This is funnier if you picture it in the 50s.

"What did you do at work today, honey?"
"Oh, I set the road on fire."

High and Low

At my new school, they start out every Friday with a "temperature check," and share with the class one "high" experience, and one "low" experience. I'm gonna try that out.

---

High
My new placement is amazing. My mentor teachers care and are taking an active role in our training. They want us to have an active place in the classroom, teach, attend staff meetings, the whole nine yards.

It's euphoric.

Low
Being yelled at for missing a class due to uncontrollable vomiting. (What was I supposed to do, bring a bucket?) I have to meet with two of my professors on Wednesday to "discuss my goals so they can help support my growth as a teacher." That line may be saccharine enough to rot teeth, but my personal favorite from the correspondence is the following:

"I understand that you have legitimate reasons for missing class; my concern is that you understand the professional expectations of schools. Missing four days in the first month and a half of the public school year would not be well received by a school principal. In all the schools I’ve worked in more than four absences in a school year was considered excessive."

That's right. I was just told that I am too sickly to teach. I love it! I can't be a zookeeper because my hands are too fucked up, but I can't do anything else, either, because I won't be able to hold down a job. Forget that two of those absences were for doctor's appointments that were scheduled eight months in advance and with the intention of making me healthy again! What am I supposed to do with my degree, then? They're insinuating I have three options:

1) Welfare
2) Kept woman
3) Rot

Fuck that. I am sick of fighting with people over this. My teachers keep forgetting I have a disability (after all, I don't "look" sick!), and I've had several assignments in class where I have been essentially useless and been give no other alternative to complete my task. This is just the icing on a very embittering cake. Reminding them doesn't seem to have changed a thing.

So what am I doing? It's time to go back on the warpath.

1) Contacting the campus disabilities office. She'll send out an e-mail politely reminding my professors that I am, despite my deceptive appearance, disabled.
2) If that does not work? Talk to the Ron Thom (President). He'll throw a royal fit over this. Last resort, since professors will likely become resentful.
3) Getting a referral so I can finally be officially diagnosed with fibro so I can legally claim disability. Also, hopefully this will lead to effective pain therapy so I can, oh, you know, use my fucking hands and left leg again.

What just happened?

The astute among you have realized this blog is being hosted on my server now. This affects nothing important, really, but expect a template overhaul.

Eventually.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go learn PHP.

[Filter]

Professor One to Professor Two: "So, you weren't an English Major, you were a Religion Major. How did you get into English?"
Me: "Public Schools."
Ad: "...*snerk* You're on point today..."
Professors: o.o; O.-;

I love him, kinda

Matt has been threatening for weeks to start controlling my iTunes remotely via his iPod touch, and I keep telling him that if he does I will kill him. Well, last night, he made good on his threat, but I'm still laughing too hard to make good on mine.

I brought a man home with me last night (gasp!) and we all hung out for a while and watched some X-Files. After that, said person and I adjourn to my room. I throw on a playlist and we crash on the bed and proceed to rip each other's clothes off (well, his anyway.)

All of the sudden, my computer switches from instrumental, psychedelic rock to Puddle of Mudd's "Control."

"That's a weird shift," he murmurs, nibbling my neck.

"Yeah, it is..." I say, and then the wheels start to turn. Slowly. (I was a little distracted.) A minute later, I have bolted off the bed and into the hall.

"MATT LONSDALE!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" he replies.

Is this me maturing?

I just decided it would be a bad idea to answer the question "what do you like best about this class?" with "It starts at 11AM" on a course evaluation.

If it were anonymous, tho? Oh boy.

This is your brain on grad school

A fake lesson plan's fake assessment that I have every intention of turning in tomorrow. Enjoy!

---

Unit Review: Now stop asking me what will be on the test.

The assessment will cover what we have learned in Unit 6 concerning friction. You will use the data collected during the three labs we performed to create a poster outlining your results for the class. As a reminder, here is a brief run-down of the labs performed along with the questions I want you to consider in your poster presentation:

LAB ONE: What is friction?

• In this lab we paired up and dragged each other over one of three assigned surfaces: tile, carpet, and grass. (Think about what the cardboard was used for—why didn't we just drag each other by the pants? Answers concerning laundry are NOT correct! Think about this as an experiment! What were we controlling for?)

• These data were then plugged into the work equation to see how our amount of work changed per surface.

LAB TWO: Adding simple machines

• Instead of the cardboard, we used skateboards on the same three surfaces and compared the work necessary to the results of the first lab. How much did the addition of a simple machine reduce the work done on each surface?

• What general conclusions can be drawn concerning friction (yes, this is general—that should make it easy for you to think up more than one!)

LAB THREE: Surface area and friction

• In this lab we changed the surface area of the cardboard and repeated the tests outlined in Lab One on our assigned surface.

• How did this affect the work done? When seen in the context of lab two, does this explain why skateboards are so useful for travel? Explain how, and describe two other simple vehicles this applies to. If you feel it doesn't, support your reasoning with data.

These presentations will be graded in pairs—this means you AND your partner will be receiving the same grade.

After the presentations, we will get together as a class and draw some conclusions based on the data we have collected. TAKE NOTES.

The formal write-up for this unit will be in the form of a mini lab paper. Since we've already tackled the introduction in Unit 5, we will be moving on to the experimental section. You will also be expected to include a results section where you formally present your data and explain its trends. We will take a trip to the computer lab and work in Excel to create the graphs and charts necessary, so none of this work will need to be done out of class. However, you WILL be expected to create figure legends and any necessary prose on your own time.

Any questions? See me. This is due in one week.

Oh, thank God.

This may be less of a disaster than I'd thought.

The worst thing anyone has ever said to me:

"I honestly think more people than you know like you. I mean, I liked you for a long time but couldn't say a damn thing because I had no confidence I could keep you interested. Your intelligence is more intimidating than your wit, though wit comes with the territory of being intelligent sometimes..."


I cannot explain how horrible this makes me feel.

Oh My God.

Don't worry, Joe Plumber. CANADIAN OIL IS FINE.

If we are placed together when we're assigned to new mentors, he is not going to survive

*Mr K has spent the morning yawning, rubbing at his face, making congested snorting noises, and scratching at his head*

Me: "You're grosser than usual today."
*Mr K removes his overshirt, exposing a wifebeater, and flops down onto the floor, perhaps intending to do pushups. I am attacked by a waft of near-tangible colognesmell as his overshirt hits the chair beside me*

Me: "WTF"
Matt: *shrug*
*I take Kainoa's wallet, which he has left on the table near my right elbow, and dig through it. Two IDs and some cash. After a moment's thought, I start throwing dollar bills at him. He looks up, bemused, and then of course gets thrilled that I am treating him like a stripper.*

Hot Girl on Other Side of Classroom: *grinning* "Can we go upstairs? Wren is throwing money over there and it is really distracting me."
Me: "Sorry!" *Hurls Mr. K's wallet after the money, hitting him smack in the ear. He realizes it was his own money and crumples.*

*Later, in next class*

Mr. K: *Sits down next to me* "Blah blah blah blah?"
Me: "Sorry, what?"
Mr. K: "Blah blah blah blah?"
Me: "K, it's loud in here. What was that?"
Mr. K: ""Blah blah--"
Me: "I lied. I don't care."
Mr. K: ... ...
Mr. K: "YOU ARE HEINOUS."
Me: "Good word!"
Mr. K: "I have never been dissed as hard as you dissed me just then. I cannot believe I just repeated myself back to you three times!"
Me: "Never? Oh, K. You are in for a lot of emotional pain if you keep sitting next to me."
Mr K: "Dude, I sit down next to you willingly every day. I find your spot!"
Me: "Trust me, I know."

More notes to future Wren:

If you pick a fight with one of your students, she is exponentially less likely to attend class the next day.

Hmmm. I'll head into class in ten minutes.

But they do for other people.

When I am in class and have allergies, no one says "gesundheit" when I sneeze.

That's it. I quit!

I just watched the WrenSim buy a stripper pole from a vampire.

I need a "well, duh!" tag

I was going to update the FFQ formula with "if he forces you to hold hands for several minutes and only stops when a mutual friend threatens to kick him in the balls..."

...but then I realized that would be moronic.

The ends totes justify the means

New goal: Marry Feeney so that I can force him to perform The Bendy Dance(tm) in front of the entire wedding party.

This is what I do in Grad School

Teacher asked me to make a custom cover for my reflection journal, since mine is a binder and everyone else's is a carefully decorated purple-covered affair. (All flaunting that they can write by hand...)

I obliged.

Really, I wanted it to be THIS.

I didn't do it because I actually like her. <---FILTER IN ACTION.

(In completely unrelated news, it may be bedtime.)

Very few people seem to believe me when I tell them I am going to go cry in a corner.

All right, it is time to do something I haven't done in several months (at least, as far as I can tell). I need to rant. Consider this your warning if you are one of those who reads this for the funny and not for the drama. I take no offense, since I generally write this for the funny. Drama posts are not fun to compose, believe me. But I'll do us both a favor and intersperse some pictures.

As you all know by now, my favorite rat died on Sunday. (I'm sorry, Jae, but he was.)

Not only that, but he is now in the freezer beside ST, whom we have not yet been able to find time to bury. Granted, several of us are full-time students with part-time jobs, others of us have full-time jobs and live several cities away, or were out of town for the entirety of the summer. So this isn't something born from laziness, but it still makes me feel like a terrible mom. Which means that now every time I open the freezer all I can think about is how much it still hurts that ST is dead, and how hard it was for me to hold Basil in my hands and do everything I could to keep him warm and comfortable while he died. Frame of reference, folks-- it took 45 minutes.

But time doesn't slow down, does it? None of my teachers care that I was crying too hard to do my homework that night. He was just a rat. It doesn't matter that he was the sweetest rat on the planet, or that he was still a baby, because he is a rodent, and thus too small to be worked up about.

Fuck that. He was a pet. I may not cry when one of my fish die, but I know people that have, and I have been able to understand why they were upset. I'm sick of people looking at me like I'm a freak when I tell them I'm depressed because my rat had a stroke.

But you know what? I'm an adult now, right, so life has been going on despite all this. Or would have been had I been able to sleep at all this week. Sunday night I drugged myself up on insomnia medication so that I could get up Monday and do my homework. Unfortunately, that didn't work on Monday night. Or Tuesday night. So I have had to go through my final week of observations at my middle school and my normal classes with a severely sleep-deprived, grieving brain. But last night I slept. And this morning I thought to myself "hey, the week is finally shaping up."

I was wrong. Today started out well, especially because I have new hair and treated myself to a manicure last night in the hopes that it would make me feel better. I put on my most ridiculous shirt that makes me feel like a pirate, sensible heels, and went in for my last day of observation, finally prepared to say goodbye to my students. Our teacher had a surprise for us; he let us go out with a bang. We got to teach his first two classes.

A short break here for photos of new hair and ridiculous shirt:

Because this expression and this shirt were meant for one another.
(Are you happy now, Kate? :D)

3/4 profile, with drama cranked to 11. Oh yeah. (I have a nose meant for 20s cinema.)


And the back. Rowr!

Sadly, the red highlights don't show up so well in the dark. I'll get another round of photos for you when it is sunny and I haven't been crying. A short anecdote about the shirt: I bought it because the ruffles are a) fucking awesome, and b) they cover the cleavage button-bend I tend to get in button-downs. But! It is now on the no-list, because Felipe and Terrin spent the entire hour with their eyes glued to my chest. Those ruffles have a panel behind them, but apparently they can't tell, so the shirt was promising cleavage they knew it was there somewhere. Oh well. At least they were paying attention and asking a lot of questions during group work. (-.-)

Okay. Back to DRAMA. Teaching the class was the highlight of my day. Everyone listened, everyone paid attention, we got to joke around, and I learned a great deal from them. I'd like to think that some of them are even going to miss me. I head off to class on the tailcoats of a teaching high, actually feeling relatively perky.

Then class ruined everything. The same nine students always meet four times a week to rehash the same problems over and over again, but no progress is ever made. At this point I can sit down with the topic before class, decide which points would be made by what students, guess which students will talk the most, which will get angry first, and which will bore me until my eyes cross. And I am never wrong. But today, they were doing it with a lesson plan that four science students had to think up and present together. One of us is a chemist, two of us are biologists, and the fourth one is an idiotic frat boy whom I've referred to here as Mr. K. Can you see how hard it was to 1) agree on anything, and 2) agree on their comments? FOUR TEACHERS SHOULD NOT TEACH.

To make matters worse, Mr. K decided to end the day by grabbing my face in his hands, leaning in, and licking my cheek.

He licked. My cheek. In front of the entire class.

Then the annoying girl who I caught gossiping about me in the bathroom looks over and shouts "oh my God, are you two making out?"

Yes. Now allow me to demonstrate what it looks like when my elbow makes out with his kidneys.

So I go home, intending to take care of the rats, eat a little lunch, and work on some way to improve my mood. I know! I'll finish off the chicken korma, have some tea, and work out for an hour to blow off some steam.

Cue uncle. Now, I asked for his help back in June because I knew that he would be able to find me an attorney to help represent me regarding the stupid girl who hit me and the idiotic cop who wrote me the ticket for it. I have been sending him reminder e-mails, and I assumed that he was actually working on it. To his credit, he was, but he forgot to the most important part: tell me to e-mail the attorney two weeks ago.

My court date is in four days. Unless the course of the world changes drastically over the weekend, it looks like I'm going to be representing myself. And the way I feel emotionally right now, that means I will walk up, look the judge in the eyes, and burst into tears. How convincing.

Now, I've been alive long enough and been blogging long enough to realize that my life goes in horrible circles. Everything goes right, and then everything goes wrong. I am clearly currently stuck in the downward portion of a cycle. That's fine. I know my life, and I know things are going to start going eerily right again eventually. And, had I managed to stick to my medication schedule, I would probably be strong enough emotionally to handle all the badness now. But I'm an idiot who hasn't been taking the right dosage for two weeks now.

So! If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a lie down.

>.<

I am really going to miss my kids.

My claws are coming back

*Teacher takes a copy of a chapter and lays it about the perimeter of a room. Sciency kids cluster around and start inspecting the layout of the book*

Me: "I'll start down here if Mr. K will scoot a little."
Mr K: *runs into me with his shoulder*
Me: "I will elbow you in the kidney, so help me."
Mr K: "Make me pee blood?"
Me: "It will be a growing experience."
Mr K: "A groin experience. Pardon the pun."

*pause*
Me: "That's not a pun."
Mr K: "No! See, it's wordplay. "Elbow you in the kidney, growing experience, but it's a groin experience, too. Growing, groin? See?"
Me: "I love how you just repeated back to me everything we just said. The instant replay is amazing, but that's still not a pun."
Mr K: "Wow."
Me: "Wow?"
Mr K: "I'm not talking to you anymore." *takes a few steps away*
Me: "Finally."