Regret #1

Joining Facebook.

In a weak moment last night, I joined Facebook. What the hell was I thinking? I'll tell you. I blame Miriam. Yes, YOU, Miriam. I had received a few invitations from various people to join Facebook, but for some reason, when I saw her invite, I thought to myself, "Hmmm, I wonder what she's up to?" I hadn't heard from her in months. I figured I'd sign on, snoop around a bit, and then promptly get off the site - unseen and unheard. But BEWARE, oh Facebook newbies, because you can't just look at people's "profiles"/pages unless they let you, so you HAVE to alert people to your existence in order to look at anything. Herein lies the regret. Suddenly it was like being plopped in the center of the Pacific Ocean with no life raft. I was drowning in information and people. Too many people! But, it's like being at a party with cardboard cutouts. Everyone is there, but not really. Then I started seeing pictures of people that brought back so many memories, and not all good. Some things are better left in the past. But last night, suddenly, there were the people, the memories, AGH!@#)$(%

I'm sure there are people that see me on FB now and are terrified that I might "friend" them. (This means you send them a note to ask to be on their friend list. Then they either say "yes" or hell no.) It's bizarre. It's strange.

OK, so now I'm going to look at the damn FB glass as half-full. As it turns out, there IS an up side. I did find a few people that I haven't talked to in a long time and really WANT to talk to them. Though, officially we haven't talked. And if you are an avid reader of this blog, you know how I feel about the lack of human and/or voice contact in this digital/computer age. (Blog archive 12/31/08 "All of Us These Days") Needless to say, the possibility of a conversation is on the horizon, now that we've found each other. (Oooh, I feel the lyrics to a pop song coming on.)

Well, FB is addictive. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I thought I could resist, until the Grease trivia quiz. Then there was the Brady Bunch quiz too. This knowledge that I possess really is useless, except when a quiz is at hand. Stand back children of the 70s and 80s! I'll take you down.

I won't give up this blog, but I may go completely brain-dead and be unable to put two sentences together. Wish me luck.................

PS: Sorry I said the "d" word and the "h" word (2 times), Burch-Konda kids.

Pink Stinks

I got a pink slip this week. Tens of thousands of teachers all over California are getting them. Just because I got one doesn't necessarily mean I'm losing my job, but it's the "CYA" business. If your school district doesn't give you a pink slip but wants to lay you off, they are "SOL" if they didn't serve you. Soooo, they blanket their districts with pink slips. And this blanket ain't no cozy lil' hand made blanket either!

I'm sorta feeling all over the map about it. Part of me knows that there's a pretty good chance that I'll still have my job. The other part of me goes, "Screw it. The public school system is SO broken, and it keeps getting harder every year. Time to change careers again." But then I think about the kids. Agh, those little varmits that keep me coming back every day, year after year. They are the reason I'm here. And I'm just cocky and confident enough to know that if being a teacher is going to be an impossible task, it may as well be someone confident, like myself, doing the job. If I vacate, or if they vacate ME, my shoes might be "filled" by some less-competent individual. I may as well stick it out.

The last angry rebellious part of me says, "You don't want me? Really? Well it is YOUR loss, you fools. C-YA!"

I could easily justify a decision to leave because there's a whole host of crazy crap coming down next year. Larger class sizes, more curriculum to teach that's being pushed on the already overworked classroom teacher, fewer available resources for kids, and less money per student. Hmmm....makes me want to write President Obama a letter about the reality of NCLB and merit pay.

I'm tired, for sure. Tired of fighting the uphill battle. But then I go to school and see these kids in crisis, some of them in serious crisis, and I remember why I'm fighting. !Si se puede, pero necesitamos ayuda!

Rock Bottom

I want to be in shape. I think I would make a great "in shape person". Often times people mistake me for an "in shape person" because I am not visibly overweight. I can hide my beer belly and that's really all that is visibly overweight about me. But the problem is, as much as I want to be one of these healthy "in-shape people", I just don't have the dedication to sacrifice what it takes. This hit me, like a train, as I was having beer and bacon this morning. Yes, beer and bacon. I was meeting some people about joining a softball team and I decided I should have a beer. After all, it was just after 12 noon. I signed up for the team alright, but I will admit that I have lots of fear around my level of fitness. The first woman I met was on a team that went to the World Series last year. I don't even know exactly what that means, but it sure sounds serious. The last time I played on a softball team is was mostly about what was in the cooler at each game. So today, as we were finishing up the discussion and paying the fee, I realized that i need to get in shape. It's not so much about needing to lose weight as it is about getting fit. I need to build muscle and work those muscles that I'll need to play baseball/softball. All this was going through my head, as I was drinking a beer to accompany their brunches. I was picturing myself eating more healthy meals, pumping weights at the gym and having an overall mindset of a healthy lifestyle. Shortly thereafter the other women left, leaving me at the table sipping my beer. I noticed that one of them had left her bacon on her plate. Now let me back up and tell you that bacon is one of my all time favorite smells. AND, bacon can taste mighty good as well. SO, here I am staring at a plate of bacon strips. What choice do I have? It's practically blasphemous to leave it there. The pig already died to give us this bacon and I couldn't bear the thought of leaving it for the trash (or compost at best). So I ate it. I sat there, by myself, drinking a beer and eating bacon. This my friends, is MY rock bottom. I'm in training as of tomorrow! Though I DO have brunch plans at a place that probably makes killer Bloody Marys, so I guess training can start tomorrow afternoon. I'll keep you posted.

This has nothing to do with teaching

This entry is not about teaching, it's about smoking. Let me start by saying I'm not a cigarette smoker. I have smoked some cigarettes in my shady past, but I always thought it was gross. I hated the way it made my fingers and clothes smell, and the WORST part was the taste in my mouth the next morning. So, I am aware that I am no friend to the cigarette. My biggest beef is the litter. Why have so many smokers decided that cigarette butts are acceptable litter? Next time you're out on a stroll, notice all the butts, and the cigarettes too. (I couldn't resist.) Anyway, I constantly see smokers tossing their cigs on the ground. Many times it's a hand out the window of a car to drop the remains to the pavement, or someone on a leisurely stroll around the lake with apparently no place else to drop their rubbish, but good ol' planet Earth.

And what's the deal with smokers that hold their cig out the window while they drive? What that tells me is that they can't even stand the smell in their own car! Instead the smoke wafts back and in through my open window or vent. Then, when they've sufficiently poisoned both of our lungs, they toss the butt outside. Again, probably because they don't even want the smell in their car's trash.

ick! ick! ick!

When you travel out of California you realize what babies we have become about smoking. In other states, people are still smoking in restaurants. I love the ridiculousness of the restaurant hostess/host's question, "Smoking or Non-Smoking?". As if the air will maintain an imaginary border and the smoker's air will respectfully stay clear of the non-smoker's air. Bars are another place where I know I'm a spoiled Californian. I actually do still remember the days of going out to clubs and, upon returning home, hanging my clothes up overnight to air out because they reeked of cigarette smoke.

I'm also such a spoiled, cranky baby about it that I can smell smoke a mile away! I get irritated when someone is walking down the street smoking in front of me. In line or in a crowd is another smoker's paradise that irks me.

The good news is, I'm not alone. As I was searching online for an image to go with this blog, I discovered there are tons of people with blogs and campaigns against cigarette litter. The beaches seem to be a big focus of many of these campaigns. My favorite campaign ad states, "Enough with all the butts on the beach.", and has a great photo to go with it. It's put together by an eco-organization SEWS (surfers against sewage) in Britain. Gotta love those Brits. I almost posted the picture for this blog, but was worried what Jacob, Josh, and Jessica might think!

Then I also found a site where someone is working for a Responsible Smokers Act and is advocating for more public ashtrays. That way we can at least encourage the litter bugs to dispose of the remains responsibly.

I hope I haven't offended my smoker friends. YOU have always been respectful of non-smokers and you put your butts in the garbage. (My good bud in Palm Springs goes above and beyond to respect my lungs when I'm with her, and she NEVER drops her butts on the ground.) I love you all, cigs or no cigs. And I hope, after this official tirade on trash, you still love me.