Breastalicious???

First, some good news: my tomato plant has brought me a ripe tomato! Behold:


Now, to get something off my chest. Something named Dave. I went out on a date with said Dave last night. It started off great... he did not lie about his age, appearance, or anything else. He has a job, a car, and he seemed to be intelligent. We sat down and ordered beverages, and he complimented me by saying that my picture doesn't do me justice and I should get a new one. I replied that I had just taken that one, and I probably just don't photograph well.
Then he proceeded to apologize to me for looking at my breasts. I attempted to play it off, saying something like, "It happens all the time. I am not sure why you are admitting it." He said, and I quote, "Because you're breastalicious."
You would think my stunned silence and whatever look I had on my face would give him a clue to shut the hell up about my mammaries. But he didn't. He said he works in finance, so you could say he has a head for figures. Hardy, har, fucking har. Then he called me breastalicious AGAIN. I said with the utmost kindness, "I'm feeling rather like a piece of meat right now." Then he finally stopped.
Come to find out he lives with his mother, makes extra money on the side by house sitting, and has a goal to get a master's in education even though he has yet to obtain a bachelor's degree in anything. He pressured me all evening long to come back to the place he was housesitting after dinner. He kept putting his hand on my thigh and I kept brushing it off. Somehow or another I made it through the date, though I probably should have said I was going to the bathroom and left. When I drove away, he was just standing there, staring at me, like he couldn't believe I was actually leaving. Five minutes later he called my cell phone. I didn't answer, and he left this message: "Hey. Call me when you go to bed." Suuuure, Dave. How about GET LOST, dickhead.
I just truly do not understand what makes a man think that he has the right to comment on my breasts. What if I met a man, and within the first few minutes of meeting, said something like, "That's quite a bulge you've got there between your legs." What would that say about me as a person? What would that say about my level of respect for him as a human being? I just do not understand. It makes me want to have them removed. Is it possible for a man to appreciate my body and still respect everything else that is attached to it? Is it just too much to ask? For goddess' sake, they are large bags of fat with some nerve endings at the tip. They do not define me!!

Maybe now?

Today has been a good food day so far, AND I went to the gym. My energy level is finally back up where it should be. Somehow I weigh the same even though I haven't been to the gym in 3 weeks and have been eating pretty much whatever I want. Probably I have lost muscle mass. Well, that's nothing that can't be fixed! So, let's have another one tomorrow just like today.

Finally, a good food day!

I didn't eat any sugar yesterday. None. At work, I ate only what I brought, and for dinner we stopped at Village Inn in between taking the entrance exam at the local community college and shopping for decent clothes to wear for Career Day. I had a very skimpy BLT on sourdough and a small portion of fries. Then I didn't eat anything else before bed. So, it was a victory. I didn't work out, and won't today either because I have a union thing to go to after work, but if I ate well yesterday then I can do it again today.
We were at the community college because my youngest decided on sign language for her foreign language requirement, which I think is very cool. The class, taken at her high school, is actually a college course and will count for college credit! The school is paying for it too! But she has to be admitted to the college, so she took the entrance test yesterday. Then same child has career day today at school where apparently they will be GRADED on their APPEARANCE??!! She has jeans and t-shirts. That's it. The child, in years past, would rather die than be seen in a skirt. But yesterday she picked out a really cute, age appropriate but still very nice skirt and blouse. She looks fabulous in it.
Older daughter has been offered an internship with the U of A, where she will be working the front counter two days a week after school. I hope that if she does well, they will offer her a paying position for the summer. She will be 16 by then. Speaking of which, she will be 16 in ONE MONTH. OH. MY. GAWD.

Seriously

All this looking for my softer side has exhausted me. I don't have energy for anything else. I haven't been to the gym in weeks. I keep talking myself out of it on the way home. I'm just too tired! Seriously, I went to bed at 7 p.m. last night. I had to get up at 9 to pick my daughter up from her student council thing, and she apologized for waking me up. I said no need to apologize! And promptly went back to bed. That's not normal. I am calling the doctor today.

Still looking...

Well, it's been three days now and I haven't found my softer side. My brain hurts from looking. Can I call my arse my softer side? It's soft and squishy and would never hurt anyone. HAAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!!!

But what if I don't HAVE a softer side?

I totally lost it today in class and ripped a kid up one side and down the other for lying. In front of the rest of the class. He called his mom, his mom called the principal, I got called in. His mom wants him taken out of my class. Can't say I blame her. So I apologized to the kid, apologized to the mom, explained to her why I was frustrated with her kid, and asked for a week to try and smooth things over before we move him to another class. I think it will all be fine, but the principal thinks I need to look for my softer side. Problem is, I am not sure I have one.

And Again

Yesterday I ate fried food for breakfast, carrots dipped in peanut butter for a snack, salad for lunch, and tuna noodle casserole for dinner. Oh, and two dove ice cream bars. And a giant glass of chocolate milk. I guess it is food diary time again. Testing is over at school, so today we are back to our regular schedule. Possibly that will help me get back on track. My feet hurt from all the walking I did during testing, and that has been enough of an excuse for me to keep avoiding the gym. I am just going to keep writing about this mess until I figure it out. Here's the plan for today:
1. Make my protein shake for breakfast and take my vitamins with it.
2. Pack two healthy snacks and a decent lunch.
3. Track calories for today.
4. Go to the gym after work. No excuses.
5. Don't eat any food at work other than what I pack.
I have to figure out something for dinner now, before I leave, to avoid stopping off to get something quick after work when I am tired and don't care anymore.
Please, forces of the universe, give me strength! I am but a speck in this world, yet I want to be a healthy speck!

Try that again

I worked a 12 hour day yesterday and did not work out. My mental exhaustion is so utter and complete that I feel there is no hope of getting back on track. This week I have had to convince two sets of parents that retention is the best option for their child. The crying, the anguish, the pain on their faces is just more than I can bear. It is rare to see a grown man cry, but tell him his daughter has to repeat the 8th grade and there it is. I feel so deeply for them, but I refuse to throw their kids into a situation where I KNOW they will be overwhelmed. I refuse to just keep pushing them through even though they lack the most basic study skills, not to mention academic ones. It amazes me how many teachers are willing to give up once the parents start crying. Where is their sense of professional duty? As teachers, it is our job to do what we believe will best serve the CHILD. Even when it is difficult and painful.
So, the food was fine yesterday until I went to the teachers lounge for lunch and sat down next to a cake. Then proceeded to eat fried food for dinner because I was so hungry by the time I got to the grocery store, my last stop before home, I bought food from the deli - whatever looked good. Went to bed and had nightmares about my sister fighting a shark, and her husband killing my dad. This morning I just want to cry, go back to bed and just cry myself back to sleep. But instead I will go to work and smile and the kids and tell them this is their last day of testing and THEY CAN DO IT!!!!! Something funny did happen yesterday - I ran out of the snacks the school provided for AIMS testing, so I told the kids I would go to the store and get them whatever they wanted. Know what they asked for? Fresh fruit and beef jerky. All week they have been showing up with crackers, fruit snacks, junk! The school provided crackers - every flavor you can imagine. No protein, no fiber. So then I ask them what they want, and they make the most healthy choice! Too funny. So I got them strawberries, grapes, and beef jerky. I do love my job. I'm just really tired.

Back on Track

I worked out yesterday for the first time in a week and a half, which is good. My goal is to work out again today and keep my food under control. I weighed yesterday at the gym and my week and a half off cost me two pounds. Hopefully I can lose that by the end of the month and get back to where I was. I'm having a hard time with the food right now.

The Stress is Winning

AIMS is next week. Get this - we are testing for four days. The week is five days long. The decision was made from on high, the land of Headupmyass, AKA the district office, that we will test Monday through Thursday. Keep in mind we have tomorrow off, so the kids will come in Monday after a long weekend and BAM! Go cold into the most important test they will take this year. Did it occur to anyone in the land of Headupmyass that Tuesday through Friday might be better? Morons! IDIOTS! I am so pissed. So I bring this to the attention of the curriculum guy, who is administering the test, and he goes, "Great idea! Why didn't you say anything two months ago?"
"OH!" I thought. "Gee, I guess when they asked what us teachers thought, it didn't occur to me... OH, WAIT!! Nobody asked what we thought." What I said was, "I just got the testing schedule YESTERDAY." He said, "Smile! It's going to be ok." I actually YELLED at him, "NO! I am not happy!" and stormed off.
I am trying not to get so worked up over this stupid test. But all I want to do after the school day is over, is come home and eat. And that is what I have been doing. I tell myself that I am choosing to eat to manage my stress, when I could be choosing to work out. I am grateful at least for the awareness. I just feel so powerless and frustrated. I think I must be stressing the students out, in spite of my efforts to put on a happy face in front of them. I just hate this test. I hate the idea that this one test will determine whether they have the knowledge to pass into the next grade. I hate that the State of Arizona will base their opinion of my teaching from the results of this one test.
On top of everything else I have raging PMS, which makes me keep welling up with tears at the most unexpected times. It's kind of embarassing.

First Week Back

I really only had a week off, so I don't know why I am so damn tired this first week back. I can barely function right now. I don't know how I will make it through an entire day, and then I have a date tonight, which I am too tired to even be excited about! I can't imagine going to the gym today, and I need to because I ate boston cream pie yesterday! Things are going really well, though... my bee at Curves got moved again. Last month I lost an inch and a half, five and a half pounds, and my body fat went down by .6%. My students are finally starting to show some growth and maturity. 4th quarter is good for that! I have officially been accepted to the master's program and will start school this summer. I will have an MA in math... how exciting! I'm really looking forward to having math classes again. I'm such a weirdo.
Plus, my sister is moving to my city soon! Yay!! One down, two to go!

How To Date!!

I had a good date last night! Holy cow! He seems normal! No creepy vibes, no intrusive questions, no badmouthing the mother of his children! He paid for the meal, he walked me to my car, he asked me out again at the end of the date! AND he's cute! And employed! In the same job for the last 8 years! He has his own vehicle! He doesn't live with his mother! He's 36 and has been divorced for 10 years! I could tell he wanted to kiss me at the end of the date but he didn't. Instead he rambled on about how I could call him really, anytime I wanted to, about anything. It was very cute. So far today, no contact, which is good... I was afraid I would have 10 messages in my email box like I did the last time I had a good date. So, we'll see where this goes. YAY!!!
PS I forgot the best part. We met from a personal ad, and the first thing he said to me was, "Your picture definitely does NOT do you justice." AWWWW!!!!!

I Heart Jake Gyllenhaal

Yesterday I went and saw Zodiac. It was all right. Then I got a gyros to eat for dinner. I am infused with garlic now and afraid to go to the gym because I might knock everyone down with the odor. Man, was it good though.
I think I might try a bit of running today. That's pretty much the biggest decision I have to make! How spoiled am I?

It's Wednesday

I wasn't too sore to get out of bed, but I'm pretty sore. This time it's my legs and sides of my waist/hip muscles. It always seems to be a different muscle group, which is probably a good thing. Since May of last year I have lost 15.5 lbs and 8.5 inches. My total body fat has gone down two percent. If I keep losing at the same average rate, by this time next year I will be under 200 lbs and wearing a size 12. I think that's a reasonable long-term goal.
Yesterday I went to the Department of Education offices in downtown Tucson to have my certificate updated. You see, for the first two years of teaching you are not actually a teacher. You are a provisional teacher. When you have finished your first two years, your district signs a paper saying you have been teaching for two years, and then you pay the state $30 to convert your certificate. While I was there I showed that I passed the secondary math test so they could add on that I was approved to teach math to middle school students. That cost me $60. Now I have three years to pay $255 to take a 3-unit class on how to teach students who don't speak English, and then have them add that to my certificate for another $60. It's not optional, and there is no reimbursement, and I don't get a raise for it. Teaching is expensive.

Update

I lost 2 lbs last week in spite of the yogurt covered raisins and sake bombers! Ha!!!! I went to lunch and the sandwich was really good. And I decided against the chocolate torte.

Spring Break!

My goal for this week is to work out every day. Not just the regular workout, but the grueling 2-hour, 4 miles walking and 30 minutes strength training workout. I want to really kick my metabolism into high gear, if that's possible! What may happen is I will get to Wednesday and be in so much pain I can't even get out of bed. But I am hoping that I have done this workout enough times that my body will be able to handle it. I am going to increase my protein as well, so that I can build muscle. Today is my weigh day, but I will be very surprised if I have lost anything. In fact I might have gained slightly due to my indulgences over the weekend. (Curse you, yogurt-covered raisins! Curse you, sake bombers!) I just really have a hard time when I am out of my routine. I felt very out of control over the weekend and acted out of control as well. Dammit.
That's ok, this morning I am myself again and will feel 100% after my workout. Then I'll go to lunch with a friend and eat my favorite sandwich in the whole entire world, and look at the chocolate torte but ultimately decide against it.
Life is good.

The Nightmares

There is a definite connection between my eating and my nightmares! Yesterday, aggravated all day by trying to teach kids who aren't interested in learning and telling friends about the disastrous date of the previous evening, I came home from work and ate two bowls of Lucky Charms. Then I ate a can of ravioli and a few hours later, a small bowl of macaroni and cheese. Starch, starch, and more starch, and precious few grams of fiber or protein. I fell asleep as soon as I finished filling in my brackets for March Madness, and had bad dreams all night long! I lost my daughter and couldn't find her anywhere. There was a wizard chasing me. I was at school and the professor was speaking some language I didn't know - possibly Klingon. Then I woke up feeling like I had a hangover, and with no appetite for breakfast as of yet.
Now, if I could only figure out how to neutralize the feelings that lead to my eating garbage before I actually eat the garbage. Yesterday I felt frustrated, lonely, and discouraged, and I chose to seek comfort in marshmallow cereal. I didn't even exercise. Is it possible that at some point I will be able to convince myself to head for the gym instead of the pantry for comfort? Because that would be really great.

What the F*%*^????

I just got back from the worst date EVER.
I swore I wouldn't do it. I demanded better of myself. And yet, I went on a date with somebody who thought my most recent Craig's List spoof was HILARIOUS.
We emailed back and forth. We appreciated one another's sense of humor. We thought this might be the one.
Then we met.
In person.
He said he was 5'8", 210 lbs.
5'8", 210 LBS MY FAT, WHITE, DIMPLY ASS! Why do people lie about these things? That guy was ROUND. As in, 65in. x 65in. I am not complaining about his weight. Or his height (rather, lack of it).
I am complaining because why, why, why must I waste my time meeting someone who can't even do me the courtesy of telling me the truth about what they LOOK LIKE???
Then, once I got past the initial shock, we started talking. He was a total POTTY MOUTH. Mind you, his emails were completely clean. Then we meet, and he is throwing around the F-bomb like every other word! Clearly, from my venting above, I have no problem with the f-bomb! But if you are a potty mouth, be a potty mouth all the time! I made the mistake of telling him my brother was in Iraq and my feelings about the situation there. He proceeded to tell me that Hillary will be the next president, my vote doesn't matter, and this will be the doom of our nation. I tried to argue my points, but it was as if I was not even there. Who talks about this stuff on a first freaking date????
I will be alone for the rest of my LIFE. I will be the crazy math teacher cat lady at the end of the block, where all the kids are afraid to trick-or-treat because they will get tricked and not treated. I will be throwing my cats at kids who walk on my perfectly manicured lawn. I will be the horrible, ugly, mean teacher who scars kids for life. All of this because I can't find a suitable mate. The one time I decide to meet somebody in the last 2 months, it's a friggin loser who lies to my face about what he looks like.
WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME???????????? WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS????????

This Fitness Thing

Yesterday, after working a full day, I decided it was a good idea to walk twice as far as usual to the gym. It was over 80 degrees outside and by the time I started walking back to my car, I knew I had made a mistake. I hadn't eaten enough because I didn't like the lunch I packed, and I was already tired from work. Not enough calories during the day resulted in overeating at dinner. So I was sitting there after dinner, reading, tired, with a full stomach, and just absolutely throbbing from head to toe. Everything hurt, but it wasn't like sore muscles hurt... it was like my body was just PISSED OFF. I've never experienced anything like it. This morning I am better, but I think I had better take it easy today... maybe just a nice walk...

Anxiety

As soon as I found out I will be accepted into my master's program, I stopped sleeping. I started wanting to eat everything in sight and drink copious amounts of anything involving hops. Now, I haven't DONE these things, mind you, but it's taking a lot of energy not to. They are almost all valid fears, and there is nothing to do but wait for it to happen, and try to make it work. It's the unknown that scares me... what if the director's idea of "easy for me to join the program" and my idea of that are completely different? I'm already in debt and on the verge of bankrupcy as it is. What if this puts me over the edge? What if there's no time left to be a parent? What if my anxiety gets the better of me and I lose the stability I have gained the last few years? What if? What if? What if?

My Skinny Pants

The pants I was so excited to fit into a few months ago are so big now that they chafe my skin at the waist. I'm fitting into all of my cute clothes, my bras don't bulge, and I can foresee a future where I can buy clothes wherever I want without worrying whether they will have my size. Everything is cool, right?
This is typically the point where I begin to self-sabotage. And I am starting to see it happen. Somewhere in the dark recesses of my gray matter, my fear takes over. What will I blame my problems on, if not my weight? What will I do with the attention from men that I am ill equipped to handle? Am I capable of living life as a thinner person without drinking too much and losing control of my morals?
When I take a serious and objective look back, alcohol has been a big problem for me whenever I began to fit into regular sized clothes. I used the alcohol to stifle the self doubt. I used it to feel like I was on top of the world and in control of everything. It's sinister because the truth is the exact opposite.
If I am going to be able to live as a thinner person, I have to learn how to do it without using anything to quell those voices in my head. I am going to need a new coping mechanism that doesn't involve a substance. I don't know where it will come from, but I believe I can find it if I look.
So, the girl scout cookies didn't undo me, and neither will my own gray matter. Not this time. I hope I hope I hope I hope

A Momentuous Occasion

Dear Ms. Papenfus,
We have reviewed your applications to our Master's degree program. Our current plan is to make you an offer, with financial aid, as soon as possible. I wish that I could be more specific right now, but there are still some details of our budget that need to be worked out. I expect that the offer we do make will make it easy for you to join the program.
(...lots of other blah blah blah.....)
Sincerely yours,
X
Director, Arizona Teacher Initiative
University of Arizona

More fun with Craig's List

I did it again... I couldn't help it! I got bored, and fueled by the strange (and frankly, disconcerting) fact that I am still receiving responses from the last ad I posted, I composed the following:
Jane Looking for her Tarzan
I call myself Jane because it seems a suitable name for a blonde, blue eyed, trim, gorgeous woman. My birth name is Shakwondae, but please don't be put off by that!
My face is near perfect. It's taken six surgeries to get there but it was worth every second of pain to be this beautiful. Please don't respond if you are allergic to latex as that is what my skin is for all intensive purposes. I would of gone to college but I got kicked out after I offered sex for good grades. Even though I am not educated I consider myself incredibly gorgeous and that should be enough for any man.
I don't have to work out to stay skinny. I just don't eat. I don't have a lot of muscle tone but who cares when you are as cute as me? Please don't try to take me to a restaurant as they serve food there. I am sure that you would rather have a skinny woman and avoid food on dates, than be dating a fatso who actually wants to put food in her mouth.
I can be a good conversationalist as long as the topic is my looks. Please don't be turned off my the smell of limburger cheese. I have done everything I know of to do but my feet still smell. It's not bad as long as I keep my shoes on.
Please respond with a picture. If you are rich and handsome and look good in a leotard, we might have a chance.
Now, get ready for this. The first response was so good, I can't even wait until I have more to post it. Here it is:
Jane,
i've got a secret. one can eat & still stay lean & attractive. the
trouble is in our society we are always in a rush thus we eat too
quickly & over-eat before we get full.
it takes 15 to 20 mins. from the 1st bite of food for the nutrient to
enter our blood-stream & signal our system we are full. in that 15
mins. we often eat double what would have filled us up had we only ate
slowly! i eat slowly taking 1 min between bites so in 15 mins. i can
only eat 16 bites of food. i get FULL on thos 16 bites and stay lean
unfortunately i had to learn this the hard way. i do work-out 5 days
per week doing aerobics & body-building but that for my heart & to
develop my physique.

well enough of the sermon. i'd like to chat & get acquainted. 0nce
we've made contact i'll send more pics.


That's how he sent it to me... with the head removed!!! I can't stop laughing! I've lost bladder control!!

The Great Homework Debate

Yesterday I was asked to join a committee that will change the way teachers assign grades at my school. I was told very clearly that it wasn't IF we were going to change things, it was HOW we were going to change things, and did I want to be a part of the decision making process? Hell yeah, I said. Like I'm going to pass up a chance to spout off my two cents.
Anyway, the big deal is that there are state standards we are responsible for teaching in each subject. These are the standards that students are tested on at the end of the year by way of AIMS. For example, in 7th grade math, one of the standards is that students should be able to find a percent of a number. On their AIMS test, there are some questions that will assess whether or not the student can perform that task.
How does all this relate to homework? I'm getting there.
Ever since the dawn of high stakes testing (meaning pass this test or you get held back), there has been a lot of talk about whether or not grades should reflect how a student performs on their tests. Some students can never do a lick of homework, and as a result fail a class, and then perform very well on their tests. The general movement seems to be that if a student can perform on the state standards, he/she should receive a passing grade in the class, regardless of work ethic. We can't have kids doing well on AIMS and getting F's on their report card in the same year. Our grades need to match how the students are actually performing on the state standards.
Here's the rub: There is no test in real life that will give a kid a paycheck for being smart. People get paychecks because they show up for work every day and do their jobs. Now, there are exceptions to this rule; I realize that, and so does every other teacher out there. We teach the state standards, but that is not ALL we teach. Part of school is learning to be responsible, and part of the teacher's job is to hold students accountable for doing their work. When all these changes take place, students will be able to have a C on their report card without doing any homework at all. Part of me thinks that is fine - if they don't need the extra practice, they shouldn't have to do it. But the other part says hold up! There will most likely come a day when the tasks they have to perform don't come to them naturally, and then they will need the practice! And when that day comes, they will have no work ethic, no study habits, no idea how to actually sit and practice on their own! Just because they can do 7th grade math without batting an eyelash, that doesn't mean they will get to precalculus in a few years and understand everything the first time around.
So the debate continues. Am I overestimating the teacher's responsibility in shaping the work ethic of the child? I know for a fact there is too much homework being assigned at my school. Some teachers assign it just because they think it's expected. Getting rid of that kind of thing will be a definite bonus. On the other hand, it just goes against the fiber of my being to think a kid should not have any homework, ever, or should be able to blow it off and not have any consequences.
Thoughts? Ideas?

Ahh, testing

We are testing this week. No lesson plans, no collecting homework. Just blissful quiet. Until the results come in, that is, when I will crash into a dismal depression over the failure of my 7th graders to grasp the state standards.

My Revenge

The Girl Scout Cookies may have won the battle, but I won the war. Thankfully, yesterday an intervention came in the form of my dry skin.
I was putting lotion on my legs when I became acutely aware of the muscle in my right calf. It was flexed because I had my foot up on my dresser to put the lotion on, and the thought that came to mind was, and I quote: "Holy Shit, girl, that is TIGHT!!!" (Tight being the word my students have been using to describe something that is so beyond cool that it is not cool anymore, but tight.)
It was quite a revelation, because it may have been the first time that I have become aware of part of my body and had a positive reaction to it. I came out of my cookie coma right then, and said to myself, "Melissa, you are NOT going to let this happen. Get your shit together THIS INSTANT and go to the gym." And I went. Not only that, I walked there, worked out, and walked home.
I kept thinking about the cookies, though. There was still 1/2 a box of the peanut butter Do-si-dos beckoning to me seductively. (Serving size: 1 tube. Calories: 550.) So this morning, I put them down the disposal. At $4.00 a box, that was two dollars I just threw down the drain. Literally.
So next year, I will recognize the girl scouts for the crack-pushing, cellulite whores that they are. I will not buy cookies, and if I feel I must donate money, I will remember that it's better to just give it to them directly than to put it down the drain. I have fond memories of my own girl scouts experiences, and my leader was one of the strong women who became my role models as an adult. Which is why I end up buying the cookies every year. BUT NO MORE!! Hear me, girl scouts? Hear me, fat cells? I WIN!!!!!

Undone by the girl scout cookies

I have come completely undone. Well, not completely. I still keep starting out every morning with a protein shake and good intentions. The girl scout cookies got here Tuesday morning. Before I even left work, I had eaten an entire box. Serving size: 2 cookies. Calories: 150. Servings in box: 8. That's 1,350 calories, people! And a stomachache, a headache, and total derailment of plans for the stupid 20 year reunion! I didn't lose any weight last week. I am not meeting my goals! I came home Tuesday, still went to the gym, but proceeded to eat another 1/3 of a box of cookies before bed. I woke up Wednesday, had a protein shake, and told myself I was starting over. Then I got home from work and ate the other 2/3 of the open box, and didn't walk. Yesterday I did fine all day at work, but I was thinking about the damn cookies. I got home and ate 1/2 a box, and didn't go to the gym or walk. Last night I had weird lesbian dreams involving the ocean and woke up with a monstrous headache. I am destroying myself! I can't stop! I think I need rehab! Is there cookie rehab??? CURSE THE GIRL SCOUTS AND THEIR BLASTED COOKIES!!!!

Tainted Peanut Butter!!

There's tainted peanut butter in my cupboard! Or was, rather... my youngest daughter looked at the code on the lid, and sure enough, it's one of the recall jars. It was almost gone, but none of us got sick. I told her to throw it away, but I wonder if that was silly. If we already ate almost the whole jar, and didn't get sick, it must be ok, right?

Why don't you just say the negroes are taking over the world?

In our school newsletter, which is published every Friday, the Principal put a little blurb about Abraham Lincoln last week. Yesterday she forwarded to the entire staff an email from a parent, thanking everyone who was involved in the newsletter for doing such a great job. The parent also wrote this:
"Thank you for mentioning President Lincoln in there as well. He seems to have gotten lost in the "black history month" so it was good to see you mention him."
I have to trust my gut reaction to this statement, which was that this statement is a veiled racist rant. I understand that I live in suburbia (people have decorated the OUTSIDES of their houses for Valentine's day, by the way), and that there are few people of color, even fewer of whom are black. But I am still jarred when people say and do things like this, and I am ashamed to say it has happened more times than I care to admit. It makes me think I need to move away from here. The quotation marks around Black History Month and the fact that the words aren't capitalized, combined with the insinuation that a white man isn't getting the attention he deserves add up to nothing more than plain bigotry.
I also have to wonder why the principal didn't see this? Did it even occur to her that the statement might be considered racist? Did she stop and think before she forwarded it to everyone? I doubt it. She's so entrenched in this community, she probably didn't even notice the racist undertones. That's what happens when racist behavior is considered acceptable in your community. I need to get out of here.

I hate science fair

What a week! I've been working my head off. My youngest daughter waited until 2 days before her science fair project was due to get started on it, and even though I refused to bail her out, it was still a very stressful couple of days. I did the right parenting thing, but it was definitely not the easy way out. I kept reminding her of why she was in this situation, and that she did not have anyone to blame but herself, etc. Of course, it would have helped greatly if I didn't have to be the only parent. I am very angry and resentful at my ex right now because he could have helped and he chose not to. I'm so angry that I feel like telling him I'm not driving the girls to meet him this Friday, and if he wants to see them he can come get them. But when I think that through, I am afraid that he will come get them and then refuse to bring them back, and put me in the same situation I am thinking of putting him in. And that isn't what is best for the girls. So, I will bite my tongue and swallow my anger and take them as usual. And my stomach will complain. My sense of fairness and justice will complain. And nothing will change. It's the powerlessness that eats away at me. What it all boils down to is that I chose him as the father of my children, and I chose to divorce him, and although they were both reasonable choices at the time, these are the results.
I have finished reading "You: On A Diet" and have exercised every day this week except Thursday. (Ok, I skipped my walk because I was helping with science fair.) This book insists that being accountable is very important for success in making permanent life changes. It says to walk every single day, no excuses, for 30 minutes, and talk to somebody when I'm finished. I'm also supposed to eat cinnamon. hmmm.

The Very Long Day

We have conferences today and tomorrow. They are not parent-teacher conferences anymore. They are student led conferences. The student runs the conference. We have spent a week preparing them, having them evaluate themselves and their performance in school. The big idea is to get them to feel ownership over their grades. It's a good idea... but there is resistance from some of the kids and some of the parents. The same ones that have always blamed the teacher and the school for their kids' shortcomings. Most of them are ok with it though.
Either way it means I have to work until 7:30 tonight, which sucks no matter how you slice it. I am wearing all black, putting my hair in a bun, and wearing my sensible shoes. I'm all business today. I have to be - each conference lasts 20 minutes and there is no way I'm getting behind!

My Bee

The first time you get weighed and measured at my Curves, they put a paper bee with your name on it up on the wall. There is a section for "Bee-ginning Curvettes" for those who have lost less than 5 lbs and 5 inches. Then there is a section for 5 lbs/inches, 10 lbs/inches, and so on. Well, my bee had been in the very same spot for 8 long months.
Until yesterday.
I have lost a total of 9 1/2 inches since I started Curves last May, and 5 1/2 lbs. So they moved my bee. They made an announcement and everyone clapped, and then we went on working out as usual. But in my mind, I was running up stadium steps, singing the "Rocky" theme. I haven't stopped yet.

Hitting

I was talking with some of my students before class today and the topic of hitting came up. I told them that there was no hitting at my house, ever. I told them the story of how I spanked my youngest child after she unbuckled herself from her car seat at the age of two, and then I told them I never did it again. I told them that my daughters aren't allowed to hit each other. Those kids were so peculiar! They were incredulous... they kept asking, "You don't hit your kids???" "What if they hit the wall?" "What if they hit the door?" "You really don't hit your kids?"
I was struck by how normal it must be for all of them to get hit. These are my 7th grade special ed students. I have them for 50 minutes out of the school day, and sometimes I am ready to strangle them by the time we're done. I wonder what it would be like to have them all the time, and be their parents. I wonder if I would hit them?
A few minutes later one of them was staring at me kind of funny. I gave him a goofy look and asked him what he was staring at me for. He said, "I wish you were my mom, because them I wouldn't get hit."
I pulled him out of his next class and took him to the office, sat him down and asked him exactly what he meant by "hit." He said his dad only hits him if he does something really bad, like get an F. (He is learning disabled, by the way.) He said his dad hits him on his hand.
Well, parents are allowed to hit their kids. I made him promise that if he ever felt unsafe he would tell me. Then I had to let it go. Except I haven't.

My Options, Continued

More responses to the Snow White ad:

I’d like to compliment your ad. I thought it was terrific. If I wasn’t so jaded myself I might respond to it.

are you really all those things....Hahahahah

hi im not perfect but I like you to be you and nothing more im not into the gravy crap im a don't to earth person i like to sit home watch tv, work around the house cook clean them kind of things im sorry that you have a bad time with men im 57 laid back type of person if your interested in me then drop me a line im Richard glad to meet you here is a pic

I think that last guy wrote twice. He is old and he looks his age and then some. I would like to write back to him, but it would just be mean, so I'm going to do it here instead.

Dear Rich:
After perusing your second response, I have a few questions/comments.
1. What is a "don't to earth person?" And what is "gravy crap?"
2. There are keys called "period" and "shift." Know them. Use them.
3. You will improve your chances greatly if you write to people in your age range. You are twenty years my senior, old enough to be my father. I wouldn't date my dad, and I won't date you.
4. If you are going to send your picture around, you might try taking one when you are smiling. You look like a grouchy old fart.
5. Get lost.
Sincerely,
Melissa

Fun with Craig's List

For those of you who don't know, Craig's List is an online classified ads website. It is free, so you get all kinds. I read the personal ads often; every now and then there's a good one. I came across this one last week:

Somewhere there's a Woman - 46

Somewhere, there's a woman whose beautiful, naturally slender physique doesn't require drug induced effort to maintain. Somewhere there's a woman who likes Big Mac's and Crab Legs, Prime Rib and PBJ's. Somewhere there's a woman that realizes moderation is the key, nothing is entirely off limits although some things are kept that way for higher purposes. Somewhere there's a woman that will dance with her man under the stars, to the music of a car radio playing in the parking lot. Somewhere there's a woman that understands energy, intuitively, and how to channel it. Somewhere there's a woman, seeking more from life than the ever increasing balance in her check book. Somewhere there's a woman that is still intact, unharmed and unjaded. Somewhere there's a woman, that can love animals, children and a lover with the same reverence they dedicate to loving themselves. Somewhere, there's a woman that can share, without measuring the equality of this moment, but the equality of the whole. Somewhere there's a woman who measures herself by how she touches the lives of others, not so much what she receives in return. Somewhere there's a woman who's physically healthy, mentally stable, financially able, sexually active and sensually in tune. Somewhere there's a woman interested in seeing beyond the horizon and rarely disappointed by what she may find there. Somewhere there's a woman that can look at the desert and key on the flower that's rooted between the rocks. Somewhere there's a woman who understands the metaphysical as well as the physical, the intimate as well as the exoteric. Somewhere there's a woman that doesn't understand jealousy or enjoy it.
Somewhere there's a woman, a little like me. Somewhere there's a woman that'd like to know me. This isn't intended as poetry, just my call to the universe for a Very Special Delivery...

He had attached his picture, and believe you me, he is NOT all of that. Once I stopped gagging, I was inspired to write an ad in response, which I thought was hysterically funny:

To the Perfect Man - 38

Let me see if I've got this straight....
You want a thin woman who eats Big Macs.
You want a woman with a lot of energy and drive who is willing to spend their spare time dancing in a parking lot.
A woman who loves animals, has money yet doesn't care about it, in her 30s or 40s but has never been hurt enough to be jaded.
Who gives everything she has but doesn't require anything from you except your dashing good looks and charming personality.
Who looks for adventure but never shows any sign of disappointment.
Hmmm.... sounds a lot like Snow White. Have you tried Disneyland?

Well, I started getting responses. Quite a few. It is the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen. Some of the dimmer bulbs out there thought I was describing MYSELF as Snow White, and wanted to "defrock" me. Some were rather vile, telling me it's really not all that much to ask, all of those things in one woman, and I must be a bitch. Oh, you'd like to see them? OK!

Dearest,
You have to have a great sense of humor...please tell me you do.
Care to chat a while?
Intrigued....gotta know...drop me a line?
kenny


Your ad is as hell... you gotta be good people.

lets see im not perfect and all I want from a woman is for her to be her wow that's asking allot by the way hi im Richard

I would have to disagree with this.
Although I'm sure this does apply to quite a few men out there.

Hello, your posting was intreiging , me 25/m UofA grad in tucson area, ask some questions

That's just a sampling! I deleted many, many more. I pasted them exactly as they were written. These are my options, people!!
Then I thought, why should I be the only one entertained? I'll share it with my friends and family! So there is my Friday gift to you all.
Peace, love and protractors!!

At the Gym

I've been going to the gym religiously and walking on the days I don't. Since I am spending more time there, of course there are things to be irritated at. I love going, I'm making friends, etc. but I have got to get this off my chest. If I don't, I might say it to the offending party, and then I might not be able to go back to the gym. The offending party wears a t-shirt that says on the front, "Ask me why I'll never vote for Hillary." I saw this shirt many times from the front, and so I knew this wasn't someone I wanted to talk to. Not to mention she wears weightlifter gloves, you know the fingerless kind? For CURVES. Who do you think you are, Mr. T?? It's a fat lady gym! Anyway, I got a look at the back a week or so ago, and now every time I see this lady I just want to punch her in the head. The back says, "Hey Hillary, who says the antichrist has to be a man?"
Now, I am all for freedom of speech. But I have to think that the kind of person who would wear such an inflammatory statement on her body out in public probably doesn't give a shit what other people think. It's not that I am in love with Hillary, either. I don't agree with everything she does, and I understand why people might find her abrasive. HOWEVER. A woman is running for the office of President of the United States, and she has a shot. This is huge. This transcends political disagreements, in my opinion. Long ago I adopted a policy of expediency - whatever it takes to get a black female elected president, that's what I am going to do. Getting a woman elected president is a good, healthy step in that direction. Anybody but a white male is a healthy step in that direction! So I have a problem with women who are not only not supporting Hillary, but are dragging her down. What, you would rather have another fathead white guy who can't see past the size of his own ego (READ: PENIS SIZE)? Haven't we had enough of that? I know I have. That's why I WILL be voting for Hillary, unless of course my hero Barak is on the ticket. Getting a black man elected is closer to a black woman than a white woman. I think. That's a tough call. But I like Obama. My rallying cry is "ANYBODY BUT ANOTHER FATHEAD WHITE GUY!!!!!!!!!!!" Now if I could just get that stupid woman at the gym to go shopping for new workout clothes.

More Snow!!

We have an icicle!!!
This is my front yard.
This is my street.
We also have a 2-hour delay in starting school, which is why I am blogging instead of working! It is snowing again right now.

Snow!!

This is a snowman my sister-in-law made. Inne cute???

Animals

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free.
In love, you feel the most alive when your partner is patient and never willing to give up on you.
You'd like to your lover to think you are optimistic and happy.
You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please.
Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with.
Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.
You think of marriage as something that will confine you. You are afraid of marriage.
In this moment, you think of love as something you thirst for. You'll do anything for love, but you won't fall for it easily.

http://www.blogthings.com/keystoyourheartquiz/

Nightmares

It's that time of month, which means bad dreams, but last night was a particularly nasty one. I dreamed I had hit someone with my car. I don't know if they were injured or dead, just that I had hit them. Before I got in the car I had a few sips of beer and so my breath smelled like alcohol. I was going to trial and my older sister was my defender. I was going to be sentenced to two years in jail unless I got off, which didn't seem likely because of the beer. It didn't matter that I had a few sips, just that I smelled like it. I was asking my older sister if she was ready to take the kids (my ex-husband didn't exist in the dream, one very nice part of an otherwise complete nightmare) and she wouldn't answer me, so I didn't know what would become of my daughters. By the time I got out of jail they would be nearly adults. Then, thankfully, my alarm went off. I hope the lingering sense of unease lets up before long.
I have to meet with the principal and the parent who is telling everyone that I am abusing her son tomorrow after school. I wonder if this has anything to do with the nightmare? I do feel like I'm on trial where this parent is concerned. Don't know how much of it is in my head.

Ice Hockey

I went on a date last night to an ice hockey game. It was U of A against some school from back East... St. Louis I think? I had never been to a hockey game. Did you know the ice smells like a locker room? Strange. The crowd was quite exuberant. They wanted the players to fight. Six players got kicked out. I guess when they fight, the object is to get as many of the other guy's clothes off as you can. Whoever gets the most clothes off the other guy, won the fight. The referees kind of skated around whomever was fighting, waiting for them to be done. It was one of the strangest things I have ever seen. It confirmed my suspicions about the sport though... It's not about the hockey, it's about the fighting. Really it's just boxing, only with sticks and a lot of padding. Also they are on skates so they are slipping around and using each other to stay upright, while they are trying to strip each other naked. I'll probably go again.

Scars

I tear my heart open
I sew myself shut
My weakness is
That I care too much
My scars remind me
That the past is real
I tear my heart open,
Just to feel
I'm drunk and I'm feeling down
And I just want to be alone
I'm pissed cause you came around
Why don't you just go home?
Cause you channeled all your pain
And I can't help you fix yourself.
You're making me insane
All I can say is
I tear my heart open
I sew myself shut
My weakness is
That I care too much
And our scars remind us
That the past is real
I tear my heart open,
Just to feel
I tried to help you once
Against my own advice
I saw you going down
But you never realized
That you're drowning in the water
So I offered you my hand
Compassion's in my nature
Tonight is our last end.
I tear my heart open
I sew myself shut
My weakness is
That I care too much
Our scars remind us
That the past is real
I tear my heart open,
Just to feel
I'm drunk and I'm feeling down
And I just want to be alone
You shouldn't ever come around
Why don't you just go home?
Cause you're drowning in the water
And I tried to grab your hand
I left my heart open
But you didn't understand
You didn't understand.
GO FIX YOURSELF
I can't help you fix yourself
But at least I can say I tried
I'm sorry but I've got to move on with my own life
I can't help you fix yourself
But at least I can say I tried
I'm sorry but I've got to move on with my own life
I tear my heart open
I sew myself shut
My weakness is
That I care too much
Our scars remind us
That the past is real
I tear my heart open,
Just to feel
I tear my heart open
I sew myself shut
My weakness is
That I care too much
My scars remind me
That the past is real
I tear my heart open,
Just to feel...
(a song by Papa Roach)

It is done.

I have applied for my Master's program. I am filled with apprehension, fear, and loathing at the thought of it. It's not a good attitude to have when embarking on such an adventure. Note to self: Work on that. It is a program specifically designed for middle school math teachers, and the degree will be a Master of Arts in Mathematics with Teaching Option. I like the first 5 words best. I am excited about getting into math classes again. It's the writing of papers that I dread!

I'm getting married

Yesterday I found out that my favorite student (the one whose mother sent that nasty email on Friday) had said that he couldn't talk to my partner teacher about the problems he was having with me because the partner teacher and I are getting MARRIED. For some reason, that final tidbit was enough to snap me out of the pity party I had been having for myself all damn weekend and I found some sympathy for the kid. He's crazy, and in the classic words of Ray Barone's dad, "You can't be mad at a crazy person." Regardless of what level of reality this poor child is living in, he believes I dislike him. So the partner teacher is going to handle him, and I am going to work to make my few interactions with him very positive. Then I am going to ignore his mother and let the principal handle her.
I do feel like I have made a huge mistake doing special ed. It did not occur to me when I signed on for it that working with resource kids would mean dealing with crazy people. It totally makes sense... duh! And since I am not even making enough money to make ends meet, and I am going to have to find a weekend job, probably for minimum wage, I am thinking, what am I doing? I can look for a different line of work, where I make enough money, and don't have crazy people after me.

Dear Crazy Bitch,

Thank you for the drama you caused right before the weekend. Really, it just started things off on just the right note for me. I sort of wonder, though, how there can be so much drama when your kid hasn't even been to school this week?
Oh, that's right. I forgot. You had all week to bond with him and hear all the details about his regular school day, and how horribly he is treated in my class.
It's not like you shouldn't believe the little angel... after all, he's always been truthful before, right? Like the time he told you that I wouldn't "except" (your word) his homework because it was only half done, when in reality he tried to turn in the work we had done in class? He hadn't done a single problem of the homework side of the worksheet. You made some excuse for him, and for yourself, about being confused. I let it go. Then there was the time he told you the reason he was tardy for my class was because he was talking with another teacher. You reminded me ever so kindly that he has accomodations for that, being that he is practically a paraplegic, and he is allowed to spend all the time he needs getting clarification of directions. There was just that one little detail about him having LUNCH right before my class... oh, and the part where I asked that teacher whether she had been talking to your son after lunch, and she had no idea what I was talking about. That time, you apologized to me and grounded your son for lying to you. I guess it doesn't matter whether or not he lies to everyone else.
Regardless, I guess you have chosen to believe whatever he has been telling you all week, and I guess in your mind that justifies you sending an email to another member of the staff calling me a witch and telling him how sorry you are that he has to work with such a "wicked women" (again, your idiot spelling) all day.
That was really great. Then, that part where you called the principal and told her that I was giving your son an ulcer? Thanks for that. I so enjoy being held responsible for shit that isn't mine.
It's really very simple. I teach math. That's my job. I'm not your son's wet nurse. I'm not his counselor, or his self-esteem monitor, or his guidance counselor. I am not your whipping post. I have your son for less than one hour a weekday, during which time my job is to TEACH HIM MATH. That is all. I teach a lesson, we do some practice, I assign homework. He either participates in the lesson, or he doesn't. Not something I can control. He either hands in the homework, or he doesn't. Not something I can control.
I am doing my part. How about if you start doing yours? Better yet, maybe YOUR SON could try doing something for HIMSELF?
He'll never get the chance with you in his life. I actually think he might be better off if you were beating him, instead of wiping his ass. At least that way he would have to learn how to stick up for himself. As it is, you are teaching him to be just another stupid sucker who will never be able to take responsibility for his own actions. It's ok with me, really. One day you'll be telling the judge why she is a witch because she doesn't understand how HARD his life is with ADD, and how wicked she is for sending him to jail. You just can't treat a special ed kid like that, right?
By the way... he's only a special ed kid for a few more years. There is no such thing as a special ed adult.
Sincerely,
Wicked Witch of the School

I need to learn when to HANG UP.

I answered a guy's personal ad, sent him an email and when he responded we exchanged pictures. We emailed back and forth for a few days and then I gave him my number. He is my age, good looking, one kid, never been married. He has a job and a car, a degree, etc... he met all of the basic criteria. So we talked.
Fist, he could not stop talking abou the size of my breasts. He probably brought it up five times in ten minutes and actually asked me what my cup size was.
Then, (why in the hell was I still on the phone?? I really don't know!) he kept asking me all these weird questions about my personality. Would I say I tend to take charge, or let other people make the decisions? Would I say my personality is more dominant, or submissive?
(HellOOOOO Melissa, pick up the clue phone!)
While I was trying to figure out a way of get off the phone without being rude (I really need to get over that) he says to me, hesitantly, "It's just that I am looking for someone... for someone.... for.... someone to dominate me."
(verrrrrry pregnant pause)
Me: (stifling a laugh) Oh!... I see.
Him: What? You see what? What does that mean?
Me: Yeah, I gotta go...
Him: Can I call you tomorrow?
Me: No.
Him: Is that an order?
Me: ??????????????
Me: click

The Windy City

I've been talking to a guy from Chicago who is planning on moving to my city next summer. We emailed back and forth for a few weeks, and then he asked if he could call me. He seems to have his act together, and he's really sweet. Like most of the men I have met, he spends way too much time talking about his ex. (What's the deal with that?) Other than that, he's my kind of guy. He thinks about things just for the sake of thinking. He forms opinions based on evidence instead of emotion. He can talk about politics without getting hot under the collar. He kinda has a funny name though.

The point is, I did it

Yesterday I wore pantyhose to work. I overlooked the small detail of putting underpants into my gym bag, so I worked out commando-style. All was well until the leg press machine. And that's all I have to say about that.

Maybe I'll just waitress...

Things I am expected to do every day:

Write learning objectives on the board (4 different ones because I teach 4 levels)
Write essential questions on the board (4 different sets)
Update my website detailing homework for the day (4 different assignments)
Bus duty after school

Things I am expected to do every week:

Enter two grades per class
Do lesson plans for the following week
Playground duty Tuesday mornings
Math meeting every Wednesday during my plan

Other things I was told last week:

- No sitting down during teaching. Apparently I am not qualified to decide that my students are ready to practice on their own.
- No trying to get other work done while sitting at a meeting that has nothing to do with anything concerning me. I have to listen even if it is totally irrelevant.

Last week I had meetings after school 4 out of 5 days. Next week I have meetings after school 5 out of 5 days. My planning period was taken away two out of five days. Already for next week my planning period has been taken away two out of five days. I have about 100 students all together, so I am supposed to grade at least 200 papers a week and enter the grades in the computer. When is this supposed to happen? I can't do it during the day while the students are working, and I can't do it after school during the stupid meetings. Is there some magic grading fairy that I need to get in touch with? Because I have a quite tall stack of papers sitting next to my coffee right now, and I have to say I resent it.
I should just quit and get a job waitressing at CoCo's. At least they get tips when they're nice.

My least favorite holiday

I have never liked halloween, but the older my kids get, the more of a pain in the arse this "holiday" turns out to be. I have argued until I am blue in the face with my 14 year old, who insists she is not too old to be trick-or-treating. Someone else told me they draw the line at facial hair, so maybe she isn't too old yet, but my gut says when they are taller than me, it's time to quit. Then the older daughter asks if she can have a friend sleep over. It's a school night, I say. It's halloween, she says. Fine, I say. I'm too tired to keep this up any longer. I might be spared the younger one going anywhere as she has been sick for the last few weeks with a strange fever that comes and goes. If she has a fever, then oh well! Can't go anywhere.
My students are not allowed to dress up for halloween, thank goodness. It's too much of a distraction. However, they are 12 year olds, and they LOVE halloween. They will push the limits, I am sure. The best part is that my principal, in her infinite wisdom, chose TODAY as picture day. This should be interesting.

Work is not so good...

I knew teaching special ed would be challenging. Just like the rest of the job though, it isn't the actual teaching or the students. It's the parents, and the meetings. Yesterday the two combined and the result was my spending two hours after school twiddling my thumbs while the special ed coordinator listened to some parents bitch about how we're not doing right by their son. Very little of it was about how their son is kind of a creep and has no sense of personal responsibility whatsoever about his education. His mom kept saying things like, "You guys just don't understand how hard life is for him" and "It's really hard parenting him" and "You guys just don't know how hard it is for him to learn."
WHATEVER. Parenting is hard, period. Learning is hard too. Both require effort.
At the end of the meeting, she gave me a copy of an article she printed off the internet titled "How to teach children with ADD." I could barely conceal my contempt. I wish I could hand her an article that goes something like "How not to turn your kid into a dependent asshole" or "How to take responsibility for your own shit instead of trying to put it on everyone around you." The sad part is that the kid is far more capable than his parents allow him to be. If he had to take responsibility for his actions, he would be working at or near grade level. As it is, he doesn't have to do his own homework, he doesn't have to take responsibility for his part in his education, and he gets to blame me every time he doesn't understand his math. Whether he so much as had a pencil in his hand while I was teaching, or followed along while I showed him how to do the problems, is irrelevant.
The end result is I left home before the sun came up yesterday, and didn't get home until after it was dark. I still had to get dinner on the table and finish up my lesson plans for today. (I got my planning period taken away yesterday because of an assembly that I was required to attend.) I don't get paid enough to live this kind of life. Today I have another meeting after school, the same kind as yesterday. I already know this kid's father, and the way he pores over each individual assignment in my gradebook and questions me about each one. I went to school for this??

Is it just me?

I chaperoned a school dance yesterday after school. This is a middle school, so the youngest kids there were about 10 years old, and the oldest around 13. I must be getting really old, because I was (and still am) horrified at what I saw and heard. The girls all learned how to dance watching MTV and VH1, so when they weren't shaking what they have of chests, they were swinging their little booties back and forth like they meant business. Some of them danced exactly like the girls in the hip-hop videos. It's bad enough to see grown women doing these things. It's very disconcerting to see a ten year old do it.
I don't know if my principal is completely clueless about music or if she just decided to ignore it. The DJ played "Promiscuous" (I can see you with nothing on, feeling on me before you bring that on) followed by SexyBack (I’m bringing sexy back, Them other fuckers don’t know how to act, Come let me make up for the things you lack, Cause your burning up I gotta get it fast) followed by London Bridge (I'm such a lady but I'm dancing like a ho (Oh, snap), 'cause you know I don't give a fuck so here we go! (Oh snap)) and many more. Is it just me, or is this completely inappropriate? The other teachers didn't seem to think anything of it. If it were a high school, it might be ok, but I wonder if the parents of these 10 year olds know what they are hearing?

I got help!!

The school finally hired a special ed teacher. He is going to team teach the three special ed math classes with me! HOORAY!! He just started yesterday, but already my life is so much easier. I have only been working 8 1/2 hour days! Right now he is observing and getting to know the kids. He seems to have a really good knack for seeing what needs to happen and then just doing it, which is just unbelievably nice. I have to be careful not to steamroll over him though. I have a way of doing that.
Other random thoughts:
Today I assigned my 7th graders the odd problems. I forgot they don't know what odd numbers are.
I was emailing a guy who responded to my ad for a dance partner. We decided to go ahead and meet, so I gave him my cell phone number. He proceeded to call me (for the first time) close to midnight on Saturday. WTF? There went that idea.
I haven't had any responses to my online dating profile in weeks.
My oldest daugher and the boy with facial hair have already broken up and got back together. LORD.

but it's my JOB to torture you!!

My older daughter has a new boy in her life. It's the BOY WITH FACIAL HAIR. He is a senior and his grandparents bought a car for him to use. She wants him to be able to drive her around. (Geez, Mom, that's what boyfriends DO!! What is your PROBLEMUHHHHHH!!!) I told her that when he convinced me that he was a good driver, then I would allow him to drive her. She wanted me to tell him how to do that, and I refused for a day or so, and then finally had mercy on them. I asked her how she knew what kind of driver I was, and she said because she has been in the car with me. There ya go, I said. She got this incredulous look on her face. (Really, it was quite funny.) She said, "You mean you want him to DRIVE YOU AROUND??" I asked her how else I would know whether or not he was good at it?
So the young man wanted to do this after volleyball practice last night. I told him where to drive, and I sat in the back seat while the two of them sat in the front. Then I proceeded to bombard him with questions the whole time he was driving. "Where are your parents? You live with your grandparents? Why? Where did you move here from? Do you have a job? Where are you planning on going to college? Who pays for the insurance? Who pays for the gas? Have you had any accidents? What about tickets?"
He copped to one speeding ticket, which was good because if he told me he didn't have any I would have assumed he was lying. He went exactly five miles per hour over the speed limit. He used his turn signal and drove very well in spite of my interrogation. All in all, I was impressed. He did answer his cell phone twice while driving, which I could not let go without comment. I threatened him with bodily harm should she ever be injured because of him being careless. I gave him a little speech about how he can't possibly understand what it's like as a parent to allow your child's life to be put in someone else's hands. In the end, I gave him permission to drive her around IF she calls me first to tell me where they are going and then calls me when they arrive.
Seriously though, it's all I can do not to run around waving my arms and screaming for all of this madness to just STOP. I had another talk with her tonight, because tonight he is driving her home from their weekly school social at the local coffee house, and told her that if she EVER feels like she is in an unsafe position (he's had something to drink, he got high, she decided he's not a safe driver, whatever) that she can call me and I will not say a word about anything. I will just come and get her, no questions asked. I won't demand she stop seeing him, I won't say a word about any of it. I gave her my word and I really hope I can live up to it, if that ever happens.

true.com = dirty old men

I filled out a profile at True.com because they had a free 7-day trial offer. What could it hurt? WELL. Let me tell you. First of all, when I filled out my profile, the next thing they wanted me to do was take a compatibility test. Not at all unusual for a dating website. That's how they make the claim that they will use scientifically based methods to find your "true love" or "soul mate" or whatever they like to call it. The next thing they wanted me to do was take a sexual compatibility test. Huh?? I didn't do it, because I am not looking to sleep with these people, I just want to MAYBE date them.
So, over the next few days I received six "winks." The Rules say not to respond to winks, because all it takes is a click and does not show enough interest on the part of the man. I agree. The trouble was when I looked at who was sending me the winks. One lived in a different city. Another lived in a different state. The rest were all over 55 years old. EWWW! One of them was 61!! WHAT THE HELL? I am 37 years old!! What the HELL would I want to do with a freaking dirty old man who is older than my father?? :::shudder:::
Thankfully, when I called to cancel the account, they did not hassle me at all. That is a redeeming feature in my opinion. All the guy did was offer me a free month, and I said listen, it's not about the money. I'm so grossed out right now. The men who show interest are my dad's age.
He just kind of chuckled and cancelled my account without another word.
*sigh*

School Shootings

What is happening in our schools? The recent increase in violence at schools by non-students and non-faculty is stunning and frightening. As a teacher, I read articles like this and I am actually fearful about going to work. As a parent and as a teacher, I wonder why this issue is not at the forefront of the next board meeting? What is being done to protect my children? What is being done to protect me?
I believe there is a connection between the violence in schools and the shift in public attitude about schools in general. I cannot tell you the number of times I have heard "Those that can, do. Those that can't, teach." This during a conversation about why my job is or is not important, and people have not quoted that to me once, but several times. Another good one is, "What kind of person would take a job that pays so low? It tells me you can't get anything better." A parent said that to me during a discussion about sports at our school.
I grin and bear it, and figure that people just don't understand my job or why I love it. I am starting to think that those kinds of comments are just the peaks of a mountain of ignorance and disrespect toward schools in general.
Maybe people in all service jobs have to put up with this, and maybe I am reacting out of sheer ignorance because I am new at the job. But how does it occur to an angry madmad to take out his grudge on school children?
How does it occur to angry teenagers that the best way to show the world who they are is to kill their classmates?
How does it occur to a student angry about a disciplinary action that killing the principal is the best option?
Since 1997, there have been 21 episodes of school violence. That averages out to just over two incidents per year. Statistically, the chance of something happening at my school or my kids' school is astronomically low. Here's the thing: As a teacher, I can point out the wacko kid who is most likely to show up with a gun and start shooting. I can refer you to the angry-at-the-world parent who is frightening to be around and probably carries a gun, but has every right to come on campus whenever he wants because his kid is in one of my classes. What can I do about these situations? Absolutely nothing. I could try referring the student to the school psychologist, who is there about three days a week because we share her with another school, and who is so busy with the anti-bullying program that is mandated by the district that she rarely actually sees students of concern. Even if she made time to see him, she has to tell his parents that she is doing it, and they have the right to refuse to let him see her. I can let my administration know about my concerns with this or that parent, but it's nothing they haven't heard and don't already know.
So what do I do? I practice lockdown procedures until I know them backwards and forwards. I lock my room after school hours. I pray. I wish I knew what to do to make this situation better.

Holy cow, I'm busy!!

How exciting! I have a date Monday night, my oldest daughter's volleyball game (she's the captain of the team) Wednesday night and then I'm taking the kids to a Halloween show at Old Tucson after that, then Thursday I check in to a fancy schmancy hotel for a leadership conference that lasts until Sunday morning. Sunday evening I have a possible tango lesson as it appears I have found a willing partner! (He's quite handsome to boot!)
So, I have only one night this week to sit at home on my arse. I better enjoy it. I bet I will enjoy the tango lesson and the pool at the fancy schmancy hotel even more. Isn't life grand!

I can do this!

I did not hear back from the musician. He must have taken a closer look at my profile and saw the part that says "body type: curvy." Now, that is a huge assumption on my part, but I do have some experiences on which to make that assumption. The vast majority of men who are dating online will stop reading a woman's profile when they get to the "body type" section unless it says trim, athletic, etc. I wonder if these men realize that they are reducing their chances of finding a date by about half. I doubt they care. I understand why there is such a problem with saying in your online profile that you are overweight, because so many people lie. I have met men who list their body type as "a few extra pounds" and in person they are unquestionably "large." So if these same men read my profile and it says "curvy," they probably read: FAT. And while I am overweight, it is never as much of an issue in person as it is online. I get hit on regularly in real life, so I know I am not unattractive. Either way, if that is all it takes for Mr. I'm Too Good For You Fat Chicks Musician to not write me back, his loss. I'll just keep telling myself that until I believe it.
To assuage my wounded ego, I decided to take up dancing. I am in the process of finding a partner. I am going to start with Salsa or Tango, I think. I found a wonderful event calendar online with all kinds of things to do, and if I am not busy with dates, then I will just make myself busy with other stuff. I just need to get out there!

Trying not to hope....

I eventually had one match from the speed dating, so there goes my freebie. Then the match didn't email me. *sigh*
The good news is I continue to receive a couple of contacts per week. Some of them are called "eye contacts" which I don't respond to, per The Rules. Except there was this one whose message in the eye contact was "I think you're hot!" and he is a musician who holds a day job, and loves sushi, and etc. So I broke the rules and sent him a message. All it said was, "Thanks. Do you have a photo?" because he doesn't have one on his profile, and The Rules say if he isn't willing to send it to me, then he's POOF!
He wrote back last night and gave me his home email address, and said he would love to send me his picture. So, I am chomping at the bit to write back, but I am counting down the MANDATORY 24 HOUR WAITING PERIOD. These rules can be very tiresome. Now, tell me honestly, which reeks more of desperation: writing back at 6:30 a.m., which is only 8 hours later than when the message was sent, but is your regularly scheduled email time; or, waiting until 10:00 at night, when I am normally fast asleep, and THEN sending an email, just so I can wait 24 hours to respond??
Well, I am going to continue to follow the rules, and if I'm not awake this evening then I will write back tomorrow morning. Supposedly, the longer I take to write back, the more I am a "mystery woman" and he will be waiting and wondering what I am doing in the meantime. What if he just thinks I'm not interested? The book assures me that won't happen.
Oh, the humanity!!!

Fine, I didn't like you either

Speed dating was fun. There were 9 guys in all, and 8 women because one didn't show up. The women were assigned a table, and we sat and talked for 6 minutes at a time. When time was up, the coordinator would ring a bell, and the guys would get up, fill out their match form, and then move to the next table. On the match form, you put the guy's name next to his badge number and then there was a little space to make notes about him. Then you circled "let's talk" or "no thanks" and that was it! Later, you go into your account online, and the coordinator has put the event link there so that you click on it. Then all of the guys show up on your screen, and you click "yes" or "no." They email your matches to you. You have three days to put in your scores, so then 5 days after the event you get a final email. If you don't have any matches, then you can go to the next speed dating event for free. Which it looks like I'll be doing, because nobody picked me!! WAAAAH!!!

Speed Dating is tonight. I don't know what to wear. I had thought I would buy a new shirt, but I've run out of money. Some of the clothes in the back of my closet, my "skinny" clothes, are starting to fit again. Maybe I can find something there. I'm kind of nervous about the whole thing.
Meanwhile, this last week of work is positively ENDLESS. I can't believe it's only TUESDAY. My students have a hard time believing that they have to actually work this last week. They think since next week is vacation, they should get to take it easy this week as well. I keep telling them, that's the kind of thinking that makes Americans FAT AND LAZY!! But they just look at me like I am a nut case, which I probably am. So then I say, get to work.

Dating

Date Zero went off exactly as planned. It won't work out with this guy, but that is practically incidental. The important thing is successful new behavior. Maybe doing the "rules" works a little too well... he has emailed me 3 times since Friday and wanted to get together yesterday. A few red flags: He has extremely limited contact with his daughter, no overnight visits at all; he told me I was his "last chance" at dating; 3 emails since Friday?! Yeah, not so much.
Speed Dating is tomorrow night. I'm pretty nervous about it.
This is my last week of work before the three week break. Now there's something I can get excited about!

Conferences, Year 2

Date Zero has been rescheduled for Saturday night. I really feel like a snob when I say this, but I am not sure about dating someone whose work schedule changes. Is that terribly snooty?
Yesterday was the Very Long Day of teaching, the first day of parent-teacher conferences. It happens twice a year. I hate it. I absolutely loathe it. There are not strong enough words to convey my feelings of animosity toward it. I can't think of another career where one is expected to 1) work a 12 hour day, twice a year, for free, or 2) open oneself up for scrutiny by people who have no idea about the daily workings of the job.
Yes, parents need to know how their kids are doing. But parents don't see conferences as an opportunity to find out how their children are doing. Nor do they respect me enough to just sit and listen and take my word for it about how their children are doing. Parents look at conferences as an opportunity to tell me what they think about how I am doing my job. I am a captive audience, for 20 minutes (if they are polite enough to stay within their time zone, and IF they show up on time, which is a big IF) and I find that they are less interested in how their child is coming along in their education than how they can most effectively use that 20 minutes to badger me about my discipline/make up work/testing policies.
Anyway, after today it will be over until the 3rd semester. Really, it's enough to make me think about quitting teaching every time I go through it. Maybe after I have been teaching a few more years, it won't bother me so much.

What do you mean your work schedule changed??

Date Zero cancelled. My books don't tell me anything about how to handle that.
My complete and utter exhaustion turned out to be a cold in the making. It's getting worse every day. Saturday there was a little tickle in my throat. Sunday I was nasally. (is that a word?) Yesterday it was a little cold. Today it's a big cold. UGH!! And I have playground duty this morning, and it's raining, just to top it all off.
By the way, my regular ed kids did fantastically well on their testing. My special ed kids did about what I expected. They don't test well.

Date Zero

When dating online, if one is following the rules, one doesn't waste time online. One wants to use the online service as merely a mechanism to meet live, real people. This is one of the (many) mistakes I made in my past attempts. If the man has not asked me out in 4 emails or less, Poof! he's gone. They call the first meeting "date zero" since it is the first meeting and can't be considered an actual date. So I have scheduled my first date zero. I am compelled to remind myself that I am doing things differently, and doing it in writing just firms it up for me!
Ways this date zero is different from all my past date zeros, which I didn't even know were date zeros:
1. I know it's a date zero.
2. He contacted me first, and he asked me for the meeting.
3. He is planning the meeting and paying for everything.
4. Date Zero won't even happen unless he calls to confirm.
5. I will leave his name, number, and every other scrap of information I know about him with my safe person.
6. I will tell my safe person what time I will be home, and that I will call her immediately upon my arrival, and if I don't, she is to call me.
7. The meeting will last no longer than 2 hours.
8.I will end the meeting, not him.
9. I will not talk to him between now and then other than to confirm.
So that's the plan. It's very, very different from before! And so much easier! All I have to do is show up and look cute!
I also signed up for speed dating next week. HA!! I get a kick out of it every time I think about it.
Meanwhile, it is the dreaded week of parent-teacher conferences. Oh, how I hate them. HATE them. We are doing student led conferences, where supposedly the kids do the talking and explain to their parents how they earned their grades. You would think this would make my job easier, but it doesn't.

Rules for Dating Online

So I bought a couple of books yesterday to educate myself about dating. Since what I have done in the past did not work, I need new behavior to replace the old behavior, and the only way I know of to get new behavior is to read about other people's successful behavior and then emulate it. Does that make sense? One of the books is called Stop Getting Dumped. It's hilarious and chock full of good stuff, like the reasons why I should NEVER ask a man on a date.
"I know this may be a hard one to swallow, but here it is: The truth is, any man, no matter how shy, will muster the courage if he truly wants to ask you for a date. If he's shy, it might take him a while, but it will happen eventually. If it doesn't, he doesn't really want to date you."
That makes sense to me. Especially in light of my past experience. Being the woman and being the aggressor does not work. It has failed me every single time. So that's one of the new things I am going to do.
The other book I bought is called The Rules for Online Dating and it's by the same women who wrote the original "Rules" for dating. Some of the stuff I am doing doesn't make sense to me, like cutting down my online profile to the bare minimum (they say it will keep me mysterious) and keeping my response emails to two or three light, breezy sentences. But, like I said before, this is new behavior so it's bound to feel uncomfortable at first.
Since I don't feel doomed to repeat my past mistakes anymore, I am actually excited about my decision to start dating again. I guess time will tell...

Rules for Dating

I am ready to start dating again. I have made this decision after a lot of thought and some work on myself and my attitudes about men. These are some things I have to do in order to be successful at dating:
1. Put my best self forward. I know what my best features are, and I need to make them work for me.
2. Put the past where it belongs - in the past. Be willing to give men the benefit of the doubt and stop projecting my past mistakes into the present company.
3. Allow room for imperfection. I am not perfect, and it's unfair to expect anyone else to be either.
I signed up for a speed dating event for single parents in my age range. We'll see how it goes. I'm pretty excited about it!

Title Goes Here

Yesterday I opened up my cell phone and a post-it note fell out of it. It was from my youngest daughter. It said, "I'm so fat I want to kill myself. Please will you ask the doctor for diet pills?"
I don't even know where to begin to freak out. The suicide threat? The fact she thinks pills are the answer? How about that she eats junk all day and then complains about her weight? Now, part of this has to be chalked up to her personality. She is a drama queen. Everything is an emergency with her. Also, it is not unusual for a teenager to ignore their part in things. However, I have tried to teach this child about personal responsibility since the day she was born. In the end, I decided the best thing to do was to sit down and have a talk with her.
Meanwhile, also yesterday I left work early to take my other daughter for a physical so that she can play volleyball. I had made an appointment with her regular pediatrician, but she didn't want to wait for that appointment. She wanted me to call this list of clinics and get a sooner appointment. So I did, and yesterday we were right on time for the appointment. We waited. And waited. And waited.
We were there for 2 hours and 45 minutes before we finally got the stupid paper filled out. I dropped her off at volleyball practice, and went straight home instead of going to work out. I was hungry, tired, and annoyed, so I skipped my workout. Great.
Meanwhile the younger daughter had a dance at school she wanted to go to, and her friend's mom came and picked her up, and she was already gone by the time I got home. I fell asleep before she got here because I'm still completely exhausted (maybe I had better get my thyroid checked again?) and the bottom line is that I did not so much as exchange words with her yesterday. This after she left a suicide threat in my cell phone.
I ate dinner when I got home and then an hour or so later I went to pick up the older daughter from practice. She is supposed to call when she's ready, and practice ends at 7:30, and it was 7:45, and she still hadn't called. So I drove over there. She was sitting on the curb, talking to a BOY WITH FACIAL HAIR. He is a senior I think... he has a car, and he came to watch the volleyball practice. And she didn't call me to come get her because she was talking to him.
She didn't get mad at me for coming to get her but she acted like I had caught her doing something wrong. She certainly didn't volunteer any information, but she answered my questions about why he was there and kept asking me what was wrong, and was I mad. I couldn't answer her because I didn't and still don't know why I am so heartbroken. Is it that she doesn't choose to share her life with me? Is it that she would rather sit on the curb than come home? Is it that she is slipping away from me, and will be gone for good in another two years? That's probably it.
I can feel my heart splitting in two.

Complete and utter exhaustion

Maybe I'm coming down with something. Maybe it's because the end of the quarter looms upon us and I'm ready for the 3 week break. Maybe it's aftereffects of only working out once last week. Probably it's the crappy food I've been eating. I'm so tired I just want to cry.
I have been really stressing about the testing coming up. I feel confident that I've been doing an OK job of teaching my special ed students. I can see their academic growth, and there is an even distribution of grades in my gradebook. I'm fearful, though, because I keep thinking that SE students don't typically test well, and what will happen if the scores come back and nobody has shown any progress? What if we haven't really accomplished anything, and it's all just been optimistic thinking on my part? Yikes. I remember doing this to myself last year with the regular ed kids I was teaching, and all that worrying was for nothing. I'll just have to keep the faith and quit obsessing. I'm so ridiculous sometimes.

Dear Bo Derek,

You have somehow convinced Congress that they need to spend time on this ridiculous parody of celebrity activistm. Let's just review:
"It's handwritten letters that still affect our representatives. Congressman [John] Spratt [D-S.C.] said it's the — what did he call it — the butterfinger letters. He said, "It's the letters you can see a housewife maybe sat down and had butter on her fingers, and there are smudges on a handwritten letter." And he said that those letters will still affect his vote more than anything, more than any lobbyist. "
First of all, you are in need of a serious and bracing reality check if you think any of those white males in congress are actually taking you seriously. When they look at you, what they see is you in your cornrows, breasts bobbing, jogging on the beach in "10." Or, they might see your latest "work," you in full makeup and tight clothes having a catfight with Morgan Fairchild. I can almost hear their thoughts: "Oh, look at the pretty celebrity. She wants us to talk about horses. Well, it won't hurt to humor her."
Can you imagine what you might have chosen to do with all of the time and money you have managed to squander with this "cause"? There are children, actual human beings, who do not have enough food to eat in this country. They don't have decent shoes to wear to school. Speaking of school, there are thousands of schools in our country, full of actual human beings who could benefit from just a fraction of the taxpayer money you are wasting on talking about horses. They don't have enough paper or pencils to go around, and they are using textbooks that were published 20 years ago. How many textbooks could have been bought with the taxpayer money Congress will waste when they begin their session, and spend taxpayer time and money on the floor talking about HORSES??
What's next after horses? Are you going to take on the beef industry? Pick up the clue phone, Bo... humans are mostly carnivores. They like to eat meat. You saw what happened to Oprah when she took on the cows, and you don't have anywhere near the starpower she has.
Is it too much to ask that you pick a real cause? It literally made me sick yesterday to see you being interviewed by George Stephanopolous (by the way, George, I doubt I will ever watch your show again) and getting all misty-eyed about people eating horses. We've got a war going on. Human beings right here in your country are losing their sons and daughters by the thousands. The Gulf Coast is still devastated; people there still don't have homes or jobs to go back to because they can't get any help from the government. And you choose to spend your time and money, and my taxpayer time and money, talking about horses? Why don't you go get a manicure or something, and stay the hell out of politics.

A Truly Defining Moment

I took on the job of teaching the 8th grade special ed math class. Now I am teaching math to all of the special ed students in the school, along with two classes of regular 7th grade math.
Teaching the SE kids is different from teaching the regular ed kids. Every day I learn new ways of relating to them and understand a little bit more what they need in order to be successful. Little things like making the first few math problems on the worksheet easy enough for everyone to do, so that they have some confidence as a group, are crucial. They have low expectations of themselves and they are quite accustomed to adults around them having low expectations as well. Their first few weeks with me are hellish. I force them to rethink their beliefs about themselves and others. I force them to use manners, be kind to each other, and write their name on their paper. In the regular world, these things are no big deal. But in my world, some of these kids have been treated for their entire lives as though they are not capable of writing their name on their paper, or being kind, or polite. They think I'm mean. They make fun of me behind my back and complain about me to anyone who will listen.
There are times when I doubt myself. I wonder if I am being too hard on them. My feelings get hurt when I hear them making fun of me. I wonder if I made the right life choice to be a teacher, and especially if I am cut out for teaching SE. Then there are times when I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I am exactly where I am supposed to be, doing what I am supposed to be doing. Last week in 8th grade we learned how to solve one-step equations with fractions in them. My greatest gift as a teacher seems to be that I can boil even the most complicated things down to a few simple steps. I taught them how do solve equations over the course of four days, and on the fifth I gave them problems to do on their own. One student in particular believes to his very core that he is worthless. He knows he is not allowed to talk about that in front of me, and I have made it very clear that I disagree with his view. On that fifth day of solving equations, I stood behind him while he solved an equation. (Ok, I might have talked him through a step or two.) He got to the end, and he had the right answer. I said, "Good job." He paused for a moment, and then gave me a shocked look.
"You mean that's IT??"
"That's it. You did great."
I began to walk away, and I heard him talking to himself in amazement. He said, "I am smart. I am smart. I got my dad's brain!" He proceeded to work hard, alone, for the rest of the period, solving equations and feeling VERY good about himself. That in and of itself is a small miracle.
There is no amount of money, no award or official recognition, no praise from any outside source that could measure up to those moments. It was a small victory for one child, but it made all the difference in the world to me. At least for today, I have no doubts at all!