countdown to zero hour...

well, tomorrow at 7:35 the kiddies descend. (that's the worst thing about this fall's student teaching placement. I hafta be there at 7:30ish every friggin morning. and there's no parking at the school and today I got a ticket. :-P scuse the whining...)

anyway, well, it looks like this semester is gonna be relatively mellow. definitely a lot less crying. the teacher maintains firm control of her class and lets me teach a unit or two once in a while. fine by me. i'm just looking forward to learning from her. she seems pretty cool.

some of the students came in today and they are so tiny!!!! (they're just 11 after all, compared to my big hulking students last year)(they were born the year I graduated from college--scary stuff man!)

the impression of tininess is increased by the fact that their eyes are just gigantically bugging out of their little heads--apparently movin' on up to middle school is fucking terrifying. poor things.

well, i'll keep y'all posted. here's a shout-out to xe in Tucson and to the soc TAs who will be rolling into action soon. let's hear it for teachers.... yee-haw.

all that for nuthin'

So I went over to the school and she wasn't even there! Ha! And she hadn't been there since last week. Although I feel slightly nervous about not meeting with her yet even though school starts so soon, I also feel a bit like I've been given a gift of a few extra days of time, which I've been using to print out photos for our Scotland trip album (yes, that was last year, so I'm a bit slow on making albums!) and do some other fun relaxing things. Last night we saw Garden State in which Bilbo Baggins plays a big tall (well, for a hobbit) psychiatrist. It was a bit depressing but kinda cute. I especially liked the ending (like, the last two minutes).

(Except that, yeah, why is it that the boring loser stoner boys get their lives turned around by sparkling wondrous females, whereas the sparkling wondrous females get....the fabulous prize of....being the ones who turn around some boring loser stoner boy's life?)

scene 1, take 2

So I didn't even make it over there yesterday. I panicked and went into full avoidance mode. Result--still sitting at the computer in my nightgown 12 hours later. Ah well. Trying again today. On the plus side, I think I've got the panicking out of my system, at least about this initial encounter. I feel quite relaxed actually.

I've got a quote taped to my bathroom mirror about facing your fears and "do the thing you think you cannot do," along with a photo of Emma Goldman. It occurs to me that perhaps I'm allowing myself to over-dramatize all this. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? Certainly not deportation to Russia or imprisonment on Blackwell's Island (things that happened to Emma G). And hey, remember, I actually like being around kids. This could actually be fun and interesting. More likely to be so if I have the attitude that it will be. Panic doesn't help, that's for sure.

So, off I go. Trying again. Dear Shawnee wrote that a friend once commented to her, "you can start over whenever you like." So I'm starting over, hopefully not taking it all so deathly seriously. I'm also recalling a favorite quote, "how wonderful it is that no one need wait a single moment to experience true happiness." In other words if I just stop all the insanity in my head and, well, just stop, there is peace.

well, back to the real world

tomorrow is my first day at my new student teaching post (thankfully no students yet). I'm going a little haywire as is my wont. I have a tendency to start panicking that I don't know enough to teach my subject, and start desperately trying to read stuff; and/or, I start creating or shopping for Cool Visual Aides, a classic procrastination technique. I have been trying not to do this, since I already developed a good syllabus during my summer school class, and I do think I know what I need to know (although I don't neccessarily have the skills down to do it well). (Geeky confession: I have been using as a mantra, Yoda's voice in my head saying, "Already know you, that which you need." I'm considering deleting this confession immediately).

Loopy made the wise suggestion that we should fend off crying and hysteria by going to a movie, which was awesome (the Bourne Supremacy)(did I ever mention--for those of you other than Amy who already knows this since she was there--that Matt Damon used to live upstairs from me before he dropped out of college?) Now no time now for panicking, time for bed. Aaack. I hope I can sleep.

Will Birdie like me? Will I screw up totally? Will she think I'm an idiot and a failure and refuse to write me a letter of recommendation? Will I cry a lot like I did last year? Will I get to the end of the semester and still be on week 2 or 3 of my syllabus, as happened in every one of my four classes last year?

It's amazing how writing down your fears can help them seem more manageable. The obvious answers to the above questions are (respectively): Doesn't matter. Unlikely. Unlikely. Even if I do, it won't kill me. Unlikely, since Birdie is a lot more hands-on than my cooperating teacher last year.

The number one question: will I be a better teacher after this semester than I am now?

Undoubtedly.

That's the main point, right? Right?

just in case there was any doubt...

we have not stopped eating, although the ASA (the big important conference that is the primary excuse for this whole excursion) is starting to interfere a bit. Yesterday I spent with my cousin, his wife and their adorable kids while all the socioogist types hobnobbed with the VIPs. In the evening, 4 of us went to Chinatown and ate lobster, crab, chow fun with conch, jellyfish, and other yummies. It was the first Chinese food I've had that tasted like the actual Chinese food I had during my brief trip to actual China. I was delighted not so much by the authenticity (I also like American Chinees food) as by the fact that I can still remember what I ate in China (12 years ago now).

The other interesting thing about the meal was that we sat RIGHT next to a big stack of aquariums (aquaria?) containing soon-to-be-food. This wasn't as disturbing as I'd feared, except periodically when a disembodied hand brandishing large metal tongs (or a net, depending on the species of catch) would suddenly appear, poke violently into the midst of the crabs (lobsters, fish, whatever), chase them around until it caught one, then withdraw just as suddenly amid a swirl of dirty water and feebly waving limbs (fins, whatever).

The waiter also brought our (blue, twitching) lobster out for our approval ("two and a half pounds, very good lobster sir"). This was directed at SHamie who looked a bit bewildered (perhaps he's more used to approving the wine selection). Only after the waiter left did Ang comment, "that's two and half pounds, at eighteen dollars a pound, you realize," at which point I think I probably looked a bit shocked as well. but ohhhhhhh, it was sooooo worth it!

Only two more days of eating! We have to hurry!

not so "alternative"

This afternoon I had shiatsu massage in the hotel fitness center and the massage therapist correctly diagnosed my back problem after 45 minutes.

Where was she two years ago, when I was getting x-rays and MRIs and spending six weeks popping pain pills while waiting to see the hotshit spine specialist?

"I have a lower back problem," I told her as she got started, "so go easy on it." "Ok," she said. That was literally the only information I gave her. Forty-five minutes later, she said, "Your back--center bones, 4 and 5, eh?" Why yes, it's the fourth and fifth lumbar vertebrae. Fucking amazing! Next time around I'll skip the vicodin and find a shiatsu practitioner. Although hopefully there won't be a next time if I keep doing my exercises faithfully. Oh, did I mention she gave me the same exercises my expensive physical therapist gave me?

"Lovey! We wanna watch TV! God!!!"

OK, bye.

"What kind of cookie would you like?"

V: "So, do you guys want shortbread--"
R&A: "Yes!"
V: "--or Moravian spice cookies--"
R&A: "Yes! Yes!"
V: "--or fancy French caramels--"
R&A: "Yes!"
Ang: "Or Turkish Delight! Yes!"

OK, OK, truth be told, ten minutes later, who was wolfing down Moravian spice cookies (hey, they're very thin cookies, ok?) amid a sea of caramel wrappers? That would be me. Ang & R each had a ladylike single serving of each item. (Thanks to Williams Sonoma for making all of this possible)

A message from Ang

Ang wants me to tell you that she does not have time to blog this but she did not pass the prelim. She is fine, do not worry. She will blog about it soon. Thanks. [the above was dictated by Ang, I would add that the rest of us are shocked & convinced that there must be some kind of mistake. 'the rest of us' at this point equals waaaay too many people in a small hotel room, viz., Loopy, Shamie, Jay, and me (and Ang makes five). Anyway, everyone is indignant and Loopy is loudly proclaiming plans to storm the elitest bastions of academe with various demands. Stay tooned.

Actually it took me so long to type this that Jay has left and the discussion has turned to the question of where we should stuff our faces tonight. 'Put your pants on Loopy let's go!" says Loopy. My pants are on, incidentally, but ok.

"As god is my witness, I will never be hungry again!"

'Ugh, I'm sooo full I think I'm gonna yark!" ((= Ang-speak for "puke"). Yup, another day of stuffing our faces has come to a satiated conclusion. "Loopy, gimme a big kiss" "okay but don't press on my tummy!" The title of this post comes from a moment earlier this evening when, over our six-course "tasting menu" (prix fixe) dinner, one of us said, "god, I don't think I'm ever going to be hungry again," and the other two replied almost in unison with that quote from Scarlett O. Personally I believe I attained Nirvana during dessert, which was orange-flavored flan, goat cheese & pear tartlet, AND mexican hot chocolate ("Note to self," Loopy commented, "three desserts are better than one.")

Lunch was faboo dim sum (the kind that comes around on carts and you point to what you want) at a place called "Yank Sing" (while trying to remember the name Ang called it "something like 'Gringo,' only not that"). (I hafta say I think the name is perfect revenge for places with names like "Chinky Chonky"--which is in London, I kid you not)(Although it turns out that "Yank Sing" is actually a real place name of a city in China).

Tto pass the time in the afternoon while waiting to be hungry again, we went to the Asian Art Museum and made fun of the art as well as our fellow patrons.

the urgency with which I am desperately trying to avoid thinking about my fall student teaching (for which I'm woefully unprepared--aaaaaak!!!!), together with Ang's anxiety about her prelim (apparently she's the onliest person who hasn't heard her results yet!! yiks!), are the only sour notes. And we just won't think about that, wil we? More braised squab, anyone?

"what are you eating now? my god! stop eating!!!"

O-senbei, if you must know--I'm eating o-senbei. Little rice crackers dipped in soy sauce and wrapped in plum-flavored seaweed. And why did Loopy yell at me to stop eating? Hmmm, could be because we have been on a solid binge since arriving in SF yesterday afternoon. (We had to make a rule--wait five hours between meals--because we were having this fabulous dinner and couldn't manage to choke it down because we had been eating all afternoon). We have also started referring to our point of origin as "fucking Madison," as in, "god this sushi is orgasmic... Fucking Madison!" or, "look, it's nine thirty and people are still eating and having a good time. Fucking Madison!"

Loopy is knitting (a gorgeous sweater, and she just ripped it all out and started over--she had about three inches already!) and Ang is reading People (I bought it, I admit) and telling hilarious nasty stories about people in the TAA. We are staying at a fancy shmancy hotel and LUSH is across the fucking street!!! This is the life.

The only thing that would make it beter would be if Katy, Dorotha, Autumn, Knit Wit &co were all here too (it's not too late to hop on a plane, guys--I hear Shamie has room in his palatial suite...c'mon, c'mon!!!)....Well, we bought all kinds of presents for you crazy kids, so you'll know we;re thinking of you. :) (Oh, but if only we could bring you a doggie bag...!!!)

Southern hospitality

As you know, last week I was in Atlanta attending the national convention of Solidarity, the socialist organization to which Loopy and I belong. Two amusing anecdotes follow:

Story #1:
All week long, VIP Theresa is talking about bags of Lenin, but she is never talking to me. "I have to go and bag some more Lenin after dinner," she comments to a friend. "Did you get your bag of Lenin?" she asks someone else another time. "Be sure you stop by room 217 for your Lenin." Theresa is too much of a VIP for me to barge into these conversations and ask, "What the heck is in these bags of Lenin? Why don't I get one?" I think to myself that maybe I'm not important enough to get a bag of Lenin. Long story short, people who are staying in the dormitories have to pick up big bags of...linen! for their beds! Theresa's gorgeous Southern accent threw me for a loop and created a running joke for everyone else all week, as people accused each other of being "linenists."

Story #2:
I am a pot virgin. Yes, it's true. I may be the last one. I don't often confess this, but it makes this story funnier. So, I'm standing in the back of the convention meeting room, listening to some important person go on and on about something (Iraq possibly, or international labor solidarity...), when James Jones (see below) comes up to me and hands me a Burger King bag. "Here's some pot," he whispers. "I had to get change so I just got some." I'm surprised, but try to look calm and cool. I take it from him, thinking, "Why are you giving this to ME?" and "damn, this bag is heavy, how much pot is in here anyway???" I quickly put it on the floor next to my stuff. After a moment's reflection I nudge it further from my stuff--wouldn't want that smell to alert the airport bloodhounds, now, would we. At the end of the talk, I leave the room clutching the bag, looking for someone to give it to who might want it. James sees it and looks surprised. "Isn't it melted?" "huh?" I say. "Wasn't it frozen?" he asks. I'm completely nonplussed. I open the bag, and find... chocolate cream pie, Burger King style. (Say "pie" with a Southern accent and you'll understand...)

suspense!!!

Loopy (along w Ang and Erik and others) is finishing up her prelim just about now! It's so exciting! I've been thinking about her all day (except during my "expensive nap"--which is what Loopy calls my accupuncture treatments). At 2:45 I thought, "probably about now she's entering that final calm phase where you realize that, for better or worse, it's almost all over and soon you'll be free." Now I'm looking at the clock and wondering if she's rereading her work with growing confidence, or already sauntering out early with a jaunty victorious stride, or perhaps sliding into a panic as the minutes tick away toward The End. I hope she's ok. Either way, it won't be long now! I have to go get the car so I can be ready to take them to a victory (or at least completion) celebration! Yippee!

The only bad part is, we have to do this again next summer. But let's not think about that now. The good part is, if all goes well (and no reason why it wouldn't), she is half done with prelimming and next summer will be the last summer she ever, ever, ever has to worry about it! Yay!

Go loopy, go loopy, go loopy, GO! YAY LOOPY!!!

I will post more about my trip soon.