And so it begins. A poinsettia on my desk (purchased from a fundraising student, of course). Christmas music on my car radio (alternating with MPR, which has plenty of holiday-related fodder of its own). Pie recipes dancing in my head for baking this evening. Our first holiday extravaganza behind us, I now have many, many, many more to enjoy in the next month and a half.
We spent last Saturday “back home” to celebrate with Pat’s family. If I’ve never mentioned, they miraculously decided years ago never to try and celebrate a holiday on the holiday, thus not competing with spousal families. I love my in-laws. So, we ate, we drank, we were merry. And we played football with the nieces and nephews and it was wonderfully enjoyable. It started as Pat and the four kids against two older nephews and two other uncles. Then another uncle joined in on Pat’s side, then so did I. We still lost. But it was super fun. Pat is most adorable with his nieces and nephews, and will be the best dad ever. Can’t wait.
Tonight, we’re going to my brother-in-law’s in Northeast for a little wine and cheese pre-Thanksgiving party. Then tomorrow to my aunt’s for all the traditional fare. Friday, to my other aunt’s for her annual Texas Hold ‘em Turkey Flop. Saturday, a gathering with friends across town. Four parties in four days? Only during the holidays. Then it really begins…
In the month of December there are already six holiday engagements on my calendar. January will offer the in-laws’ Christmas, as well as Pat’s work’s holiday party. And we’ll have to do something for New Year’s, right? All this, and we’re going to Jamaica for six days!
This is why people get stressed during the holidays: the sheer volume of things to keep track of. Despite all this (because of all this, rather), I am elated the holidays are here. I love them. I love the baking and the decorating and the music and the togetherness. I don’t like the cold, but it is inevitable. In the next two months, I will see all the people I love. Jen from Texas (for a whole week!), Les and Jonathon from Arkansas (they, too, are coming for a week, but they have more people than just me to visit), Angie from California (seeing as she works retail, her visit isn’t until late January, but still), and Anne and Josh from Ohio (like L & J, the visit will be brief, but nonetheless special). Time together is the best gift indeed.
Happy Thanksgiving, Happy Holidays. Love to you.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Pleasantly Surprised
Speech team try-outs are this week. We had 40 people sign up. This is unprecedented for us, and I'm totally thrilled. I have two amazing new coaches (I know we haven't even started yet, but I can just tell how awesome they are). And my captains are the best captains I've ever had.
I know I said I wanted desperately to quit this overly demanding position. And I did. But I am realizing how important it is to me. Mostly, it's the kids. Three things happened to show me how much they love me (yes, I'm bragging, but there's more...)
1. A sophomore favorite (yes, of course I have favorites) was telling me about how he was recruiting for the team, "Mrs. [My last name] is the coach. That's all you need to know." Jeff, I said, you need tell them more than that. "Uh-uh. You make it as fun as it is." Being as I'm all he's known, I suppose that makes sense.
2. Suzanne, who's been an assistant here as long as I have been head, had to quit. Students cried. She didn't even work with all of them. And she was only here twice a week. But they loved her, and were sad and mad both when she left. This strong reaction makes me worry how they'll react when I DO quit. Clearly, they aren't ready (and neither am I, but I will be some day, like when I have kids...can't work 12-hour days when you have kids).
3. My awesome and a half captains were talking t-shirt designs, and last year the slogan included my name. So, they say, "This year, we're going to put your picture on the shirt and it will say [My last name]'s Homies" NO! I said. No more ME on t-shirts! The shirts are for SPEECH! "But [My last name], you ARE speech." Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
I feel like Sally Fields in 1979: "You like me! You really like me!" But what I've realized is that no matter when I decide to give this up (only partially, as assistant coaching will still be on the agenda), it will not be easy. Right now, my freshman when I started are my seniors. Four years. One complete cycle. But now I've got new crops of kids I want to see all the way through. It won't happen if I have babies when I want to, so it already makes me sad. The fact that my current sophomore favorites will be seniors when I most likely quit is sad. I'm sad. No longer excited. I complain and complain about this work, but I love, love, love, love it. There's just no denying it :-).
I know I said I wanted desperately to quit this overly demanding position. And I did. But I am realizing how important it is to me. Mostly, it's the kids. Three things happened to show me how much they love me (yes, I'm bragging, but there's more...)
1. A sophomore favorite (yes, of course I have favorites) was telling me about how he was recruiting for the team, "Mrs. [My last name] is the coach. That's all you need to know." Jeff, I said, you need tell them more than that. "Uh-uh. You make it as fun as it is." Being as I'm all he's known, I suppose that makes sense.
2. Suzanne, who's been an assistant here as long as I have been head, had to quit. Students cried. She didn't even work with all of them. And she was only here twice a week. But they loved her, and were sad and mad both when she left. This strong reaction makes me worry how they'll react when I DO quit. Clearly, they aren't ready (and neither am I, but I will be some day, like when I have kids...can't work 12-hour days when you have kids).
3. My awesome and a half captains were talking t-shirt designs, and last year the slogan included my name. So, they say, "This year, we're going to put your picture on the shirt and it will say [My last name]'s Homies" NO! I said. No more ME on t-shirts! The shirts are for SPEECH! "But [My last name], you ARE speech." Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
I feel like Sally Fields in 1979: "You like me! You really like me!" But what I've realized is that no matter when I decide to give this up (only partially, as assistant coaching will still be on the agenda), it will not be easy. Right now, my freshman when I started are my seniors. Four years. One complete cycle. But now I've got new crops of kids I want to see all the way through. It won't happen if I have babies when I want to, so it already makes me sad. The fact that my current sophomore favorites will be seniors when I most likely quit is sad. I'm sad. No longer excited. I complain and complain about this work, but I love, love, love, love it. There's just no denying it :-).
Monday, November 10, 2008
Too much all around
This weekend was not glorious, nor was it all it should have been. It was fun, enjoyable, and certainly productive, but it wasn't what it should have been. Highlights:
1. Leaving work at noon on Friday (a student-free workday) to lunch and see a matinee with my husband
2. Momentous WW meeting Saturday morning (half-way to goal, people!)
3. Impromptu lunch and shopping with Heather on Saturday
4. A jaunt to Red Wing for Molly's annual wine-tasting where so much fun was had, I (like Molly and Chris) was sore the next morning (both from the wine and the infinite amounts of laughter)
5. The Vikings beat the Packers
6. Cleaning and grocery shopping and working out on Sunday made the weekend complete
But it was incomplete as well. I feel full right now. Mentally, physically full. There is too much to handle. It's as if no scrap of emotion can squeeze its way in; too much already exists. It is this feeling that made me snappy and crabby through all the fun of the weekend. On edge, my husband says. He feels it, too, but his pressures come from other directions. We pick at each other like children, annoyed with the smallest things. Perspective allows us to laugh at ourselves, but then not two hours later we pick again. We apologize and we're fine, but it's not nice. And it shouldn't continue. But the one person you feel most comfortable with inevitably becomes your sounding board and your whipping post. It is true for both of us. Something to work on, no doubt.
I have two pressures causing my conflicting self. The first is the impending speech season. With auditions next week and practice beginning after Thanksgiving, my vow to quit is long-gone and I'm not regretting it. I am, however, filled with nervous energy. I both dread and enjoy the next five months. But this is nothing compared to my grief. If you live in my region, you may have seen or read that we lost a student last week. Two sisters, a sophomore and a senior, were in a car accident. The senior's injuries were fatal; the sophomore, a beloved student of mine, will recover. Recover. I don't believe this is possible. She will wake up, be physically well, but how do you recover from losing your big sister? Dealing with this in the classroom, continuing day to day instruction as best as possible is SO hard. The funeral is tomorrow after school. Hard to be normal. Hard to feel joy. Conflict.
So, while this weekend was super, it was incomplete. Always in the back of my mind, pushing toward the front, this grief, this pressure. I am shaky all the time. I will cry many more times. It is just so much.
1. Leaving work at noon on Friday (a student-free workday) to lunch and see a matinee with my husband
2. Momentous WW meeting Saturday morning (half-way to goal, people!)
3. Impromptu lunch and shopping with Heather on Saturday
4. A jaunt to Red Wing for Molly's annual wine-tasting where so much fun was had, I (like Molly and Chris) was sore the next morning (both from the wine and the infinite amounts of laughter)
5. The Vikings beat the Packers
6. Cleaning and grocery shopping and working out on Sunday made the weekend complete
But it was incomplete as well. I feel full right now. Mentally, physically full. There is too much to handle. It's as if no scrap of emotion can squeeze its way in; too much already exists. It is this feeling that made me snappy and crabby through all the fun of the weekend. On edge, my husband says. He feels it, too, but his pressures come from other directions. We pick at each other like children, annoyed with the smallest things. Perspective allows us to laugh at ourselves, but then not two hours later we pick again. We apologize and we're fine, but it's not nice. And it shouldn't continue. But the one person you feel most comfortable with inevitably becomes your sounding board and your whipping post. It is true for both of us. Something to work on, no doubt.
I have two pressures causing my conflicting self. The first is the impending speech season. With auditions next week and practice beginning after Thanksgiving, my vow to quit is long-gone and I'm not regretting it. I am, however, filled with nervous energy. I both dread and enjoy the next five months. But this is nothing compared to my grief. If you live in my region, you may have seen or read that we lost a student last week. Two sisters, a sophomore and a senior, were in a car accident. The senior's injuries were fatal; the sophomore, a beloved student of mine, will recover. Recover. I don't believe this is possible. She will wake up, be physically well, but how do you recover from losing your big sister? Dealing with this in the classroom, continuing day to day instruction as best as possible is SO hard. The funeral is tomorrow after school. Hard to be normal. Hard to feel joy. Conflict.
So, while this weekend was super, it was incomplete. Always in the back of my mind, pushing toward the front, this grief, this pressure. I am shaky all the time. I will cry many more times. It is just so much.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Twilight
Okay. I finally did it. After literally years of being told how wonderful this book is (it was published in 2005), I have read Twilight. And honestly, it wasn't as good as everyone claims...it's better. (Totally trite, right? :-)) I am amazed at how much I was sucked in to this story line. I am eager to get started on the second book, but I've been told it's the worst of the four. I shall muster through in order to get to books three and four, which apparently live up to the standards of the first book.
Here's the thing: although, the suspense and intrigue kept my attention well, as did Meyer's easy prose (easy, because it's a young adult book, but also because you are swept up into every situation), I was most absorbed by her perfect portrayal of not just first love or teen love, but of real, sacrificing love. Forget the vampires, people, this is a love story above all else, and a really, really good one. Very Romeo and Juliet-esque with its "no, we simply can't be together" thesis (I'm not revealing anything that's not on the book jacket, by the way, as I know you'll all go out tomorrow and pick up a copy at Target for $8.79 as I did), and that is unoriginal, I admit. But the ferocity with which Meyer writes is flawless. As I read, I could 100% feel the energies of falling and then being in true love. The anxiety she feels, I felt. I had literal tension and butterflies in my stomach. I blushed along with Bella when Edward entered a room. It was intense, and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it.
Further, the renewal of those initial passions, the first meeting, the first real conversation, the first kiss, the long hours of chatter learning about each other, reminded me so completely of the experience of falling in love with my husband, that it was reassuring that this is normal. This marriage, this love. This feeling of complete abandon toward another person. It's not uncommon; it's the norm for people who truly would sacrifice anything for their love. And that's a good thing. Not because I want to be "normal" or I thought my feelings were "weird" but because it feels so damn good, I wish every day that every other person I know is as happy in their relationship as I am in mine.
This has drifted from book review to love letter, but I really enjoyed the book that much. I'm not a literary snob by any means, though. I judge a book based on its ability to make me feel something. Whatever the emotion they want me to feel, the stronger it is within me, the more I like the book. Twilight made me feel great :-).
By this weekend, a follow-up on book two, no doubt. (I bought Twilight just yesterday...)
Monday, October 20, 2008
Utterly Random Thoughts
One: Sometimes, I am a terrible teacher. I expect my students to know things, when, in fact, they may have little to no reason to have the prior knowledge. I get annoyed when they can’t follow the simplest of instructions. Can’t follow the blatant examples I display for them. I take for granted my own ability to follow directions and catch on quickly. Why can’t they be more like me?
We’re researching and working on works cited pages. I spent half a class period last week (30 minutes) going over the format, showing them examples, explaining why we need them (which should all be review for them, as they covered this in middle school). Today, putting it into action, I have had to sit with no fewer than half my students and walk them through it step by tedious step. They have directions. They have examples. Why are they so incapable of understanding? They range in age from 14-18. I could understand if they were third-graders, but come on!
Two: Despite this, I am having a good day. It’s odd when we have time off (MEA Madness this past four days), and I find I have missed my students and colleagues.
Three: Tonight, it will freeze. Cover those tomato plants; pluck your apples from their branches (me, I have only one small oregano plant to protect; perhaps next year a real garden). Just yesterday it was over 70. Shorts and bare feet while painting the window trim. Fall in Minnesota is gloriously unpredictable.
Four: Update-- I did give Patrick more than a poem for his birthday. Much to his surprise and delight, I broke down and gave him the PS3 he’s been chattering about for months. He is rather selfless, my husband, and definitely wouldn’t buy this luxury item for himself. When I wanted a Wii, he tried for months to get me one and managed to succeed (between Thanksgiving and Christmas, no less!). He works hard and spoils me, so it’s only fair. Also, it was one of those situations where the giving is as satisfying as the getting, as previously I had all but banned the system from the house. He was very shocked to see it and I was delighted to watch him enjoy it.
Five: Only two weeks and one day until the election. I will spare you my current detailed thoughts, but I do believe things are looking better and better every day. God willing and the creek don’t rise…
We’re researching and working on works cited pages. I spent half a class period last week (30 minutes) going over the format, showing them examples, explaining why we need them (which should all be review for them, as they covered this in middle school). Today, putting it into action, I have had to sit with no fewer than half my students and walk them through it step by tedious step. They have directions. They have examples. Why are they so incapable of understanding? They range in age from 14-18. I could understand if they were third-graders, but come on!
Two: Despite this, I am having a good day. It’s odd when we have time off (MEA Madness this past four days), and I find I have missed my students and colleagues.
Three: Tonight, it will freeze. Cover those tomato plants; pluck your apples from their branches (me, I have only one small oregano plant to protect; perhaps next year a real garden). Just yesterday it was over 70. Shorts and bare feet while painting the window trim. Fall in Minnesota is gloriously unpredictable.
Four: Update-- I did give Patrick more than a poem for his birthday. Much to his surprise and delight, I broke down and gave him the PS3 he’s been chattering about for months. He is rather selfless, my husband, and definitely wouldn’t buy this luxury item for himself. When I wanted a Wii, he tried for months to get me one and managed to succeed (between Thanksgiving and Christmas, no less!). He works hard and spoils me, so it’s only fair. Also, it was one of those situations where the giving is as satisfying as the getting, as previously I had all but banned the system from the house. He was very shocked to see it and I was delighted to watch him enjoy it.
Five: Only two weeks and one day until the election. I will spare you my current detailed thoughts, but I do believe things are looking better and better every day. God willing and the creek don’t rise…
Monday, October 13, 2008
Happy Birthday, Husband
Yesterday, on a beautiful, wonderful, unexpectedly warm autumn Sunday, my husband "completed another trip around the sun." This is his sentiment toward birthdays as an adult (read: no big deal). Consequently, we had a very low-key day. Because he doesn't put much stock in the birthday tradition, he didn't mind that we traveled to my hometown for brunch with my family (Les, dear sister, found her way to MN on this gorgeous weekend, and yesterday was the only iota of time we could spare her and vice versa. In her words, "Coming one day and leaving the next sucks." Thirteen hours each way is a haul for two days, but, as I said, "It's better than nothing.") And brunch was good.
After that, all Patrick wanted was to go home, put on sweatpants, and watch football. Yes, easy to please, that one. We did make a stop on the drive home at a roadside apple farm, buying half a peck of apples, two pumpkins, and a caramel apple pie, still hot from the oven (and I pride myself on baking tasty pies, but this pie was delightful). But get home we did, and watch football we did (watched my fantasy team suffer their first loss of the season as well...tear). No fanfare, no going out. Just "my woman and football". And the pie. And the dinner I made. But you get the idea. Simple things.
Because I have not yet bought him a gift ("I don't need presents," he says, but I think a birthday's not a birthday without at least a little something; but unlike me, who told him precisely what to get me for MY birthday, he is entirely unhelpful), I am giving him this:
To My Husband on His Birthday, 2008
The rickety brown couch we both wish
we would not have purchased
is not a suitable perch for our love.
The mismatched sweatpants and t-shirt
I wore are not the costume of a woman
trying to impress a man.
The sounds of sports on tv and
dogs barking in the yard are not
music to an average ear.
The almost scorched pork chop and
potatoes mashed with slightly sour milk
do not describe a perfect meal.
But.
You are not suitable.
You are not to be impressed.
You are not average.
You are not perfect.
You are mine.
And you are everything to me.
Happy birthday, dear one. May every day we have together be as perfect as yesterday was.
After that, all Patrick wanted was to go home, put on sweatpants, and watch football. Yes, easy to please, that one. We did make a stop on the drive home at a roadside apple farm, buying half a peck of apples, two pumpkins, and a caramel apple pie, still hot from the oven (and I pride myself on baking tasty pies, but this pie was delightful). But get home we did, and watch football we did (watched my fantasy team suffer their first loss of the season as well...tear). No fanfare, no going out. Just "my woman and football". And the pie. And the dinner I made. But you get the idea. Simple things.
Because I have not yet bought him a gift ("I don't need presents," he says, but I think a birthday's not a birthday without at least a little something; but unlike me, who told him precisely what to get me for MY birthday, he is entirely unhelpful), I am giving him this:
To My Husband on His Birthday, 2008
The rickety brown couch we both wish
we would not have purchased
is not a suitable perch for our love.
The mismatched sweatpants and t-shirt
I wore are not the costume of a woman
trying to impress a man.
The sounds of sports on tv and
dogs barking in the yard are not
music to an average ear.
The almost scorched pork chop and
potatoes mashed with slightly sour milk
do not describe a perfect meal.
But.
You are not suitable.
You are not to be impressed.
You are not average.
You are not perfect.
You are mine.
And you are everything to me.
Happy birthday, dear one. May every day we have together be as perfect as yesterday was.
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