sign up for the ALA conference? Can I start in October instead of September? Then I’ll just whip out her email. YES I CAN.
I think that about catches you up on my life. I’m sure I will have many scintillating updates for you once I have a UHaul filled with all my earthly possessions, trying to navigate it around the narrow streets of Boston, a mere two days after I learn whether or not I am going to die, dealing with kindergarten kids every day.
Jul
21
A Story For You
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After the vitriol of my last post I thought I might want to lighten things up a bit around here. Not all is gloom and doom, I assure you. My life is just a lovely pile of dandelion fluff right now. Yes, I have been on some dates that left me confused about how people can seem perfectly legitimate on paper but horrifically awkward in person. But I have my health! And I have my friends, and my family, and a place to live. I know this dating shiz is all very first world problems of me, it just gets frustrating and here I have my own little place to vent. You understand.
Anyway, let me tell you an amusing story! It is a dating story, and it’s ridiculous, but I assure you my friends all had a laugh at my expense which always puts me in a better mood.
THE SCENE: a nice restaurant in a ghetto neighborhood. It is a second date, which is a rarity.
There I was, excited that a first date had gone well enough to warrant a second. Until I got there, and the guy had morphed from engaging, warm, and funny into silent, awkward, and nervous. How does this happen? Shouldn’t it have been the reverse? I don’t understand.
We are eating and I am talking at him, but in my head I am thinking, this is bad. I need to be done here. NO DESSERT, DAMN YOU WAITRESS! At last we are done, he insists that a girl should “never have to pay for anything again, once she finds the right guy”. I insist that I am absolutely paying, since I clearly haven’t found the right guy, and anyway this is the twenty-first century.
He walks me to my car and is gearing up for the kiss when I duck into an awkward hug and lunge myself at my car door. As I get ready to pull out, there’s a knock on my window. A restaurant patron points at my rear tire and tells me I have a flat.
At this point my date is getting back out of his car, presumably to joust with this restaurant patron over my honor, when I tell him it’s fine, I’m just calling AAA. He insists on waiting with me.
Cut to two hours and multiple phone calls to AAA later, and we are still sitting in the parking lot in the middle of the ghetto. Suddenly a Toyota Corrolla rolls up behind me, purple undercarriage lights aglow. Two guys in white Ed Hardy t-shirts pop out and grin at my tire.
I get out and cautiously greet them. They are, in fact, from AAA. One of them chats my ear off about all the Italian restaurants he’s been to (we’re not at an Italian place), the other throws himself under my car and gets to work. I notice the Greek flag fluttering in their rearview mirror.
They finish up. I ask if they need my AAA card. Nah, they say, and jump back in their car. Even though I have no idea what just happened or whether they were legitimately with AAA I am all too happy to leave. I endure another brief hug and breathe a sigh of relief.
The next day I go to buy a new tire. When the mechanic checks my flat in the hydraulic water tank, he finds there is nothing wrong with it.
Nothing. Wrong. With it. The verdict: someone thought it would be funny to let the air out. The valve caps were missing from both tires on the passenger side. Probably some kids.
But you know… my date was in the bathroom an awfully long time.
Sigh.