It's truly stunning how much of the day is dark this time of year. I never used to notice. Even if the sky didn't get light until seven thirty or eight, my first classes weren't until eight at the earliest. Then, between classes, I'd get to walk outside, probably resenting the cold air. If I had an extra hour, I would go study somewhere with window where I could watch the grey sky or the snow. Perhaps I would lament the dreary weather, but I would always know what the weather was.
Now, I am walled away much more securely from the outside world. This morning I got to school just as the eastern sky was lightening and the mountains were outlined with the pale colors that mark the early stage of a winter sunrise. I walked through the big glass doors and through the foyer drenched with morning light from the giant skylights, took a right, went up the stairs, took a left, a right, a left, and then another left to my classroom. All those stairs and turns serve to make sure that not one bit of daylight from those glass doors or skylights will ever reach my eyes unless I'm headed to the copy room. My students come in saying things like, "It's raining!" or "Miss E! Did you see the snow?" And all I can do is be jealous. Their feet trail wet leaves from an outside world I sometimes forget exists outside the contained box of my classroom. The temperature in my room has little connection to the larger world. If my room is cold or if it's warm have very little to do with if it's cold or hot outside. On cold days it's slightly warmer in my room because they turn off air conditioning and stop the fans pumping in outside air.
When school gets out, I don't leave before 3:30 or 4:00 (contract time). By then, the day's strongest rays are gone, and I only have a few precious hours of any daylight whatsoever. This makes my half an hour drive home one of my favorite part of the day. There I am, driving along and surrounded by windows which let me see outside in nearly all directions! It's fantastic. Then, when I get home, there's only an hour or so left before the long stretch of evening.
Now I'm not trying to complain, I do enough of that already. I do play outside when I can, and when I get home from school I make sure the shutters of my apartment are wide open to let in the fading light. When I'm feeling particularly the darkness of the world around me, I have one of those natural light lamps my mother got for me last year. It doesn't really get me down, this dimness, I just don't know how to express how very dark it is these days. The idea that it will continue to get darker, that in a few days the eastern sky will not even be visible when I get to school and head indoors and that there will be even less light when I emerge, seems dizzying. On weekends, when I'm in my apartment, or out and around in the wide world during daylight hours I normally spend in my classroom, I'm always surprised by how very bright it is outside. I never see sunlight that bright except on those precious weekend days.
Thank heaven there's only a few more weeks of school. The weeks before and just after the solstice, the darkest and dimmest of the year, are part of my Christmas break. That means I'll get to see sunlight those days, and by the time I get back to school, it will be no worse than it will be the next week or so. After that, the world will gradually lighten for me, growing brighter and brighter through the long months of winter and spring, until I arrive at school to a glorious full sunrise and leave in the merry afternoon light. Finally, when summer vacation comes, I will surrender completely to my newly found sun worship, soaking in the double freedom of no school and nearly endless day.
So bring on the next few weeks of increased darkness. I will grit my teeth, stare at the merry lights on my Christmas tree, and say to the blackness just outside my windows, "All hail The Sun!"
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
UT Senator Osmond Listens in Class
Senator Osmond recently proposed a bill that would introduce sweeping changes in the way teachers in Utah can be terminated and in the security of their teaching contracts. Then, he set up a series of meetings with educators to hear what they had to say. This is his blog post on what he learned from the experience.
I haven't been teaching long--I'm in my 4th year, but I have already encountered many of these issues. Not only that, but I've kept my ears open. I've worked at two different schools in the same district since I started teaching, and the discussions I've heard around the lunch table and during collaboration about legislation and legislators in our state have nearly always been negative. I watched the drama unfold last year as a social studies teacher at my school got attacked for being "socialist," first by a parent and then by a Utah legislator, for teaching the pros and cons of different economic systems without bias. My mom's been a teacher (in Idaho) since I was five, and I've spent the last twenty-one years listening to what she said about the state and fate of public education.
In my personal, inexperienced opinion, I think Osmond expresses the situation well. The problems he outlines are things I've either seen in my own classroom, felt in my own experience, or heard substantial amounts of anecdotal evidence of around the lunch or collaboration table. I don't know much about Senator Osmond's politics; I hadn't heard much about him prior to this issue, but I do applaud his willingness to listen to the rank and file in public education and then honestly describe what they said.
It's worth a read. It's so worth reading I'll link to it twice.
I haven't been teaching long--I'm in my 4th year, but I have already encountered many of these issues. Not only that, but I've kept my ears open. I've worked at two different schools in the same district since I started teaching, and the discussions I've heard around the lunch table and during collaboration about legislation and legislators in our state have nearly always been negative. I watched the drama unfold last year as a social studies teacher at my school got attacked for being "socialist," first by a parent and then by a Utah legislator, for teaching the pros and cons of different economic systems without bias. My mom's been a teacher (in Idaho) since I was five, and I've spent the last twenty-one years listening to what she said about the state and fate of public education.
In my personal, inexperienced opinion, I think Osmond expresses the situation well. The problems he outlines are things I've either seen in my own classroom, felt in my own experience, or heard substantial amounts of anecdotal evidence of around the lunch or collaboration table. I don't know much about Senator Osmond's politics; I hadn't heard much about him prior to this issue, but I do applaud his willingness to listen to the rank and file in public education and then honestly describe what they said.
It's worth a read. It's so worth reading I'll link to it twice.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Thoughts on a Wednesday
Tonight I will take the final for my evening class, and I will hopefully be two credits down the road to a Gifted and Talented endorsement. Only 14 more to go. The next 2 credit class starts in two weeks. By the end of this school year I should have six post-bachelor's credit to my name.
I gave my first negative teacher evaluation the other day. As nice as my teacher is, and as much as I learned in the class, it had absolutely nothing to do with her. It was all from the chapters in the textbook. It still killed me to give such a nice lady such a bad evaluation. Teaching has hardened me in a lot of ways; I can now give a sweet kid and F and not feel more than a twinge, but grading teachers is still hard for me.
The week before last I got really, really sick. A nasty infection hit on that Wednesday, and I took my first sick leave from work and skipped class to go see a doctor (The first time I'd been to a non-dentist type doctor since high school). I was so sick that I fell asleep in the parking lot of the Smith's where I went to fill my prescription. I slept slumped in the front seat of my car in my work clothes for an hour before I managed to stagger in to the store to get my medicine. Luckily, antibiotics work fast. Within 24 hours of beginning my prescription, I felt much better. Which was good, because within 48 hours it became clear I had Strep throat, too. Back to the doctor, back the pharmacy for another set of antibiotics. Luckily, antibiotics work fast. Within 24 hours of beginning my prescription, I felt much better. Which was good, because I have to teach school and go to class and grade papers and clean my apartment and get back to rock climbing.
I took my last antibiotic yesterday morning, thank heaven. It's been years since I took an antibiotic, and the double round definitely proved to me that they're not generally a healthy thing. Like most medicine, it's skillfully applied poison. My digestive system is pretty messed up now, and I even got the dry skin and rash I'd heard of but never experienced myself with antibiotic use. Here's hoping that a lot of water, yogurt, and sleep rebuilds the bacteria farms in my gut.
I'm getting back to climbing. I haven't been able to put together a regular climbing schedule since July, and between teaching school, taking classes, moving, getting sick multiple times, etc., I hadn't made it climbing more than four times since school started. I've lost a lot of ground and muscle (and gained some weight). But I still love this sport, and even though I'm not as good as I was, I know how to get there again, and I know it shouldn't take me long if I make it a priority.
While cutting snowflakes for my Christmas tree last night I thought, "Dreams are like paper snowflakes. You craft them late at night in solitude, then tuck them between the pages of some book to press for some future time. They're beautiful, painstaking, and very, very fragile."
I was listening to a This American Life episode this morning, and heard this, "Her steps were brisk and determined, like a school teacher's." I don't know how many school teachers' walks you have studied, but this is almost universally true the teachers I know. We whisk down halls, and when we're in a hurry we barge or barrel down them, heaven help whoever or whatever gets in our way. I have to periodically remind myself that I'm not in hurry half of the time, I can take the time to walk like a normal person. I once barreled down the aisle between desks in my classroom so fast that when I got caught on the sharp edge of a broken desk it cut me through my pants. This intense, brisk, determined attitude spills over to nearly everything I do. I type briskly and determinedly, I grade papers briskly and determinedly, I give instructions that way, I read that way sometimes, I do my make-up that way, I blow dry my hair as quickly as I can. A friend of mine recently informed me that I chew like someone is timing me--all the time. And I clench my jaw while I sleep. That's right, I even sleep with determination.
I gave my first negative teacher evaluation the other day. As nice as my teacher is, and as much as I learned in the class, it had absolutely nothing to do with her. It was all from the chapters in the textbook. It still killed me to give such a nice lady such a bad evaluation. Teaching has hardened me in a lot of ways; I can now give a sweet kid and F and not feel more than a twinge, but grading teachers is still hard for me.
The week before last I got really, really sick. A nasty infection hit on that Wednesday, and I took my first sick leave from work and skipped class to go see a doctor (The first time I'd been to a non-dentist type doctor since high school). I was so sick that I fell asleep in the parking lot of the Smith's where I went to fill my prescription. I slept slumped in the front seat of my car in my work clothes for an hour before I managed to stagger in to the store to get my medicine. Luckily, antibiotics work fast. Within 24 hours of beginning my prescription, I felt much better. Which was good, because within 48 hours it became clear I had Strep throat, too. Back to the doctor, back the pharmacy for another set of antibiotics. Luckily, antibiotics work fast. Within 24 hours of beginning my prescription, I felt much better. Which was good, because I have to teach school and go to class and grade papers and clean my apartment and get back to rock climbing.
I took my last antibiotic yesterday morning, thank heaven. It's been years since I took an antibiotic, and the double round definitely proved to me that they're not generally a healthy thing. Like most medicine, it's skillfully applied poison. My digestive system is pretty messed up now, and I even got the dry skin and rash I'd heard of but never experienced myself with antibiotic use. Here's hoping that a lot of water, yogurt, and sleep rebuilds the bacteria farms in my gut.
I'm getting back to climbing. I haven't been able to put together a regular climbing schedule since July, and between teaching school, taking classes, moving, getting sick multiple times, etc., I hadn't made it climbing more than four times since school started. I've lost a lot of ground and muscle (and gained some weight). But I still love this sport, and even though I'm not as good as I was, I know how to get there again, and I know it shouldn't take me long if I make it a priority.
While cutting snowflakes for my Christmas tree last night I thought, "Dreams are like paper snowflakes. You craft them late at night in solitude, then tuck them between the pages of some book to press for some future time. They're beautiful, painstaking, and very, very fragile."
I was listening to a This American Life episode this morning, and heard this, "Her steps were brisk and determined, like a school teacher's." I don't know how many school teachers' walks you have studied, but this is almost universally true the teachers I know. We whisk down halls, and when we're in a hurry we barge or barrel down them, heaven help whoever or whatever gets in our way. I have to periodically remind myself that I'm not in hurry half of the time, I can take the time to walk like a normal person. I once barreled down the aisle between desks in my classroom so fast that when I got caught on the sharp edge of a broken desk it cut me through my pants. This intense, brisk, determined attitude spills over to nearly everything I do. I type briskly and determinedly, I grade papers briskly and determinedly, I give instructions that way, I read that way sometimes, I do my make-up that way, I blow dry my hair as quickly as I can. A friend of mine recently informed me that I chew like someone is timing me--all the time. And I clench my jaw while I sleep. That's right, I even sleep with determination.
Monday, November 14, 2011
I Dream of Shower Curtains and Doctor Brain
Last night I had a lot of strange dreams. I dreamed that a whole bunch of girlfriends and I were discussing a movie, and a friend I found the perfect Christmas present for a friend I've been stumped about for ages. I had found all the old nostalgic computer games we used to play in junior high available for the game systems she and her husband have. The games were only $5 each. It was going to be glorious. The look on her face when she got a copy of the Lost Island of Doctor Brain and Quest for Glory would be fantastic. The absolutely perfect present, so much so that when I woke it took until I got to school this morning to realize that it wasn't real. But after that dream is when the real weird dream started.
I was getting married, and I was trying to decide what to wear. Back in the bedroom that was mine all growing up, I tried on several skirts and shirts that I had brought with me from my apartment for the occasion, only to realize I'd forgotten the shoes to match. Getting desperate (We needed to leave for the wedding soon!), I ran down the hall and asked Mom if I could wear her wedding dress. It's not my dream design, but I liked the idea of wearing my mother's dress down the isle--and I would be walking down the isle (It was going to be a Catholic wedding at this point in the dream, although later in the dream it was a church gym wedding, uck.) Then we could grab some flowers from the front garden and put them in my hair, just like Mom did for her wedding! Perfect. Problem resolved, I quickly put on Mom's wedding dress, which was conveniently hanging in her closet. Then I hurried off to the wedding, which we were apparently quite late for, so late we never had time to put on jewelry, carry a bouquet, put the flowers in my hair, or even have Dad snap a few pictures since we hadn't hired a photographer. At least my hair looked fantastic: it was much longer than the shoulder-length layers I have now, and it was elaborately curled and styled in a trailing up-do.
It was raining hard outside the church, and I had to dash inside. The ceremony itself is pretty hazy. Apparently I married some guy I knew in high school. That's pretty much all that can be said about him. He wasn't a guy I had a crush on, or one I was particularly good friends with, we did go on a date, once, but mostly he was just there. After the ceremony I changed out of the dress and sat on the porch back at home with my mom. I slowly began to realize that as far as "my dream wedding" went, it was a bit of a disappointment. No pictures, no perfect dress, rain dampened hair without the flowers that would have made my mother's dress the perfect choice, and a plain ceremony in a nearly undecorated gym, to a man whose last name I barely remembered. In fact, when I tried to say my new name in the dream, I had to think a minute, and now I realize I got it wrong. In the dream I realized that I would no longer be "Miss E." to my students, and that "Mrs. Logan" sounded awfully grown-up and boring (And it's the wrong name!). This is when I began to get the idea there was something strange about my wedding. Why hadn't it been planned properly? Why was it so rushed? Why did I have to think so hard to remember my husband's last name? But I was already married, and everyone around me acted as if it was completely normal, so I tried not to question too much.
However, my confusion grew when, we sat on the porch, Amber came walking up the driveway. To be clear, I have never met Amber. She just married one of my closest guy friends from high school a week or so ago, and I'm headed to their wedding reception on Friday. So to see her strolling up the driveway on my wedding day was a surprise. Apparently she had been talking to Tommie (a friend of my brother's wife's mother's), and had somehow learned from her that I had made a lot of big life decisions lately. She had come to discuss them with me and see if I was 100% sure about all of them. She didn't even know I had gotten married. (This confused me further. As I apologized for not telling her and her husband, one of my closest friends, about my wedding, I wondered, Why hadn't I told them? Why were none of my friends at the wedding? No Jeni, no Di, no Allie, no sisters or brothers or college roommates. In fact, where was my husband right now? The wedding was over, why was I sitting on the front porch of my parents house in a t-shirt talking to my mom and my friend's wife whom I'd never met?)
I continued to try and explain myself and my wedding to her, because she was clearly confused by my sudden marriage, and my brain began to reel. It should be noted that we were no longer talking on the porch at this point. We were in the backyard, and I was wearing a backpack with glider wings attached and was trying to catch air on the Idaho breeze while explaining my terribly confusing wedding, as well as my life decisions, to Amber. The more I tried to explain to her, the more confused I got, and not even the prospect of flying with my glider wings could distract me. It occurred to me that, now that I was married, I was going to have to stop seeing the boy I'd been sort of dating. Hmmm, I thought, that was poor planning on my part. I should have thought of that. The dream finally ended with me pausing in my muddled explanation to finally wonder, "Why in hell did I marry that boy?" and realizing that I had absolutely no idea and that I had probably just messed up the rest of my life.
If I had to guess at the origins and meaning of this dream, I would trace it to a few things: First, two boys I once had epic, long-term crushes on got married in the last two weeks. Not only that, but people have been talking to me about marriage an awful lot in the last week. There were a few people over the week, many of whom I did not expect to bring up marriage, of all conversation topics. Then I spent Saturday catching up with a girl friend who was having boy trouble, and she spent a lot of time on the subject. Then the next three people I talked to also brought it up. Sunday morning my climbing partner brought it up, my sister and I talked about it, I'm headed to one of my friend's receptions this week, and the other boy actually called me this week and we talked about his wedding for close to an hour. When I went to sleep last night, my brain must have had some things to work through on the subject.
If I were to hazard an interpretation, I would say that my brain was working through the fact that I'm not married, despite wanting to be married since the age of 12. Then I think my brain and emotions were working through all of that to the conclusion, which I often conclude and reconclude, that it's o.k. Marriage wouldn't necessarily be the best thing right now, and if I could tear off and marry a decent boy tomorrow for the sake of being married, I'd almost certainly regret it.
The next dream involved that boy I've sort of been dating knocking on the door of my old apartment, selling shower curtains.
It was raining hard outside the church, and I had to dash inside. The ceremony itself is pretty hazy. Apparently I married some guy I knew in high school. That's pretty much all that can be said about him. He wasn't a guy I had a crush on, or one I was particularly good friends with, we did go on a date, once, but mostly he was just there. After the ceremony I changed out of the dress and sat on the porch back at home with my mom. I slowly began to realize that as far as "my dream wedding" went, it was a bit of a disappointment. No pictures, no perfect dress, rain dampened hair without the flowers that would have made my mother's dress the perfect choice, and a plain ceremony in a nearly undecorated gym, to a man whose last name I barely remembered. In fact, when I tried to say my new name in the dream, I had to think a minute, and now I realize I got it wrong. In the dream I realized that I would no longer be "Miss E." to my students, and that "Mrs. Logan" sounded awfully grown-up and boring (And it's the wrong name!). This is when I began to get the idea there was something strange about my wedding. Why hadn't it been planned properly? Why was it so rushed? Why did I have to think so hard to remember my husband's last name? But I was already married, and everyone around me acted as if it was completely normal, so I tried not to question too much.
However, my confusion grew when, we sat on the porch, Amber came walking up the driveway. To be clear, I have never met Amber. She just married one of my closest guy friends from high school a week or so ago, and I'm headed to their wedding reception on Friday. So to see her strolling up the driveway on my wedding day was a surprise. Apparently she had been talking to Tommie (a friend of my brother's wife's mother's), and had somehow learned from her that I had made a lot of big life decisions lately. She had come to discuss them with me and see if I was 100% sure about all of them. She didn't even know I had gotten married. (This confused me further. As I apologized for not telling her and her husband, one of my closest friends, about my wedding, I wondered, Why hadn't I told them? Why were none of my friends at the wedding? No Jeni, no Di, no Allie, no sisters or brothers or college roommates. In fact, where was my husband right now? The wedding was over, why was I sitting on the front porch of my parents house in a t-shirt talking to my mom and my friend's wife whom I'd never met?)
I continued to try and explain myself and my wedding to her, because she was clearly confused by my sudden marriage, and my brain began to reel. It should be noted that we were no longer talking on the porch at this point. We were in the backyard, and I was wearing a backpack with glider wings attached and was trying to catch air on the Idaho breeze while explaining my terribly confusing wedding, as well as my life decisions, to Amber. The more I tried to explain to her, the more confused I got, and not even the prospect of flying with my glider wings could distract me. It occurred to me that, now that I was married, I was going to have to stop seeing the boy I'd been sort of dating. Hmmm, I thought, that was poor planning on my part. I should have thought of that. The dream finally ended with me pausing in my muddled explanation to finally wonder, "Why in hell did I marry that boy?" and realizing that I had absolutely no idea and that I had probably just messed up the rest of my life.
If I had to guess at the origins and meaning of this dream, I would trace it to a few things: First, two boys I once had epic, long-term crushes on got married in the last two weeks. Not only that, but people have been talking to me about marriage an awful lot in the last week. There were a few people over the week, many of whom I did not expect to bring up marriage, of all conversation topics. Then I spent Saturday catching up with a girl friend who was having boy trouble, and she spent a lot of time on the subject. Then the next three people I talked to also brought it up. Sunday morning my climbing partner brought it up, my sister and I talked about it, I'm headed to one of my friend's receptions this week, and the other boy actually called me this week and we talked about his wedding for close to an hour. When I went to sleep last night, my brain must have had some things to work through on the subject.
If I were to hazard an interpretation, I would say that my brain was working through the fact that I'm not married, despite wanting to be married since the age of 12. Then I think my brain and emotions were working through all of that to the conclusion, which I often conclude and reconclude, that it's o.k. Marriage wouldn't necessarily be the best thing right now, and if I could tear off and marry a decent boy tomorrow for the sake of being married, I'd almost certainly regret it.
The next dream involved that boy I've sort of been dating knocking on the door of my old apartment, selling shower curtains.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
'Tis the Season
Yesterday I went to Walmart to grab potting soil. After half an hour in the store, I exited into November air that was beginning to swirl with snow. But that's ok, because I was pushing a huge cart on which sat the box for an enormous Christmas tree I'd talked myself into buying. Someday I will only use real trees, I am a real tree snob and look down on fake trees as paltry representations of Christmas. However, real trees are expensive every year, and this fake tree is only expensive one. Real trees require stands and hours spent stringing lights and watering and vacuuming. In my one bedroom, I-live-alone apartment, a fake tree makes much more sense. I can set it up in a matter of minutes, its pre-strung lights blazing merrily. When the season's over I can pack it up just as quickly into a box in the closet, where it will patiently wait another year. I can spend my time making homemade decorations instead. Besides, after many college years of no tree or Christmas decorations whatsoever, even a fake tree makes the apartment feel like it's swimming in Christmas.
In the meantime, bringing it home has put me into extreme holiday mode. Even if the tree is currently in the closet, waiting the right snowy afternoon and maybe some company to set up and decorate, I'm whistling Christmas tunes, and my mind is on the holidays. For example, I happen to have nine large, tart apples on my table, and on a rainy or perhaps snowy Sunday morning I'm asking myself, apple pie or apple crisp?
In the meantime, bringing it home has put me into extreme holiday mode. Even if the tree is currently in the closet, waiting the right snowy afternoon and maybe some company to set up and decorate, I'm whistling Christmas tunes, and my mind is on the holidays. For example, I happen to have nine large, tart apples on my table, and on a rainy or perhaps snowy Sunday morning I'm asking myself, apple pie or apple crisp?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)