A Waste of Webspace

Given that I blog, I often wonder if any of my students also blog. A fellow teacher pointed me out to www.myspace.com. It's a free site where anyone can sign up for space, just like Blogger.com.

While browsing through MySpace, I've seen that it's become a dumping ground for teenage personals. I've seen a couple of my students on there, but they don't keep a regular blog. The only things they post are their stats and the latest quizzes they've taken.

I would really like to read some teenage blogs, especially from my students. They don't think I'm technology savvy, and oh, how I would love to email the URLs of their personal want ads to their parents. Many of my students answered to the affirmative when asked about drinking, and there's a profuse amount of profanity in their introductions alone. Like a potty mouth is attractive? What is up with this generation?

Wallflower

I went out and tried swing dancing. Although I'm a beginner and it was intimidating to go out on a dance floor with experienced dancers, the best way to learn is to get your feet wet. I spent the majority of the evening sitting and watching other people's foot patterns. I did dance, and I think I did okay. I danced with four older men, but I think they were the best partners. They were patient enough to teach me new things, like in a fatherly way. From what I've seen, a lot of the young men like to dance fast. I'm not ready for that yet.

To sum it up: it was fun.

Artistic Inspiration

I've just realized that this summer was my first official summer vacation--sort of. When I think about the past summer vacations I've had in the past, I was always taking a summer course to catch upon professional development or teaching summer school. Although I had conferences this summer, it didn't dominate 2/3 of my summer.

I actually had a lot of free time this season, so lately, I've been inspired to pursue my artistic and creative whims; hence my swing dancing lessons. Next up... possibly guitar lessons? I'm itching for the school year to start, so I can figure out my schedule of free nights to rendezvous with Apollo.

Work Is Fun

I am attending a conference this week on training teachers how to use their newly district-adopted textbook. If you think your taxes are being wasted on such a training, believe me, we teachers thought it was a waste of our time. But as we trudged through the first day, some of the stuff is really interesting. Since our school is switching textbooks, there's so much supplementary stuff and technology that's integrated with the textbook that it's no wonder why we have to be retrained or introduced to all this material. But I digress...

Many of the teachers are from my district, and about half the class is from my school and from my department. We're livening up the class with inside jokes, snarky remarks directed at each other, and other snide comments to make this conference a bit more jovial. We couldn't stop laughing. This conference is going to be fun if we keep this up all week.

It's moments like these when I realize that I work with a cool bunch of people and that I genuinely like my coworkers.

New Circles

Upon coming home from dance lesson this evening, a strange man called out to me--by name! For some reason, I wasn't too freaked out about it. The residents at the apartment complex I moved into all seem to be quite acquainted with one another. Unlike my former apartment complex, everyone pretty much stuck to themselves; individuals holing themselves up in their individual units. Anyway, this stranger called me out by name and waved hello. I wasn't surprised that he knew my name; word traveled fast that a new tenant moved into the empty apartment, so I waved back without knowing his name.

Right after I had just publised the previous post, there was a knock on my front door. At 9:40pm, I should be freaking out, but I wasn't. In fact, I thought it was all noise that my sister was making because she's still settling into her room. I didn't answer the door right away, but then I heard someone calling out my name again. I opened up the door and found two men at my doorstep, both of them were neighbors, and one of them I had already met. They were inviting me and my sister to go to a bar with them.

Mother never told me to go out with strange men, but I wanted to get to know my neighbors. My sister refused since she had to work early in the morning, but I was game. The three of us went to a local bar, which took me by surprise because I didn't expect to see such a homey pub behind the door of what looked like a hole-in-the-wall dive bar. There were lots of young people my age--again, something I didn't expect from such a neighborhood known for its historic sites and posh restaurants.

My neighbors and I had enlightening and intellectual conversations. One is an English teacher, so we talked about books and our jobs. The other is a writer for the local newspaper, so conversations varied from the mundane to poker. The funniest thing they ever said was their commentary on tattoos on girls' lower backs. They asked my opinion, and I thought they were just a trend; they are so common that it's not a fashionable statement. Then one of the guys said, " They're like a whorebrand. You know how they brand cattle?" Although it was just a humorous remark, both gentlemen find tattoos on that particular spot on women to be a turn-off. And as every young woman passed by with camisoles and low-rise pants, it was depressing for them, yet we'd laugh it off because we'd think of branded cows.

I had a good time with them. It was totally unexpected that I would be socializing with strange men at a late hour and actually having fun. Mr. Reporter, being a poker fanatic, invited me to play poker tomorrow night. I haven't played in a while, so I'm game for that. It's kind of nice to start actually socializing with neighbors again. It feels like I'm rebuilding a new community of my own, adapting to a new niche, like hitting a "jackpot." I like it here.

New Hobby

I've been taking swing dancing lessons. Tonight was the third lesson. I really like it, and it's really fun. But I'm not practicing as much, only when I have lessons. As my instructor says, I should go out dancing socially to start practicing and getting used to other partners so I won't get used to dancing one way. I'm afraid of going out alone. Another girl tried going out dancing and some strange partner wanted to throw her and she threw out her back because she didn't expect it. I don't want that to happen to me. So, a group of us beginners are thinking of going together as a group. Safety and support in numbers...

Where Was I?

I finally got cable again... I'm back in the land of mainstream pop culture with reruns of "The Real World," non-stop geek activity at the Sci-Fi Channel, and artsy BBC shows on Bravo, A&E, and BBC America. I can finally start recording educational tidbits on the History Channel if there's something good for the classroom.

I have TV again!

So the first thing I see on Sci-Fi was a rerun of "The X Files," in which the lovely Mulder and Scully are on their happy way to solving another paranormal whatever. In the last five minutes of the show, Mulder and Scully are watching New York City's bash to ring in the New Year, at which point--Mulder kisses Scully!

Where was I? Why haven't I ever seen this episode!? They kissed! OMG!!!!

This is my repressed excitement rearing its ugly head after a five year delay!

Moving

I moved again. What a tiresome chore! The laborious part is actually unpacking and organizing all the little things, whether they are ornaments or the daily necessities of life. The new place doesn't have air conditioning either. There are days when the rooms feel like a sauna, but I need to sweat. I haven't sweated this much since high school P.E. I feel like all this is a workout.

Off tangent: an old roommate used to say to me that "girls don't sweat; they glisten."

Sometimes Humanity Sucks

During this year's Comic Con International, I lost my wallet. In a panic, I called up my credit card companies and had my cards cancelled. An hour later, someone had turned it in to the lost and found. Of course, cards were intact but my money was all gone. I only had $40 in there, but I'm still bitter about that; it's not like I was planning to spend a hundred dollars at the convention. I shouldn't complain because I got my wallet back, but moments like these make me feel like I should be just as bad, and that if I were to ever find a wallet, I should also take the money. Evil spreads evil, whereas passing niceties forward apparently comes to a dead end.

Finally!

My vacation officially starts now. School is over.

Mmmm...

Originally, I didn't have plans to go and see Fantastic Four because I have my doubts, but hopefully, Mr. Fantastic

will make it all better...

Life Might As Well End Now...

School is almost over. I'm highly stressed.

And I can't find that short novella that I wrote last year, which I would like to start working on again. I won't be able to relax this summer at all now.

L.A.

My sister pointed out something to me recently: in LA, you get LA news. In San Diego, you still get LA news.

Now that I live in the Riverside/LA county, all I see on the news are just live coverages of police pursuits, an updated count of shootings and deaths, and one sad reality of just how many stupid people who actually live in this tiny corner of the earth are around me.

Now I know understand why--after six years of living in this area--my sister has become so cynical.

And I teach here. Oh. My. God.

Dear Gackt

This albums sucks! I have never been so disappointed as a fan. Please get back to your ROCK roots as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

A devoted fan of seven years

I Touched Connecticut and Massachusetts

I spent the weekend in the East Coast to see my youngest sister graduate from college. Massachusetts and Connecticut are really lovely states, especially the rural areas. I wished I did my studies in the east. We drove by Amherst at night, had sushi in Hampshire, drove over the Connecticut River several times, and awed at old brick buildings and spires that reached the sky.

Maybe I'll post pictures this weekend when my family comes back from their New York trip. It sucks not having a vacation when I want to.

Teacher Myths

A friend of mine pointed this out to me: The Teacher Salary Myth

My mother likes to point out that I'm underpaid, but in all honesty, I don't feel underpaid or overpaid. When I get my paycheck every month and look at the numbers that stare back at me, I feel that I am paid just about right. But one must also take into account my situation in life: I'm single, I'm not raising a family, and my debt (three credit cards and one student loan) is under $12,000. I like to think I'm financially stable.

I'll lay my cards out on the table to respond to the article as best as I can: I'm a second year high school teacher making $43,000/year. The $43,000/year is misleading. Teachers only get paid ten months out of the year because we're not working during summer. My monthly paycheck for ten months amounts to approximately $3200 after taxes; but if I were getting paid a full year, my paycheck would come to $2620/month.

In a recent study (and for the life of me, I can't find the article), California was rated the highest for teacher salaries, averaging at $56,000/year. When most people read that, they automatically assume that that is a new teacher's starting salary. The average salary for a new teacher in California starts at $36,000/year. Teachers who are earning $56k are usually veteran teachers who have taught seven years or more.

Arguments about teachers' salaries are frustrating. Those who argue that teachers are already overpaid believe that teachers work nine months only, have shorter work days (6 hours), and play with kids all day. That does seem like a luxurious job for $56k/year. But the reality is: teaching is divided into three stages: prep time, execution, and follow-up. Prep time is when teachers make their lesson plans, execution is the actual instruction and teaching, and follow-up is when teachers assess the work of their students. The six hours that teachers spend at school is only execution, which means the prep time and follow-up stages are outside of the contracted six-hour work day. This is the argument for why teachers are underpaid: they are doing too much work outside of the normal work day. And personally speaking as an English teacher, grading 165 essays (if I were to do that nonstop) would take me 8-16 hours. That's about two working days--working days that I will not get paid for if I have to bring that stuff home on a weekend.

As my mother likes to point out that I am underpaid, it's also people like her who count a job's value by how much work is asked of you and how much it pays. I agree that there must be a balance between the two, but I don't complain anymore. I love what I do, despite how frustrating it can be sometimes. Money was not the first thing I thought of when I decided I wanted to be a teacher, and most teachers will agree to that statement; we knew that there wasn't much money in teaching.

But one day, I know I will be making $56k/year. When that time comes, I know that I'll be hearing comments that I'm just an overpaid teacher who got to go home at 3pm after a hard day's work of playing with kids... and she gets summers off, too!? But the reality is is that I will be an experienced teacher who cut the prep time down to nothing and maximized my work day to include execution and follow-up within a respectable time frame, preferably between 6-8 hours (rather than my current 12-hour workday). That's my goal, and in seven years, I know that I will have earned and deserved every red penny of a $56k/year salary.

For now, I can only liken my career to that equal of a parent; after all, teachers have the same responsibilities as parents: raising and educating kids. No amount of money in the world can put a price on parenting. It's the same fate for teachers: there will always be a dispute about how much we are really worth.

Street Fighter

I went to a Street Fighter video game party last night, hosted by a co-worker who is a fan of Chun Li. She actually owned one of those arcade-style video game machines. I never really played Street Fighter during the height of its popularity, so I didn't know any real combos for fighting. I thought I wouldn't last the first round, but I made it all the way to the finals. I used Chun Li and got bitch-slapped by the host.

I Need to Find a New Career

New Secretary of Education

Is it me, or is California slowly descending to hell?

Oh, I guess it's just me and my job.

I Like Making Kids Cry

Today is Friday. I was extremely tired this week and just down from fatigue, so I was partially glad and pissed off when I had a parent conference at the last minute today... on a Friday!

But this was good: I called up a parent to give her an update about her son's progress in class--which was not very good anyway. We talked and when I told her that her son is still getting an F, she freaked out and said, "You said he was getting a C-, and that he's doing well in class."

"Um... no, I don't remember saying that. Shorty* was absent yesterday and he hasn't brought his book to class, so he's not even paying attention."

"But in your note, you wrote, 'doing good' and that he's getting a C-. Your signature's on this note."

"Is that an old note? He's not getting a C."

"But he gave me this note today."

"I haven't signed any paperwork for Shorty for a long time."

"Are you still there... at school?"

"Yes..." I replied, not liking the sound of that question.

"Can I come over? I'll be there in, like, three minutes."

"Sure," I replied unenthusiastically.

Lo and behold, she got there in three minutes with her son. After a short introduction, the first thing I asked for was the note. There it was: this awful lie in the comments section of a weekly progress report staring at me in the face: "Doing good. C-" My last name was written next to it.

"That's not my signature," I instantly replied. "You never gave me this paper during class."

The student started lying, "Yes, I did. You signed it."

I invited his mother to my classroom and showed her her son's current grade that was posted in class for the last week and a half. The date was written on it. I proceeded to tell his mother what Shorty does in class, his behavior, his progress, his habits, as well as the assignments and homework that were due. His grade could not have jumped from an F to a C- in less than two weeks--not with his poor habits. After studying the fake progress report, his mother noticed that three other comments from three other teachers looked suspicious because all the handwriting was the same. When his mother demanded to know who signed the fake progress report, Shorty started swearing up and down to God that he gave me the report and that I signed it during class. But I refuted that by giving his mother a sample of my signature. As soon as she saw it, she recognized it from previous reports that I officially signed in the past. She started shouting at her son, and at this point, Shorty started crying.

I gave his mother the homework that Shorty should be working on, and he seemed to be weakening knowing that his mother now controlled his upcoming weekend.

It's great to have a parent on my side. It was great to see her get mad at her son and yell at him--because I can't do that. But I am pissed off that he tried to forge--or got a friend to forge-- my signature. Even though it didn't look anything like my signature, I felt violated that some student tried to take a part of me. Strange as it may sound, that's what it felt like. Then he swore to God that I signed it. When he said I did, and I insisted that I didn't, it sounded like a childish "Nuh-uh. Uh-huh. Nuh-uh" argument. That was infuriating!

But I got to see him cry. That felt kind of good.

Mental Wellness Day

I'm at that point in the school year where I am reaching a burnout. My fire is dying and I'm always tired. Geek Colleague convinced me that I should take a "mental wellness" day and not go to work. He had to persuade and convince me that I should take a personal day to just de-stress myself. I'm a perfectionist and a control freak when it comes to teaching, so it's hard to let things go and just blow off one day.

But GC was right: a refreshed teacher is more effective and productive than a burnt out teacher who will be moody and snappy at students. So I will enjoy my unofficial three-day weekend.

God, I'm going to hate Monday.