Stinky Walker, the outdoor-stray-turned-inside-prisoner-turned-outdoor-kitty-by-day, indoor-kitty-by-night brought us our first gift in the three months since we’ve been letting him out: a dead mousie. A little scrawny dead mousie that simply couldn’t outrun a 4-lb cat with no teeth, but a mousie all the same.
(Jay chimes in: I think the mouse was dead already. By the looks of it, I’d have to agree.)
Still, disturbingly enough, I feel this overwhelming urge to pick up Walker and hold my nose as I cover his stinky-ass self in kisses and hugs and proclaim things like, “You do love us, you really, really do!”
My classes may be absolute nightmares, but Bush looked like a fumbing idiot in the debate and Walker showed he loves us in his own special kitty way – I can sleep happy tonight.

Today – super effin’ nightmare. I feel like I’ve run full blast into a brick wall with them. I didn’t understand when the other teachers talked about how the kids were testing the new teachers.
Now I understand.
Yesterday, I almost gave up in fifth period (we have five 65-minute classes). Today, I made it to fourth period before blowing up at them.
And by 4pm, I had the screwy visual signs of my first migraine in years.
With my face buried in the pillow and my hand desperately trying to massage out the intense pain where my head meets my neck, I whispered to Jay, Welp, I signed up for this and he whispered back, You wouldn’t be happy teaching anywhere else.
It’s true – but I could really do without the damned resistance and damned migraines, so if you’ve got any of that voodoo that you do – please make my students realize that English class means you have to read and write and listen and – ohmygod – do work. Because I can’t handle another day like the last two.
Thanks.

Miss! Miss! Miss! Miss!
I swear, this is what it must be like to be a mom of toddlers. All day I’ve got kids – teenagers, mind you – calling me. Repeatedly. Miss! Miss! Miss! They might as well be tugging on my pant leg.
I tell them that, too: “You’re acting like a room full of toddlers.” Sadly, they really don’t care.
You’d think they would have learned my last name by now. I get “English person!” or “Hey! English teacher!” or the dreaded hear-it-in-my-sleep, “Miss!” all – day – long.
Last night was the full moon, but I’m certain it carried over into today. My students were all on crack. Miss! [twisting in seat] Miss! [talking to the kid next to them] Miss! [drawing pictures and tossing them across the room] Miss! Why do we have to do this Miss? Miss, I’ll do this, Miss, but only if you end class five minutes early.
Miss!
These kids were not my kids. I hate the full moon. At the center, we could always pinpoint full moons because the kids were truly out of control. Out of control – and something else. Something we could never put our fingers on, but something was just off. And it was always at the full moon.
Miss!! Can I go to the bathroom? Miss!!!! I don’t want to do this, Miss!
I almost lost it today. I had to lay down the No Swearing rule along with the I-Will-Drop-Your-Participation-Grade-to-0-If-I-Have-To-Say-Your-Name-Again threat. I said M.’s name so many times she actually turned to me and said, “That’s my name, Miss, don’t wear it out.”
I never pull rank, but today I had to: “I’m the teacher, and if I want to spend your learning time saying your name a hundred times because you refuse to listen, then that’s what I’ll do. Because I CAN.”
I almost gave up completely, nearly throwing my hands up in the air, plopping down in the middle of the room and refusing to teach – but the threat of her little voice – not angry, but always with the Miss! – kept running through my brain: “Miss! Why are you being such a bitch, Miss?” She didn’t actually say it, but I know she would have.
Miss! Why are you banging your head against the wall? Miss? Why, Miss?

(Previous post deleted.)
Ice cream makes everything all better.
Especially True Blue Ginger ice cream.
Oh yeah, and the Sox making it to the playoffs didn’t hurt the evening, either.

Yesterday we heard that there had been a shooting involving two teens on the other side of town. Naturally when I hear news invovling teens, my ears perk up and I kind of wait in this weird way until we have more details. The last shooting killed a kid and his little brother, both whom Alisa remembers from the center. Saturday night’s shooting involved a 15 & a 16 year-old.
Muther effer, this time it was one of my kids. Found out on the morning news. Not just one of my students, but one of my advisees, a kid who I’m responsible for as a student, a kid who was rockin’ his ass off in English and Math. A quiet kid, but a gang-involved kid nonetheless.
They flew him to Worcester where he’s in stable condition. Muther effer.
I definitely had a moment this morning when I wondered why the hell I do this work. Of course, I’m worried, but I’m angry, too. Today’s going to be interesting.
Muther effer.

Just a few of the picture requests – but first, a Stinky Walker in the leaves. It’s not Wendy’s request for a picture of a “street walker” (read: me in a hussy skirt), but he takes the cutest pictures and I couldn’t resist!

View the rest of this entry…

‘Sex and the City’ Star Switches Roles
NEW YORK — “Sex and the City” has taken on a whole new meaning for Cynthia Nixon. The actress, who just won an Emmy for her role as Miranda Hobbes in the hit HBO comedy, is in a relationship with another woman, a source who works with Nixon told The Associated Press on Friday.
The New York Daily News and the New York Post reported Friday that Nixon has been dating a woman since January. The woman is neither in the public eye nor living with Nixon.
“We will not confirm or deny anything,” Nixon’s publicist, Carrie Ross, told AP.
“My private life is private,” Nixon told the Daily News. “But at the same time, I have nothing to hide. So what I will say is that I am very happy.”

Story from MSN. You go, girl!
(P.S. I’ve been taking pictures all day. I’ll try to get them up tonight. Otherwise, keep those requests coming! )

Blatantly stolen from every tomorrow:

Think of 3 pictures you’d like to see. Things around my house, or whatever… something I can take a picture of easily. Once I have enough requests, I’ll start posting them. If I can’t, or won’t, take a picture of something you’ve requested, I’ll let you know.

Just finished watching The Butterfly Effect. I could have lived a perfectly happy life never having seen it. Definitely not an Eka movie. It was good – just… emotional. Strange, awful, painful, sad emotional. I’ll stick with the chick flicks from here on, mmmm ‘kay? If I’m going to finish a movie on the verge of tears, it should be because – shock of all shocks! – they end up together after all.
And lemme know about the pictures – the camera’s charged and ready to go.

I can’t be the only one who absolutely cannot stand that friggin’ nextel “bleep bleep.”
How freakin’ annoying. Contrary to your self-importance, the entire mall does not need to hear your conversation about bringing the kids to your mother’s.
(Now that that’s out of my brain – I got the most adorable little sweater for $5 at Macy’s. I love clearance sales.)

Some days I wish I wasn’t so type-A. Some days I wish I could simply shrug my shoulders, blithely comment that people suck, and go on with my life.
I’ve been told in the past that I can’t hold people to the same high standards to which I hold myself – if I do, people will constantly disappoint me. And they do.
First, the laptop guy – he’s still “looking” for the part to prove to us that he didn’t sell me a power supply that melted my computer. Think he’d call us back? Of course not, because he knows he’s full of shit, so why would he initiate a conversation about it? Meanwhile, I’m still without my computer.
Second, Home Depot – yes, the roof saga still continues. We were lied to up and down, left and right, back and front, and it pisses me off. When we signed for the loan, we were told that payments would start 6 months from the completion of the project. Guess who got a bill in the mail four months early? And the credit company pretty much told us there’s nothing they could do, that the payments begin 6 months from the start of the project. Nevermind that it took them three months from signing the papers to actually start work on our roof, or that our salesman told us repeatedly that it was from the end of the project. So – there’s a message waiting for him on his cellphone.
Yeah. I don’t expect to hear back from either of them anytime soon. God forbid we expect people to do the job we pay for and not fuck us over in the meantime. I wish I could let it go and not get so worked up about it – but I can’t, so I do. I just don’t understand why it’s so hard to be honest and communicate, especially when you’re running a business.
Between shitty run-arounds and people who race over little animals, I’m really not liking people right now at all.