Oh, hi!

Brief update on life:

• Phil started a new job at the beginning of the summer. He is the head of the custodial department at a mental hospital. Being a government employee is frustrating, but he is doing well despite that and comes home with very interesting stories. Ask him about Jesus belly-bumps and toga day. Good times.
• I am rocking 3/4 at Twinfield Union School again. I'm now the "lead teacher" of the team. The other two teachers are in their first and second years of teaching...That's new, but I like being the one who knows things. I'm also revamping some elementary school-wide procedures for student interventions in spite of teachers saying, "Well, we've always done it this way..."
• We bought a new car. Having monthly car payments on a nice car make us feel like grown-ups. Yes, being in debt makes us feel mature. What does that say about the world?

Short Story Satire, and Alliteration

I've recently become fed up with a common trope in fantasy literature: "being captured for a favor". It always goes the same way: Group of heroes is ambushed with overwhelming force, then brought at gun/sword-point to the ruler who... asks for a favor. Usually a big one that coincides with the group's quest anyway, and generally works toward their aim of saving the world. It's not quite as overused as the "capture and escape from the bad guy's lair" but it's pretty close, and I find it a lot more infuriating, so here's my satirical short story about it. Enjoy.

The Travelers

The wizard Ohfunuk sighed to himself. He'd been sent to examine the Seal of Shinivit and noticed that it had deteriorated considerably since he'd last seen it. He tried using his magic to find out how much longer it would last, but since magic wasn't an abacus, he had to go talk to those nerdy tax people the king employed and make them do the math. The news wasn't good: two weeks and Shinivit would be free if they didn't do something. Heart heavy, he went to see the King.

The King blanched, stewed, and did other things that cooks do to vegetables, upon hearing the news. “Certainly you can do something, wizard,” he said.

“I'm afraid not, sire. You see, you made me court wizard because we were friends, and not for my talent. You may recall that in the 'notes' section of my last report card at wizard school, it said that I sucked at magic so bad I shouldn't be allowed near broken branches, much less a wand,” the wizard replied.

“Oh, yes. That may have been a mistake, now I think on it a bit. Is there no one else who might aid us?”

“Sire,” the Captain of the King's guard said, “I received word just yesterday that a mighty sorceress and her companions are traveling through our kingdom as we speak. I've no doubt they could aid us.”

“How fortuitous, bring them here at once,” the King said, then added what he and many other rulers have become famous for when conscripting travelers for service to the crown, “and be a total dick about it. Full, unwarranted aggression.”

“As you say, sire,” the Captain replied.

The Captain and his men left the castle at once, and laid an ambush for the traveling party. They leaped out at them, swords drawn, shouting obscenities, and a few of the Captain's men even struck members of the sorceress's party. Taken completely by surprise, the mighty sorceress didn't notice that the ambushers were all dressed as guards, and she completely lost her shit and killed them all with a single spell. Fearing retribution for killing a bunch of the King's guards, the group fled to a different kingdom. This ended up being a good move because no one else could reinforce the cracked seal of Shinivit, and not long after the group fled, the seal broke, releasing Shinivit who destroyed the entire kingdom.

Save your kingdom – Don't be a dick.

Free Test-Drive

I think anecdotes are a great way to understand people. I don't feel very understood most of the time, which apparently is a peril of my personality type, according to the Meyers-Briggs test which assigns you the four letters. I can never remember my four letters for very long, and I suspect that it has something to do with how everyone can remember theirs, so whenever I tell someone mine, usually right after the test, they tell me theirs, and their initials get sent through the mixer along with mine and before long all the certainty about my letters is gone. I do remember some of the write-up, however, because it described something I'd noticed about myself but hadn't been able to properly elucidate. Socially, it stated, I am a chameleon. Rather than enter in to a situation and just being myself, it stated that being myself actually means blending in to whatever scene I happen to be a part of. As a consequence, it continued, I feel often that most people don't really know or understand me. All of that is true, and I've spent a great many years feeling misunderstood, or not understood at all, and disingenuous. Since being told that I'm a chameleon, I've made some peace with the idea that I change based on my surrounding as a response that is, apparently, natural to my personality type. It's a bit strange, and a little confusing, to wrap my head around it, though. I used to wonder, am I the person I am at home, or the person I am at church, or with my friends, or at school? The answer is, apparently, yes.

I started off talking about anecdotes, and I have one I'd like to share, because I think I need to get it out, and maybe, if you're interested in doing so, you might understand me a bit better. Steph suggested, just a short while ago, that as something fun and free to do, we could go out and test-drive cars. I believe I saw something like this on one of those lists that are popular on websites like Pinterest and Tumblr, telling you how to have a nice free/cheap night out on the town. Those types of lists are fine, so far as they go, but stuff like test-driving vehicles when you have no intention or financial means of buying one makes me feel profoundly uncomfortable. I said this to Steph, who was confused by my reaction. I told her that I felt like requesting a test-drive was initiating a social-contract. You there, car salesperson, in return for allowing me to drive your vehicle around, I promise to consider purchasing said vehicle. It seems to me that it's a pretty clear ethics violation to request that another person hold up their end of the bargain when I know I won't hold up mine. This is why I know I would never be a "successful politician". You have to say that you're going to represent people in exchange for their votes, with no intention of representing them. You also have to be good at misdirection. When people say, "You're not representing us!" to you, you have to then point at someone else and claim it's their fault, then you can be re-elected. I haven't though of a way to misdirect a car salesperson yet, if we were to try do the free test-drive thing repeatedly. That's another reason I wouldn't be a successful politician, they've still go us arguing about whether or not climate change is a real thing, instead of us talking about the pollution problem in general. What I'm saying is that we're all car salespeople who haven't figured out that the people who keep coming back to take free test-drives of our votes have no intention of honoring their end of the bargain.

Glory, and the Distrust of Intelligence

I just stumbled on an article written in response to an article that someone stumbled upon. The initial article, which caused this glorious chain reaction, was written to remind us that 2014 is the 100th anniversary of World War 1, and that war is glorious. Presumably, the author felt that he needed to remind us that war is glorious. It's easy to forget, in these days of roadside bombs and an ever-growing list of civilian casualties via drone-strikes, that we're on the highway to glory. From what I understand, the man who wrote this article both supported, and dodged the draft for, the Vietnam War. That strikes me as odd. One would think that a guy who found something glorious, and openly supported it, wouldn't object to participating. I've spoken at some length with my grandfathers, both of whom are World War 2 combat veterans. I've also spoken with my father, who served in Germany during the Vietnam War, and with friends and family who have or are presently serving. I've searched my memories as best I can, and as best I can recall, when discussing their service, I've never heard one of them use the world 'glory' or any synonyms to describe their service, not even when it was warranted. My maternal grandfather carried a wounded comrade back to safety while being shelled somewhere near Zerf, Germany, and was wounded while doing so. He still has the shrapnel they removed from his back, on a key-chain. My next door neighbor plugged a breach at the base he was stationed at while under insurgent attack. Neither mentioned glory, and neither, it must be said, appeared overly eager to talk about what they'd done. I'll let you draw your own conclusions on that front, but I do have a suggestion. I believe why they didn't mention glory is because they didn't do it for glory. They did it for themselves, and for each other, and for their country. To keep themselves and their brothers alive, and to keep our country free. Glory, then, or at least this guy's version of it, must be reserved for those who love war, who support war, and whose foxholes are entirely metaphorical.

The 100th anniversary of WW1 reminded me that, come June 6th, it will also be the 70th anniversary of the D-Day invasion of Normandy Beach, and that August 6th and 9th of next year will be the 70th anniversary of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings. This reminded me of a newspaper article I found in a dresser we purchased up in Enosburg Falls, VT. It was dated in the late 1940's and was celebrating the advancements of nuclear technology, and the minds behind it. It occurred to me that such an article wouldn't be written today, and for two reasons, one of them good, the other bad. The good reason is tact. It seems wrong to me to be celebrating a technology that just a few years prior you'd used to kill somewhere between 150,000 and perhaps nearly 250,000 people [source]. The bad reason is that, for some time now, we've stopped celebrating intelligence, or at least scientific intelligence. You could argue that we still celebrate financial intelligence, in the case of Donald Trump, or musical intelligence, in the case of Simon Cowell, but I'm not buying it. Neither of those guys would be half so popular if they weren't so provocative. They aren't famous for their smarts, only for their snark.

I cannot help but wonder about all the brilliant scientists out there today, the modern equivalent of yesterday's Einsteins and Teslas, staring at their slashed funding and feeling the weight of the public's distrust of their intelligence. Do they wonder what happened? Or are they smart enough that they already know? Perhaps they prefer their place deep in the background. It's certainly possible. The names Einstein and Oppenheimer will be forever linked with the creation of the most destructive weaponry the world has ever seen, and maybe that's something they'd rather like to avoid. But maybe, just maybe, we have to consider the idea that our distrust of intelligence has stifled the voices of the brilliant, and we are, consequently, putting the brakes on our future.

Pants, Love, and Empathy, and Metaphors

I think we should talk, you and I. I think we should talk about pants, and we should talk about love, and we should agree beforehand that I'm going to ramble off in to other topics and write lots of run-on sentences. Stephen King spoke of, in his book "On Writing", an author who uses a lot of sentence fragments in his writing, stating that the author used a lot of frags because he heard a lot of frags. It seems I have the opposite problem. The aforementioned author heard too many periods, I don't hear enough. I suppose that's why there are copy-editors. Copy-editors are, of course, people who hear the sound of themselves correcting the work of people who are, in some cases, insanely rich. In correcting my own work, I can attest to the fact that it doesn't sound like a wealthy person's work being corrected. I could, I guess, alter the settings in windows to play a "ka-ching" noise every time I pressed the letter 'e'. 'E' is the most commonly used letter in the English language, according to Arthur Conan Doyle's immortal character, Sherlock Holmes.

But I said we were going to talk about pants, and love, and it seems to this point I haven't talked about either. In this particular case, I have to tell you, pants is a metaphor. Love isn't, or at least I won't be using it as one, just pants. Why pants? Because they're so much the same and so varied and they can almost all carry things, even the ones with girl pockets. I've considered, over the years, what it might be like to be female, and I've decided that it sounds a lot more difficult in most ways than it is to be male, owing in part to girl pockets. Carrying things is important, of course. Having been a janitor and a smoker, though both those things aren't presently true, I understand the value of being able to carry a lot of things in my pants. That sounds dirty and I just considered editing it out, but I've now decided that's okay, because it might not sound dirty in your head. Anyway, pants here is a metaphor for your views. It's good to wear pants, because they offer protection from the elements and allow you to carry things in a practical matter. It's also good to have views, because you should have things you stand for. Standing for things gives us a sense of identity, and a sense of direction in our lives.

In case I lost you, here's a math problem. Metaphor Pants = views = identity + self-direction.

In case you were wondering why I decided to use pants as my metaphor for views, it's because your pants, like your views, probably don't fit me, just like mine probably don't fit you. Understanding this is the beginning of empathy. Don't do unto others as you would have them do unto you, do unto them what they would have done unto them. I very much enjoy video games, and I enjoy receiving them as gifts. Steph does not enjoy video games, and it is through my empathy that I know, consequently, that she would not appreciate them as gifts despite my own preference. Video games are also excellent value for money. A $60 video game can, frequently, take over 30 hours to complete, meaning it offers entertainment for just $2/hour. Compare that to a movie you purchased for $15 that's only 90 minutes long. I won't even mention a trip to the movie theater. Books are also excellent value for money, especially ones you get from the library, though I encourage you to buy my books if I ever publish any.

Now we need to talk about love, because sometimes people's views on some topics seem to not have it, or not as much of it as they should have. The main reason for this, I think, is because of a lack of empathy. When we express our views, we sometimes lack the empathy required to realize that while we think we're expressing our views on a thing, what we're actually doing is expressing them about people. It might sound like you're saying, "Pokemon is stupid," but what the people who enjoy Pokemon hear is "People who like Pokemon are stupid". People don't make decisions about what they like, so it's hardly fair to criticize them for liking it. When I started watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the television series, I didn't say to myself, "I'm going to really like this, regardless of what it actually is". I grew to enjoy it, because it spoke to me, like good art does to people. Nor did I decide to fall in love with Stephanie. This last bit has been a metaphor too.

So go out into this world with your pants. Remember, they won't fit most other people. That's okay. I was taught, and likely you were too, that we're all the same. That was a lie, a well intentioned lie, but a lie just the same. We're all different, and that's okay. I learned early on that anything my parents made a big deal out of telling me was just the same as another thing, whether that was a group of people being just like me, or some new bit of food being just like one I already liked, or anything else, that meant it was different. I never saw the need for the obfuscation, and I don't see it now either. Wear your pants, people, and wear them with empathy, empathy borne of love for one another. Because every person you've ever met could be you. A slightly different set of DNA, some different parents, and that's you. Empathy.

Of House Elves and Social Justice

J.K. Rowling had, and I expect still has, a lot to say on any number of topics told through the Harry Potter series. Her messages on love, the nature of good and evil, on sacrifice and duty, are difficult to miss. What wasn't so obvious, at least to me, was what she was saying with House Elves. Unlike so many of the other topics, there was no grand gesture, no plain lesson, but she devoted a goodly portion of the series to this subplot, so there must be something to it. After years of occasional mulling, I think I understand it, at least to a degree. What she was after, I think, was to convey some fairly harsh truths.

1. How a group feels about a thing doesn't change what a thing is. House Elves live in forced servitude - slavery. That they cheerfully endure this doesn't make it something else. Pay attention to how your feelings changed about the situation as you found that, with few exceptions, the House Elves were really okay with it. It's just the way they are, of course, so this slavery must be okay. It's the good kind. Only it's not, because it's slavery.

2. Otherwise good people can hold profoundly ignorant opinions. This is told through any number of characters, but exemplified best through the character of Hagrid. He insists that freeing the House Elves would be doing them an unkindness, and he consequently refuses to contribute to the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. That Hagrid is the least educated individual, and the closest thing to a bumpkin the stories contain, is likely not coincidental. That we discover in the same book, "The Goblet of Fire", that he has to endure plenty of prejudice himself speaks to how blind and lacking in empathy we can all be when confronted with the plight of another race.

3. In a broader extension of point 2, we have to talk about privilege. In the world of Harry Potter, wizards are the privileged class, and how that affects them can be plainly seen when it comes to House Elves. Hermione is determined at one point to gain access to the kitchens. Fred and George are agitated at the thought, proclaiming that her talk of freedom might put them off their cooking. In fact, it's only Mr. Weasely, Remus Lupin, and Dumbledore who seem to have any sympathy for Hermione's cause. Why? Privilege. To quote another blogger (the blog is here): "These social justice bloggers need to calm the fuck down," said the young white male blogger, bewildered and angered that anyone could take issue with a world that suits him so perfectly.

4. Boycotting is ineffective as a means of protest. There's a period of time when Hermione refuses to eat anything prepared by the House Elves, but quickly realized that wasn't going to matter. In the same way that the Walton family doesn't care that I refuse to shop at Walmart, the House Elves had hundreds of other mouths to feed. Mouths that didn't care or weren't even aware of their slavery.

5. Real change takes time. Apparently Rowling has alluded to Hermione, years after leaving school, as a member of the Ministry of Magic and that she has improved things a lot for House Elves. Change takes time, perseverance, and a powerful will.

Steph and I are doing well. We're staying Vermont over Christmas. I hope this find all of you well, and that you have a happy holiday season.

The Ramblings of a Writer Waiting for Reviews

Clarice Lispector once said, “Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?" and sometimes I think about this a lot. I remember laying on the couch and opening up Twitter on my iPad and seeing that something was going on in Newtown, Connecticut, and the tears that came when I learned what that was. I remember the staggering disbelief when the explosions went off at the Boston Marathon, and then I noted this last week that the shooting at LAX only elicited a sigh and a thought of gratefulness that only one person had been killed. Am I monster? Perhaps I have finally become, as all the so-called experts during the rise of violent video games in the 90's put it, desensitized? I won't rule those two out, objectivity is in short supply when analyzing oneself, but I don't think so. I think the human ability to cope is elastic, and that elastic stretches a great deal under very little weight at first, and then less and less, until it snaps, and maybe this is my way, and probably the way of many others, of avoiding that break. I'd like to hear your thoughts on this.

It was announced today that former Dallas Cowboys running back Tony Dorsett has CTE [link]. Given that he retired when I was only 8-years old, I never got a chance to watch him play, but it made me wonder how long it will be before the players I grew up watching will start being diagnosed. Individuals I revered and so badly wanted to be when I played football in middle and high school. It made me think about getting older, and the price of getting older, which seems to be watching the titans of our youth topple like so many dominoes.

Now, to move away from my super-depressing thoughts and on to some family updates. Steph is doing very well and seems to have largely adjusted to her new school district, though I suggest not asking her about report cards. Our friends Hilary and Chris, back in Colorado, have a new baby girl (rumor is she still has that "new baby smell"). Currently, my book is in the hands of its first readers. I'll be collecting their feedback and doing a second revision and then I'll need to send it out to a new crop of readers and a few of those who already read it once for some comparative analysis. I also have a story entered in Gemini Magazine's Flash Fiction contest [link] and I'm hoping to hear something on that any day now.

I hope all of you are doing well. [Insert obligatory remark about updating this blog more often here]. Take care and enjoy yourselves.

Summer To Do List

1. Finish school
2. Pack up classroom
3. Meet next year's students 
4. Write a book
5. Entertain company
6. Visit family
7. Almost get stuck in Canada 
8. Write more book
9. Take a class
10. Find a place to live
11. Take another class
12. Continue writing book
13. Plan new curriculum
14. Pack up apartment
15. Scare the cat
16. Moving day

So...we're moving tomorrow. The majority of our big stuff is packed, and now we're running around trying to find space for items that don't pack nicely with others. I'm gulping down my last coffee before I tackle the last of our kitchen utensils. Phil is unplugging and packing our electronic possessions. Lucy is hiding under the bed. Tomorrow morning, we'll pack up our U-Haul -possibly earning some frequent hauler points- and head south.

Our new dwelling is a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of an actual apartment building. We didn't realize how rare an actual apartment building was in Vermont until we went looking. Housing hunting was the most stressful part of our summer. There were not a lot of available options, and we received responses to maybe 50% of our queries. We saw some pretty interesting (sketchy) places and were relieved when we found our apartment. We'll be less than 5 miles from my new school (Twinfield Union School), maybe a mile and a half from the center of Plainfield, about 20 minutes from Montpelier and Barre, and 40ish minutes from Burlington. Our building is one of 5 in a quiet, wooded area behind Goddard College. We hear Goddard is the last great hippie school in Vermont, so we're pretty excited. And by we I mean I am excited.

Before all the stress of moving, we had a pretty busy summer. Jantrey came from Colorado for a week, and she and I had a lovely time checking out new areas of Vermont. We also went wine tasting in Canada. Right over the border, there is a wine road with fifteen different wineries. In two days, we got all but two. It was delicious. We also spent a week in Michigan with the family. Phil's sister was still in Arkansas, but we did see everyone else in our immediate family. (Question: Do your parents and siblings still count as your immediate family after you get married and start your own?) It was so nice to see everyone, and Phil got to enjoy a couple days of Schaap summer on Glen Lake. 

Phil is writing every day we're not moving, and his story is amazing. He came out of the office the other day laughing his pants off about something he wrote the day before. He is currently pacing around the apartment reorganizing boxes, so I feel like I should go now. 

Happy August!

What you should know about "4k Resolution"

4 weeks not smoking as of yesterday. Woo-hoo, extra hoo.

I wanted to take a few moments and talk to you about 4k Resolution for televisions and computer monitors. If it hasn't started already, a big push is going to be made to get you to buy these for massive amounts of money, and I thought it would be for the best if you understood exactly what they're going to try to sell you.

Chances are, if you've purchased a television within the last 7 years or so you have a 1080p HD television. This sounds intimidating, but it's not. First off, the HD or High-Definition title is applied to any screen resolution greater than 480. Second, 480, 720, 1080, and now 4k are all screen resolutions. A screen resolution is simply the pixel dimensions of your television screen, which in the case of 1080p, is 1920x1080. If you're familiar with pixels and screens, jump down to the next paragraph, if not, hang with me here a moment. It's useful to think of your television screen as a brick wall with each brick a pixel. In this instance, we would note that our brick wall is 1,920 bricks wide (x axis) by 1,080 bricks tall (y axis).

There are a few important things to note at this juncture: 1) All modern televisions, i.e., anything that doesn't use a cathode ray tube, that share a resolution have the same quantity of pixels regardless of how big the screen is. This is to say that if you have a 60-inch 1080p television, your TV has just as many pixels as our 32-inch 1080p television. 2) The defining number of a resolution has always been the vertical pixel count - this is now changing with 4k, which will use the horizontal pixel count, and it will also round up - 4k resolution is 3840x2160.

So, 1080p, or 1920x1080, is our current standard of High Definition. This is going to be replaced, eventually, with 4k, or 3840x2160. To get a better handle on this, it's good to multiply the dimensions to get a total pixel count. 1920 * 1080 = 2,073,600 total pixels. 3840 * 2160 = 8,294,400 total pixels. When you hear them claim on the commercials that you're going to get '4 times as much data' this is what they're talking about, going from 2 million to 8 million pixels. This is a big deal, especially for larger televisions. Why? Picture clarity, that's why.

To talk about picture clarity, we need to talk about pixel density, measured in Pixels Per Inch or PPI. The problem with screen resolutions for some time has been that they use the same quantity of pixels for that particular resolution regardless of size. My 32-inch TV has the same 2-million pixels that someone else's 60-inch TV has. When we talk about pixel density though, my 32-inch television has a 70 PPI, while the 60-inch model has a 37 PPI. If you've ever looked at a wall of televisions at a Best Buy or Wal-Mart and noted that the smaller models had a sharper picture, this is why. What the adoption of 4k is going to do is massively ramp up the PPI for all television sizes, though it will be most notable, based on what the human eye can detect, on larger televisions. To give an example, that 60-inch set with it's 37 PPI in 1080p resolution is going to jump up to 74 PPI with 4k resolution, which is to say that Steph and I will be able to go from a 32-inch set with 426.25 square inches of viewing area to a 60-inch set with 1,538.3 square inches of viewing area and actually have more PPI. That's amazing.

One last thing: don't buy one just yet. They're amazingly expensive and, as of this moment, nothing exists that will actually use it. It's coming, of course. The new Playstation 4 and Xbox 1, both due to be released later this year, are supposed to support it.

I promise to post something funny, or at least less technical, next time.

Searching for Connection

Hello everyone. Thank you all for joining me on "Phil blogs occasionally".

As of 1:30pm EDT today, it will be a full week since I've had a cigarette. I've still got a long way to go (the rest of my life, as it turns out) but it's a start.

To preface the rest of the post, you need to understand a little about how my mornings work now. I typically get up a little after 6am, feed the cat, have some cereal, and get Steph's coffee going (coffee and I no longer get along since I started taking meds for my ADHD - and by don't get along I mean they turn me into a 230 lb. hummingbird which scares the villagers quite a lot. On that note, I have lost about 20 lbs. yay!). With that all done, it's usually somewhere between 6:45 and 7:10, which means I have somewhere between 15 and 40 minutes to kill until Steph asks me to play fashion adviser. You may think I'm joking. You're probably saying that asking my opinion on fashion is like asking Taylor Swift what it takes to make a long-lasting relationship or asking Billy Ray Cyrus how to get that second hit song. I don't disagree with your views on that, but it's true, and for all that I've talked about it, it's not what we're really here to discuss. It's that 15 to 40 minutes.

During this time, this half hour average, I'm on the internet. I see none of you are surprised. I check my Facebook and Twitter accounts for personal messages, sure, but that doesn't take long. What I spend most of my time doing is reading any articles of interest off the first two sites, and then following that up with more neat stuff off Tumblr (which is just a great thing) and follow that up with some YouTube videos. Lately, between all these things, a large connection has formed - an overarching theme, and I would present them to you as I found them.

If you ever get a chance to listen to any of the oldschool youtubers out there, you'll tend to hear one name that crops up, from most, if not all, of these people. The guy who, in a very real way, paved the way for all the other successful acts. This guy is Ze Frank (Ze rhymes with 'hay'). Curious about who this was, I looked him up. Below is the video I watched.

It's pretty long, but this is 21 minutes well spent if you have the time. If you don't, it's about connecting. Connecting with people via the internet. What you and I are doing right now, if we're honest.

A few days after I watched this, Time posted their cover article which can be viewed, if you have a subscription, here. It's on the so-called millennial generation, and just like every generation that my generation has ever heard about, they're a bunch of narcissists. Unique to this bunch though: they're on the internet. Always. He offers one stat in the free version (I too lack a Time sub), people in their 20's have 3 times the rate of narcissistic personality disorder than those 65 and older. Really? We could've done this same study 40 years ago and gotten the same result. Folks in their 20's haven't learned much about the real world just yet. I remember, quite vividly, my great awakening. I was living in Kalamazoo, working at Target, my hours had just been cut, my sister had just moved out, and I had deposited my paycheck. Rent was due in a couple days, and I had a choice: pay it, or buy food. Nothing looked the same afterward. If you were wondering, I paid the rent.

The interesting thing though is all the talk about how millennials live on their smartphones, tablets, and laptops.

Next up is a video I saw yesterday. Tweeted by noted British comedian Stephen Fry (you may remember him as Booth's therapist from Bones) the following video is an excerpt from David Foster Wallace's 2005 commencement speech to Kenyon College set to a special made movie, and entitled "This is Water".

At the risk of appearing to over-sell something, you will not ever regret spending 9 minutes of your life watching this video. Considering that it has been viewed 4.2 million times in the last week, it would seem some folks agree with me on that.

So if you're keeping score at home, we listened to Ze Frank talk about connection, to Joel Stein talk about the internet connected millennial generation, and now to David Foster Wallace, the latter of whom died before any of the rest was created, and yet it is his message that simultaneously surpasses and binds together the first two.

So where we go from here? To my cat, of course. After watching this last video yesterday morning, I sat on the couch thinking about it for a moment when Lucy came over. As most cats, her in particular, like to do, she flopped down just out of easy reach, but clearly still expected to be petted. Having grown tired of this game many years (and cats) ago, I leaned forward, picked her up, and sat her on the couch next to me. She then crawled onto my lap, laid down, and purred away, seeming quite happy.

"Is this us?" I asked. "Are we metaphorical cats, laying down just out of easy reach, saying 'here I am' with each tweet and facebook post? And are we trying to establish a real connection by hoping that someone picks us up, and moves us to where we wanted to be all the while?"

I don't have an answer to any of that. As Hank and John Green (you may find them on YouTube as the Vlogbrothers) like to say, the truth resists simplicity.

Updates, Windows 8, and ADHD

So... *clicks on Staind song* it's been a while. First, updates: Steph has an interview next week. Yay! Conferences this week. Boo. And the week after next, it's spring break, yay, which will, with any luck, feature additional interviews. Also, I'm writing a new book, not right now though, because right now I'm writing this, unless you're looking at this after I post it, because then I might be working on my new book, or going to the bathroom.

I'm running Windows 8. It's not bad. If I thought any of you were actually interested in this, I'd write more, but I know better. I just thought I'd mention it, because I thought there might be a chance some of you might be buying a computer in the near future and I didn't want you to worry about it running 8.

Now it's ADHD story fun time! So, back in late November or early December, a whole rash of NFL players got suspended or in some form of trouble for taking Adderall. Not having any idea what this was, I looked it up, and saw the symptom list for ADHD Predominantly Inattentive type, which read like something of a biography to me. So I talked with Steph about it, and wouldn't you know, she told me that I'm not normal. I made some other calls to my medically inclined family members and heard similar things, so mid-December I made a call and set up an appointment with the doctor. Only I didn't, because out in Vermont you can't set something like that up without transferring every medical record you've ever had and filling out all the new patient paperwork. So I called and got my paperwork from an office over in Newport, as Steph doesn't like the dude here in town (he told her when she went in to get her thyroid meds renewed that she really should be pregnant - girl's hair was UP). With Steph's help, I got all the paperwork filled out, back in the mail, and we came home for Christmas.

When we got back, what should I see in the mailbox but the envelope I'd sent out the previous week marked as "insufficient postage". Yippee! So, I popped it in a new envelope, put 2 stamps on it this time, and stuck it back in the mailbox. 2 weeks later, not having heard anything, I got in touch with the guy here in town. After all, he couldn't tell me I should be pregnant, though it did occur to me he might tell me I looked like I was, but I was willing to deal with that, as I'd been looking to see a doc for a month at this point. So I went over there, filled out all the paperwork again, and went back to waiting. A week later, on the same day, both doctor's offices called, and a very confused medical records clerk over in Colorado did too. Since the office here in town could see me first, I set up the appointment with them, and now, the last week of January, I went over. I told him what was going on and he told me, "I don't doubt that you have this, but it's not something I write scripts for, but I can refer you to a psychiatrist". Okay, that's kosher, so when we got done, after several anecdotes about how I would've done well as a crewmate on a 16th century Spanish Galleon, among other things that bear little relevance on today's world, I was referred to the mental health lady for an appointment that Friday.

Steph went to that first appointment with me, as I thought it would be good to have an objective observer there to answer questions. As it turns out, this was a good thing. Example: Lady - do you fidget? Me - Nope. Steph - (laughing) yes honey, you do (points at my hands which are playing with my hood strings, then pats my shoulder). We finish filling out all the diagnostic tests and she tells me that it would appear I have ADHD. Well, good, right? I mean, I've known (as well as anyone diagnosing themselves via the internet can) for 6 weeks, but hey, they've caught up. We set up an appointment for the following week to discuss lifestyle changes and meds. Only, the lady gets sick and cancels, so it gets bumped back a week. The next week there's a lot of snow falling out of the sky, so it gets pushed back another week, so it's now mid-February and I have my second appointment. The lady tells me she's going to recommend to the doctor that he prescribe a certain kind of med, and this stuff should work really well, because I seem to have some depression symptoms going on as well. What? Why aren't you prescribing this? I thought I was being referred to a psychiatrist? I look at the certifications as I leave the office that day, and see that I have, in fact, not been seeing a psychiatrist, but a clinical social worker. I look up the med she's going to recommend when I get home and see that it has nothing to do with treating depression, and is generally recommended for folks who suffer side-affects from more traditional ADHD treatments.

So, to summarize, I saw a psychiatrist who was actually a social worker who was going to recommend meds based on a condition I didn't believe I had that the meds didn't actually treat to a doctor who didn't write scripts for this kind of thing. If you were wondering if this is typical of my life, I can only answer yes, yes it is. The rest of the story is a bit boring, so I'll keep it quick. I called my sister, a board certified behavior analyst, and asked for suggestions on how to proceed. She suggested I get in touch with the county mental health center. I did, they couldn't see me for 6 weeks, and they didn't diagnose, but did treat, ADHD. They referred me to a place to get a diagnosis, since they wouldn't take the one I already had. This place had a 6 month waiting list. So I pulled up a list of all the psychiatrists within 100 miles, made a crap-load of calls, got in to see someone, and have, for the last 5 weeks, been on meds. I know the pervasive feelings about ADHD and its treatments, but I have to tell you, this has been a revelation to me. The first day I was on the medication, a person called while I was listening to music, and I didn't have to turn the music off in order to focus on the conversation. When the GPS gives directions in the car, I don't have to turn the radio off. Multiple people can be talking in a room at once, and I can focus on what's being said to me instead of needing it repeated one or more times. I can sit all the way through a movie. It's been incredible.

I hope all of you are well, staying out of trouble, and that you enjoyed reading this. Steph and I will be back in Michigan around the 4th of July. Until then, keep it rockin' for the kids.

Oh, hi!

Life has been a bit hectic lately. I am currently filling out applications for schools surrounding Burlington while both Phil and I go crazy at the reality that we have to stay here at least three more months. My current school is not working out, and there are no opportunities for entertainment or career development in this area. In full disclosure, I am applying to some schools in west Michigan as well, specifically charter schools or public schools that have a plan for student success...or a really nice pool. I'm also looking at some different positions within the world of education. There are a couple literacy or writing coordinator positions that are intriguing and a position as curriculum director at a Boys and Girls Club in Burlington. This year has kick my butt and confidence in the classroom, so it may be nice to try something new. Our current catch phrases are "I don't know" and "We'll see." Both drive us nuts, but I don't know. We'll see.

We are still alive

Hi! I should be writing lessons plans for tomorrow and trying to get to bed on time, but...I don't want to. I'm currently having a difficult time finding the focus and motivation to do school work.

Phil is still studying for his computer certification, but his brain seems to be jumping ahead to his next big project. And it is quite huge. He wants to build collections of short stories and publish them in an electronic magazine. Our weekend coffee conversations have been centered around format, submission requirements, and the realization that we should know more lawyers. We're both pretty excited about seeing where this idea takes us.

School is okay, depending on the day. This morning I was ready to cry because my kids couldn't fold a strip of paper into anything smaller than fourths, we had twenty minutes of silent, focused writing this afternoon, and about an hour ago, I was grading papers and one of my lovelies wrote Msr. Poopstain for the teacher name. (Obviously, we need to review spelling of Mrs.) People tell me the kids are improving, but oh, my goodness, some days are ridiculous.

We are looking at relocating within the state. Richford is not a good fit for us, neither the town nor the school. Hopefully we'll be living in a suburb of Burlington with an excellent school system, job opportunities for Phil, and he wants to live near a comic book store. We'll see!

Life Update

Holiday Recap
Thanksgiving: Our original Thanksgiving plans were to cook up a small turkey breast, make some potatoes and pie for two, and just have a nice, mellow meal. After our supplies were purchased, we were invited to a large family gathering on Sunday by some of my colleagues. On Thanksgiving morning, our landlords invited us down for dinner with their family. Phil especially has been adopted by the oldest son and his family, so we whipped up some dessert and trekked downstairs for dinner. We had our own dinner on Friday, leftovers on Saturday, and I spent Sunday puking.

Christmas: Because we missed driving across the country, we drove to Michigan for Christmas. We planned to leave on December 22 which turned out to be the day of blizzarding along our entire route home. The 23rd was much more conducive to travel, so off we went. We were able to see all of our parents, four out of five grandparents, two out of four sisters, and the latest addition to our collection of nieces and nephews. (Collection of course being three.) We celebrated Christmas five times over our six day visit, and at the Ainslie present exchange, I was informed that opening presents one person at a time was a Dutch tradition which is not always appreciated by others. I waited anyway.

New Years: We were still recovering from our travels and were in bed before midnight.

School Shift
I teach fourth grade now. On the last day of school before break, my principal informed me there would be an opening for a grade four teacher in January and asked if I would be interested. I had mentioned my interest in moving down earlier in the year and had had it up to here with my sixth graders, so I nervously agreed. The previous teacher had been teaching four 45 years and had a rough first semester with this class of 21. She decided the trouble was not worth her time and retired effective immediately. Knowing the history of this class made me a little wary, but I was informed that yes, there were some naughty students but they were not mean like some of my other students.
I went into school the Monday before we got back to organize some fourth grade materials before students came on Wednesday. Oh my goodness. All the student desks had been swapped (I was staying in my own classroom- the students were switching) and piles and piles of dusty teacher files had been deposited all over my room. Freaking out. I am very impressed with how many piles I sorted through in two days. I filled two large garbage bins with outdated materials, found science books from the 1970s, and rearranged all my student desks.
Both classes of students (4th and my 5/6 class) received letters over break informing them of the teacher switch. The fourth grade parents were nervous because they had no idea who I am. My 5/6 parents were furious their children were losing me as a teacher. Yay! I've talked with my old students, and most of them also were upset about not having me as a teacher. Double-yay! (The students who were not sad were the individuals who made me hate school. I will not miss them or their giant hormonal mood swings.)
In three days of fourth grade, we have not accomplished much academic work, but our classroom community is growing. Apparently, their first semester was horrible and included a lot of yelling and worksheets, so I am rocking their world right now. We've done Morning Meetings, group activities, SMART board lessons, an art project, and listened to rock and roll music about math. Several staff members have complimented me on the class atmosphere and the positive feedback they've received from my new students. I feel like I can be the teacher I'm supposed to be in my new position which makes me (and by extension Phil) very happy. Yesterday a staff member mentioned how nice it was to see me smile again.
My kids and I still have a long way to go, and I'm dragging parents along too. I'm going to end here so I can write a parent newsletter about labeling snowpants (we've already had several mix-ups) and not sending kids to school with toys. I've taken away Lego guys from half my boys and random hair extensions from some of my girls. Bizarre.

PS
New England winters are very cold and involve a ton of snow. They are very pretty though. Pictures to come later.

The Art of Couples' Dates

I call it 'guaranteed third-wheel syndrome'. This is a thing that happens to the single friends of newly married couples, particularly long-time friends of one of the partners. Prior to the marriage, these friends think of the newly acquired romantic interest as a neat, if likely short-lived, pet, and comfort themselves knowing that they've seen this before - they were here before, after all, and will likely be here long after. About the time that long-time friend is picking up a groomsman's tux or being fitted for a bridesmaid's dress, the syndrome begins to take effect. Yes, they heard you say how "this time it's different" but they'd heard that one before, only this time it would appear that things actually are different. By the time you've returned from your honeymoon and then proceeded to have as little contact with outside world as possible for the next 6 months, they've figured out that they will now be a permanent third-wheel whenever hanging out with you and have likely moved on to greener, more single-friendly pastures.

At that same 6 month time frame, you and your new spouse suddenly realize that you miss having contact with the outside world, that you miss having people around that you're not married to. Unfortunately, all your single friends have fled, but oddly enough, several other married couples have issued invitations to come over for dinner. Seeing no harm in meeting some new friends, particularly those who have experience with the greatest new thing in your live, and having no real alternative, you embark upon the perilous trail of.... The Couples' Date.

This isn't your double date from high school, Slappy. There will be no going to the movies our out to dinner - young married couples are poor. Pasta and conversation are on the menu for tonight, for one is cheap and the other is free, and if you're lucky, there will be a non-controversial board game. One game of the "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" board game will have you begging, with tears in your eyes, for Boggle, Bananagrams, or even Candyland.

Keep in mind, surviving these initial encounters is an art form. Eventually, these types of things can form profoundly strong bonds, strong enough that Steph and I routinely muse over the loss of our old couple friends back in Colorado. Initially though, survival is key. Do take note of the following:

1. If the couple you're visiting has a new baby, you will be expected to hold it. It's priceless, fragile, deeply loved, and it squirms, and they want you to hold it. God knows why. It's possible they believe you'll get the baby's scent in your nose and you too will come to the realization that your life will be forever incomplete without one. Perhaps it's just nice to have someone to pawn the kid off on while they try to remember what it felt like being free.

2. Regardless of the intent, there are some things to remember while holding that bundle of joy: If held long enough, it will either spew forth from one end or the other, or turn into a giant muscle and lunge for something that is not a toy, and typically dangerous. It's best to pass on that hot potato at the earliest possible opportunity, because yakked up formula stains and that sharp object sitting nearby is quite shiny and will attract the baby's attention sooner rather than later.

3. If your wife set this up, and it's quite likely she did (at least if you're me) it's likely that she'll have set it up with someone from work, and at some point she and the co-worker will begin talking shop and you'll be left with someone you've known for less than an hour to try to figure out something to talk about. Do your prep-work prior to this moment, find out something you can both comfortably discuss before your wife and his pair-off, and don't forget to thank me afterward.

4. It's perfectly fine to discuss the weather. It seems trite, but you're trying to survive, not solve the world's problems. Politics and religion can wait indefinitely. Work is always a solid topic, especially silly things about work.

Keep these in mind, and good luck.

My Day in a Nutshell

Wake up after ~6 hours of sleep with a bladder that feels the size of a fitness ball. Try to ignore it, fail utterly. Go to the bathroom, attempt to go back to sleep, fail utterly a second time. That's right kids, I fail more before 9am than most people do all day. Eat cereal while watching NFLAM on the NFL Network. Giggle each time they call Eric Davis "E.D." and hope they've nicknamed his wife, assuming he has one, "Blue Bomber". Get dressed, consider studying, reject it on the grounds of not yet being awake. Consider drinking coffee, reject it as well based on how it seldom actually wakes me up and that I don't feel like spending the next 6 hours running to the bathroom every 20 minutes. Play some Freecell and listen to music instead for the next 10 minutes. Set up study area. Stare at study area. Pace around the apartment mulling over a massive social issue. Solve social issue. Stare at study area again.

Concede defeat, begin studying. Get mad at author for spending multiple pages on a topic then mentioning, at the end of the section, that this technology is no longer used, nor is it on the test. Pace around the apartment again, resume studying. Become angry with the test wanting to me know things I simply won't do, like monitor repair, given that I don't feel like electrocuting myself. Pace more, consider having lunch. Look in the fridge, conclude that I'm not certain when any of the leftovers were put in there but decide that it wasn't this week. Consider having a sandwich, then notice we're out of bread. Weep quietly in a corner.

Repeat earlier studying practices of actually studying, becoming angry, pacing, and studying some more. Recall father-in-law's admonition that having this certification won't get me anywhere. Hope wife gets home soon before the allure of the train tracks becomes overwhelming. Steph gets home, greet her at the door like an over-enthusiastic puppy. Try not to read too much into it when she says, "Hi honey," with a look that all too clearly tells me she's wondering if my cheese has finally slipped off my cracker. Listen to stories about Steph's day, offer her the use of my weeping corner. Impatiently wait for her to finish using the weeping corner. Have dinner while watching a funny show. We recently finished with all 9 seasons of "Scrubs" and have moved on to "The Big Bang Theory". Feel better about our lives based on how tough television nerds have it too.

Steph goes off to grade papers, write lesson plans, and do whatever it is people do on Pinterest. I go back to studying, with frequent pacing breaks, only now I can rant to Steph about how angry the test/book/author make me and no longer need to use my weeping corner. See Steph off to bed, listening to her guilt inspiring laments as I remain awake. Answer Dad's nightly call. Discuss football, politics, football, current events, football, and sometimes relationships. I try to keep the relationship talk to a minimum, as getting relationship advice from my dad is bit like getting advice on produce from Gallagher. Sure, they have a wealth of experience, but I'm really not a fan of the approach. My parents' marriage is a bit like the sun, we all know it could explode any moment, but it seems like it will just continue giving us cancer for the time being.

Check the apartment for intruders as the house creaks in the night silence. Become increasingly paranoid. Head to bed. This is the cat's cue to hop off the bed and go grab some food. Start falling asleep. This is the cat's cue to hop in the litter box, which is lined with silicate litter instead of traditional sand stuff, and sounds like a foot-shuffler walking through loose gravel when she uses it. Try to ignore it. Fail. Listen as the cat spends the next few minutes attempting to remove the crystals from her paws by rubbing them on any available surface with preference given to those that are loud. Fall asleep, looking forward to doing it all again the next day.

Sorry for slacking

Phil and I were knocked out by our first round of Vermont cold/flu. I blame my students for being disgusting carriers of disease and angst. (Thankfully, the angst is not contagious.) We are feeling better now and settling back into routine.

Fall is beautiful here! There are trees everywhere, and they are in various autumnal stages. The color "peak'" was a couple weeks ago, but there are still vibrant colors around. Phil and I went for an exploratory drive through some of the back roads and were very impressed. We also noted that the surrounding towns are really nice and cute despite looking sketchy from the highway. Alas, when we explored Richford, it was sketchy throughout. We tried really hard not to live in this town, but small towns do not offer a wide selection of rental houses. Someday really soon, we're going to live in a wonderful small town with happy smiley people.

I went to the doctor this week to update a prescription, and during that appointment, he told me all about Mother Nature and his philosophy on the purpose of life (to procreate). This was in response to a note on my chart about taking ibuprofen for headaches. He then asked me about my job at the school. I had a really crappy week, but he was determined to fix it. I got a fifteen minute lecture on how to run my classroom. Awesome. (It gets better.) I had a question about my birth control, and in response, he told me I should just get pregnant so I wouldn't have to worry about it and followed up with a continuation of his life philosophy. He kept bringing up age and how people should have children young because that's what he and his wife did, and it's worked out well for them. Twenty-six is the new forty-five in regards to birthing children. Where was I when this announcement was made?

Mom and Dad are coming this weekend, so yay for family, leaf peeping, and fresh cider with doughnuts!

As I Avoid Studying...

Steph is on the phone with her sister right now reminiscing about playing "Boxcar Children". I laud them for the effort of at least going with the original book and roughing it as opposed to solving mysteries while living with Daddy Warbucks.

When did # become hashtag instead of pound sign? Not this £ sign (alt + 0163) but this one #. Really. Is this all Twitter's doing? In the future, when dealing with automated call centers, will he have to press hashtag on our phones instead of pound once we enter in our sensitive information? When stores have 3# of apples on sale, do our youth feel that the store owners are foolishly putting the hashtag in the wrong place if they want people to visit their twitter site? Will the @ sign be next??? Seriously though, it's a pound sign.

On the note of politics... nah, just kidding.

I felt stupid earlier. I was talking to my neighbors this morning, and they were telling me how they hoped some geese would get here soon because they like eating goose, I guess, or at least shooting them. I mentioned that I thought I'd heard one yesterday, at which point one of my neighbors pulled out a goose call and said he'd been practicing yesterday. Wheeee!

And seriously, what on earth is up with people typing 'would of' instead of 'would've'? Have we regressed so far in our own language that we no longer understand the difference between 'of' and a conjunction meaning 'have'? It's not even a space saver, like shortening 'you're' to 'your' (couldn't help it) or 'ur'.

Steph says I'm becoming a crotchety old man and says she looks forward to the day when we have a lawn so I can shake my fist as I tell people to stay off it.

I should probably get back to studying. I say 'probably' to make myself feel better about it, like it's optional. Remember kids, it's stands for it is, and its is possessive. On the note of studying, they've updated the test so I've had to speed up my studying, lest they change over and a great deal of my studying is for naught.

Pictures

Here is a sampling of pictures off my camera. Hopefully, next weekend we can go out with our nice camera and Phil can take some better pictures of our area. Our apartment is messy at the moment, so those pictures will be coming in the future.

Moving

Lucy was not very helpful during our packing endeavors. 

Our stuff. I intended to take a picture of just my school boxes and just our house stuff. I thought it would be interesting to see the comparison because I had a lot of boxes of books and materials. Enough to fill the back of Mom's Yukon. However, moving is crazy and these are the only pile pictures we took. 

 Lake Champlain

We took these crossing the bridge from New York into Vermont. This is Lake Champlain near Swanton, VT. I forget what the town in New York is called, but it is super cute. 

Phil

This was Phil's first shower experience in our apartment and it was too funny not to take a picture of. We have a huge clawfoot tub that we have to step up into. This extra height combined with a very low shower curtain made for an interesting experience for Phil. He practically had to bend in half to get under the shower head. (I'm just now realizing that this is a really long caption of Phil in the shower. Sorry. I do want to add that the ceiling has been redone. It looks pretty sketchy here. We also lost the dolphins and got a better shower head. Moving on now.)

Ben & Jerry's

 We were told by several people about the Ben & Jerry's Flavor Graveyard. Ta-da. It was pretty funny.

Ben & Jerry's- It's entertaining for families.

Today

     It was fall today. We had rain last night and a bit of drizzle today, so everything was extra green. I stopped on my way to the grocery store to take these pictures for you. Enjoy.

This last one is of our backyard. The previous two are across the street. That was all I got before Phil got to the door with arms full of groceries. 

Umm...

I sat down to write an inspired post, but I'm not sure how to follow Phil's.

I'll start with the fact that he is now 31. :) He still hasn't received his gift from me (I have a difficult time planning ahead in my personal life), but he did get several lovely cards and a pair of reading glasses from my mom. This just in- my mom's hilarious. We celebrated with birthday cake after Open House at school and had a birthday dinner of Chinese take-out this weekend. Happy birthday indeed!

School has started. Tomorrow will be the beginning of the first full week of school. Last week, we had a four day week and our first week was only three days. The school climate is very different than West Grand, and based on my students' behavior, listening in class has not been a huge priority. In an attempt to create a more positive school environment, we are implementing Responsive Classroom practices. The basic belief of this philosophy is having a positive classroom community will result in fewer misbehaviors. Which I agree with, but...there are two sides to every classroom management system: positive and negative reinforcement. Responsive Classroom doesn't really have either. So, I'm mixing in my own management style with elements of RC. I am stuck with giving time outs to my 5th and 6th grade students which makes me feel stupid and is a giant waste of time, but my kids are earning marbles for positive behavior. When they've earned enough marbles to fill an empty pasta sauce jar, we'll have a mini-celebration for the class. One RC practice that I do like is Morning Meeting. Every morning, we circle up as a class. There is a greeting for every student, an activity, and a message from me preping them for the day. On Thursday, we did an E.T. greeting. I showed the kids a movie clip showing E.T.'s glowing finger, and instead of a hand-shake or high-five, we touched "glowing" fingers. Confession: I've never actually seen E.T.

Because not all of you lovely readers are teachers, I will stop rambling and give some basic facts about school. Then I'll be done for a while.
1. My room is still a horrid shade of orange. I've covered as much as I could with bright orange, blue, and zebra print.
2. I have 17 kids in my homeroom class of 5th and 6th graders. In the afternoon, I have 20 6th graders for math. I like my mornings better.
3. There are 3 other 5/6 teachers and after a literacy meeting on Friday, they are starting to realize that I know quite a bit about teaching reading.
4. I don't yet know quite a bit about teaching 6th grade math. Can anyone please tell me a real life example of dividing a fraction by a fraction or a decimal by a decimal? Seriously, please help me out here.
5. One of the 6th grade boys got stuck in the baby swing on the playground while I was on duty. I didn't laugh until after I sent him to time out.
6. School starts at 8:00- sort of. Kids can eat breakfast until 8:15, so I really don't know when I'm supposed to start my day.
7. School ends at 2:45. Thankfully they've started ringing a bell at this time. My classroom clock is about 5 minutes fast and the first couple days were pretty confusing.
8. On the first day of school, our new art teacher played the bagpipes as kids were entering the building. It was pretty sweet.
9. Our school website is Richfordk6.net if you are interested in learning more about the Richford Rattlesnakes.
10. Open House was Thursday, and I had one of the few not awkward experiences of the evening. Apparently teaching a class full of odd ducks for the past four years has desensitized me to awkward situations. I feel that's an excellent life skill.