To Protest or Not to Protest?

A co-worker once said, "shit floats to the top," to describe how some people are just not fit for management duties. When my students often lament that presidents or leaders are inept, in their target's defense, I often say that leaders do their best within the parameters of their job. People can promise many things, but when certain rules or limitations are difficult to overcome in order to achieve a goal, leaders will look inept because nothing has been tangibly accomplished for all to see.

I'm beginning to feel that way. As a department chair, my priority now has been to revise curriculum and defend my colleagues in the professional decisions we all make. We have many ideas and goals, and I had hoped we would accomplish them while I was department chair. But it's difficult to achieve anything when management conflicts with the ideas we want to try. In real life, I begin to see that there are situations that really demonstrate how some things are easier said than done. I feel like I hit a dead end no matter what I do.

When I took on this position, I just wanted to implement ideas and procedures that I felt would benefit my colleagues and benefit the students. While everyone in my department has been supportive of the decisions I make, there is also a division amongst us: those who want to make change, and those who just want to stay in their classrooms while change happens around them. I guess I'm a radical when it comes to my beliefs, and in the past two weeks, I've opened up my big mouth too much that my department is getting a spotlight of unwanted attention from district management. And as I step up to the plate to defend myself and my colleagues, I'm also getting a full frontal of an ugly beast called "political micromanaging." I hate being told what to do, but when I'm being told to do something just because some inept leader said, "I said so," it is even more aggravating and frustrating; they want me on a leash. I don't like being the mediator for their dirty work.

In the midst of all this, I'm teaching students of American literature--a body of work which is full of patriotism and protest and ideals of nonconformity that shaped America. I'm inspired by this and in my own small way, I want to protest against the district of how teaching to a test isn't really teaching, nor are students really learning. As I read all this protest literature, I also have to think about how much am I willing to suffer for the sake of what I beleive in. Am I ready to be hated? Am I ready to get sent to the office for constant reprimand? Am I ready for embarassment and vilification as my name gets touted as the rebel English teacher from that school? Most importantly, as a leader at my school, am I ready to bear that burden if my department falls down with me, whether they supported me or not?

Upper management is an obstacle that I have to overcome, and at this point, I'm feeling the limitations slowly surround and restrict me. That being said, I find it difficult to do my job--whether it's teaching students or defending colleagues or revising curriculum--when shit floats to the top.

Sad Revitalization

I find it disappointing and almost pitiful that most musicians and actors I admired or liked in the '80s are now fodder for the reality shows that plague television. What is the point: our nostalgia for our past, or our eagerness to see our idols fall?

This Is a Test

Six years ago I wrote about how my car guages the perfection of my life, and each time I think too highly of how my life is perfect, I get into a car accident.

As of 7:45pm this evening, I became a victim of a hit-and-run accident. My emotions are running a bit high, from anger to relief. I'm angry because the other [teenaged] driver said he would help me out, and then he got into his car and drove off. I hope karma bites him in the ass. My car withstood the impact; I hope he and his passengers get whiplash, or his car will break down, or he'll get into another accident (because he drove away pretty fast).

But now I am left to ask myself: is my life perfect that God or fate had to send me another accident to remind me of how life is not always perfect? I'm not upset that my car is damaged; maybe that says that I'm not upset too much about the impact of this accident on my life. I'm relieved I'm not hurt. My car is still taking beatings for me. I'm content. Life is okay.

I still hope that teenager gets some karma back at him though.

Five Year Reflection

When I first started teaching, I never believed that I would have lasted this long. I wanted to give up because I truly thought teaching was too hard. Five years later, I'm still here. I can honestly look back at my first year of teaching and laugh at it; I can laugh at my immaturity and my neophytic perspective that almost made me want to kill myself.

As a first year teacher, I would get all kinds of advice and inspirational aphorisms from veteran teachers who wanted to keep me in the field and keep me motivated. All the while, I used to silently think, "You have no fucking clue what I'm going through." It was colossal adjustment--trying to teach something when I did not know what I was teaching, grading work when I did not understand my own philosophy about measuring intellect, accepting the fact that my weekends would never be truly mine, disciplining kids when I never had my own, and feeling guilty when I needed a moment for myself. In a span of three weeks, I was emotionally drained and mentally pushed to the limits, stretched thin in between that I lost my balance and made a decision to leave the teaching field. I'm glad I did not leave. I'm glad that I discovered my own strength in determination and pride: my pride never would have let me accept that I failed at something I have always wanted and loved; my determination kept me afloat in, what appeared at the time, Sisyphean waters. If I hadn't known these two things existed within me, I never would have stayed in this profession.

During these five years, I've learned so much more and discovered new things about myself. I may not have as many epiphanous moments, but I have rejuvenating episodes with my students, and every year, I know that I am growing professionally, mentally, and even spiritually. I'm at a point where I no longer wish to know my future and have the wisdom of old age. As I grow comfortable with my life, I've learned to be patient and embrace each day: the future will always be there waiting for me, but the acquisition of wisdom and experience is what makes life worth living slowly.

Watching From the Mountaintop

Sometimes I think I stand on the verge of a cliff, just watching the slow decline of humanity and the fall of civilization.

Or am I the only teacher that feels this way?

Affirmation

As the semester ends, procrastinating students have been coming to me after school to ask for help on essays--college essays, final essays, writing tutorials, letters of recommendations, etc. I was feeling burnt out as students asked me to read their essays one more time.

Yesterday, while reading an essay, two students conversed about the difficulty of writing. They kept saying that my class was challenging and tiresome because I made them write too much. In a strange complementary way, they said that taking my class was like a "slap in the face" because they didn't learn much about writing essays in their previous English classes. My class was a "harsh reality," and that my Nazi-English teacher reputation was almost accurate--the fact that I'm not a Nazi makes the moniker partially true.

And here I thought I was losing my edge.

Pushed to the Limit

There's a saying that goes, "The reward for hard work is more work. "

Two years ago, I was left alone in my classroom so I could actually focus on teaching, planning, and grading. I connected so much with my students that they still come to me as seniors when they need help on essays. I can write a recommendation letter for them because I feel that I have known them solidly for two years. When I see those seniors, I feel proud that I did a good job. I get so many compliments from other teachers about how Class of '08 has a bunch of talented writers. They are living proof of my success and hard work.

That was two years ago. Hard work led up to leadership duties. I don't feel as successful teaching this year. I know this curriculum like the back of my hand; I've taught it for four years. Because I have so much on my plate this year, my focus has shifted to multi-tasking for various committees, clubs, and teaching. Some of the seniors noticed that I'm losing my "edge," and that I'm gone all the time. The juniors hate it when I have to go to a conference and leave them with a substitute. My current sophomores totally lack in writing skills--and I feel to blame for that because I'm not there to focus on teaching them.

I'm not feeling burnt out, but it's bothering me that I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed anymore either.

When Class of '09 graduates, I wonder if they'll prove to be another success story or a mediocre one.

Resigned

I realized that as I get older, I get more set in my ways. This becomes an obstacle when it comes to relationships and dating.

As I observe young couples, from teenagers to college students, they have an advantage that older couples don't have: flexibility and growth. As these young people grow, they mold and develop their ideas and emotions around people and experiences. In a relationship, there is so much discovery about oneself and about one's partner. They learn to compromise and grow together if they want to stay together.

But as people get older and develop their own ideas and self-worth, it becomes difficult to compromise who you are when someone new comes into your life. This is probably why I am still single. It's becoming difficult to find someone who has anything in common with me. I cannot make someone change, and he cannot make me change. The only thing left is to argue about who is right and who should bend to the other's will.

It never bothered me that I was single for a long time, but it did bother me that it left me to wonder if anyone out there was right for me. I think I am resigned to be single for the rest of my life, and I'm going to stop wondering about Mr. Right. At my age, they are either married or too set in their own ways that we would never work out anyway.

C'est la vie.

Best Day

I have been a fan of his since 1998, and I never saw him perform until he came to Long Beach on June 29, 2007. Oh, baby! I was so happy to see him in concert--finally!

Men

Relationships suck, especially with men who think they know you.

Graduation

Graduation has passed and school has finally ended. As a teacher, it's always my proud moment to see a student march and cross that stage for the graduation ceremony. Although there are some students who do not deserve to graduate, due to their own lack of work ethic, it's more heartbreaking when a student doesn't march because of adult responsibility. A student informed me that he will not participate in next year's graduation ceremony because he has enlisted in the marines.

I have great respect for our military, but this one hits me hard: depriving me of a moment I always look forward to. I only hope this changes sometime in the next year and that my student will still get to march in the 2008 procession.

Rekindle

An old internet friend found me after a six-year absence. It was odd to see an email from him. Through the power of Google, he searched my name and it was linked to the website of the school where I am employed.

I used to depend on the high population of the internet community to remain anonymous, but search engines are suddenly making that impossible. Not that I was trying to avoid him, but it was such a surprise to hear from him. It's an unexpected reunion, and it's such an odd thing that could ever happen in my life: a guy made an active search for me just to tell me that he misses talking to me.

TA

Sometimes I learn the most sensible things about life from my teacher's assistant.

A year ago, he came into my classroom after school, needing to talk to someone about his girlfriend and the complications and hassles of a relationship. Before I started to silently scoff about "teenage relationships" and drama, I listened to him and tried to understand his problems. His frustrations and opinions made me reflect about my relationship with an ex-boyfriend and the similarities of my relationship and the TA's relationship--regardless of differences in experience and age. My student did not ask for advice; he just needed to vent. But if he was seeking counsel from me, I would have to think carefully before saying anything, for I faced my own hypocrisy at that moment. In retrospect, I finally realized that letting the ex-boyfriend go was necessary, like conquering an inner demon. I have no regrets now. I learned something about relationships from my TA.

Another incident arose again. He came into my class to vent about another teacher who is screwing him over about assignments, and he's a bit stressed about his grade. We talked again for about an hour and the end of our conversation was about hobbies. He said he needed a new hobby in order to de-stress, and as he slowly observed my desk with a sarcastic eye, he flat out told me I needed to get a hobby, too.

I thought about all the hobbies I used to have: mountain-biking, reading fun books, writing fantasy stories, playing the cello... He's right: I need to get into a hobby again, maybe even a new one, like archery, knife-throwing, or shooting. I eat, breathe, sleep, and live my work, and he makes it known to me all the time. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if I had something else to occupy and cultivate my mind besides the decaying quality of my students' essays. *sigh*

My TA certainly lives up to his job description.

The End of Teaching

In the wake of the Virginia Tech massacre, apathy and inhumanity swept across our campus. I hate to generalize, but why do the few bad apples at our school ruin it for everyone else? In the past week, we've had fire alarm pulled, an object thrown at a teacher, and a lockdown because of a possible weapon-threat. When I asked my students why they don't care about taking care of their school, one student replied that it wasn't their job.

It was the most heartless and apathetic thing I have heard in my life. If there is one thing that will drive me from teaching, it's the inhumanity and immorality of the students. I feel like I bash my head against the wall trying to open their eyes about ethics, responsibility, values, and morality. I'm trying to teach them life skills about what it means to be part of a community and a larger society, but they could care less. That attitude affects me. One day, I'm going to be as numb and cold-hearted as they are, and I'll leave teaching before my work is done.

I'm still holding on for now.

Grief

When I returned to school this past Monday from Spring Break, I was excited to talk about my trip to Japan with my students. Instead, our entire school was stunned when we learned the news of a teacher's untimely death. When I read the email, I held it in and did not bother to tell my students. Part of me did not know how to process the news and my own emotions. Eventually, I broke down during second period where my entire class saw me cry openly. I was no longer in the mood to teach.

Today, there was a short memorial service at the school. So many teachers and students were out to share grief and release white balloons into the sky. Everyone was crying.

How do you continue on with the school day after such a somber and heart-wrenching event? I tried to go on with lessons, but I broke down again, this time in my fifth period class.

I hate losing control of my emotions, especially in front of my students. I don't like showing my vulnerability, I don't like revealing private thoughts and pains, especially. Not to mention that it makes everyone uncomfortable when they don't know how to comfort you or each other. What is a teacher to do when they are still expected to maintain some semblance of normality and console others' agony when they can barely ease their own?

Surreal

I broke up my first fight today: two girls pulling their hair in a deadlock embrace. When I first saw it, I asked with disbelief to a bystanding student: "Is this a fight?" The student nodded, and then I stepped in to break it up. It was awkward because I never want to grab students like I did, pushing them, and even looking dumbfounded because no one was there to help me.

I was lucky that it was a girl fight. I don't think I could step in the middle of a boys' fight while they throw punches.

The Power of Words

Words have power. Power does not always mean a good thing.

Today, in class, I had an argument with several students about the connotation of words, "gay" and "bitch." First of all, I know that words like that are not even appropriate for the classroom, but no matter how much I try, students stick to the words they know. Forget vocabulary lessons; they don't ever stick.

Anyway, the students and I got into it about the offensive connotation of those words. They defined "gay" as "stupid." That's the definition they know, and they think that's the definition that is right and acceptable now. Forget the dictionary meaning, the historical development of its slang meaning, the connotations and its offensiveness! The word "gay" is inappropriately misused constantly, and I'm sick of it, as with "bitch" and "fuck" and any other noun that's used as an adjective.

I got nit-picky about it, and they got nit-picky about how English is an evolving language. I agreed with that, but the purpose of an English class is to distinguish slang English and standardized English. To teenagers, it's all the same.

I expect too much from the immature teenage mind.

"300"

I saw a sneak preview of "300" this evening. I loved it! I have never seen gore, blood, and violence so beautifully done. I'm not into the whole CG thing, but this film was quite an aesthetic experience.

In comparison with the graphic novel, and the movie does take quite a few liberties with character development, especially with the queen. But it's not the characters that glared so much differently as much as the context. When I read the graphic novel, the whole reason for the war was to protect Sparta from an invasion. While watching the film, I couldn't help but notice that the theme of fighting for liberty was so prominent; it was like war propaganda for Bush. The original comic was published in 1998--well before 9/11 and the Coalition. But to see the story in this time's context, it has a whole different meaning.

But that's the English teacher in me critiquing and analyzing things. The comic geek in me is just so pleased that 98% of the film did not stray from the original comic, and of course, beautiful gore.

It's been a while since I posted a stupid kid story.

This one is a stupid story and an offensive one.

His name is the Mumbler, because he mumbles in class. He mumbles ad-libs when I teach, and when I ask him to repeat it, he says, "Nothing," like a coward. Like a whining child, he has to have the last word in every remark made in class. When I'm teaching, he has to add something, even if it has barely anything to do with the topic. When another student contributes to the discussion, Mumbler has to add a comment.

To put it simply: he is fucking annoying.

Today was the cherry on top. We were discussing Julius Caesar and his physical flaws, one being that he had epilepsy. The students and I discussed epilepsy before because Simon of Lord of the Flies was also an epileptic. Mumbler declared that he wanted to have epilepsy.

What the fuck?

I told him that I did not find his comment funny and that he should count himself blessed because he was healthy. I went off on him after class and how I found his comment offensive; it was an insult to any person who suffered from a dibilitating disease or illness. He did not understand why I was offended until I told him my grandmother suffered from epilepsy. Then he suddenly had the "Oh, shit! I offended the teacher" look on his face. When I asked him why he made that comment, he said because sick people "have an easy life."

I had to stop myself from going on a morality rant, so I told him he was a weakling coward who can't handle life and that asking for a disease was a cop-out. What a shithead.

Am I cruel to wish something bad happen to him so he'll know how easy his life will be when he's a quadraplegic or becomes mentally incapacitated after a car accident or even gets diabetes?

Hell Can Freeze Over

In sunny southern California, known for beaches and the everlasting sun shining upon us, it can be hellish when summer hovers for three (sometimes five) months. This winter has proven that it can be quite cold down here as well.

It snowed up in the mountains this weekend, which is not a rare occurence. The rarity of the weather is that the Santa Ana winds are chillier and more brisk than usual. It freezes the dew on my windshield and it creates frost on the grass. This morning, it created icy patches along the street. Twice, I thought I almost lost control of my car. Damn scary.

New Toy

Rejuvenated

A three-week holiday is just what I needed. I've never felt so productive. I've read three novels, and most importantly, I've been writing again. My brain is on fire and my finger has a callous. I don't want to go back to work.

Non-Stop

I've been grading a stack of papers non-stop since November 24th. I'm finally done, and I have a one day reprieve before I spear-head the schoolwide writing project this Saturday--2700 essays to grade.

My mental energy is hitting the red zone.

My Inner Geek Should Stay in the Closet

Your results:
You are Jean-Luc Picard

Jean-Luc Picard 70% Geordi LaForge 65% Will Riker 60% An Expendable Character (Redshirt) 60% Mr. Scott 45% Leonard McCoy (Bones) 40% Worf 40% Data 39% Spock 37% James T. Kirk (Captain) 35% Deanna Troi 35% Chekov 30% Beverly Crusher 25% Uhura 20% Mr. Sulu 5%

A lover of Shakespeare and other fine literature. You have a decisive mind and a firm hand in dealing with others.

Click here to take the "Which Star Trek character are you?" quiz...

Tiny Surprises

In my last entry, I felt a little peeved because no matter what I did as a teacher, I thought it was all useless.

Several things happened this week that made me begin to believe again that teaching is always about the students. I could be as disgruntled as high as the heavens, but if I remember my job is about the kids, I should remain sane.

The events that happened were like a pat on the back--I must be doing something good. Things like this are rare. It's not everyday a student comes up to me to say thank you--or to any teacher at all. It shows in other ways.

Two students came up to me to ask me to write their recommendations for jobs and colleges. I used to think that writing recommendations is more work, but later came to realize that these students have trust in me. Trust is important between a teacher and student. If a student respects, likes, and trusts a teacher, then they do more for a teacher. These two students--both students from the past years I've been teaching--trust and like me. Writing those recommendations are so much easier than writing a recommendation by a student who just needs one. Trust is a compliment for my personality. I did something right by gaining their trust.

There are several students who I taught in the past and am teaching now who are acting in the school play of "Antigone." I love this play, and to see so many of my students playing in it inspires me. They all later tell me that they, too, liked the play when I taught it to them. They especially remember the crazy PowerPoint I made which I used to lecture about the Oedipus Myth. Everyone hates English, and if they don't hate it, they just don't like reading anything. To hear my students say that they remember "Antigone" or that their favorite book is Lord of the Flies is a compliment to my teaching. I did something right by engaging them and helping them to bring characters to life.

Recently a student wrote an essay in which he explained important events in his life. He wrote about meeting me and how I am one of the few teachers who pushed him to do any work. Just to read that one-third of his essay was about me, my energetic way of teaching, the tough-love approach I have when I tell my students to work, and probably the only teacher who ever believed in him when most teachers were put off my his "gangster" mentality and machismo attitude towards girls and women--all that he wrote about me made me laugh and inspired me. He writes about how I changed his life. He ranks me up there with his grandmother who passed away. Out of all the compliments I received in my life, his touched me the most. I cried when I read his essay. It was a compliment simply to me and everything that I stood for as a teacher.

June 2007 will be a difficult month. I'm going to see the sophomores I taught two years ago graduate as seniors. Most of them still come up to say hello and talk to me. It's nice to know that they haven't forgotten me just because they had me two years ago. It's nice to know that--no matter what I did--I did something right.

Disgruntled

I'm in my fourth year of teaching, and someone once told me that teachers burn out at their fifth year. I didn't believe him, and I said I can't burn out doing something I love.

As a department chairperson, I believe I'm hitting that burnout period now. I'm seeing and learning new things as a department leader. It's like a "behind the scenes" look--not even a look, but more like a peek--of administration. I'm not impressed with what I see at administration or at the district level. There is so much mismanagement and inefficiency that I begin to believe that what I do is futile. No matter how much I want to fight for what is right for students and for teachers, I'm also understanding what is going on at the management level that makes my job that much harder. I feel like I am not supported when I make a decision.

The students are dysfunctional. How can I teach when they lack the basic social skills that is needed to function in society? Manners are the fabric that keep social order, but the students I have in the morning are disrespectful, arrogant, uncaring--the complete physical embodiment of hedonism. They disregard the environment they are in and the people who interact with them. Why does bribery have to be the impetus to get them to do anything? Why do I even have to consider it when I tell students they have to take a test? Whatever happened to doing things just because you have to?

Yet with all these problems that teachers face in the schools everyday, people--even parents-- think that schools will cure society's ills. Society gives us their problems--drug dealers, gangsters, illiterate immigrants, homeless students, runaways, apathetic troublemakers, potential whores, truant hoodlums, and even criminals--and expects them to be socialized into productive members. They want a miracle. Many teachers, myself included, are tired of fixing other people's problems.

People up in their ivory tower are forgetting what schools are about: they are a place of education, not a rehabilitation center. Although we can work at making schools safe, it's no longer a learning environment when we are asked to feed all the poor students, or to counsel pregnant teens, or to study data of why our students are not passing statewide tests. They ask teachers to reflect on their practice and ask ourselves what will make our kids succeed? That's a backhanded way of saying teachers are the problems.

That whole "it takes a village to raise a child" is complete nonsense. Society doesn't want to help raise the child; they dumped the child into our schools and hope that the teachers will raise them--and pass tests. They give us rotten tomatoes and then ask for lemonade.

Sometimes I forget my actual job description.

Reliving My Fanaticism

Early Christmas present to myself.

I bought three DVDs.

Hey, if I'm going to spoil myself, I'm going all out.

Starbucks and tobacco companies

Starbucks has 50% more caffeine than a regular cup of coffee found at restaurants; so just like the tobacco companies, Starbucks will be a company that will be tough to get rid of.

I'm not against Starbucks, but I just had a thought: caffeine is addictive. With the high dosage of caffeine in its coffees, Starbucks is insuring its longevity by creating addicts... just like the tobacco companies.

It's just a thought.

Get Over It and Move On!

When the Tick leeches on, it can't accept change.

There's an important meeting taking place tomorrow, and the Tick is rallying up a battle cry. Everything the Tick does is for the memory of a beloved leader. It reveres this person like African-Americans admire Martin Luther King, Jr. and how Irish people still hang up portraits of John F. Kennedy.

The leader is gone. The leader has a new life. Stop dwelling on the past, Tick, and move on.

The new sheriff in town is a leader for this year, and he has some pretty big shoes to fill, but who says he's not trying?

Parental Pressure

I met a parent today who also happens to work at the school. The parent's kid is in my class. The student is good--in behavior and academics--but it's still difficult to say if he's innately good or pressured into being good.

I get the feeling that he's pressured into being good. Given his parent's approach to asking about his grades, how I teach, my grading standards, I feel that the parent is trying to pressure me into giving the student an A. "He's an A student. If he's getting B's and C's, then we've got some problems," the parent said.

I don't know what the parent meant by the use of "we." We, as in the parent and me are going to butt heads and have issues; or we, as in the parent and child are going to have a long conversation at home?

If I was a first year teacher, I would totally succumb to that pressure. Now that I'm seasoned, I feel much more confident in standing by and defending my grading policies. A's are earned, not given.

If the parent's got issues, well, the buck stops here. I'm also department chair.

Typical Hollywood

When my comic-reading friends would gripe and groan about Hollywood making film versions of beloved graphic novels, I never really understood their "pain," so to speak. My friends would get into long discussions about the politics of comic writers and how their visions become misunderstood when Hollywood is at the helm.

I now share that pain.

My graphic novel: Priest.

A movie is in the works, expected to hit theaters in 2008.

It's a long way off, but I already read a plot summary, courtesy of Internet Movie Database: "A priest disobeys church law to track down the vampires who kidnapped his niece. " First of all, Ivan Isaacs, the title character, was adopted when he was a child. He has no niece.

I shudder to think about this movie. Just the plotline already tells me that I will not be satisfied. There are no vampires in the graphic novel. The comic is about a renegade priest who is possessed and bent on revenge. The story is chockful of Biblical references, good versus evil, fallen angels, heaven and hell, God, forbidden love; not to mention it's total blasphemy to all Christians.

In 2008, I don't want to see a remake of John Carpenter's "Vampires", nor do I want to see a movie that is full of CGI, regardless of how well it will be done. I want a movie that has the same elements of the graphic novel.

I want religious blasphemy, horror, and unattainable tortured love. I want the priest who sins, and a devil who dares to do good. I want beautiful angels who commit murder and savages who salvage humanity.

And not that looks matter, but I want someone else to be Ivan Isaacs. As much as I like Gerard Butler, I think he's too mature and too hunky to play a man of the cloth. Ivan was a young man who became a fighter against his will. He wouldn't have had time to work out and be hunky.

Damn you, Hollywood!

Summer Vacation 2007

Summer 2006 is not even officially over yet, and already I got an email and a call regarding my next summer assignment for another international trip.

Spain, Italy, Southern France, and Monaco--here I come in 2007!

Fresh Start

School starts up again next Wednesday. There are plenty of changes this coming year:

1) I'm teaching freshmen (and no one got me a whip)
2) I moved to a new classroom that is closer to the administration's office (*shudder*)
3) lots of new English teachers have been hired (fresh blood!)
4) I'm one of the new co-department chairpersons (and no one got me a whip)

It's going to be a GREAT year.

New Zealand: Day One--Rotorua

We visited a small town where Lord of the Rings was filmed, but we didn't take a tour of the farm that it was film on. We just passed through the town.

We visited a Wai-o-Tapu, which is a large volcanic plateau of craters and mudbaths. This is called the Devil's Bath, and it changes colors from green to yellow, depending on the season.

G'Day, Mate!

I had no plans for summer until opportunity came knocking--actually, it fell in my lap! I'm going on an international trip where kangaroos, vegamite, and kiwis are to be had; where boomarangs are used for hunting, and taking coral from the Great Barrier Reef is illegal.

How did this come about, you may ask? I applied for a position in the People to People program for next year's delegation, and that's how I got my name in a pool. Let's just say that teachers this year backed out due to personal commitments, and therefore, the program was short on two chaperones. I got called to fill in a spot.

I think of it as more of a business trip rather than a pleasure trip because, technically, I will be working. I will be monitoring and chaperoning high school teenagers who are student ambassadors for the program. Not only am I there to ensure their safety, but also to ensure that they do not do anything shameless that could embarrass and damage relationships between the United States and Australia and New Zealand--oh yeah!--and instruct them on cultural sensitivity. Not that teenagers could do anything irreparable on an international level (*august thinks of Michael Fay's caning in Singapore for graffiti.*)

No pressure...

I leave next Sunday, and I will be gone for three weeks, just in time to still catch the Comic Con.

It's Over!

School ended today. Grades are done.

Free at last.

"Wonderfalls" DVD Set

I saw one episode of this quirky show back in 2004 and I was hooked. Unfortunately, it was cancelled after the fourth episode. I bought the DVD set a month ago, and finally had time to watch all of it. I love it!

Next DVD set to watch: AEon Flux (the animated episodes)

A Sad Commentary About Men and Me

I went to a wedding this weekend, and all I did was dance with a couple of gay guys and got hit on by the father-in-law of the bride.

Am I lucky or what?

*rolls eyes*

I Hate Him, Too

I share my classroom with a teacher who has no classroom management skills whatsoever. I can see it by the way the students ignore him, and when he sometimes ignores them. From what other teachers have said, he tries hard to be cool with the students. He lets his kids get away with too much shit.

And my classroom is constantly a mess when I get there after sixth period. There's gum on the white board or in the tracks of the white board; trash on the floor, books left over, candy wrappers and lollipop sticks stuck to the carpet, minor graffiti on the desks... That's just the small stuff. Last Friday was over the top--graffiti on my posters, stolen pins from the walls, so my posters were crooked, a ghetto drawing of Mexican flag higher than the American flag (I think not!), stolen supplies from drawers, and missing books.

I want to bitch and rant at him because this has been going on since September 2005. I've talked to the teacher before to watch his kids, but nothing has been done. In fact, only more books have gone missing since then. Of all things, why do they steal the books? They don't fucking read them!!! How do I know that? Because they leave their own books in my classroom, stashing it in corners, like it was their own private hideaway locker. Why did they steal my CDs? They can't understand Swedish or Japanese rock music? When I mentioned this to the teacher, all he said was, "Sure... I'll talk to them." He said that with such conviction as he nodded his head with a nonchalant yet timid look; I don't fucking believe him at all. He's worse than the Tick. I heard that the principal is going to make a special visit to his classroom to lecture his students. That's just bad. If the principal has to come in to discipline the students, that just shows that the teacher can't do it or is just plain weak.

I hate him. I want my books back, I want my CDs back, I want my stolen goods back, and I hope he doesn't come back next year.

Kill the Television

I can't resist TV. I don't watch it, but when I do, I'm glued to the couch and a day could be wasted. I don't know why I can't just turn it off... there are so many interesting things to watch. It's probably because I resist it all week when I'm not working that it catches up to me when the weekends arrive.

Should I get rid of the cable?

But if I did, I'll never watch educational things on the History or Discovery Channel ever again... or tear-jerkers on the Hallmark Channel. Damn...

Trust Is Not Unconditional

I have instilled the fear of God in my students. My afternoon classes were in fear for their lives after they heard what had happened in my morning classes. I take comfort in that, that they can still be afraid and learn something from this.

The site is down. That is all I wanted. Things are better, but that doesn't change the fact that it still happened. I think they know better now; they know their roles.

Many of them have voiced their concerns that "said-student" crossed the line, and I think they have learned not to mess with a teacher's or anyone's personal life. If they didn't learn that, then they've learned the value of trust and how it will never be the same once it is severed.

Sometimes I think it is my own fault: I'm too friendly or comfortable with the students. Was I gullible in trusting them? I believe in a respectable teacher-student relationship, but I've always known my role and kept a distance. They've opened themselves up to me, and I've shared things (mostly knowledge and advice and experience) with them. But my private life is still my own.

Maybe next year I have to define my boundaries more. As a professor explained once, there is a difference between being friendly and being a friend. Adults and professionals know where the lines are drawn, but teenagers and adolescents can't distinguish the difference. It's virtually the same and so everything is fair game.

My students just learned the difference yesterday. I hope they'll remember it. (And if they don't, I hope karma bites them in the ass!)

I Hate My Sophomores!

I fucking hate my sophomores now. One of them created a fake website about me over the weekend, and I got wind of it today. Although the site is bare, they put up sensitive info nonetheless: my last name and the school name of where I teach. That's too much information. Not only that, they gave it a title that has a negative connotation.

Fuck them all. I know that only one teenager was responsible for it, but since the majority of teenagers that I teach have a website, they all know who created the site, and they are not going to tell on each other.

My privacy has been violated. I don't trust my sophomores anymore. Life for them is hell from here on out.

YouTube.com

My sister and I were clicking links one evening and found this cute and humorous video:

OK Go's "A Million Ways"

I cannot believe how many high school students actually imitate this video for airband and talent show competitions. I find it fascinating.

Pearl Harbor

The one thing I had to see while I was in Hawai'i. It was a very somber experience.

Alma Mater

Recently, one of my younger sister's friends stopped by to visit her. She had gone on a trip for the weekend and missed her, but he and I stayed up and talked to catch up. He is currently working as a substitute at our old alma mater, and the stories he had to tell me weren't very pleasant. The place has gone to shit. It was taken over by the state (but the rumor-mill says that our school was a scapegoat for three other low-performing schools), the principal was fired yet her legacy still lives on, so staff morale is at an all time low; gang activity is increasing (I mean, how many times have dead bodies been dumped on the front lawn already!?), there have been known attacks on teachers as well as direct profanity. The school probably won't pass WASC this time around. It's so depressing that my old high school, a place I was proud to call my alma mater, is slowly decaying and reviving that gangster reputation that it had in the 1960s.

I asked him why he wants to teach there, and he gave me the same reply I give to my students when they ask me why I teach at a "ghetto" high school: "Even bad schools need good teachers."

I just don't know if I would be able to teach in an environment like that. It sounds ten times worse than where I am now.

When Reputation Precedes You

A seasoned teacher once said that your second year of teaching becomes easier than the first because then you will have a reputation. My third year is coming up. Can you imagine the reputation that already spread between all the students I have had and have now?

I had to make some presentations to the ninth grade honors classes. These are students I know will be coming to me next year. They have to do a summer reading and I gave them the assignment today. Already they are in a state of panic: "What! No extra credit!? Fifty percent of the grade is writing essays!? We have to read two novels now?"

Rumors are going around that I am a strict Nazi English teacher, a witch with a capital B. My current sophomores love me and they can't believe such horrofic names are being said about me! I told them not to quell any of those rumors, and that if any freshmen wants to know what I'm really like, I told my sophomores to just fuel the fire. Burn, baby, burn!

Stress?

I hope I'm not speaking too soon, but this semester doesn't seem as stressful as last semester. I know I'm jinxing myself by saything that...

Musik Non Stop

The album is old, but it's about time I finally picked it for myself.

Rewards

Yours truly got a "Teacher of the Month" award for hard work, most notably for staying late hours and working with the school's most challenging group of students.

I can finally scratch off "get an award for teaching" on my "Things To Do Before I Die" list.

CATE

I went to my first professional conference this weekend in Anaheim. It's called CATE, which stands for California Association for Teachers of English. The district paid for everything--hotel and registration. I really enjoyed the conference. There were so many workshops on writing, reading, and activities; practical activities that I can use in the classroom. I even got a lot of free books and kits for grammar and lesson plans. Besides teachers from my school site, I saw two other teachers from my past--my junior high yearbook teacher and a teacher from another school where I previously worked.

The highlight of the whole event was getting Orson Scott Card to sign a couple of books. He was a guest speaker during a luncheon and he inspired me to start teaching poetry. Before this conference, I didn't care much for poetry, and when I teach it, I usually teach rhyme schemes and patterns and poetic forms. It's a boring way to teach poetry, but I'm not a fan, and therefore, I know I don't teach it well. After Mr. Card's speech though, I was suddenly inspired that I had to get his book of poetry (and his other popular book Ender's Game) and ask him to sign it. Like a crazy fan, I gushed about how I was fueled by his speech and that I will try to teach the art--and heart--of poetry this year. He said he was glad that he left such an impression and wished me luck.

This conference was just as fun as Comic-Con (if that doesn't reveal how much of a nerd I am), and yes, Orson Scott Card is going to be there, too. I should try to get another autograph and maybe give him a follow-up of how I taught poetry. I know he will remember me; we had a funny conversation about my name and how it was spelled when he was signing my books.

Hypocrite Pinkies

I find it extremely annoying that my sophomores declare their communist ideals whenever they refuse to do anything "democratic" in the classroom, such as voting. Then they call me a fascist whenever I try to maintain control and take away their privileges. Whenever they bring up the word "communist" and glorify its ideals and philosophies, I am so tempted to tell them to shut up and start glorifying capitalism and America. Yet I don't. I don't even want to begin to argue with them because it will be like debating with religious fanatics who find every fallacy of arguments to justify their hypocrisy. There is no use in trying to debate logically with those kinds of people.

I can't stand fucking hypocrisy of any kind; they are really beginning to irk the hell out of me with their faux genius.

A Burden Lifted

I have one more set of essays to grade. Next week is finals. A large bulk of essays and grades have been entered. I'm feeling a sense of relief this evening that I want to scream for joy!

Hallelujah!

Implosion

I'm burning out. I got swamped with essays this past weekend, and I didn't get to finish grading them, and the grading deadline is approaching. I stayed up past midnight trying to complete them so I could return them. I decided to take a day off work in order to finish.

I really feel like I'm having a mental breakdown. Here I am... still grading... on my day off. I want to scream...

Monday Happy Hour

I shouldn't drink alcohol on Mondays, but a few teachers and I couldn't resist $3.00 margaritas. I don't drink liquid fire very often, so I'm feeling a strange, unbuzzlike effect. I'm very lucid at this moment as I write this, but my throat feels funny, like it's swollen.

I wonder if I could be allergic to margaritas... or alcohol, in general?

Love that J-Rock!

You have redeemed yourself, Gackt-san! I love this new album.

Moronic

To give you an idea of what students are like in the community where I teach, I shall tell you some stories that have been passed around in department gatherings:

I. "No Child Left Behind"

The No Child Left Behind (NCLB) laws are really targeting teachers' and schools' accountabilities for the quality of their education. In order to ensure quality education, NCLB weeds out teachers who are not qualified to teach in their subject matter. A math teacher can't teach English literature because they are not competent to teach that subject, and this will result in children being left behind because they are not getting the proper education.

So, a counselor was sharing a story about how this law got misinterpreted by a parent. A student who just transferred into the school had to register with the counselor. The counselor reviewed the transcripts and found that the student is deficient on credits and will not graduate on time. The parent piped, "But what about No Child Left Behind?" because he feared that his child will be left behind by not graduating on time. In other words, this parent thought that the NCLB law was a "free credits if you're deficient" program that will ensure his student will graduate on time. This parent thought that by transferring to another school, our school would give his student all the lost credits that he failed to complete at his other school. Yeah fucking right!

II. "No Grades for Tardies"

A fellow English teacher who teaches freshmen shared this story. One of his students who thought English was too hard decided not to attend English class anymore. This teacher hasn't seen this student for the past two months. Said student was going to tardy sweeps instead where students have to stay quiet and write out standards. He attended tardy sweep for the past two months rather than going to class.

The grading period just ended, and said student went to the tardy sweep supervisor and asked him, "What's my grade in this class?" The supervisor told him that there is no grade in this class because it was a tardy sweep; it's a holding tank for late students. The supervisor advised the student to ask his regular teacher to find out his grade. The student goes back to the English teacher and asked him what his grade was. Given that he did not attend class, he is failing. The student complained that English was too much work, so he went to tardy sweep in lieu of regular English class. He thought copying and writing standards in a holding tank was an easier way to get an A than reading a book and writing essays.

III. "But I Need My Credits!"

This is my own story. I was helping a student after school doing an essay, and we worked on it until about 5pm--well into dark. As she was leaving, I told her to walk home safely (she only lived across the street) and escorted her out the door. All of a sudden, I saw the assistant principal marching down the corridor ready to pounce on anyone walking down the hall. She shouted at my student, "Are you in credit recovery? Why aren't you in class?"

"She's not in credit recovery. She was with me," I explained. My student walked away, and then the principal--the most intimidating (yet much loved and admired) woman on campus appeared, too. "What's going on?" I asked.

"Credit recovery classes have a fifteen minute break from five to five-fifteen. Break is over!" the principal muttered under her breath. "What do these students think? I am tired of giving them chances and they're... " she trailed off with a shake of her head.

Suddenly, in the main hall, we spotted six to seven students walking down the corridor with Jack-in-the-Box food in their hands. They're talking loudly with nonchalance as they head back to class without a care or worry that they were about twenty minutes late. The principal and the assistant principal pounced.

"Excuse me! Get over here!" the principal called out to them.

Five or six ran away (stupid cowards!), leaving one student behind with her hand in a Jack-in-the-Box bag grabbing fries. The principal tried to follow the other students who ran off. As she walked off, she said to the girl, "Don't bother going to class. You are late."

"Awww, come on..." the girl started to whine.

"I already told your teacher to mark you absent and anyone else who is not on time from the break. So you can go on home. Get out." The principal pointed to the exit double doors.

"But I need my credits!" The student said with a laugh, thinking she could ease her way back into class with humor.

"No, you needed your Jack-in-the-Box--now get out." The principal kept on walking to find the runaways who high-tailed it back to the classroom. I am sure she found them.

God save the principal!

She's Awesome

My idol. I never thought that in my lifetime would I actually get anywhere near her. Like a complete fangirl, I was speechless. Why am I always rendered silent when I meet great people?

Although it looks classy with just her name, I am debating now whether I should have asked her to personalize it for me.

Communism is the Answer!

Surprisingly, I'm finding that many of my sophomore students are on the verge of communism. I find this startling, yet a little refreshing at the same time. Startling, for the obvious reason that it's anti-American. Refreshing because, as much I have thought to myself that this generation of teens who practically have everything handed to them on platters (i.e. iPods, PSP, cell phones, DVD portable players, brand name clothing), some of them actually do have this great ambition to actually find equality and justice across social classes. They actually do want to try and help others, but they're so pessimistic (i.e. "what's the point if we're going to die anyway?" or "what's the point if no one listens to teenagers anyway?") that it's detrimental at the same time.

Then again... these are my advanced students. If there's one thing I've learned, and most AP teachers have warned me, is that advanced students are one-sided in all their opinions; never really doing full research. Add arrogance to that--they think they're geniuses just because they're in an honors program--and you have a person who is ready to conquer the world with all the wrong ideas.

Poker Night

Coworkers decided to start a poker night: once a month. Twenty dollar buy-in. I thought that was a bit expensive, but with ten people playing, that was a pretty high pot. I lost; ended up in fifth place. Before leaving, I convinced the crowd for a ten dollar buy-in at the next game.

Discipline Is Not an Emotion

Tonight, some asshole made some comment to me about being cold and unemotional. Coming from him, makes it all the more insulting.

The first time he said it to me was in regards to my teaching. "You have a different connection to students because you don't know what they're going through," he said.

"I realize that students have personal problems that they bring into the classroom. I'm not unsympathetic to their needs. I do talk to them, and adjust assignments if they need it."

"But that's it," he said. "You're just... sheltered."

"Sheltered?" I repeated with disgust.

"You've had a perfect life. You've never experienced something emotionally traumatizing, so you don't connect with students like I do."

"I don't think I need a traumatizing event that has shaken me so emotionally to better connect with students. I can pretty much understand what they're going through when they start ranting to me or crying to me."

The gist of that conversation was that he believed that if I were in tune with my emotions more, I can have better connections with my students. I don't believe in that. I don't believe that a person needs to have an emotionally trying experience to be more understanding of one's own emotions or another person's emotions--or in our case-- to have better understanding of teenage emotions or better relationships with students.

Tonight, this conversation came up again, in regards to actual teaching. I made a constructive criticism about his teaching, which I think can be improved if he works on it. He took it as a personal affront and got defensive about it. He starts to make a comparison between us that I'm a better teacher because I can turn off my emotions. "I'm not emotionally balanced as you, so I can't balance my work. I'm not like you. You have high standards, but we all can't meet that."

I've heard his story before, and I was sympathatic at first, but if he's going to start using that as an excuse for everything that he can't do, I'm not buying it anymore.

"They're not my standards, neither am I holding you to them."

"I am more emotional than you. I can't turn off my emotions like you."

"Don't even go there," I shot back. "It's not about emotional balance; it's about discipline. I choose to stay here and work my ass off. I choose to stay here and organize and pull my shit together so I'm not running around with my head cut off tomorrow morning."

"Again, I'm not like you. You don't understand how the imbalance in my personal life affects my professional work. I don't have that balance that you have because you don't know the emotional things I go through."

We were just arguing two different things at that point.

"No, we're not even going there," I said and waved off the conversation. "It's discipline, not me turning off my emotions."

His argument about an emotional imbalance affecting his work is equivalent to a former student saying that she didn't do her homework because she's black. I really wanted to tell him that his "emotional imbalance" is a lousy excuse for not pulling his own weight because he's been using that excuse for a while already. As they say in the workplace, "Get your shit together."

Teachers and Students Are Just Alien to Each Other

Random thoughts...

I.
Teachers have unique personalities. We have to--in this job, it's almost needed, especially in the English and history departments. Those teachers are just plain freaks; they study people and personalities and society. Compound that with all the learning they have done, you have a genius who is sociable and witty, but still a generation away from their students, therefore, crazy by students' standards.

II.
I played Depeche Mode in class yesterday for background noise while the students worked on posters. One student immediately made a criticism: "I can't work in these conditions. Goth is so depressing and dumb and emo!"

"They're not Goth!" I shot back.

"How many Goths does it take to screw in a light bulb?" he asked. I just narrowed my eyes at him without saying anything. He continued with a fake falsetto, "I don't know. I'll just hit here in the dark and cry. Oh, boohoo!"

"They're not Goth!" I repeated. "They're 80's, and their music was called synth-pop. They're still considered rock now."

"Emo!"

"Oh, yeah... Slayer isn't death metal. It wasn't in my time and it still isn't now!"

Another class argued that Nine Inch Nails was also Goth.

III.
Today, a group of students asked if I could monitor their club because their current advisor had to leave early. They used my room to hold their meeting. Can you guess the club? Anime. I have always hesitated to be associated with the anime club, but now a good majority of students know I like anime. I think they are secretly plotting to overthrow their current advisor because they want me instead-- a knowledgable teacher who knows anime and a bit of Japanese culture. A few said that they saw me at Anime Expo this past summer. I don't want to see my students in my personal time. I'm going to avoid all of them if they make an attempt to say hello to me at next year's Anime Expo.

I Feel So Used...

I hate to say it. I really like my colleagues, but a certain teacher is beginning to annoy me. I shall call this teacher the Tick (gender will not be disclosed).

As a seasoned teacher, I thought that Tick would contribute more to help out new teachers as well as teachers who teach the same curriculum as Tick does. Tick has been coming to me before or after school asking how I teach certain things. I don't mind sharing tips and ideas, but I draw the line at asking for lesson plans. There's a limit to that. I'll give if a new teacher needs something to start on, I'll give if a teacher is really desperate, but I start to become selfish and irked when a teacher is just plain lazy. Tick was so lazy that it asked for worksheets that were found in the same teacher's edition that we were all given at the beginning of the school year. Tick went into my file cabinet looking for worksheets and lessons. Tick went into my teacher bookshelf and took out books that it wanted to borrow. When I'm typing up lessons or ideas, Tick will ask for a copy through email.

Lesson planning is an art. Sure, I've taken lesson plans from other teachers, but I always modify it to fit my style of teaching and edit certain things and focus on certain skills. I make it my own. Every little lesson plan I create is like a little part of who I am. I have never asked for a lesson plan, made a hundred copies of it, and then passed it out to students--out of pure desperation. I always make time to look it over, ponder how I'll teach it, and then modify it how I see fit. Even now, when I look back at the lesson plans I've created as a student-teacher, I can see how much I've grown and developed as a professional teacher.

I never want to look like a fool in front of students who will catch something that I can't explain or an error that I did not do--or Heaven forbid--can't teach a lesson that I did not make or understand. It's not professional. Because I am a professional, I take the time to look at things and plan, even if planning means having to stay five chapters ahead of the students, or having to stay until 9pm, or having to come in on Saturdays to plan accurately and perfectly.

If I put a great amount of labor into my work, I feel used when a teacher just takes my work without thinking of how they'll use it. When I hand off a lesson plan to a teacher, they think it's easy because they don't have to reinvent the wheel. But as a teacher, one should always think about reinventing the wheel to make it better. It's good for the teacher and for the students.

Feeling Great

When I began eating more healthy, I wasn't on a diet. I was just making a conscious decision to change my eating habits because my mother is always pointing out that I eat too much junk food. The salads I've been munching on are great, and I didn't really think that it would affect me that much because I still drink too much soda and munch on other junkie snacks.

The last time I weighed myself, I was at 155 lbs during the summer. I weighed myself yesterday, and I clocked in at 140 lbs. I can't believe I've lost that much! True, my jeans are more loose than before, but it's unbelievable. And even if it's incorrect, it's still an encouraging thought.

Is The Fun Over So Soon?

My afternoon classes have only tortured three students. We haven't seen any more. I think my method for disciplining is working... much to the dismay of my students, who are eager to put freshmen in their places.

With A Little Help From My Students...

To assist a first year teacher, I agreed to take her problem students into my class for a quick 10-min time out session. I warned my afternoon classes that we would be having "guests" every once in a while. They accepted the task I gave them with such glee and pleasure.

I began, "I'm helping out a teacher who has some problem students. She's going to send them here, and I want you to torture him."

The class reacted with an excited, "YEAH!!!!"

Caustic Tongue, my sarcastic student to date--he and I have a jokey yet respectful banter every once in a while--was especially excited. I gave the entire class rules on how I want them to torture the guest.

"I don't want you to insult him," I said. "I want you to make him feel bad. I want you to make him reflect about what he's done and be regretful about it. Stress the importance of school and passing classes because the bottom line is: this student wants to take a vacation by being suspended or detention in another classroom. I want you to make him see that that is not a wise decision."

Another student asked, "Can we mad-dog him? Can we get into his face?"

"No, you can't touch him physically, but you can give him dirty looks. In fact, let's all stare him down when he comes in. No laughing. Let's make him as uncomfortable as possible."

I could already see my students jiggling in their seats with enthusiasm. After setting the guidelines, I continued with my lesson. About fifteen minutes into it, a student poked her head in and asked if it was okay to send the problem student. I answered in the affirmative, and I heard Caustic Tongue add, "Yeah, send that loser in."

I continue with the lesson, and about thirty seconds later, a student walked into the room. He strutted in with that fake limp that all bad boys do, but as soon as he saw all twenty-eight of my students staring him down, I saw his shoulders slump.

"Have a seat," I said and pointed to the front corner desk near my teacher's desk.

The whole class continued to stare and got a good look at him since he sat at the front.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"[Bobohead]," he replied. [Pseudonym for confidentiality.]

I was hoping my students would start asking the questions, but they didn't know how, so I continued, "Why did your teacher throw you out?"

"Because I was... laughing." He kept looking at his two sheets of paper.

"You were only laughing?"

"Someone was making shadow-puppets on the [overhead] light."

"So, you were disrupting your class?" I rephrased.

At this point, some of my students just started shaking their heads in disappointment, while they continued to stare.

He made some more excuses, but I kept repeating, "You were disrupting your class?"

He shrugged it off.

"Do you have any work with you?"

"No," he replied with a little more gusto, like he didn't want to do any.

"Well, while you're in here, you're going to work. If you have paper, you can write a letter of apology to your teacher. You have ten minutes. Start working."

"What if I don't want to?" he threatened.

"Then you are defying a teacher, and I'll send a referral."

"Make him read it out loud, Ms. G," one of mine suggested, and the entire class agreed with nods and murmurs of approval.

His shoulders slumped again and he unfolded the two sheets of paper.

Caustic Tongue chirped, "I'll keep time, Ms. G."

"Thank you," I nodded.

My students finally pulled their stares away so I could continue the lesson. While I conducted class, I noticed Caustic Tongue kept looking over Bobohead's shoulder and reminding him how many minutes he had left. At the five-minute mark, Bobohead turned around and gave a dirty look to Caustic Tongue, like he wanted to start something. Fortunately, my student can hold his own. He towered over Bobohead and warned, "What! You're only in the ninth grade and already you're getting into trouble!"

I only nodded my approval, and Bobohead completely shut up.

My students gently reminded me that the ten minutes were up. So we all turned our attention to our special guest.

"All right," I said, "read your letter to my class."

He stumbled over the words, but his sentences were full of "I'm sorry for this-and that." There was a change in his story: he admitted to making the shadow puppets and confessed to being the cause of disruption. Because he stumbled over some words, my students said, "I didn't hear that. Can you read that part again?"

"Yeah, read that last part again."

With a sigh, Bobohead repeated a section of his letter. The best part was: "Please don't send me here again. The other students only embarrass me." At this, my students smiled with pride.

"Now, Bobohead, I want you to give that letter of apology to your teacher, and I don't want to see you again. If you have to come here again, I'll be the one to send a referral. Caustic Tongue, please escort him back to class and make sure that he gives that to his teacher."

They got up and left. As soon as the door shut, my students laughed. "He almost cried!"

"Did he?" I asked.

"He was sniffling!"

"And he changed his story, did you notice that?" someone else added.

"Yes, he did," I replied.

Thirty seconds later, Caustic Tongue returned and he was laughing his heart out.

"What happened?" I asked.

"He was about ready to cry. He said that he can't get into any more trouble because he's already in trouble with his parents for getting caught smoking weed."

My entire class burst into hysteria.

"He admitted that to you?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes!" he laughed.

"Should we tell administration about that?" another student asked.

"Well, his parents already know, and if he's telling people about it, then I'm sure that means the school already knows also. Good job, class!" I applauded them and they applauded each other.

"This class is so fun," added Caustic Tongue. "I hope that teacher sends another one tomorrow."

As soon as class was over, I went to the nearest Best Buy and bought Depeche Mode's new album. I had no expectations, but I really like the what I hear. My favorite songs so far are "Precious" and "John the Revelator." And of course, David's voice is so edgy-awesome.

My Inner Politician

This past weekend, while attending a party of a dear old friend, I met a fellow blogger, Alfonso. It's nice to meet other people who write blogs; it's like putting a name and face to what is normally just HTML and text. Alfonso likes politics. I normally don't post on politics but that is because I'm not as knowledgable as Alfonso or Derek. If I had any latent politician inside of me, I always felt that I was a Republican. I wouldn't dare mention that in the workplace. The majority of teachers are Democrats. This is why I never explored any political thoughts in depth and repressed any political ideals.

But after talking with Alfonso, and learning about the other parties and political idealogies out there, he says I'm a libertarian, which is an extremity of Republicanism. The only shocking thing about this is: I never thought my politics were very extreme.

Depeche Mode

In anticipation of their new album, Playing the Angel, I recently went on a Depeche Mode binge and bought four of their CDs: Violator, Songs of Faith and Devotion, and Catching Up With Depeche Mode. I'm still waiting for Ultra to be delivered in the next two weeks. I'm reliving my youth as I listen to Violator, but Faith and Devotion is quickly growing on me again. (I can't believe I used to own these albums on tape!) I like David Gahan's voice... haunting rich baritone with a smooth melancholic vibrato.

I can hardly wait until Playing the Angel finally comes out!

Life is Good

I. Career

Teaching students in the advanced courses is so much more different than the students I had last year. Being with students who actually want to learn is so rewarding. I feel I'm accomplishing something every day. They make me feel that I'm productive and that I am doing something right in the world... and all that time before, I was feeling guilty that I was just a bad teacher.

II. Health

Lunch is now consistent. Unlike last year, when I would snack on junk food or skip lunch occasionally, I'm now consistently eating salad. I make it every night before going to bed--leafy Romaine lettuce, red-leaf lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, hard-boiled eggs, mizuna, baby spinach, croutons, corn, Bacos, and Italian dressing. Maybe the croutons, Bacos, and dressing isn't as healthy, but they're still good. I'm feeling healthier. I noticed that I'm a little more active; I'm less tired during the day, and I always feel that little pep... like shots of energy that keep me going hour after hour. If only I had kept to swing dancing, it would complete my new healthy lifestyle.

Only the Money

I've lived in my new place for about two months now. Since then, I've paid two cycles of bills. At each of these times, I've notified credit card companies that my address has changed. Yet I'm getting a third round of bills with my old address still on it.

I don't think those collectors--or whoever opens the bills to take my checks-- ever bother to look for updated information. I mean, how many times do I have to keep writing my "new" address? It's not so new anymore.

Starting Over

Starting a new school year is like starting over. Not many professions are like that, where one can perfect their practice every year and make a conscious decision about it. There's that break between school years where I can pause to think about what I can do to make this year better, more perfect; it's a chance to really hone skills and actually see if I've made progress in being a better teacher.

I can't wait for this year to start. I'm teaching one junior class--and to my relief, no one from that tenth grade hell class from last year is in it. I sure don't want to see those kids again. The other four classes consist of advanced tenth graders... you know, the nerds, the gifted group. Oh, God... they'll actually turn in their homework. Here's to pulling long nights again...

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.

Death Comes in Three

In 1997, I can recall three famous people who died during summer:

Princess Diana
Versace
Mother Teresa

Now in 2005, three famous and controversial people died during Easter season:

Terri Shiavo
Pope John Paul II
Prince Ranier

In both these sets, there is a religious person, a royal person, and lay person.

Everything I Know, I Learned from Horses

There are two quotes that come to mind when people ask me what teaching is like. These are also the same quotes I say to myself to make myself feel better when I feel like I'm a lousy teacher.

The first quote: "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink." No matter how well I try to teach and teach to the best of my capabilities, I still can't make a student want to learn. I can teach them to read, but that doesn't mean they'll understand. I can teach them to write, but that doesn't mean they'll think and have ideas on their own. I can teach them compassion, but that doesn't mean they'll practice it.

The second quote: "... like beating a dead horse." I can pound these lessons over and over and over again... and I'll still get nowhere.

It's depresssing, but at times it can be uplifting. I know it's not my fault if these kids fail. I know that I've done every little thing I possibly can. I've reached my limits. The kids still need to reach theirs.

Go Home!

I had tutorial after school today from 3-4pm. At 4pm, it was actually nice and quiet and peaceful. I locked my door and got down to work. I was working as a busy bee when at 5:15pm, Needy comes knocking on my door. Luckily, it was locked and I was working at my desk where I can't be seen from the windows. A few moments later, he went away.

Only nerds stay at school past 5pm, and Needy is not one of those kids. Oh, he irks me!