Chapstick Chapstick Chapstick

I can't act like I really understand what a Zen koan is, but I do know it's a kind of riddle or story given to a student by a teacher. It seems nonsensical to begin with, but after meditating on it, it suddenly seems really super deep.

Example:

Hui Neng once approached a student who was sitting in meditation. "Why do you spend so much time sitting?" he asked. "Because I want to become a Buddha," the student replied.

At this, Hui Neng picked up a brick tile from the floor, and began rubbing it with his robe. "Why are you doing that?" asked the student. "Because I want to make a mirror," Hui Neng replied.

"But Master," said the student, "no amount of -- oh, wait, I get it! Very funny, very funny."

So, I bring it up because of two recent moments that made me think of Zen koans:

Third grade student: Did you watch the Superbowl last night?
Teacher: No. I watched a show about elephants.
28 third grade students: (laugh to point of tears)

They really got how funny it was, you know?

Second example:

Student: I found this Chapstick on the floor.
Teacher: That Chapstick? I threw that away yesterday, and the day before! Who keeps putting this Chapstick on the floor?
Student: It's haunting you!
Teacher: Put it in the garbage if no one is going to claim it.
Student: What if we find it again tomorrow?

OK, maybe that one isn't really like a Zen koan. I just like it. The cool inside joke in my classroom right now is that various things are haunting me, the teacher. Another cool thing going down at the moment is to combine "mad" and "sad" to make "smad." It seems like something I would teach them, but they just came up with it without me. I'm touched and proud.

megadeth sez your kid is failing

Look, yesterday wasn't just a fluke. I'm writing again! Not coincidentally, I'm also "doing report cards" again.

I'm not working today. I was struck with a horrible headache and sore throat yesterday (possibly brought on by the report cards), so today I slept for the first half of the day, then decided to finish the r.c.'s. I am also doing an experiment of sorts. Here is my research question:

Does the kind of music I listen to while working on report cards influence the quality of comments I put on the cards?

I'm listening to Nick Cave right now, so I expect that those cards might come out kind of gothic. Later, when I switch to the Shins or something, the comments will become kind of lighter. And I am saving the Megadeath for a few select kids' cards.

I forgot to mention that Alice and I saw Persepolis and I'm in love with it. The only disappointment is that I am in no way responsible for it. The quality of the drawings was fantastic. I loved the shading and movement of everything. So gorgeous.

We, plus Jen and Mollie, also went to a play that my friend was in. It was sad and good. Tons-o-culture for me this weekend which, apparently, gives me a headache.

tote bag

I am in a listless place as far as writing goes - except for super cheesy country songs. The super cheesy country songs fall into my head already written, fully formed, with backup vocals and seventies-style strings already worked out. I hear them as they might sound coming out of a jukebox in some divey bar. The harmonies include one of those super deep male voices.

We had our North African dinner party last weekend (next up: South America). There was a ridiculous amount of amazing vegan food. I went to the farmer's market early, then I spent all day chopping and prepping for my Moroccan stew, only to leave it untended for a bit too long while on the phone in the other room. It burned a little. I thought, "Well, at least there's the Moroccan carrot salad," as I threw the carrot sticks into boiling water for a 10-second dip. I took the pot off the stove and was moving toward the colander in the sink when the HANDLE of the POT came suddenly DETACHED. Carrots and boiling water landed all over the kitchen, including my now-blistered left foot. So the carrots also didn't really work out, you know? And I lost my favorite pot. It was one of my grandma's wedding gifts in 1943 or 1944, so I guess it had been around. Still...

THe other ladies had made tons of amazing food, and my stew ended up being fine, really, as long as you didn't have the bad luck to get one of the crunchy burned bits, heh heh. Jen sent me pictures of our meal, which perhaps I will post a bit later. I have to go buy some Spiderman bedding for my neph right now.

School began and the kids aren't broken in to my ways yet. I'm determined not to constantly bring twenty-five tote bags* of schoolie stuff home every night, so I can also focus on the country songs in my head.



*when is the last time you heard someone say "tote bag?" oh my god. i am a person with a lot of tote bags, and not ones you'd find at some alternative craft fair. it happened to me without my realizing it. tote bags are such a teacher thing. do nashville songwriters have tote bags? how about the backup singers?

off balance, but well shod

Today was a day of klutziness, bad timing, and poor coordination, saved only by seeing friends tonight, including J&J, who are visiting from Cali. I cooked my brown rice/avocado/corn/almond/red onion/dill pickle concoction for Jen, a.k.a. Birthday Girl to Be. Sadly, the red onion was pretty scant, for lo! When I went into the produce drawer, I found the following:

- a zucchini, frozen solid
- a yellow squash, frozen solid
- a red onion, frozen solid
- a carrot, frozen solid

Do you see a theme? Although the day was hot and humid, frozen vegetables did not bring me any comfort. All of these were beautiful specimens, from the organic farm, now changed into -sicles. This onion, for example. So pretty, but it's going to be all limp and weird when it thaws out.



My old friend Tomoko sent me this picture of a meal we shared in Japan two years ago now - an awesome and beautiful vegetarian place, where we had our own little room, with our own sliding shoji, and our own little pit to dangle our legs into beneath the table. The waiters unobtrusively brought course after course of tofu and vegetable dishes, each so different and good. Tomoko chose the place with me in mind. She is super good like that.



I've started setting up my room at school, but I have so far avoided all the terrible places where one goes to buy classroom supplies. My co-workers are getting ready for school through trips to office depotmax, the teacher store, etc. I have been getting ready through shoe buying. This year's group of kids is going to be better prepared in the areas of shoe knowledge and appreciation than any other group I've taught yet. Heels, wedges, flats, pointy toes, squared toes: It's an exciting time to be an educator!

Your Miss Montgomery

I really need some new clothes, especially for work. I don't know what happened, but I almost literally have nothing to wear. What the hell did I wear last winter? I don't want to know. Anyway, the same few pairs of pants keep reappearing in a rather predictable cycle, and I'm just waiting for one of my students to point it out. This is not an unfounded fear. Comments so far this year include, "Didn't you wear that shirt yesterday?" (I had worn nothing even remotely similar); "You wear those earrings a lot, don't you?" (So? They're just earrings. It's not like they have to be washed. Plus they're super cool earrings!); "You really like that outfit, don't you?" (No, not really); and "BLUE? You never wear blue! You wear black!"

I don't want to end up with a reputation like that of Miss Montgomery, of St. Andrew's College, the private school outside Dublin that my sister and I went to. She was the headmistress, and also taught some of our classes. And she wore the exact same outfit every day! I mean, we had uniforms, but the teachers didn't. Some were even almost stylish (I'm talking to you, Miss Kelly; your clothing choices almost make up for the cruel things you said to me during field hockey practice!). But Miss Montgomery wore the same head-to-toe-gray ensemble day in and day out. I don't remember other kids talking about it, but I sure as hell noticed. Or maybe my mom pointed it out. It still comes up in conversation to this day.

So, yeah, I'm trying to avoid that sad fate, a fate not quite as bad as the jumper, but comparable in tragic connotation. It's just overwhelming to need a whole bunch of clothes. Clothes are not cheap. There are about 5 things that I need in the $100-$150 range right now (including Windows for Mac; a haircut & highlights, already; a plane ticket that I'm not going to end up buying; some FLOR tiles for my home; and shoes, running and other). I've not managed to procure any of those, so a heap of clothes seems unlikely. Maybe I should just start with some damn pants.

listen to records day eve

No school tomorrow. Its "records day." I'm supposed to work on record-keeping, at the locale of my choice.

My choice is to stay home and listen to records.

At 5:45 yesterday afternoon, all dressed for my 7:00 spinning class, I sat to read for a spell and I fell asleep, fast asleep. Asleep-er than I usually manage at that time of day. Anyway, I woke up at 7:58 and totally freaked out. I tore out of bed and stumbled around pulling on clothes, any clothes, cattywampus clothes, and yelling right out loud. "I still have to put in my contacts and brush my teeth! Oh my god, I'm so late! There's no way I'll be there by 8:10!" Be where? To school, for I thought it was 7:58 the next morning, twelve minutes before 28 children were due to file into my classroom, expecting to be taught and guided, or at least guarded, by an adult with a plan. It's not an easy job to show up late for.

I rushed to the bathroom, thinking I should call my coworker, not the mean secretary, and realized my contacts were already in. I was really disoriented. "What's going on? Did I sleep with my contacts in all night? Why didn't my alarm go off?" Slowly it crossed my mind that it could be evening instead of morning. How could I find out for sure? I looked out the window and it was dark - was it still dark at 8:00 in the morning? I realized I didn't really know. It seemed possible, this time of year. I'm always already at work then, or sleeping if it's the weekend. So I had to turn on the tv to base my decision on the programming that my rabbit-eared tv was receiving. That clinched it. Definitely evening.

I'm glad I realized it before I called my coworker and hysterically announced that there was no way I was going to make it on time.

I'm getting a head start on Records Day now, listening to Kristin Hersh. No way I'm getting up to find out about the state of the sun at 8:00 tomorrow!

No more workhorse.

(from biologyreference.com)

I'm trying to think of anything non-work related right now and i'm drawing a mean blank. Yes, a mean one. Work is an amoeba and I'm the thing it's engulfing (shown above). Do you remember drawing pictures of amoebas engulfing things? I do. In high school biology, I guess. Or maybe work is a mass of green jello and I'm the pineapple trapped inside. That's more of a grade school cafeteria memory. See, all my memories relate to various schools! Who am I? All I do is work or sleep so that I can work or make lunches to eat at work or put things in/take things out of bags carrying work materials. Conferences again tonight. "Your daughter lacks intellectual rigor." "Your son smells my shoes."

There are amazingly few good pictures online of pineapple trapped in jello. This one will have to do. The jello sites make me queasy. They usually also involve a lot of mayonnaisey and cream-of-something soup recipes. I am grossed out by those things.

So, I do have an identity beyond school! Awesome. It's about food.

By the way, do you think I should wear my Apples-n-Alphabet outfit tomorrow, or my sassy "READ" overalls with accompanying turtleneck? It's so hard to make these decisions each day! Also, all jokes aside, you will, won't you, sit me down if this ever really happens to me?

flinging things around

My pirated (aaargh, Pam) wireless is weakish today, so I just drove silly far to drink coffee and write and do work at a coffeehouse far from my home. I like it here, and there's nowhere comparable near my home. So I drove. Now I'm here, bathed in sunshine, as you can see.

I have a strange relationship with my new apartment. All week long I feel like I'm there just long enough to fling things around and I wish I could send more time there. Then the weekend comes and I know I should get stuff done at home, but I just want to be out among people. Real adult people. With skin and everything else that real people have.

It's like I only want to be there when I'm supposed to be at work. When I'm not supposed to be at work, I want a total change of scenery, maybe another identity altogether.

I had a headache near that one lumpy spot on my cranium this morning. It was a caffeine withdrawal headache! Yea. My favorite kind!

I hesitate to mention it, but there is a student who sits near my feet every day when we're at the carpet and sniffs my shoes. An actual quote from this boy: "Ms. G_____, your shoes today smell just like the boots you were wearing yesterday."

Well, I guess what can I expect when I wear these boots to school?