Regret

Why did I spend $538.00 for my sister? That was a car payment and a half! Fucking shit!

Stupid un-selfish me. Why couldn't my cold greedy side just refuse her? UGH!!!

Stupid Nice Me

Yesterday, I went to the dentist to get my fillings replaced. While my mouth was numb, I think I accidentally bit my lip. I didn’t notice the flapping skin and the tiny bruise at the corner of my lip until the toothpaste started stinging.

Other thought for the day: I’m too damned nice. My sister begged and begged for a Louis Vuitton purse. It's her new obsession. What is so precious about a Louis Vuitton handbag? I don’t understand her obsession with bags, especially Louis’ bags? There is do difference between Louis' products and some other product at the nearby Mervyn's. The only damned difference is that it’s made by Louis (ooooh-gag!), and it’s got a serial number, and it’s own camel-skin wrap for storage. So fucking what? Fuck you, Louis Vuitton. You’re overpriced and overrated.

When I walked into that fucking store, Louis’ handbags are not all that great. They look like any other fucking bag you can find at a local swap meet. Why couldn’t I refuse her? She walked around the shop like a kid in a candy store. When she chose her new obsession from the shelf, the bag was half the size of a shoebox, maybe smaller. Total damage: a fucking $538.00 for a stupid purse that has the same function as any other generic handbag. Damn…it.

Why me? Why did she get me to buy that stupid thing? Does she think I'm made of money? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I hate fucking girly things!

I'm so tempted to tell her husband about it. I know he'll get pissed.

Give to the Needy

I just got off the phone with a UCSD Alumni representative. She was asking for donations. You know what? I just ended my job. I just can't afford a $365 donation at this time. That's how much she was asking. The first time a representative called me about four years ago, she asked for nearly $500. To an affluent university, the word "donation" is still too much for my middle-class ass. I nearly dropped the phone when the representative proceeded to tell me that "$365 is the top bid." Is that really affordable? That's more than my car payment. Why would I spend more money on a tax-deductible donation when I could be paying off my car?

This boggles me: one of the richest schools in California, which is part of the world-renowned UC system, which receives federal and private grants, is asking for money. For what? To improve academic programs, such as the Literature Department (the representative had to mention that just because I majored in Literature). Oh, pull my friggin' heartstrings! Or was she really asking for money on behalf of Governor Davis? I think the President of Regents for the UC system is trying to ensure his financial security.

I’m not a football fan. I don’t even like football, but on Super Bowl Sunday, I found myself planted in front of the television while grading essays. I’ve never watched Super Bowl before, but since I was recording the game for Mr. Fun and Friendly-Male Chauvanist-Sports Fanatic while he’s away at sea, I ended up watching it.

I can understand why guys act the way they do when they watch sports—loud and obnoxious as they root for their team, putting down other fans who support the other team… you know, football fans. I found myself doing the same thing as I watched the last quarter of the game.

*august23 in front of the TV with essays sprawled around her*

“NO! Intercepted again!? Ugh! Get him!! Get him!!”

I guess you can tell who I was rooting for, but it was all a bias favor because I know nothing of football to even claim loyalty to a team. I was only cheering the Raiders on because Mr. Male-Chauvanist wasn’t here to cheer them on himself.

It was just a passing moment. Really.

I’ve been up since 4:15 this morning. My collegiate sister flew back to Massachusetts to start the new semester. After my family left the airport, I had to go to the high school and clean out my classroom. I got there and found the room open with a bunch of shelves and boxes piled outside. Some other teacher already started moving in, and all my things were in disarray in boxes and on student desks. It was a bit depressing. It took me a good four hours to pack up my stuff and put them in crates. I didn’t get any grading done, so I’ll be spending this weekend reading essays and entering grades into the computer. Blech!

On a good note, I won free soda at the grocery store. Woohoo!

Men and Women
Looking for the Perfect One

As I was checking my email on Yahoo last night, I accidentally pressed the Yahoo! Personals advertisement. When personal ads started appearing, I thought I would take a look and see what kind of people would actually have the guts to post personal ads. I’m not making fun of these people at all. I actually commend them for being brave for posting personals on an international web server.

Being female, I naturally went to search for “ideal matches” on the male side. I was surprised that there are actually a good decent number of men who are single in my city. Many of them are not even local because they were transferred here due to military careers. I could understand their need for some companionship in a city that is unfamiliar to them. But even with the influx of the male population from other states, my question is: why are they still single?

For a laugh, I went to the listing of women to see if I knew anyone—possible old friends from high school, former co-workers, or even women I knew currently. Being a woman, I had to say that I was ashamed of what I saw. Now I know why men are still single.

The differences between men posting ads and women posting ads are that men are more open to possibilities, whereas women are not. Although many men admitted that they were looking for commitment and relationships, they were also open to the women who could answer their ads. Not one male ad that I have seen restricted their ideal woman to be of a certain race, age, or occupation. Women, on the other hand, are so damn picky! Some women were looking for men only in the military, some women preferred only a single race; then there are some who had to be a certain religion, down to certain income, and even when women were divorced, they were looking for a single man who had never been married. Yeah, right! As if they can start their lives over with men who had never been chained to the ball!

There could be so many interpretations about this: Do men, who have no preferences except that a woman should be fun and friendly, have more opportunities to meet women because they are open to possibilities, or are they really shallow and take any woman who will answer their ads? Do women have higher standards and priorities, or are they just picky gold-diggers? After looking at their ads, it doesn’t even seem to be about standards but prerequisites. Men have to be this, this, and this before the women will ever date them. And then you hear them complain that there are never any good men to find.

Personally speaking, I dislike girls and “girly” ways (we’re all bitches, but we won’t admit it). I was ashamed to be one of them when I read their ads. It only takes a couple of girls like that to ruin it for the rest of us.

No, I’m not single. I am a Cynical Teacher with Cuddly Intentions and Mild Spontanaeity. I can be very demanding, yet Mr. Fun and Friendly-Male Chauvanist-Sports Fanatic keeps me happy. He’s not perfect, but neither am I.

I just bought Def Leppard's "X" album. I like it. The other night, while surfing the web, I discovered that my other favorite band, Cause and Effect, are finally releasing their new album. It's not really an album; they only have five original songs on it. I'm a bit disappointed; five years of working and they only release an EP of five songs. But I like what I heard, and I am excited and happy nonetheless. I can't wait till the CD arrives.

Ambiguous Thoughts

There are only three more days of school. Contract ends on January 23rd. As much as I’m eager to leave this semester, I’m torn about leaving my kids behind. That’s right: I feel as though they are MY kids.

Thinking Is Hard

Just as I had the most interesting day on Tuesday, I had the most exhausting day yesterday and today. The students completely drained me!!! The day didn’t end at 2:10pm when the bell rang after the last class. I had students suddenly stressing to do their essays, and they wanted me to practically tell them the answer on how to write them and what to write in them. The gall of some of these students! They don’t do their work—or they do half—and they expect me to do the rest.

Part I: The Beauty of the Essay (Thursday)

A student who was just starting his essay today finally revealed to me, “I don’t know what to write for my introductory paragraph?” In other words, he didn’t have a thesis, and so he didn’t know what to write. Mind you, readers: I asked for a rough draft last Monday. This student was just starting his rough draft.

We started with the choice of essay prompts that I had given them. He chose one prompt. I asked him what his idea was, and if he had an idea for a thesis. Nothing. He had absolutely nothing. He asked me instead, “What can I write for a thesis?” My reaction: *_*

Second student: he was working on the meat of his essay, which was polishing his opinions for objective literary analysis. He had some stuff down, but not strong enough to support what he was trying to prove in his thesis. I helped him by asking question after question, hoping that he would connect all his answers as proof and commentary for his analysis. He kept saying, “I don’t know. Why don’t you just tell me the answer?” My reaction: >_<

Third student: she really worked hard on her essay, and I saw light bulbs going on and on whenever we hit a great idea. When we were almost done, she said to me, “This is hard, Ms. G.” My reaction: ^_^

“Writing is not hard," I said smiling. "Thinking is. That’s the beauty of the essay."

She nodded back with a smile, too.

When all the kids left, I thought about what I had said to my last student. I realized that writing is not difficult to teach. Much of the time when I’m helping students with their essays, I’m not teaching the organizational skills of writing, I’m teaching—and almost telling—students how to think. That’s not why I went into teaching. I want kids to learn and think on their own. I feel that I’m not doing my part if I’m telling them answers. All these essays are going to start sounding alike because they got their answers from me.

Oh, the difficulty of teaching writing! Having the kids realize that thinking is a large component before writing is a lesson in itself.


Part II: Light Bulbs (Friday)

I thought I would get to leave campus early, but it never turns out that way. I had kids waiting for me in my classroom after school because they needed help on their essays. My last student didn’t leave until 5:30pm. Although I would have normally despaired at having to stay THAT late for a student who needed help on an essay, I was glad to help her because, in comparison to yesterday, I was actually teaching writing. She already had a rough draft and all her ideas were just jumbled in her brain. As we worked together, we hit on idea after idea, and it was just the writing process that was laborious for her. She had to write every thing down, even if she wasn’t going to use it because she visually had to see the words that represented the ideas in her head. Question after question, she connected all her answers, then tried to create flowing ideas into fluid sentences on paper. Every time I said, “Perfect!” for every mark she hit, I saw a light bulb turn on in her head as she feverishly wrote down more thoughts. Next, she would ask me if her ideas sounded right as she structured them into syntactically correct sentences, then she corrected her own mistakes, and did it over again. It’s interesting and wonderful to see students like her understand her own learning.

We stayed so late that her mother came in to wait for her daughter (we teachers love supportive parents!). She seemed to enjoy watching us laugh together. As they left, her mother expressed her gratitude to me because I spent so much time helping her daughter, but it meant more for me to see my student learn and to be part of that process. These are the positive moments that remind me why I went into teaching in the first place.

Feeling the Love

I had the most interesting day on Tuesday. I let the kids finish their poster projects, and about one-fourth of the class was in chaos in each period. I didn’t mind; they were still working. I shall share the highlights of the day:

Block A: My supposed future white supremacist student was a little off task. I have to admit: he intimidates me sometimes. He has never come up to talk to me, and whenever I talk to him, he has the usual apathetic sigh. I often wonder what he thinks of me, given my “minority” background. At the end of class, he approached me and said, “Hey, Ms. G… You have to see my ecology project.” He proceeded to show me his display board that had information on plants and his hate for a particular Sierra Club tree-hugger. The board also featured his favorite hobby: dirt bike riding. How is this related to ecology? It was all about the desert and how people affect it by partying and riding in it. Although I paid attention to everything he said, in the back of my mind I was thinking, “Wow, he’s talking to me… and in a friendly and intelligent way.” I may have been judgmental when I thought he was a future white supremacist, but I still wonder about the drawings of skulls, his high pride for Americanism, sentences he wrote about Nazis, and his sketches of the Confederate flag.

Block C: The slut is actually working and participating in class. I almost had a golden moment with her. While I was working with my A+ student to improve her essay, the slut came up to me and said, “Check it out.” Usually, when she says that, she would show me something to shock me. Instead, she showed me an image of a medieval coat of arms. “This is my family’s coat of arms. I found it on the Internet,” she said. Like my first student from Block A, although I was interested at the family coat of arms, I was more surprised that she was showing me something new, something not for shock value, and that she approached me willingly and with friendly intentions. She and I do not get along, and we both know this, yet I felt that this was one golden opportunity. I wanted to seize the moment and talk more about the coat of arms, her Irish heritage, and maybe even leave the semester with a positive note. I was well on my way to hooking her in and getting to know her in a more positive light, when all of a sudden, my A+ student commands my attention: “That’s not even school related. We have two minutes and my essay is more important!”

Damn those A+ students. Always so demanding.

With Governor Davis' budget proposals, I'm wondering if I'll be able to get a teaching job when I come back from Japan.

Genius At Work
august23's Ego-trip

I am a genius. I’m not a genius by Mensa standards, but when it comes to lesson planning, the Goddess of R&R is my muse. For some odd reason, I had this great idea of teaching poetry to my students, yet I’m not big into poetry. I don’t know how this brainstorm came about, but my laziness to teach on certain days can be an inspiration. Tonight's lesson plan only took me twenty minutes to complete.

Good notes: one of my students expressed to her mother how much she really liked me and how sad the class is because I will be leaving for Japan. It was flattering. Her mother, who's hearing good things about me from her daughter, is very disappointed that I would be leaving because her daughter is suddenly getting into English. I guess it's because of me. That's also flattering. Then I discover that her mother is on the school board.

*the wheels in august23's head are turning*

I could make a very powerful connection before I leave for Japan. (hehehehe)

Those Few Golden Moments

I went back to work today. It was hard to get out of bed. When the kids saw me in class, they told me they thought they were getting the new teacher today. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. On a negative note: the slut is still in my class. I already knew that she was denied transfer before we went on the holiday break, but I had to laugh at her predicament. She was rejected from the so-called "School of Rejects." That's like hell rejecting their own devil. On a positive note, her object of desire transferred out today. I support him because this would be a good move for him. He seemed happier about it and I really wish him well. Another postive note: 90% of the students completed a rough draft of an essay that they were supposed to do during the holiday break, which really surprised me because always half of the class never do their homework.

Remember when I said, "That one student who smiled at me is worth more than a class full of A students"? It appears that I'm getting my cake and eating it too: my depressed student is suddenly happy and my other students are actually doing work! Can life can any better?

*august23 does her happy little dance*

Nah... I shouldn't jinx it. I could get into another car accident.

Positive thought: three more weeks till the end of the semester (but only two weeks of actual instruction, and one week of partying).

Gaikoku-jin desu (I Am A Foreigner)

Yesterday, I went up to Los Angeles with my sister (with nostalgic thoughts of my previous LA accident) to drop my other sister off at her university. The three of us made a stop at Little Tokyo to do some Japanese shopping. I haven’t bought Japanese music in a while, so my biggest splurge of the day were two Japanese rock CD’s and a DVD, which can only played in Region 2 (for you knowledgeable DVD buffs). Don’t ask me why I bought the latter. I was planning to send a DVD player with region 2 encoding back home to my parents when I go to Japan. 

As I sat down to open the DVD case and look at the DVD, it suddenly dawned on me that I would be in Japan approximately two and a half months from now. I closed the case and looked around me—there was a cute Japanese discount store in front of me with all the knickknacks in the world you can find to make your living more functional; behind me to my left was a Japanese gift shop with traditional Asian-fancy house ware and plants; to my direct left was a Japanese grocery store which sold Japanese and English products; to my right, a Japanese bakery flanked a tiny Japanese ice cream shop, which stood next to an Italian boutique (Japanese like Western culture, I guess), and directly behind me was the Japanese bookstore with a little music section in its corner. 

All this was in the middle of downtown LA, where there was still the comfort of finding every Japanese sign with English translations under them. The people who strolled by were mostly Japanese. A small few were of Caucasian or of non-Japanese-yet-still-Asian backgrounds. The clerks of most shops spoke in Japanese to their customers. Although they could easily switch to English when I approached them, their ease from their first language to another in a shopping center where their primary language is dominant made me feel quite the tourist and a bit of place. I sat on bench looking at these things around me, while listening to Japanese whispers and conversations that lingered in the background: “… sou desu ka… hontou ni desu ka…Sore wa …Megumi-san wa ikkei desu…” etc. I tried to imagine all this without the comfort of falling back on my first language, which was good ol’ English, and I realized that I need to start practicing my Japanese again because Nihon-go wo sukoshi wakarimasu. Nihon-jin wa Eigo wo wakarimasen. (Translation: I understand little Japanese. Japanese people don’t understand English.) I need to brush up on the kanji, too. New Year’s Resolution #3: learn enough Japanese to get by in a market place.

Resolutions

I’ve recently taken up mountain biking with my sister’s boyfriend. He’s been doing it for about four months, and I’ve been dying to try it out since 1997. My first couple of rides have been seemingly torturous only because I’m out of shape. Biking is similar to running because my legs are always moving, but surprisingly, my thighs don’t feel achy, cramped, or tightened. My legs have always been strong; I just need more workout on the cardiovascular thing.

Now, that I’ve taken up mountain biking, I feel that it should be part of my resolution. I need to start getting healthy—I mean, I already am, but my regimen can always be improved. So, exercise is now part of my routine. Like the organized person that I am, I feel that I should divide my resolutions into categories: teaching, personal life, financial, creativity/self-improvement, etc., but then you would all think that I’m just a freak. Anyway, I can only think of two resolutions right now…

1. Write one story for the year—be it a short story, a novel, several short stories, or even crappy poems.
2. Mountain bike every weekend. (Since my sister’s boyfriend is into this activity, this will be easy to keep.)


More to come as I think of them.

I don't want to go back to work. This vacation is too good to give up. Boo...hoo...