Loser

I was very productive today. Having just returned from a nice long trip to NYC, I came back ready to tackle my world. I took myself out to breakfast then returned home and did laundry, caught up on bills, pulled weeds in the garden, organized two desk drawers and made a few phone calls. All of these things were strategically chosen in order to procrastinate...duh, duh, duh (ominous music swells)...filing for unemployment benefits. Yes, folks, if you are a reader of this blog, you might know that I was laid off last year too, only to be called back a short time later. Well, this year is a bit different because the dark clouds are a bit darker. It's hard to tell when/if I will be called back and whether or not my job will still be available to me.

Prior to leaving for our glorious trip to NYC, I wanted to be proactive about this job thing. So I updated my resume and sent one out after also writing the dreaded cover letter - "Hi, you don't know me from Adam, however, I'm chipper, but not annoyingly so. I love to work! I don't mind working overtime or weekends and I am passionate about your cause. Hire me! I'm not desperate. Really. I have hoards of other offers and people knocking on my door constantly. I just decided to ignore all of the clamor and apply for your position out of the blue!"

Well, it may not have read exactly like that, but it sure seems like it. I feel like a loser. I can't get that Beck song out of my head. "I'm a loser baby, so why don't ya kill me." Don't worry folks, I'm not suicidal, but it sure makes drinking after the stroke of 12 noon awfully appealing.

As I sat down to fill out the unemployment application, I reassured myself with the facts as I will state to you here: 1) I have never been on unemployment before; 2) I have been paying INTO this system my entire working life; 3) I don't watch Maury or Tyra in the middle of the afternoon; 4) I am smart and powerful and good enough; 5) Doggone it, I like myself, I really do!

The online application is surprisingly simple to fill out, though they make it clear that if you write something untrue, it's all over. Fine with me. I have nothing to hide, but there are a few trick questions. One question asked if I "am employed" as a state worker such as teacher, etc. Well, let's see...if I was employed I wouldn't be filling this out! Do they mean was I just recently employed in that way? Another question asked for the last 18 months of my employment history. Sounds simple enough, except that when I filled in the dates for my last job of almost 6 years, it then asked for my earnings for that time period. Am I meant to go back and calculate how much I made for the last 6 years? Perhaps I should review all my tax returns. That sounds like a fun afternoon. More reason to drink, at least. I thought about just making up a number, but then I remembered that official sounding statement at the beginning of the application that warns if anything I write is false...ah, crap. I fumbled through what I think they wanted, but I'm not making any sudden moves around law enforcement officers this week.

My favorite question is when they ask for your weekly income. They even give you a "helpful hint" for calculating it: hourly wage x number of hours worked per week. Thanks, Einstein! I haven't received an hourly wage in a loooong time. But if I really figured out what I was making on an hourly basis, I probably would have quit my job long before they had a chance to lay me off. Let's see - teacher salary divided by 50+ hours a week. Ouch!

I felt accomplished afterwards - having navigated through a government application all by myself. But still, I couldn't help feeling that my ego was taking a big hit. I read in the paper the other day that most businesses are NOT hiring people that are unemployed. They would rather hire or recruit someone that already has a job, because if you don't have a job you're a loser. (Well it didn't exactly say the "loser" part, but one can surmise.) This is the thing that no one wants to admit. When a person says that they are unemployed, we wonder what's wrong with them. Were they incompetent in their last job? Were they busted surfing porn online? Do they pick their nose in public? Perhaps they have terrible halitosis or, even worse, irritable bowel disorder. Or, are they just a complete and utter imbecile?

I really began to think about this concept of companies only hiring people that HAVE jobs. That basically means that there are always jobs open, we just can't get to them if we're unemployed. Maybe I need to find a company that will hire me, so I can get a job somewhere. Or better yet, I can be self-employed in order to find employment. Brilliant! I'll need a good company name, though. Something that hints at it but doesn't give it away.

Well, I am unemployed. I was laid off, and not because I'm an idiot or lame or socially inept.

What's wrong with me? 6 years ago I decided to teach elementary school in a country that doesn't value education. Maybe THAT was stupid.

Barbie is for Boys

A very quiet boy in my class has discovered my love of music and so he likes to ask me if I know certain songs that he is uncovering on "Rock Band". Last week he asked if I knew "Come Together" by the Beatles, to which I immediately replied with a showcase of my vocals on the chorus. A few days later, he raised his hand and asked, "Do you know the song "Fire" by Jimi Hendrix?"

"Let me stand next to your fire...let me stand next to your fire...", I bellowed.

Suddenly the joy of song hit the classroom and a spirited young 9-year-old boy bounced out of his seat, flapping his arms and singing, "I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world...". Now, if you haven't ever heard that song, I suggest you check it out here. (The resolution is not so good, but the tune will put it all into perspective.) It is fabulously bizzare!

When this boy busted out with it in the middle of class I just couldn't keep a straight face. This of course, gave the whole class permission to join in and laugh. I love that this boy had the confidence to do this. Right on the heels of his performance, the magnetically cool boy in class jokingly said, "I have the Barbie house".

I asked, "Do you have the Barbie dream machine?"

"Oh yes," he replied with a smirk.

It's incredibly refreshing to feel the gender fluidity of children. Barbie has always been associated with girls, but here were the two most popular boys in the classroom, ready to be playful about Barbie.

I always hated Barbie. I'm pretty sure that I hated her as a rebellious act, simply because, as a female, I was expected to like her. I only had one doll that I loved when I was mini-me, and her name was Vanessa. Well, that's what I named her (which is a story for another time), but her stock name was "Baby Drowsy". This baby had one of those strings on a ring that you pull to make her speak. I still remember some of her lines: "Mommy, I'm sleepy"; "I want another drink of water"; "I go to sleep now, night-night"; and the 'pièce de résistance' was her raspy, high-pitched voice just wailing for 3 seconds. I have no idea why I liked this doll. I'm not a fan of whining, of which she did plenty, and I'm no fan of the pink onesie. Perhaps it was the force with which I had to pull that damn string to make her talk that gave me some sort of satisfaction.

Ahhh, how much longer will the kids in my class be willing to play freely and enjoy the enormous spectrum of humor and gender that they experimented with that day? I hope they can hold on to that feeling and take over the world. But if they can't do it...

Move over rover, and let Jimi take over!

That's Some Pig

For Christmas I made a dish from a recipe I've been carting around for 20 years. It's a "bean" casserole that my step-mom used to make. Not only does it have three different kinds of beans, but it has brown sugar, ketchup, mustard, pork 'n' beans, ground beef, and bacon! Mmmm! I can't explain why I bought the highest quality ground beef and bacon to toss into this strange medley, but it paid off when my "foodie" friends were going back for seconds. I attribute partial success to the level of commitment I had in regards to frying the bacon. I turned to the old Better Homes and Gardens "New" Cook Book to see what they recommend for temperature and cooking time. (This cookbook is perfect for someone like me that doesn't really cook. It even explains how to boil an egg.) Frying bacon: Medium-low heat, 6-8 minutes, turning often. I followed those instructions to a "t" and it was the best damn bacon I've had in a long time, if I do say so myself. Exhibit A (photo): happiness is a plateful of bacon

Coincidentally my students and I are reading Charlotte's Web right now. The kids are falling in love with Wilbur, the pig. I usually don't enjoy stories (especially movies) with talking animals. It feels so manipulative, plus it's downright creepy. But I'll admit that I actually kind of like this particular story, and it's not because I love pigs. I absolutely hated that movie Babe. But as we read this sweet little story about a pig being saved from slaughter, the students are coming to terms with the fact that pigs are ham, pork chops, chicharróns, and most importantly, BACON! (Now if you are an avid reader of this blog, you might remember my ode-to-bacon blog entitled, "Rock Bottom".)

Clearly I am not a vegetarian, but if I were, I'd be a really good one. I'm hip to the politics, I enjoy most vegetables, and I can't stand the thought of killing an animal myself. (Some say that if you're not willing to kill it yourself, you shouldn't eat it.) But, herein lies my dilemma. Meat is tasty. I can be put into an immediate food coma with a perfectly prepared piece of rare (yes, rare) steak. And don't let anybody tell you that any ol' piece of meat will do. I really do taste the difference with the organic, grass-fed, no hormones meat.

I'm sorry to say that as I read Charlotte's Web I cannot speak to the children on behalf of PETA or on behalf of the talking pigs of the world, because I'm too busy imagining the serenity and joy I will feel when I bite into that next perfect piece of bacon.

How to Crush a Child's Spirit: 101

If the Learning Annex ever wants a class called, "How To Crush a Child's Spirit:101", most elementary school teachers would be qualified to teach the class. Not so much because the teachers are squelching their little spirits (though I'm certain it happens unintentionally, more often than we realize), but because we constantly police the little buttheads that say mean things to other kids.

Yesterday at my elementary school we had our Holiday Sing-Along where all the kids pack into the cafeteria and sing songs. The day before the event, a boy in my class slipped a note in my mailbox to ask if he could bring his reindeer hat to school. I told him that he could wear it to the Sing-Along.

The next day he brought his reindeer antler hat with bells to school. When we walked single file down the school hallway, he proudly wore the antlers. A few minutes after we sat down he came to me, no antlers, and said that a girl in our class told him that the hat looked stupid. I felt the heat inside my belly move to my heart and begin fuming out of the top of my head. I was so mad, fightin' mad! But there's just no reasonable justification for beating up a 9-year-old girl when you're 44. So instead, I marched right over to her and said, "Did you say something unkind to James about his hat?" To which she mumbled, "I told him it looked good."

"Really?" I quipped.

Staring at me with wide eyes, she nodded.

"Well, we will sort this out later and I really hope you are being truthful."

I told James that I spoke to the girl and that he should wear the hat because it was FANTASTIC. He shook his head and never put it back on for the rest of the day.

Even though the girl later mumbled the obligatory under-the-breath "sorry" to him, I keep thinking about how James will probably never wear a festive holiday hat again because that mean little girl said something that just ate away a piece of his spirit.

We've all had moments like that, it's just so hard to watch it happen. Mine was when I was about 9 years old also. The prettiest and most popular girl in our church choir turned to me after a rehearsal and said that I sounded awful. I stopped singing in front of people for about 5 or 6 years after that. I was traumatized. Then I got the fever of 70's and 80's rock and I was back in business, despite the opinion of that nasty little church girl.

Kids can be so cruel. I wonder where they learn it?

Reasons Not to Teach First Grade

I never really needed convincing to NOT teach Kindergarten or First Grade. Just thinking about training them to wipe their own noses has always been enough for me to quickly choose an intermediate grade level.

The other night I had the pleasure of spending some time with previous colleagues that now teach K and 1st. After our conversation I can concisely lay out for you the Three Most Important Reasons to NOT Teach Kinder or 1st Grade:

3. Urine
2. Feces
1. Vomit

I know it sounds extreme to mention these unmentionables, but it must be done. For these three reasons ALONE, teachers should be paid better. Many teachers have swapped stories about kids having "accidents" where they pee their pants. But then...Jess told the story about when she was teaching 1st grade in Guatemala and one day a student said he felt sick. She encouraged him to wait until snack time to see if he would feel better, but he didn't. At snack time, she reminded him to eat his apple. Shortly after the apple, as she was starting a lesson, the same boy complained again about his stomach. By now she was starting to feel convinced that he might really be sick.

Just as she started to say, "Maybe you should go to the office and...", he had a projectile vomit - all over her. Of course she had no change of clothes at school, and of course, she rode the bus to her school everyday because she didn't have her own transport. It was a long day that day.

My pal Antonio told the story of the little boy that disrupted the whole class to alert everyone of his need to use the restroom. Luckily many of the Kinder classrooms have a bathroom adjacent to the room, so off went the little guy to do his business, until suddenly the dreaded, "I need help wiping" voice calls from beyond the door.

"You've got to be kidding!" (Antonio managed to keep this in his thought bubble.)

Painfully and reluctantly, out come the rubber gloves with a snap, snap, over each wrist. The rest? Well, I'll leave that to your imagination.

I think the boy's family got a call or note asking (pleading, begging) that they COMPLETELY potty train their son immediately.

Again, teachers are not paid enough for this kinda crap*. If you aren't going to pay these K/1 teachers more, then at least provide them with a hazardous waste suit/uniform. It would certainly make the job more appealing to me.

(*pun intended)

The End of the World...(and I feel fine)

The kids at school are all talking about the rumor that the world is coming to an end in 2012. I'm not worried because this job has me SO ready to sleep for a really long time. But then yesterday morning a kid walked into my class mumbling, "I don't want the world to end." I decided to ignore his comment, because after all, who am I to reassure him that it won't? I really don't know. And I refuse to be one of those adults that lie to children to make themselves feel better, or to avoid deep thought.

I did talk to my class about the origin of the rumor, but that was some fact-based information (totally within my jurisdiction) about the Mayan calendar...blah, blah. Personally, I don't worry about this kind of crap. It reminds me of the "Y2K scare". Some people were really freaked out. Then....dun dun dun...(-insert ominous sounding music here-), nothing happened. What's that you say? That's right, N-O-T-H-I-N-G happened. I got a laugh out of that, I'll admit.

I had to search to re-find one of my all-time favorite reasons for the internet. A few years ago someone sent me this animation called End of the World and I laughed over it for months, and showed it to all my friends. Unfortunately, some of those friends and I are not as close because if they didn't laugh at this I had to wonder why I was friends with them in the first place. My pal Shmange and I had a few good laughs over it. So, click on the link (underlined "End of the World" above) and enjoy, I hope (Parental Discretion Advised for Strong Language, Reg). And if you don't get it, WTF, mate?

8 Minutes

8 Minutes. My pal Jenny-Mac figured out that this is how much time the teachers at our school have to plan each lesson we teach for a day of elementary school. (On average I teach 6 lessons a day.) But I don't take 8 minutes, I do what it takes, which is much more than 8 minutes. What that means, however, is that I regularly work 10-11 hour days. I get paid for 7 hours. I don't get bonuses or comp time, or even a free cup of coffee in the morning. Why do I do it? I want the students to have the best I can possibly offer...and I really like working with kids. They are crazy.

Recently I got a cryptic hand-written note in my classroom mailbox from a kid. It looked kind of like this (wishing I had a scanner!):

"Thre was a flyd in th pllens"

When I first read this scrawl from the 8-year-old I thought it said, "There was a fly on the lens". I figured he was explaining why most of my students were distracted at the end of the day when their homework was listed on the overhead projector (thus the "lens" part). I showed this note to my colleague Donna, knowing that her 40 years of teaching experience makes her a master code-breaker. I knew that she could confirm or refute my attempt at decoding. I handed her the note and, without missing a beat she said, "Oh...there was a flood in the Philippines".

Yes, that was it! Turns out the boy has family in the Philippines and wanted to make sure I knew about the recent flood there.

The best part about this kid is that he always has a smile on his face and is an easy target for my juvenile antics in the classroom. And to top it off, just the other day I realized who he reminds me of. Seriously. He is Bill from the series "King of the Hill"! (but without the beer in his hand and the hair on his chest, I presume) He has similar mannerisms, speech patterns, and a general "happy-go-lucky" demeanor.

Sometimes, when I'm having a rough time of it, I just look at "Bill" and remember that it's all gonna work out fine.

After all, I've only got 8 minutes per lesson to save the world (even though that's twice what Madonna and Justin had).