The Downside of Early Spring

Particularly when one lives in a state that tends to have snowy winters is

All

The Frickin'

MUD!

Seriously, between late February and mid-April, most of the ground in my immediate surroundings attains the consistency of a wet sponge. The bottoms of my jeans are perpeturally damp and dirty and Marley (a very, very blonde-verging-on-white Labra-Horse) needs near constant hosing down.

Still, being rather a homebody, the traditional spring mudfest is rarely that big a deal to me. And then weekends like this past happen to me. Don't get me wrong, it was fun and all...but I ended up with mud in places where mud ought not to be, I'm STILL doing the laundry, and I had to give a couple of camp counselors a subtle dressing down.

Yes, this Elf went camping.

I HATE camping.

I mean, I acknowledge that it's a great family-building activity, and the outdoors are something that people really should experience. Just--I don't like experiencing them PERSONALLY. I think my aversion has something to do with the last time I went camping. It was a week-long Ren Faire (Rennaissance Festival, for the unfamiliar), it rained like a son of a gun, the only bathrooms available were solar showers and port-o-johns and there was an outbreak of food poisoning.

But that's a tale for another time.

So Elf, one might say, if you hate camping so much how did you end up spending the first three days of your spring break camping in the middle of Mud Central and subtly dressing down camp counselors?

And to one I might reply: I have absolutely no idea.

Well, scratch that, I know how I ended up doing all that. Basically, my school was running an SAT Prep camp this weekend. It was open to juniors and it was just a last-ditch run through of test strategies, practice tests, etc, with some fun activities mixed in. We went to a YMCA campground, stayed in cabins, the whole nine yards.

This would've been wonderful and totally something I was not interested in doing ('cause I really, REALLY hate camping), but when I agreed to do the advertising flyers for it...yeah, my assistant principal thought I was agreeing to TEACH at it.

*sigh*

I'm not even going to get into how that misunderstanding came about. Any road, so, three days before we let out for spring break, my assistant principal comes to me and asks if I need anything for the camp.

And I'm all, "Do what now?"

And he gets this comical look of horror on his face, words get exchanged, and I end up agreeing to do it 'cause it's really too late for them to get anyone else, and I DO quite like most of the kids who are going. And he even agrees to let me bring Marley, as arranging boarding for a dog with Marley's unique health needs is not something that can be done spur of the moment.

That was pretty fun, by the way. Marley had a blast running all over the place and playing with the kids, and he was a big hit with pretty much everyone. Even a couple of kids who said they were afraid of dogs were utterly charmed by him. I think it's 'cause he's a big sweetie, and actually a pretty laid back dog once he's run some energy out. The last day, I even brought him into class with me.

Granted, I had a moment where I thought I was gonna have to strangle someone. Evidently, when Mr. S told me I could bring my dog, he didn't clear it with the camp. So I get out on check-in day with my Labra-Horse and the camp guy's all "Uh...what's that dog doing here?"

Fortunately, this Elf thinks quickly on her feet. "This is Marley...he's kind of a class project. Teaches inner-city kids about compassion and empathy. He goes where I go. Have you heard of Therapy Dogs?"

Total bullshit, but I've found that if you say something with perfect confidence and authority, people will rarely question you. And hey, technically nothing I said was a lie. For that weekend, Marley WAS kind of a class project. The kids totally shared responsibility for taking him out for potty breaks and playtime when I was otherwise occupied, he DID teach them empathy and compassion when I explained his health problems and why it was important for them to be gentle with him and not give him people food, and he DID go where I went. And I only ASKED if the guy had heard of Therapy dogs, I never said Marley WAS one.

Yeah, I'm really counting on the fact that I voluntarily teach middle school to keep me out of hell.

So, the weekend turned out to be pretty fun. The kids were pretty good (though it quickly became obvious that I was the voice of authority there. Five chaperones, one of whom was the assistant principal, and I was the only one keeping any kind of order. I had to enforce curfew by myself, make the kids clean up after activities by myself, and I was the only one inspecting cabins before we left...two groups of kids were going to try and leave their cabins in utter shambles! I was a little irritated by that) and we got a lot done. Marley was beside himself with joy at all the room to run around and new people to play with. Most of my kids adored him and would fight over who got to play with him, walk him, and feed him.

The only real black mark on the weekend came from the camp counselors who came by in the afternoons to do team building activities with the kids. Now, in their defense, my kids were pretty obviously a very different clientele than the camp usually got. And obviously, these guys were used to dealing with kids much younger (and frankly, much more respectful) than my kids. But the first activity day was a disaster. They dragged us out to this big field (and yeah, that mud I mentioned? I almost lost a shoe. Several times) where my kids were promptly horrified by how dirty their shoes were getting, and things went downhill from there. (That's a cultural thing that it takes a while to get used to...my kids, their prized possessions are their shoes. Two rules in dealing with my kids...never, ever insult anyone's mama, and never mess with someone's shoes). And then we get to the activity...and it's pretty elementary stuff. Maybe on a nicer day the kids would've gotten into it, but they were pretty lackluster in their response.

And the counselors? Got really pissy about it.

I'm sorry, but that's rule one in dealing with kids...sometimes your plans aren't gonna go the way you want, the kids aren't gonna react the way you want, and you gotta be flexible. Your team-building activity isn't going well? Figure out a new way to approach it, don't force the issue and make everyone miserable.

But yeah, the counselors forced the issue and plowed ahead with games no one was interested in and were really too juvenile for high school juniors to get into. And when my kids get bored, they get hard to control and it was just one vicious circle. I tried to step in and stir up some enthusiasm, but the counselors very obviously didn't like me trying to take over and the kids picked up on it (and enough of them liked me enough that perceived rudeness towards me put the counselors even further down on their shit-list and...yeah. Bad things).

But then the counselors started making these--comments. Really, really unprofessional comments and rude observations about my kids, and the way they were dressed, and their ability levels and I just saw red.

You don't insult my kids in my hearing and get away with it.

The counselors hadn't realized I was standing close enough to hear them, and it was kind of darkly amusing to see two of them jump slightly when I sidled up and cleared my throat. And I didn't yell at them or insult them or anything (that would have been unprofessional of ME, and I wasn't about to give my kids a show like that), but I very politely informed them that my kids didn't have the opportunity to do things like this that often and they needed to take that into account before they started getting huffy at my kids.

And let me state, I do teach in a school that primarily serves socially and economically disadvantaged African American students. My babies come from some hard situations. I don't use that as an excuse for them, I don't believe that they are any less capable, or should be treated differently because of their backgrounds...but it does need to be taken into account when planning these kinds of things. When I plan lessons, I keep in mind that a lot of background experiences that I'd take for granted in a different school need to be explained or shown, so that my kids can reach their fullest potential. Planning activities for a bunch of inner-city high school students the way you would plan for a bunch of private-school elementary students and then getting pissed when they didn't react the way a bunch of private school elementary students would was just irresponsible and somewhat insensitive.

And insulting my kids just pissed me off.

Other than that, though, pretty successful weekend.

And yeah, Marley had a blast.

But GOD, the mud was nasty!

I wonder if this kind of stuff would've happened had I named him Tarot...

Heyas,





So...for the first time in my adult life, I have hung curtains. Not that that's of any particular import. They're just off-white sailcloth, the first pair that came to hand for under twenty bucks, and I didn't even bother to iron them.





I guess, if you wanna get technical about it, I didn't actually bother to hang them, either. I remembered too late that I don't have a tape measure, a power drill, or a level, and damned if I'm gonna stand on a chair for half an hour with a screw driver and try to "guesstimate" if the brackets are level or not. So, I just rested the curtain rod in the empty brackets where the blinds that came with the apartment used to be.





Used to be, you ask?





Well, that would be because Marley tore down the blinds while I was at school today.





Literally, tore them down. Giant set of blinds, like four and a half feet wide (I have one big picture window in the living room of my apartment), totally ruined.





*sigh*





AND he managed to scare the crap out of me. I pulled into my parking space today (whilst on the phone with my dad) and suddenly realized that my blinds were hanging crazily, half off the window. Naturally, since Marley spends the day in a big honkin' crate, my immediate thought was that someone had bsted out the window and vandalized/burglarized my apartment. So I let out this gasp of horror, scream "I've got to go!" into my phone and hang up on my dad (probably giving him a heart attack in the process). I get out of the car, and notice to things.





One, the window is not, in fact, busted out. Therefore, whatever tore the blinds down has to be inside.





Two, there is a very familiar white and tan face staring out the window at me, bouncing happily in my armchair.





It also finally occured to me that I have nothing in my apartment worth stealing, but that's beside the point.





So yeah, Marley busted out of his kennel today and at some point ripped my blinds down. I have no idea how long he was out...or even how he GOT out. The kennel was still locked from the outside, and all the parts were intact. I have one of those wire collapsible kennels, so I suspect he SOMEHOW worked a side loose, got out, and it snapped back into place once he was through. But DAY-um.





It could've been worse. The blinds are annoying, but honestly, not that hard to replace. He didn't mess up anything else (which shocks the hell out of me...Marley has some separation anxiety issues and can be rather destructive when he's alone), or pee in the house that I've been able to find. He didn't even get into the trash. So, upshot, depending on how long he was out, I might actually be able to start leaving him out for small stretches of time when I'm gone (I hate locking him up in that kennel when I leave, and he's not fond of it either).





And I also have curtains.





But yeah, like I said...sometimes I wonder if I jinxed the hell out of us when I named him Marley. I mean, would stuff like this happen if I'd named him something else?

Or this?

Yes, that's my baby.

That's the tiny, little puppy whose pictures you can find elsewhere on this blog.

And yes, that's one of my bras around his neck.

How did he get one of my bras around his neck? I have no idea.

Okay...NOW we're amused

So....

One of the truly awesome things about being a teacher?

You occasionally get things like THIS across your desk:

Writing prompt:
Pretend you are on TV pitching your new product to a television audience. It can be any product you want (you can make up your own, or talk about something that already exists), but you must use your PERSUASIVE writing skills to convince people to buy your product. Please include details describing your product, at least three reasons why your product is something people should buy, and a conclusion. Bonus points if your product is zombie repellant.

*coughs*

Yes, I really was offering bonus points if the students wrote a cohesive response involving zombie spray. Sometimes I have to make my own fun.

Any road, I got this gem from one of my boys.

Hi! I'm _______________ and I'm here to talk to you about Rabies-Away. Rabies is a scary disease and no one wants to suffer from rabies. My product uses cutting-edge technology to kill all the rabies around your house. Just pour Rabies-Away on your lawn and you will never have to worry about rabies. Just imagine, do you want a big shot if you have rabies? No! here are three reasons why you should buy Rabies-Away. Reason one...rabies is a big problem in our state and my product protets you from it. Reason two...it is very reasonably priced. reason three...it is easy to use to keep rabies away from your house. So buy some Rabies-Away!!

Now, go back and read that response, but this time substitute the way the student ACTUALLY spelled "rabies":

Rabbis.

I about died laughing.

After the students had left, of course...this was actually really good writing for this student.

We are STILL not amused (and now we're even more pissed off)

And still talking in the royal "we" apparently. *sigh*

Okay, so, first things first, apparently our health insurance is supposed to be reinstated today, tomorrow at the latest. We have still not been offered an explanation as to WHY it lapsed in the first place, but at least the problem is being resolved. And apparently our principal was utterly mortified that this had happened and very apologetic, etc, etc, etc.

But here's where we get to the 'pissed off' part of tonight's entertainment.

'Cause this is the second time this year that it's happened. The first time, only a couple people knew about it, and for whatever reason, didn't tell the rest of us. Spectacular, eh?

And now I can't help wondering if the mortification and embarrassment was because such a big ball was dropped or because this time the problem was common knowledge. I swear, the more I look at some of the practices at this school, the shadier they seem...which worries me. A lot.

For instance, we are required to clock in and clock out every day (which I have never done before in my career and I've been teaching for nearly a decade). This would not bother me so much, except I found out the other day that the reason we clock in and clock out is that they are going to deduct pay from us at the end of the year for any time that we clocked in late.

Which, given that teachers are salaried employees and not hourly is...well, it's pretty frickin' illegal.

Not to mention the fact that NO ONE TOLD US THIS AT THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR.

Nor is there any mention of being paid overtime for the hours that we put in after our contracted hours. I quite regularly leave school half an hour to forty five minutes after my day officially ends...and that's not even counting all the work I put in at home. I'm a teacher...factor in grading, calling parents, lesson planning, etc, and I pull an eighty-odd hour work week, easy.

I sure as hell ain't getting PAID for an eighty-odd hour work week.

And here's the thing...I honestly wouldn't mind most of it (the whole pay deduction thing, yeah, sorry, it's in violation of federal law, can't argue with that). We're a small school, and sometimes you just gotta take one for the team. I am the woman who used to climb a rickety aluminum ladder to the roof of her first school every time it rained in order to drag tarps over the holes we had in the roof right over the library (we couldn't afford a new roof, didn't have a maintenance guy, and I lived right across the street from the building...I was on my principal's speed dial. And he let me write my own performance reviews in exchange :) ). No, what I don't appreciate is being kept in the dark about things, and this whole feeling of underhandedness.

That's not what teaching is about.

What's worse is, I'm not sure most of the staff realize how badly they're being screwed over. I hadn't realized this earlier, but with a couple of staff leaving in the past month, I'm now the only teacher at this school who has more than two years experience. I'm the only teacher who's taught in other states, and I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who's taught outside of charter schools. Which means that I might be the only one in position to actually blow the whistle on stuff like this.

Which could put me in a VERY bad position when I go looking for a new teaching job this year.

'Cause yeah, I love these kids...but I can't keep working in the conditions at this school. Not if they're going to lie to me, cheat me, and jeopardize one of the few decent benefits. Holy shit, I can't risk getting pregnant while I'm at a school where the health insurance fizzles off and on like a faulty light switch. Uh-uh, no way, not gonna happen.

But how smart is it to make waves that big when prospective employers are gonna be calling these guys for references? Some of the administration, I honestly don't know if I would put it past them to blacklist me as some kind of revenge (which would also be illegal as my performance reviews are fine...but yeah, in this economy, I'm not sure that's a fight I need to be starting).

I just...seriously, I know I joke about my life being a soap opera and all...but who has shit like this happen to them?!?!?!?!

We are NOT Amused....

So...

My school has apparently let our health insurance lapse.

We have evidently been without health coverage since February 1st.

We are still having deductions made from our paychecks every two weeks to pay for health insurance.

We were only made aware of the fact that our health insurance is no longer valid when one of our teachers tried to go to the doctor today and was informed there was a problem with her insurance card.

I am rather incandescently furious.

It's one thing to sometimes ask your staff to do duties outside their contract...frankly, we're a small school, and sometimes you just have to take one for the team. I don't particularly mind that. But one of our teachers just had a baby a couple months ago. Most of them have kids, and I know of at least two who are the ones their family gets insurance through. This isn't funny, and I am pissed as HELL that administration has apparently been keeping this from us.

Obviously, we're gonna ahve to wait 'til Monday to see what anyone has to say for themselves...but this is bloody ridiculous.

Winter's Last Hurrah and Playing With "Mar-lio"

Heyas,



Am currently collapsed on my armchair, sucking down water like it's going out of style and debating on whether it's worth the pain of getting out of said armchair to crawl to the shower for some blessed relief of hot water pounding down on my muscles.


Jillian Michaels is the spawn of Satan. I'm sure of it.


But I can't complain, because she's actually working for me.


But damn, I HURT (the good kind of hurt, though...not the 'oh, I'm injuring myself here' kind of hurt, so yay!).


Had a fun time of it this weekend...and by fun, I mean a spate of adreneline-fueled panic wherein I spent at least twenty minutes literally just breathing out "OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGod,gonnadiegonnadiegonnadiegonnadie,ohshit,ohshit,ohshit,ohshit" and clenching my teeth together so tightly that my jaw ached for an hour after it was all done.


I tend to throw Marley in the car and go down to my mother's house for the weekends...it's fun, and it's been several years since I could DO that, so I'm taking advantage these days. Unfortunately, when I did that this Friday, it was during what was apparently Old Man Winter's death rattle. Everything started out fine...it was spitting some snow as we pulled out of my apartment complex, but nothing major.


And then we get about half an hour down the highway, and DAY-UM! Snow is pouring out of the sky, covering the roads, and piling up quicker than the snowplows can deal with. The lines on the road vanish, traffic slows down to a crawl and I almost slid off the road four times in a ten minute period. At one point, I was driving down an incline and I felt the tires literally leave the road, and realized that my car was SLIDING down the incline on top of the ice and snow that had collected on the road.


That, incidentally, was the start of the "Oh God, gonna die, oh shit!" mantra that filled my car for a good long while afterwards. Marley, bless him, seemed to realize that Mama needed to concentrate and obligingly laid down in the back rather than popping up in my rearview mirror every thirty seconds like he usually does. So yeah, not fun.

Fortunately, my father and stepmother live in the city about halfway between me and my mother. I was gonna try to make it all the way to Mom's, but the snow very quickly put paid to that plan...ended up calling Dad and asking if I could crash at his place. I mean, I SAY I "asked" but only 'cause it's polite to do so...no way they were gonna send me on my way, or anything. Turned out to be a rather fun time, 'cause they had my nephew (stepsister's kid) for the evening.

I haven't had much of a chance to bond with him, as I lived in another state for the first two years of his life, and I'm not especially close to my stepsisters anyway (no animosity...just I don't have a lot in common with them, and our paths only cross at family functions). Frankly, the kid's always been a little wary of me. Getting to play with him one on one (my dad and stepmother had had him all day and were all to happy to turn over entertainment duties) was nice, and by the end of the night he was laughing and carrying on and calling me "Aunt Neek" (which is closer to my name than either of my sisters managed when they were his age).

And I got some reassurance about Marley's ability to deal with children. I think I MAY have mentioned this once or twice, but Marley's pretty big. And still in that puppy stage where he's got mad energy, and none of his limbs seem to quite work together, so he's a bit of a clumsy oaf (but he's my clumsy oaf, and I love him). I worry about how he's gonna handle the Imp (if all goes well, he'll be about two and a half when the Imp gets here)...and he didn't acquit himself well upon the start of the evening. As soon as he got through the door and saw nephew, he lunged at the kid and scared the crap out of him.

Marley just wanted to sniff, I'd like to clarify. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body, I don't worry about him biting anyone...but, yeah, he's a Labra-Horse and he has no idea how big and strong he really is.

Nephew was understandably leery of Marley (who outweighs nephew by about forty pounds and is several inches taller, besides) the rest of the night, but Marley entertained himself by wrestling and playing with my stepmother's dog (some little terrier mix). Eventually, nephew seemed more fascinated than scared (especially when he saw me doing Marley's hand signals for sit, lie down, etc. There's something frickin' hilarious about a tiny little two year old making a hand signal and going "Sit! 'Tay!"). Aaaany road, nephew finally gets his courage up the next morning, and while Marley was again playing with stepmother's dog, nephew runs over and pats Marley (a bit enthusiastically...I heard the thump from across the room) on the backside before either myself or my stepmother could intervene. Marley, startled out of his game, WHIRLS around, and makes like he's gonna pounce on nephew.

And again, NOT in a vicious way. He never growled, or raised his hackles, or showed his teeth, or laid his ears back...trust me, I know what an "angry" dog who's about to attack looks like. Marley wanted to play and thought nephew had asked to join in the fun.

But yeah, there's that whole "outweighs nephew by forty pounds and is several inches taller, besides" to consider.

So, with visions of Marley happily, casually, CONCUSSING my nephew dancing through my head, I holler out, "Marley GENTLE!" (his command I use when he gets a little too enthusiastic taking stuff I offer him out of my hand). And Marley glances over at me, cocks his head, and his whole demeanor suddenly changes. He drops his head a little, a stands perfectly still while my nephew 'pats' him on the shoulder and face. Then he very gently butted his head up against nephew's chest (which nephew thought was HILARIOUS), and went back to his wrestling game with the other dog.

And nephew decided right then and there that Marley was the best thing ever, and didn't leave him alone for the rest of the time we were there. He started calling him "Mar-lio" and at one point, grabbed the end of Marley's leash (I'd left it on in case I had to suddenly grab Marley and haul him back from something) and started running around the living room, yelling out: "I walk Mar-lio! I walk Mar-lio!" And proceeded to drag Marley all over the house (with me following and discreetly holding the leash down by Marley's collar...my dog was being a gem, but we're still working on leash etiquette). It was pretty frickin' adorable.

And very nice for me to see Marley play so gently and patiently with a kid he's not really had a lot of exposure to. Marley's gonna be a fabulous dog for the Imp when he/she is old enough to run and romp and play...but I really worry about how Marley will react to a small, screaming bundle that suddenly takes up all my attention and time.

I'm encouraged by his interactions with newphew, though.

Tertiary note to everything: Am I the only one who gets creeped the hell out by the new salsa commercial with the little fairy girl with the freakin' blades in her fan who runs around slicing up innocent vegetables?

Seriously, that little smirk at the end, and the way she just whips out the SHINY FAN OF DEATH???