Public Service Announcement

{courtesy of my 8th grade yearbook}

I realize that not everyone was fortunate enough to have the inimitable Mrs. Donoghue for three years of English instruction in their formative years, so it is with what I hope is the unique blend of firmness and compassion that characterized Mrs. Donoghue's own instructional style that I issue the following public service announcement.

When attempting to explain causation, one can use the word reason or the word because, not both. Everyday I hear very intelligent people say, "The reason _____ is because ______." Stop doing that, people. It's redundant. What they mean to say is, "The reason that I make grammatical errors is Mrs. Donoghue didn't teach at my school." Or, more likely, "I make grammatical errors because Mrs. Donoghue didn't teach at my school."

While we're on the topic of redundancy, let's clear something up, shall we? When we're talking about time, a.m. stands for ante meridiem, which is Latin for before midday or before noon; p.m. stands for post meridiem or after midday. Soooo - you should not say, "Let's meet for coffee at 6 a.m. in the morning" because a.) too early and b.) redundant. Likewise, "I'm going to go out at 10 p.m. tonight" is both redundant and, in my case, probably a lie because that's my bedtime.

Side note - did you know that, in British slang, redundant means "laid off?" Just saying. 

I suspect that Mrs. Donoghue knew that she was meant to be my grammar sensai because she moved from the middle school to the high school the same year that I did. I had her for 7th and 8th grade, but obviously, she sensed that my training was not quite complete, so she took a job at the high school and I had her again in 10th grade. By the time sophomore year rolled around, she had remarried and become Mrs. Hannaford, but that never really stuck and she let those of us who knew her when continue to call her Mrs. Donoghue. I will leave you with this picture from my 12th grade yearbook that perfectly illustrates the awesome that is Mrs. Donoghue/Hannaford.

{pure badassery}

All those other teachers showed up for picture day to get their boring headshots, and Mrs. Donoghue's all, "What's up, students? Prepare to be schooled." 

One last thing - when I was teaching, I gave the same pre-test speech that Mrs. Donoghue recited every, single time that she gave us a quiz or a test, "This is a test. There will be no communicating, sharing,  gathering of information or you will lose your paper, take a zero, no questions asked." We never made a peep. In fact, Taylor Perry once sat there, blood gushing from his nose, raising his hand and waiting for permission to get up because we knew Mrs. Donoghue did not play when it came to tests. I never quite reached that level of mastery, and I'm pretty sure that my students thought I was a little crazy, but I think that was at least half the point. Either way - it worked, just like everything else she taught me.

Happiness - According to Ms. Luella Bates Washington Jones

I find a lot of joy in the little things. In fact, I find joy in finding joy in the little things, so I try to document those layers of joyfulness whenever possible. Usually, they sneak up on me so my phone serves as my means of documentation. Here are some of the happy things Ms. Luella Bates Washington Jones has captured lately.

{It is absurd how happy a new set of colored pens can make me. My love of school supplies goes way back and was a significant factor in my decision to become a teacher. Then I learned that the students had a tendency to abscond with them.}

{Now that I'm not teaching, it's easier to keep awesome colored pens around, but it's slightly more difficult to justify their purchase. Let's just say my to-do lists are very pretty.}

{This is from a while ago, but the combination of Tom, Lucy, and a healthy glass of Zin makes for a very happy time indeed.}

{Tom and I were very late to the party on this one, but seriously? I love these characters so much that I am willing to believe all the crazy-ass nonsense that they get into.}

{Hi there.}

{Mom busting a move}

{Lucy wanted in.}

{the succulent wreath in action}

Happiness - According to Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones

Have I not introduced you to Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones? How embarrassing! Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones is my cell phone, of course. My family has a long and cherished history of naming inanimate objects; I believe it goes back to my mom's first (?) car - the Unsinkable Molly Brown. I don't know whether Tom's family had this tradition as well or if he just embraced that particular quirk with all the others when we got married. I do know that we have a cooler named Wellington and that our Apple TV is called Sir Francis Awesome.

In any event, my phone's name is Ms. Luella Bates Washington Jones, and while I wish that I could take credit for coming up with that, she is named after the character in Langston Hughes' Thank You, M'am. I read that story to my students every year when we talked about character development, and I loved it more every time. If you haven't read it, you should. It won't take you five minutes, and Ms. Jones is totally worth it. She is tough and kind and wonderful. The kids always liked the part where Ms. Jones turns to face her would-be mugger and then kicks "him right square in his blue-jeaned sitter." Of course, at first they couldn't figure out what happened, but once they did, they were pleased to have a more eloquent way to say ass. Annnnyway, I started writing this with the intention of sharing a few pictures from my phone of things that have made me smile over the last week or so, but I have gone off on a tangent, and now memories of sharing Langston Hughes with students are making me happy but also a teensy bit sad...

Speaking of school nostalgia, I made a very brief (less than 24 hours) trip to San Diego last week to collect some classroom stuff that I had been storing in my parents' garage. Everything in the garage was headed to storage in preparation for the addition (yeah, that's happening) that is about to get underway. I hadn't expected to feel so sad as I dumped lesson plan after lesson plan in to the recycling, but I also hadn't expected to find a stack of letters I received on my first ever Teacher Appreciation Day. The letters were so sweet, and for a second I forgot about all the bad stuff, the stuff that burned me out and bummed me out, and I wanted to be in front of a classroom again. Good thing I have photos of slanderous graffiti written about me to keep me from making a rash decision in moments like these...only partly kidding.

Shockingly, I am now two tangents away from where I thought I was heading. All I really wanted to do was show you this picture of my parents and Lucy watching TV together, but then I got all caught up in the back story... Point is - quality time with the fam and Lucy always makes me happy.

They tried to stay firm on the whole no-dogs-on-the-sofa thing, but Lucy believes she's a lap dog, and no one has the heart (or inclination) to tell her different.

While we're on dogs, I'm convinced that this guy can see into my soul. I spent three lights trying to catch up with him...I felt like the puppy paparazzi. The puparazzi? Ugh, I can't believe I just took it there. Dogs that hang their heads out of car windows make me happy.

Seeing Tom excited makes me happy. He finally used some of the windfall from his giant CD sale to buy himself a new toy serious musical instrument, a pedal steel guitar. It arrived yesterday and was promptly set up in the middle of the living room.

Bright pink dahlias from the farmers market make me happy, so does the blue mason jar that I bought for 25 cents at a yard sale.

While we're on flowers, my ability to not only keep an orchid alive, but get it to flourish and rebloom is making me happy. Tom gave this to me the day I moved to Los Angeles. I arrived bleary-eyed, sick, and weepy, and Beauregard (that's the orchid's name, obviously) made me feel a little better, so I'm glad that I've been able to keep him alive.

Trips to the library make me happy. The West Hollywood library doesn't have the old school romance of the downtown library (probably because it was built this year), but it is beautiful just the same. The second floor has floor to ceiling windows that look out at the Pacific Design Center across the street.

Do all libraries have plenty of copies of Variety on hand, or is that an L.A. thing?

Gratitude - Day Eleven

So, you know those extraordinarily lazy weekend days that leave you feeling slightly guilty but also super relaxed? The ones you rationalize because it's cold and grey and rainy? [My parents are shaking their heads no right now.] Well, today was one of those days around here; in other words, it was stupendously unproductive. And Tom and I are about to finish off the evening with a dumb comedy (The Change Up, most likely), so I'm copping out a bit on today's post.

Obviously, I'm grateful for lazy, rainy Saturdays that end with red wine and dumb comedies, but that's not particularly interesting. I am, however, also grateful for satire, which is interesting and far more entertaining than my day's inactivity. Satire directed at the media and current events is a particular favorite.

I believe this genre began with Weekend Update and the inimitable Chevy Chase.



The Onion was next, and it was this clip that inspired today's post. This perfectly captures the absurdity of the "news" reported by the 24 hour networks.



Breaking News: Some Bullshit Happening Somewhere

And then there is my favorite, The Daily Show. I might have a (not so) secret crush on Jon Stewart too. I love this show most when he points out the ridiculous hypocrisy of the talking heads and  politicians. The following two clips are several months old, but they are hilarious, maddening, and, speaking as a teacher, incredibly gratifying. I guess sometimes it's more productive to turn anger and frustration into comedy. Each clip is about five minutes but worth your time if you have it.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Crisis in Dairyland - Angry Curds
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog The Daily Show on Facebook

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Crisis in Dairyland - For Richer and Poorer - Teachers and Wall Street
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog The Daily Show on Facebook

Lest you think they only pick on Fox News, here's a clip of Stewart poking fun at the bombast on MSNBC...

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Olbertunity Knocks
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog The Daily Show on Facebook

Finishing Strong

Today I'm saying thanks for the Southern California sunshine that makes it possible to enjoy outdoor activities in the end of November. Yesterday was sunny and cool and perfect for hiking, so Tom and I headed to Cowles Mountain in Mission Trails Park. While not the most rigorous of hikes (there were chihuahuas and five year-olds scrambling up alongside us), it felt good to start the day with some exercise and fresh air.

The views were well worth the trek to the top.

I have thoroughly enjoyed the last week and am so thankful that I have a job that offers such abundant vacation time. This past week had the perfect balance of activity and vegging and with another three-week vacation in sight, I will head back to school tomorrow with renewed energy.

With just three weeks to go in the semester, I am trying not to think about all of the things that we didn't get to and all of the things that my students still can't do and don't know. Instead, I am going to celebrate the small successes and bust my ass to keep the enthusiasm level up as the end of the semester looms to show the kids the importance of "finishing strong." One of the teachers at my last school used to ignore casual Fridays in favor of dressing in a full suit and tie at the end of the week. He told his kids that he dressed up on Fridays to remind them that that people won't remember that you got off to a rough start as long as you finish strong. Some times I think that my job is more about teaching life lessons than English lessons.

The truth is that my classroom is like a giant fun house mirror; the students' attitude is always a distorted or exaggerated reflection of mine. If I am tired and impatient, they are hyper and distracted; if I am enthusiastic and cheerful, they are cooperative and engaged. So instead of starting my usual end-of-vacation inner whinologue about how I don't want to go back to school tomorrow, I am going to go write an awesome lesson plan and get the week off to a kick-ass start. I know I've let my attention to lesson planning slide over the past month or so, but it's on now. Finish strong, baby, finish strong!

{I fear this picture gives the impression that I am going to awkwardly punch someone... That was supposed to be me flexing.}

Books

I have loved books for as long as I can remember. In fact, one of my earliest memories is sitting on the floor in the stacks at the Coronado library deciding which Nancy Drew to read (or reread) next. Fiction, nonfiction, poetry, travel, biography, memoir, even cookbooks, I love them all, and so bookstores are some of my favorite places. I love that I live within walking distance of a street with not one, but two used bookstores. Today, I had a lovely excuse to visit both 5th Avenue Books and Bluestocking Books.

I became an English teacher in part because of my passion for reading. It is something that has given me so much joy, and as I slogged through the education theory classes of my teacher ed program, I imagined sharing my love of reading with my students. I looked forward to discussing books with them. I imagined turning them on to the way that books allow you to get around the cruel fact that we have only this one life to live, because books allow you to live vicariously, to try on different lives and walk for awhile along someone else's path. The reality of teaching, however, has been somewhat different from what I envisioned.

I teach struggling readers, ninth graders whose reading abilities are below grade level. Some of my students are getting close to proficiency, reading at about a seventh grade level, others read at fifth or sixth grade level, and still others read about as well as proficient second graders. Not surprisingly, most of my students hate reading; I mean they really loathe it. During our daily silent reading time, many of them will sit and stare blankly at their fingernails rather than attempt to read. I can't say that I blame them; I hate doing things that I'm not good at...taking out the garbage or vacuuming for instance.

{My old friends Tom and J.D. ... I'm unfamiliar with Luis, but I'm sure he's swell}

 In all seriousness though, I get it. I always loved reading because I was good at it; math, however, I detested because I was not good at it. It makes sense. Still, adjusting to the reality of the population that I'm teaching has been a struggle. It's not that I feel sorry for myself because instead of moderating great literary debates on color symbolism in The Great Gatsby or issues of justice in The Stranger, I am actually teaching reading. Rather, the hardest part for me is seeing how committed to hating reading some of my students are. It really breaks my heart to know what they are missing out on, especially because these are the kids who most need the escape of reading.

This is all a lot of background to explain why after work today, I happily went to three bookstores in search of a copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Today Peter, a kid who has been defiantly refusing to finish a book all year, suddenly turned a corner and said that he really wanted to read The Wizard of Oz (primarily written at the Hotel Del, by the way). The only copy that our school library had was a monumentally intimidating 600 page annotated version which threatened to squash any positive momentum in Peter's reading life. So when I failed to turn up a copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz at either of the used bookstores by my house, I headed to Border's, found a copy in five minutes and then spent another fifty strolling the aisles.

I'm not sure what brought about the sudden shift in Peter's willingness to make a serious attempt at completing a book. I suspect it has something to do with the fact that he, along with many of his reluctant reader peers, is thoroughly enjoying the novel that I have been reading aloud to the class. For many of them it will be the first novel that they have ever completed. I am doing all of the reading while they follow along and even after forty-five minutes, when my voice is completely shot from my spirited interpretation of the various characters, they beg me to keep reading. When I first started teaching, I would never have guessed how much ninth graders like to be read to, but they do. I suspect that many of them have never had anything read to them for the simple pleasure of enjoying a good story. It also helps that we are reading a Vietnam war story with realistic dialogue which means they get to hear their teacher drop the F-bomb every few pages.

Soooo, today I'm grateful for books, for authors, for the owners of used bookstores who have the will to survive on what I can only imagine are very thin margins in these economic times. I'm thankful for the power of a well-told story (and a few strategic F-bombs) to capture a student's attention. I'm also very much looking forward to the effect of the guilt trip I am going to lay on Peter tomorrow when I explain that I went to three bookstores in search of this book so he damn well better finish it.

Unrelated, but also enjoyed this evening was this sign:

I wonder if imaginary Boston Terriers are invited to the Tea Pawty... I think Emerson would quite enjoy the outing.

{My imaginary dog as photographed by daphenator}

Figuratively Speaking

Attempting to reteach simile and metaphor to a group of four ninth graders today...

Me: Ok, so we know that a simile compares two things using the words like or as, right?

Students nod convincingly.

Me: Well, a metaphor also compares two things, but it doesn't use those words like or as. So instead of saying the girl had eyes like emeralds, we would say the girl had emerald eyes or the girl's eye's sparkled like emeralds. Does that make sense?

Students in unison: Uh huh.

Me: Ok then, let's try one. Let's think of a simile and then turn it into a metaphor.

Students stare blankly in my general direction.

Me: How about another example first? If I wanted to write a simile about clouds, I would think about what clouds are like... Well, they're white and fluffy, right? So I would think about what else is white and fluffy...hmmm. Cotton is white and fluffy, so I might say that the clouds looked like cotton balls floating in the sky. You with me?

Students: Yah. Uh huh. Yes! (Alex just nods coldly as is his custom.)

Me: Now, if I want to turn that simile into a metaphor, I need to get rid of the word like and make a more direct comparison. How could we turn that into a metaphor?

Angel: (enthusiastically) The clouds are white and fluffy.

Me: (deep inhale and long pause to look around for someone to correct Angel) Ummm, no, not quite. We're still going to compare them to cotton balls, we're just going to take out the word like. So we end up with the clouds are cotton balls floating in the sky.

Angel nods agreeably. Lara draws a cloud in her notes. Rico makes hilarious eye contact with someone across the room. Alex stares at me with dead eyes.

Me: (trying for enthusiasm, likely ending up closer to deranged determination) Let's try to write a simile and a metaphor about something. How about....the sun? What can we say about the sun? What should we compare it to?

Students look at me expectantly.

Me: (encouragingly, possibly crazily) You try! The sun is...

Angel: (gamely) The sun is...yellow!!!

Ricoo: (excited now) The sun is hot!!!

Me: (defeated) Yup. Ok. Uh huh. But we have to compare it to something. What else is yellow?

Angel: Chickens!

Rico: My shoes!

Laa: (disgusted with Ernesto) Chickens are not yellow, tonto.

Alex: (threateningly) . . .


I'm not entirely sure what happened after that as I entered a catatonic state for the remainder of the class period.

Back to School

The past three weeks have been a blur of back-to-school busyness fueled by Thai takeout and punctuated with a fabulous anniversary celebration, family dinners, and more list reduction.

 {my home away from home}

{I have also been spending an obscene amount of time and money here. Then again, the promise of yearly back-to-school shopping is at least 25% of the reason I became a teacher-see colored pens below..}

{Sra. Cusimano lays down the law.}

 {After ten to twelve hours on campus, making dinner is not in the cards. Saffron has been the beneficiary.}

 {In addition to setting up the room, writing lessons, and getting to know students, my work at school has included waging war on the legions of ants that have invaded.}

{It wasn't all work and ant warfare-we celebrated two years of husband and wifedom with the last bottle of wine from the wedding and an incredibly indulgent plate of lobster and crab legs.}

 {a little preview of the latest list accomplishment}

What a Difference a Year Makes

I just found the following written in a notebook that I briefly used as a journal last fall.

   "Confession: Sometimes I crank the heat up because I know the fourteen-year-old hussy who's shooting  daggers at me from the second row can't take her hoodie off without being sent to the assistant principal's office again for the hoochie mama top she's wearing."

Happily, this year is off to a much better start than last year, so I have not yet found it necessary to passive aggressively torture my students with the thermostat. Fingers crossed.

One Week In

This is about the only coherent thought that I can form at the end of the day...

{7.17.10_198/365}

I've only had students for four days, and I'm still adjusting to being back at school. And by that I mean, I have abandoned all semblance of balance in my life, deserted the gym, and eaten almost nothing besides takeout since the kiddos returned last week.  I am out of teacher shape for sure. I went from spending all day alone and living pretty much schedule-free, to spending all day with fourteen-year-olds and having to regulate my fluid intake in order to not pee my pants between tightly scheduled fifteen minute bathroom breaks.  

I'll get there though; this year is already off to a much better start than last. I don't want to good mouth it yet, but it looks like I have only a couple of hooligans to wrangle this year. This is a welcome change from last year when the balance of each class leaned strongly in the hooligan direction.

Thirty Great Books

A sample of some of the books on my original, highly ambitious, guilt-induced list.

I was not an English major in college, so no one ever required me to read "the classics," and I preferred most leisure reading in the more easily digested format of chick lit like Bridget Jones' Diary. Now, I am not in any way denigrating this genre or its cousins, beach trash and airport novels; I love me some mass-market fiction. However, I can no longer bullshit my way through English teacher debates about the best Jane Austen book or Hemingway's most influential work. The required reading from my psych classes just doesn't seem to come up very often in the teacher's lounge. Maybe I should just try working Maslow's hierarchy of needs or Jung's collective unconscious into more conversations...  Either way, I am developing a guilty conscience and an inferiority complex about the holes in my literary history, hence, the goal of reading thirty great books.

With the help of online lists like The 100 to Read Before Your Die, The 50 Greatest Novels Ever Written, Books that Everyone but the Most Moronic Haven't Read, and the like, I started compiling my list over the summer. Lolita was at the top of most of the lists I came across, so I marched out, bought it, and read it in a matter of a few days. I loved it even though I had to read it with a dictionary at the read. That Nabokov could craft such sparkling prose in his second language was inspiring and humbling.

Bolstered by my success, I headed back to the book store (I didn't want to have to return the evidence of my literary accomplishments to the library) and picked up One Hundred Years of Solitude, another frequent flier on the must-read lists. It has been on my bedside table for going on five months now, the post-it note bookmark stubbornly refusing to move beyond page 43. I decided to put it aside and pick up another of the books that I am embarrassed to admit I haven't read, Huckleberry Finn. That bookmark (a receipt from Rite Aid) is firmly wedged between pages 22 and 23. I brought it with me to Big Bear, planning to dedicate some serious hours to Twain's masterpiece while avoiding the frosty outdoors.

My good intentions were foiled when my lovely mother-in-law tempted me with The Piano Teacher, a book that she had just finished. The beautiful cover and the back cover promises of "layers of intrigue," "unexpected twists," and "a tempestuous affair" were too much for me to resist. I put poor Huck back in my suitcase and spent the next two days immersed in pre- and post-war Hong Kong. The book was very good, I devoured it, luxuriating in the hours of uninterrupted reading. The point of all of this rambling is that I have decided to cut myself some slack. I am still going to try to read some of the Books I Should Have Read by Now, but I am not going to punish myself with books that don't move me. I am going to strive to find the balance between challenging myself to stay with a book that may not immediately grab me and suffering through a book I don't like just because it is on someone else's list. If I can read thirty non-school books by my birthday, I will consider myself a success.