Hyped!

I got the itinerary for the new school year. I'm so stoked. I'm teaching the grades I want and I get first period prep--which means I get to sleep in if I wanted. The only crappy thing: I don't have my own classroom, so I'm traveling to four different rooms. Sucks to be the new teacher!

Lana Is a Tease

After watching numerous episodes of Smallville, I'm slowly becoming irked by the character of Lana Lang. I have nothing against Kristin Kruek. Kristin is okay, but the writers have completely created a tease.

From my understanding of the Superman comics, Lana was the girl that Clark desired from afar. She was unattainable. In the series, seeing Clark and Lana become good friends, date, break up, and still be friends seems plausible. But we all know that Clark will never get Lana, and even though he may still have deep feelings for her, he keeps his distance. Lana, on the other hand, seems to be the one who can't get over Clark. Lana was Miss Popular in high school--a cheerleader dating the star quarterback and hanging with the popular crowd. She can have any guy she wants--as proven by episodes where several guys have asked her out. So why does she suddenly want Clark, a guy she barely noticed in high school--a guy, according to the comics, hardly cared about.

She, too, has a fixation on Clark. Always, she's prodding him about wanting to know the truth; always whenever she's in trouble, she looks to Clark; always when he rescues her, she prods in some indirect manner about why they are not together. Always she has to ask "do you love me?" As if his numerous rescues didn't answer her question already! She tortures Clark. She offers herself to him when he's trying to keep his distance and move on. She pleads with him with her eyes when he rejects her. This is not the unattainable distant Lana from afar of the original comics anymore, but a new "you're-in-my-face-Lana."

In other melodramas, when a couple breaks up even though they still love each other, they still go their separate ways. They get together eventually, but only after some dire and drastic episode which leads them to admit their love and finally be happy. How many dire and drastic episodes do Clark and Lana need? I know that the creators of Smallville are only posing these storylines as a hypothetical and substory to the original comics, but I don't find a continuum anymore. When Clark grows up to become a journalist, he can't mope around longing for Lana as if he never had her, as if she were the girl he could have had. He had more than several chances to be with her. And he can't argue that he couldn't be with her because he could never tell her the truth about himself--that has become his own issue. He has no one to blame but himself if he loses her. As a character, Lana has proven that she is reliable and maybe even keep a weighty secret, such as Clark's true identity. She's been in several situations where she had chances to witness Clark's powers that any person with a brain can put two and two together. If it were Chloe, she would have figured it out by now.

Thank God, Lois is coming in next season.

So Much Junk!

I didn't stay in my new apartment after I moved my stuff up there. I decided to come back home to clean out my old room. I even rearranged the desk. As I reshelve the books, sort the files and papers I've collected, I realized how much junk I've collected over the years. And I don't mean those tiny sentimental souvenirs, but other things. Being a teacher, I never noticed I amassed a large collection of blank notebooks and slips of paper with notes on them.

I went through the desk drawers and I started sifting through the trash and whatnot that's been sitting inside there. I donated one whole box of books and half a box of clothes and purses, and I'm still moving other things up to my new place. The only thing holding me back now is the desk junk on my floor.

But once everything is clean, I'm going to feel a big weight lift off my shoulders. I won't collect shit like that again and let it accumlate in my new apartment. I've learned an important lesson since my return from Japan: less is good.

Inland Empire or Bust!

Moving is a bitch... even with a U-Haul.

Men and Sports

As I watch the scoreboards for the BF's favorite football and baseball teams, sometimes I think this might give people the impression that I like those teams, too, because those are the only teams that I pay attention to. The more I look at the numbers that distinguish the winners from the losers, the more I wish I had some sort of ammo to email the BF and tell him that his teams are losing against my teams. The thing this: I don't have any favorite teams. My emails would be that much more fiery and interesting if I could just add a bit of "neener neener neener."

I admit that I had fun watching Super Bowl 2003. And it is kind of fun to watch his teams lose only to see him get moody.

Pictures, Anyone?

Just testing

Reasons Why I'm Happy To Be Moving Out Soon

• I can't stand it when my sister is downloading 25-minute anime episodes on a dial-up network.
• My sister is a drama queen when she's home, and I can't stand her loud "pay-attention-to-me" drama voice... especially when she's watching a DVD and she makes running comments to the air. She demands attention even when no one is there.
• My mother is too emotional to the point where I can't argue reasonably without her resorting to, "You hurt my feelings" as a way for her to tell me to just shut up and let her have the last point.
• I can't stand it when my parents are up past midnight watching TV while I'm reading quietly in my room, and then they come in to tell me why I'm not asleep yet. Why aren't they?
• My mom can't do anything by herself and she needs one of us to accompany her at all times, especially when doing errands.
• My mother keeps telling me to clean up my room. What's the point of cleaning it when I'm trying to move out?
• I admit I'm a completely selfish bitch, but I don't demand much except that I be left alone... which in this house, you're made to feel guilty about.
• My father's growing interest in new age music is starting to grate.
• That damn Filipino channel is beyond over-the-line fucking annoying.
• Being holed up with my family is like being forced to endure a painful family vacation.
• I have no privacy whatsoever.

Don't get me wrong: I like my family, but even my tolerance and patience have their limits. I thought that having one last month would be enough of a vacation, but if I had known staying at home for the last month would be this irritable, I would have made an effort to move out at the beginning of the month. Then I'd be at my new place by the end of the first week of August and would have had three weeks of absolute silence--my idea of a true vacation. Instead, I'm moving out this Friday and will only have about a week and a half of a true vacation before my new job begins.

Regrets are annoying.

Strange Link

I like Benno Fuhrman, and as I was doing a Google search on him, I came upon the Bob the Angry Flower website. My jaw almost dropped, for I had bought two comics and a poster from the creator of Bob the Angry Flower, Stephen Notley himself (and he autographed it!), at the San Diego Comic Convention last month. He did a review of "The Order," which I had recently seen on DVD two weeks ago. I still have mixed feelings about that movie, to which Stephen Notley, pretty much summed up my own feelings.

The only thing that puzzled me about "The Order" was the title. I felt it was misleading because it didn't fit the movie.

But Benno was still cute.

Quite Intellectual

I started playing poker. I never knew how much it's similar to chess-- in a thinking way, from betting, bluffing, planning, and coming up with strategies. A friend of mine actually plays pool, and when I watch her play, I'm doing the thinking thing again.

I should get into more thinking games... pool, poker, golf...

And I won five bucks tonight. Small dough, but I daresay that's pretty good for my first time.

Superstition

There's a Filipino superstition that if you dream of your teeth falling out, then someone is going to die.

I had a nap this afternoon, in which I dreamt of all my teeth in the back of my mouth, just started falling out as I sat in a meeting on the first day of school at my new job. I went to the bathroom as my teeth fell out one by one into the sink. They jingled like brittle porcelain with their sharp roots still intact.

I wonder if each tooth that fell out of my mouth signifies one person's death, of if the number of teeth is insignificant to the number of people who might die. Morbid thoughts indeed.

Too Cheesy For Me

Last night I watched Dario Argento's "The Phantom of the Opera." I was kind of disappointed; the phantom wasn't even disfigured. Julian Sands is too handsome to be the Phantom, and he shouldn't have sported long hair. For some reason, long hair really displayed his extremely pointy nose.

Pain

"A Knight's Tale" is the most painful movie ever to watch.

Those Kids...

In class today, the students and I were discussing one of Shakespeare's sonnets, "Sonnet 144," about a love triangle. The couplet at the end of this sonnet is as follows:

Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

Vacation is Nigh!

I'm so ready for summer school to be over.

It's depressing being an English teacher sometimes. English teachers--the core of any school-- get blamed if a student can't read, if a student can't speak English properly, if a student can't understand, if a student can't properly analyze, if a student can't write, if a student can't spell... All these little things are the heart of literacy, of functioning independently, of problem-solving, of thinking. If a student can't do these things, he or she ends up failing in all the other subjects.

It hurts to teach English. It depresses me when I listen to a student read aloud and he can't even pronounce he word "tonight" correctly. It frustrates me that students think that answers are explicitly written and given, and they want me to tell them the answers if they can't find them in the book. It almost angers me when students just sit in class and say, "I don't understand" or "I don't know," but in reality, they are not even trying, nor do they want to because they are too lazy to do difficult tasks that require extra effort. They don't realize that they're in a never-ending cycle: they hate reading, so their reading skills will never improve. They can't spell, they use all kinds of words incorrectly, like using nouns and adjectives as verbs; they don't care about the comments I leave on their work because I'll always find the same errors on the rest of their schoolwork... all these problems can be fixed if they just expose themselves to reading more often.

Trying to teach the youth of today is like trying to drive a nail through steel. It all seems futile, and I'm getting frustrated.

Finally!

I kicked out Hormonal Loser from class today. He just wasn't doing anything and hanging around for the last week is not going to do any good for him. After I kicked him out, he comes back--nearly two hours later-- to try and beg to get into class again. He caught me just as I was leaving and we discussed his behavior in front of the principal and the secretary--who both already know about his stunning record. They agreed with me: Hormonal Loser is out.

My last week of summer school should be heaven now.

A Reason to Live

As a friend aptly described his four-day vacation just to attend the San Diego Comic Convention as his Ramadan, I must agree with him that a geek fest of gargantuan proportions is a well-worthy reason to endure  a typical San Diego heatwave.  Crowds get bigger and bigger every year. Geekiness is a popular trend now. I remember a time when all the stuff I used to like was obscure, and it made me (and the rare people who also knew) feel that we were some part of elite club with secret eyes that knew what to look out for. Nowadays, everything is trendy, everything is popular, everything is accessible to the point where hardcore fans, like myself, are just disappointed by the quality of mass merchandising.

I've been attending the Comic-Con for ten years now. Sometimes I still can't believe that I faithfully attend this event every year. I thought I would have outgrown it by now. I'm not into anime as much as I used to be, I'm not reading several comics at one time like I used to, and I'm not an avid collector of junk.  Why do I still go? Why do I endure the B.O. of fanboys who neglect their hygiene? Why do I torture my eyes by looking upon scantily-clad fat girls who think they have a size-three-action-figure body? Why are there so many people dressed as Klingons and Storm Troopers? Why are there so many boys with a samurai fantasy? And why do some girls think that being a fag-hag is cool?

Imagination has no limits, but for some, there is that sad state of not knowing where the boundaries of reality are. Every time I go to the Con, I have to prepare myself for the sheer horror of being around people who embrace the freakdom they feel is their "true identity."  They're fuckin' funny to watch.

Pet Peeves

1. Life as a teacher would be so easy if I could just fail all the students who don't do shit in my class.
2. I hate kids who think they're gangsters and try to be "black." What a bunch of wannabes.
3. Sometimes I don't like the kids who think that just because I'm a teacher, they think I'm supposed to be smart and infallible.
4. I hate the kids who think I'm their friend and that I'll give them hook-ups or special attention.
5. I hate lazy kids. My job is to teach. Their job is to learn. I'm not supposed to do every damn little thing for them.
6. Smart-alecky kids need to learn restraint and respect.
7. Hip-huggers need to get out of style soon.

Working Seven Days A Week

I wish I was at that point in my career where I don't have to spend my weekends doing lesson plans. The only thing I want to do on a weekend is enter grades, which should only take an hour of my time.
 
Thinking too much can be physically draining.

Right after typing my previous entry, I read this: Medicare Scraps Old Policy on Obesity.
 

Medicare is discarding its policy that obesity is not a disease, potentially throwing open the door for millions of overweight Americans to make medical claims for treatments such as stomach surgery and diet programs.

 
Our taxes paying for fat people's poor decisions. Lay off the food so Americans won't have to spend millions of dollars on liposuction surgeries. Damn you...
 

I'm a Bitchin' Teacher

What is it with people today who think that kids, especially teens, need to be sheltered from the real world? There are times when I think I can lose my job because I’m blunt with the truth and cold-hearted and uncompromising when it comes to education.
 
I had a conference with three students today. I know I sounded like a bitch. Conferencing with students or even parents is still a tricky thing with me. Part of me sounds like a complaining nag, and the other part me of is a concerned teacher at her wits’ end trying to get through to a student’s head about the poor decisions he/she is making.
 
I have two problem-students in my class this second term of summer school. The first student was in my class for the first term and he failed it because he wasn’t doing the homework and he was doing poorly on all the tests and quizzes. I call him Hormonal Loser. All he cares about is sex, girls, his car, and money (not that he’s rich). His vocabulary is limited to the two main cuss words (fuck and shit) and their variations. He never disrespects me, and so I give him credit for that. He uses the swear words as the universal words to everything he says in a sentence. Example: That was fuckin’ cool. He’s shittin’ me. Hell no, mothafuckah.
 
After hearing his expansive vocabulary for the past four weeks, his shit got old real quick.
 
My second problem-student, I call him Fuckin’ Leech of Society. He was in my class the first term, but he gave up and dropped. He did absolutely nothing then, and he’s doing absolutely nothing now. He has a poor attitude in class, he’s lazy, completely self-involved, and not one iota in his brain about accountability or responsibility.
 
Of these two problem students, I hate the Leech the most. He still hasn’t gotten any of the required books for the class and it’s been four days already with homework assignments—none of which he turned in because he doesn’t have his books. It’s a catch-22. Today, he starts complaining to me:
 
“I don’t have any of my books,” he says. 
“Then go get them,” I reply. 
“But the librarian won’t check them out to me because I have to pay a fine.” 
“Then pay the fine.” 
“I don’t wanna pay—“ 
“Then find your books, so you don’t have to pay.” 
“I lost my books.”
“That was your responsibility.” 
“She’s not going to check them out because I lost them.” 
“That was your responsibility.” 
“I don’t wanna pay.” 
“That is your responsibility. Why are you even complaining to me? I can’t help you. Those books were your responsibility—not mine. Fix your own problem.”
 
What part of the equation does he not understand?
 
Sometimes I blame the parents. I hate the parents who think that I should shelter their child by not telling them the truth about the real world and their child’s responsibilities as a growing adult. I hate the parents who shirked off their own responsibilities and thought that the schools would teach their child everything from morals, values, and manners, and maturity. I hate the parent advocates of education who think that a teacher’s responsibility, first and foremost, is to be nice to their child. I hate those parents who educate their kids and misinform them about their rights, telling them that teachers shouldn’t be demeaning.
 
My realism and cynicism can be misconstrued as demeaning to some students because they don’t get it. Thank goodness there are a lot more students who do get it. They smile and snicker when I tell the truth, especially to Loser and Leech. Those other students see that I don’t “baby” or shelter anyone in the class. I don’t give out A’s; they better work for it. I don’t give out answers; they better find it themselves. I don’t tell them how to think; they should think for themselves. I’m a teacher—not a surrogate  mother or a maid. I’m not going to hold anyone’s hand and lie that everything will be okay because it’s not. If they don’t do their homework, it’s a zero—simple as that; none of that “It’s-okay-by-me.-I-still-care-about-you” nonsense.
 
Hormonal Loser, some time during class, asked me, ”Why you bein’ so mean?”
 
“I’m not being mean. I’m being realistic.”
 
Welcome to the world I live in, losers.