29
April

So much for the weekend

Laundry. Some cleaning. A Confirmation mass to sing yesterday; a First Communion mass this morning.

Spring is just plain old busy.

I finally landed on the decision side of Wiscon. I definitely won’t be going this year again. I’m sad, because the people I don’t see anywhere else will be missed. It’s also going to be a non-con year. I can’t make it to WorldCon–not with the start up of school. (Thirty-three kinders. No aide. Eeesh.) I won’t get to World Fantasy either–it’s too far for a four-day weekend.

And next year’s Wiscon? Um… I’ll make a room reservation, of course, but I’m going to have see how next spring goes. My belief in a happy-ever-after has taken a hit this year, and then there’s that whole we-should-pack-up-and-move-to-the-new-school for a few years next summer.

I’ve been in this classroom twenty-two years. I am not looking forward to packing it up.

I was mugged by a character this morning. I wish I knew why I’m so preoccupied with tattooed characters–although this one carries a cittern or mandolin, wears studded armbands, and his soft boots have a border of small bells. A musician, certainly, but a bald one who does not blink at or hide in the face of violence. So therefore, older and experienced.

I have no idea who the hell he is or what he wants. But he’s shiny and new and I would far rather write him rather than the novel.

However, my goal tonight is sleep. I had that goal last night, but the small, yappy dog that lives behind us and Harley had other ideas. At least four times both dogs were out barking at something invisible, and each time, I got up and dragged him in. Unfortunately, he would wait until I had dropped off or was almost there before he would run off to meet his partner in nighttime barking.

And the cycle would start all over. I slept the first hour, but I didn’t get sound sleep again until after 2:30A. I am tired and cranky. And guess what? There’s school tomorrow.

In other news, we’ve acquired more furniture to dust. My daughter will be SO pleased. Not.

(My latest ploy in how to get children to leave home permanently–acquire a load of oak furniture and hand them a dustrag weekly with the admonition to dust it all. I haven’t quite convinced her, however, that picture frames are wood. I am a rotten mom.)

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24
April

I’m not sure where the time goes…

…how can it possibly be nearing the end of April?

After last week’s hell, I feel as though this week is d_r_a_g_g_i_n_g. So to make my adrenaline kick in, I added a book that I wasn’t planning to do.

Voila! Last night I was stapling and cutting butterfly books. Don’t have all the parts prepped quite yet, but I have another day to finish the stuff for the third and fourth pages.

Of course, that’s not quite enough–it’ll only take me through the beginning of next week. No problem! I’ll also whip out a new version of the Old MacDonald book, because after all, kindergarten’s all about writing complete sentences these days.

(Yeah, end of the year’s approaching. That means I’ve got three weeks to review sentences and punctuation and capitalization and spacing before the next set of tests hit–which I won’t be giving. IT’S A MIRACLE. Don’t worry. I still have the math tests this week to keep me satisfied.)

The music has relaxed since Easter–but no worries. Let’s just have three First Communions to sing this week. Oh, and a Confirmation or two. Why not?!

(Of course, I do this for the love. Of course.)

And speaking of music, one of the latest videos that I’m hooked on–Sam Tsui, where he did a mash-up of Britney Spears’ songs. Fourteen of them. (Britney is not my favorite at all, for the record, although I do enjoy some of her songs. When covered by other people. :P)

Writing?

Hah. Maybe Thursday.

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20
April

The week in short

MTWTh: OMG, OMG, Open House

Thursday evening after Open House: OMG, OMG, zoo trip

Friday: OMG, OMG, zoo trip!

Teacher, indicating unidentified dripping child: Zie’s wet.
Unidentified child, indicating zie’s entire right side: Only half of me is wet.
Other teacher: Obviously we taught the concept of half well.

Friday night, me, while at the wrong restaurant sipping a margarita: Where IS everyone?

Friday night, at the correct restaurant, imbibing another margarita: OMG, zoo trip! Thank gods it’s over.

Small kindergartner who enters restaurant as I am drinking: Mrs. Sisolak!

After the family corrals child and keeps him at the table, he continues to raise his hand to speak to me.

Friday night, home: I didn’t know we were pruning the back hedge today.
Spouse: Neither did I. Surprise!

Eldest child, lowering the extension ladder: Mom, get me a beer?
Me, watching the pruning shears slung over a rung of the ladder he is now lowering and planning the lengthy explanation to the police as to how someone got stabbed in the head with said pruning shears: EEEEEEEEEE!
Eldest child: Oops. Forgot they were there.

He continues lowering the ladder.
Me: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Me, nabbing the last Anchor Steam and checking clock: Is it bedtime yet? No? Damn.

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15
April

And vacation is over

How do I know?

Maybe it was the four hours of schoolwork (possible class schedules for next year and spelling worksheets.)

I’m just hoping I don’t dream school like I have for the past four nights.

I spent a whole fifteen minutes sitting in the sun today, just being. I think I need more of those.

Yesterday’s get-together in the valley with the Freeway Dragons was a lot of fun. Plus we got to crit a story! Fastest two and a half hours ever. I also opened my mouth and now my novel is up for review come December.

That’s one way to make me finish the damn thing.

I didn’t get enough done. The garden (at least some of the tomatoes, the zucchini, and the green beans) are in and thriving. I still have a bed and a half to plant, which means I ought to figure out what I want this year. Heirloom tomatoes are high on the list, and the bell peppers did pretty well last year, so I’m thinking more of those. I’m also thinking lettuce. It’ll be a first.

If there’s time after I finish slaving in the mines tomorrow, I’ll hit OSH on the way home. Thankfully there’s no choir rehearsal on Mondays, because I’m planning my collapse early. I’m mentally preparing for the three back-to-back First Communion masses in a few weeks.

Now to wrap up the laundry and fall into bed.

My life: oh, so thrilling.

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13
April

How not to raise my blood pressure

Don’t check my school email. Really. I mean, just don’t.

There are a number of changes coming down the pike for us. None of it is pretty. Once you hit year 4 of not making the desired scores in all your subgroups (special ed, economically disadvantaged, second language learners, etc.) it all goes downhill. Year 5 means we have an alternate governance board (AGB) which we not so lovingly refer to as the KGB.

I am not kidding.

My site will join the other schools in our small district the coming year, and we are feeling the pinch already.

Yesterday’s email was the agenda for an upcoming grade level meeting with my principal. Such a short phrase to strike fear into my heart: seat work for May.

Now, I’m willing to say that, yeah, kinders ought to be exposed to assigned seating at tables in preparation for first grade. Transitioning from the floor to tables might help if we started that earlier.

I also know that the other sites are getting flack about small group and rotations during worktime.

The bottom line is that we’re expected to provide two hours of language arts direct instruction, and that our group times take away from that.

Oooooooooooooookay.

But you want me to assess more? Where’s that time going to come from? There are skills that small children can practice in small groups, that need to be reinforced. Cutting isn’t on your agenda? Manipulatives aren’t part of the curriculum?

There’s a move from doing some stuff as individuals to everyone districtwide being on the same page. We’ve got pacing guides for LA and math, which we’ve always had, but now MORE, WITH EMPHASIS. We’ll be doing lesson plans next year which the other sites claim take upwards of 12 additional hours a week to complete. (And more time in the beginning. At least the first year will be the roughest, and it should get easier from then on.)

It takes a fair amount to stress me out. But after that email, I spent four hours online searching for ideas to incorporate into my class, that will also extend my LA instruction. I’m not sure how much my summer vacation is going to be vacation, because the more I can get done in advance, the easier it will be overall.

Six more years.

Surely I can survive six more years.

It’s not about the kids. It’s not about being asked to change. It’s about demands, and of courses, and you wills. It’s about people who have no idea what teaching kindergarten involves telling you how you will teach. Even if you’ve been highly successful doing it your way in the past.

It’s about stress. And frustration. And anger. And resentment. And trying to find a gleam of light buried in all the shit.

Let me tell you, I’m not finding much light at the moment.

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11
April

Vacations

I’ve been home for five days straight now, and one would think I would be rested.

But no. And sadly, I think I’ve got an incipient cold. Just in time to head back to school. Lovely.

What have I accomplished? Not nearly enough. I’ve cleaned out all the garden beds, moved the volunteer dill by the rosemary, and purchased a few tomato, zucchini and pole beans. This year, just for a change, I’m trying the beans in a pot I usually use for the single cherry tomato I plant. I’m going to upend another tomato cage on top of the one that’s already there and tie the two together. I’m hoping that’ll be enough support. It’ll certainly be easier for harvesting and whatever wildlife nibbled them last year should be frustrated by the additional height.

Take that, bunnies!

I’ve still got to move the sage over to the bed we’re redesignating for the herbs. I’m hoping the cilantro and future basil enjoy the spot. But it’s not happening today because it’s raining.

All right, spitting intermittantly. So the big hoopla about April showers in the Southland? Not sure which part of the Southland they hit, other than to say it wasn’t mine.

Writing so far? Nothing. I’ve got a novel premise brewing–at least I think it’s a novel premise. It’s not a character, though, which makes me nervous. Things I write that mean the most are all about a character and a voice, not so much on a premise. If it is a novel, it’s a breath of a novel. A what if. A YA.

I’m engrossed in Deb Coates’ Wide Open, which I started two nights ago. It has me by the throat and since I mostly read to put myself to sleep, it’s been major fail on the last bit. Oh, it’s 10:15–just one more chapter. 11:00. Really, I could read just a bit more. 11:30.

CLOSE THE BOOK NOW, MARSHA.

Which I do. But I don’t want to. And my brain keeps running along asking questions instead of dropping off to sleep.

God bless books that don’t hit a single one of my tics.

But god bless vacations. Because really? If this year has been stressful at school, next year will only be worse. So much so, I’ve found myself investigating alternate career possibilities. First time ever.

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7
April

Spring break: Dawn of day 2

Not My Favorite Dog: Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom.
Me: *groan*
NMFD: Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom.
Me: *pries open one eye and closes it*
NMFD, sensing my alertness: MOM. MOM. MOM. MOM.
Me: Oh my god. *grabs dog and flings him onto bed* GO TO SLEEP. *resumes reclining position*
NMFD: *puts nose in my face* Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom?
NMFD: *puts head on my pillow and pants into my face* Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom?
Me: I GIVE UP. *gets up and feeds dog, even though it’s oh-dark*
Me: *runs back to bed and pulls covers over my head*
NMFD: Mom?
Me: I fed you.
NMFD: Mom?
Me: Hells bells. *flings dog onto bed again, then hides under covers*

Silence.

I doze off.

NMFD: Mom? You breathing? *noses covers* I CAN’T SEE YOU. YOU’RE DEAD.
NMFD: *walks on me, stepping on delicate parts*
Me: Aaaaaaaaargh!
NMFD: IT’S A MIRACLE!
NMFD: More food? More food? More food? How about now, huh? Huh? More food? More food?

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3
April

Two more days

and I am barely holding it together, school-wise. I did finish boiling the eggs for tomorrow–all four dozen of them.

Kindergarten conversations:


Child, as I read a story aloud: Times New Roman!
Me, pausing: Font? Maybe. But check our homework. I use Comic Sans on that.

Same child from behind me as I print out a page for another student: So. Is this for commercial use only?
Me: Uh… well, if I decided to sell it, I suppose.

Same child: So, what’s your password?
Me: I am not telling you my password!
Same child: But why not?
Me: It’s supposed to be a secret!

(Man, I don’t envy that one’s parents.)

New child: So, is medium a math word?
Me: The way we’re using it now–talking about what materials an illustrator used to make his or her pictures–means it’s an art word.

Another child: 135′s a palindrome!
Yet another child, indignant: Is not! You can’t read it backwards.

This year’s class is keeping me on my toes.

Monday, the Posse managed to kick sense into the latest scene/mini chapter and the chapter that leads up to it. Yay for two very smart writer friends! Don’t know how I’d get this novel finished without them.

Yet to come: more practice on the music for Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. But that’s going to wait until tomorrow–

My bed is singing its siren song.

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