Tales From the Back Burner

Another terrific side result of teaching and taking classes all the time is that my personal writing has taken a back seat to everything else. I have a folder brimming with ninth graders' research papers that requires my grading prowess. Three book chapters need to be read. My teaching portfolio must be assembled. And my burning desire to see Avatar must be sated. I simply do not have time to indulge in the adventures of my stagnant and bemoaning protagonist and his erstwhile attempts to make something of himself. I'm too busy dealing with his real life counterpart: me.

Over the Christmas break, I made some minor attempts to toy with the structure of the book. All through last semester, I never touched the damn thing, but I would get ideas for it and jot them down in a handy dandy notebook that I kept in my bookbag. By the time the semester was over, I wanted to jettison everything I'd written up to that point and replace it with a completely new idea. Rough drafts rape your soul precisely because you have to throw away hours of work for your own good. For instance, my initial rough draft began with my main character in jail and having a cliche-ridden conversation with some dimwitted cops. I was thoroughly displeased with this introduction, so I altered the first two pages significantly to give the police officers a bit more personality and provide some necessary conflict for the main character. But now I'm not so sure that I even want my guy starting out in jail. The whole setup may have to go. It's maddening to think about, so oftentimes I prefer to focus on tangible and immediate challenges for graduate school and teaching. When I grade a paper, that's a finished effort that's not changing at all... unless the students can prove how drunk I am when I score them.

There are times when I wish I had a disposable trust fund to live on as I huddle in a seaside bungalow writing short stories and novels for the enjoyment of the masses. But then I realize that I'd only destroy myself with crippling self-criticism and off myself with a toaster oven, a bathtub, and an H. R. Pufinstuf DVD. I can waste time with the best of them, but I kinda like having obligations to keep my occupied. It keeps my twisted imagination from dwelling on my own inadequacies and failed dreams.

But that novel just gathers dust in my C: drive. I want to finish it... mostly to prove to myself that I can. Once I settle into the routine of student teaching, maybe I'll be able to make a schedule where I devote at least a solid two or three hours a week to working on it. Or maybe old Mr. P will do what my ninth grade history teacher did and have my students read the newspaper every Friday and then use the time to write in school. Those are educational principles, my friends.

For the time being, I think I'll just leave Eugene and the Amazing Time-Traveling Tomato to rest for now. I'll focus on my existing challenges for the moment, and I'll leave the writing of my superfluous verbal fluff for another day.

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9 out of 10 readers can't imagine how the book would be any good if this blog is the best JP can come up with so far.

Welcome to the Workaday World

Well, I asked for it.

I wanted the opportunity... nay... the PRIVILEGE to be a working man with a regular and steady job requiring normal sleep hours and an 8-hour or more work day. I demanded money dollars for my productivity. I craved the sumptuous taste of adulthood and responsibility.

I got what I wanted and came to a conclusion: Adulthood Sucks!

Now don't get me wrong - I'm loving my chosen field. There's never a dull moment when you're teaching. As indicated in previous posts, the adolescent mind constantly invents new ways to create incidents that will entertain and enthrall my friends and family. But this daily 5:30 A.M wake-up call is for the goddamn birds. And not just the normal birds either - like a fucking owl or something. Battling my way across the Parkway every morning with the other working masses only hammers home just how much growing up will bring on pain and misery.

Know what was great? Waking up at 10:30 every morning last semester. Riding my bike to the candy store to buy Ring Pops because I had nothing better to do at age 8. Spending an entire evening pouring salt on slugs on the front stoop just to watch them shrivel. Now the only thing shriveling is my sleep time.

To be fair, this semester is particularly unpleasant. Much as I love my student teaching placement, I'm beat when I get done there. When you're teaching, you have to constantly be in teaching mode, and that constant act is exhausting. A lot of people don't realize that. And when 2:30 rolls around, I want to watch cartoons, eat a fudgesicle, and take a nap (the pleasures in life don't change after age 4). But do I get to do this? Hell no! I have to make my way to my grad school classes on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. By the time I get home, I've had a 15 hour day. The last time I did something for 15 hours straight, I was dumping talcum powder into my pants for the next three days.

I don't write this for the pity (though it's always nice). This is a meditation on the working life that I write for all of you long-suffering folks out there who haven't seen the sun outside of your job site in 8 months. For years I both envied you and mocked you. Now I do neither. I feel your pain and hereby withdraw my objections to your constant and increasingly fervent requests for hard liquor and your random outbursts of frustration. Cries of "WHY GOD, WHY!??" will no longer go ignored or scoffed at.

Curse you, irony!! You've fooled me once again!

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"I don't want to grow up 'cause if I did, I wouldn't be a Toys R' Us kid."

Though This Be Madness...

I can tell already that Hyperactive Sexuality Girl (who I have uncreatively dubbed HSG) in the inclusion class is going to serve as the source of many quality blog post stories. She creates a scene every goddamn day, and she has a penchant for putting me into difficult and uncomfortable situations. And if there's something funnier than me trying desperately to avoid having to defend myself against molestation charges, I don't know what that could be. While her crass jokes and flamboyant displays of sexuality certainly create the most colorful stories, she's actually one of the most interesting students that I have. When she's not trying to be the adolescent version of Jessica Rabbit, HSG is a brilliant student without a trace of self-consciousness (obviously) or shyness.

Today, my mentor teacher had an IEP meeting with HSG and her grandfather (who officially adopted her over a decade ago) and all of HSG's teachers, and she said I should go as well. I'd never been to an IEP meeting before, so I had no idea what to expect. What it turned out to be was an extended airing of grievances, with her teachers listing all of HSG's behavior problems to her grandfather. Mercifully, her awkward and overt flirtations with me were not addressed. In fact, my mentor teacher didn't really say much at all that was negative about HSG, which I thought was rather nice of her. The rest of the teachers really smacked her down, even after admitting that her grades were, in fact, quite excellent.

HSG actually has ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder), with an extra emphasis on the Hyperactivity. She has A LOT of trouble sitting still. So what was the brilliant idea suggested by one of the teachers at this meeting? "Well what if we allow [HSG] to get up about halfway through the class and go for a little walk down the hall?" I mentally shook my head. I can't think of anything more embarrassing for a high schooler. Happily, HSG let them have it: "I'm not going for a walk every day! Jeez, I'm not in Preschool!" Much as she irritates me, I mentally said, "Fuck yea!" That has to be one of the most patronizing suggestions I've ever heard.

As I said, my mentor teacher was very complimentary to HSG during the meeting, but she wasn't expecting that. Before my mentor teacher said anything, HSG said, "I think Mr. P should talk instead. He's my buddy." For once, she wasn't being her usual catty self when she said this. She seemed to be genuinely looking for some sort of reprieve. Of course, I've only been there every day for three days, so I was in NO position to offer any contributions, and I said as much. I felt bad for her though. I got the impression that she genuinely wanted to do well but couldn't help herself. Fortunately, my mentor teacher proceeded to say very nice things about her, so she didn't get completely emotionally abused by her instructors.

In the world of writing, this is called something like "complicating the cliche." There are a lot more layers to HSG than I really thought. Even the math teacher, her most vocal critic at the IEP meeting, explained how HSG has befriended a boy in his class who has been repeatedly picked on and will defend him against the ones who bully him. She also blows every other student out of the water in her understanding of Algebra. Yet she's the biggest pain in his ass all day long.

I know people can have multiple sides to their personalities, but it's so bizarre to see this shown so starkly in someone who is such a thorn in MY ass (not literally... of course). I have some newfound sympathies for HSG (especially after learning of the history of how she lives with her grandparents... the details of which I won't get into). Now if only I could prevent her from doing things like standing against the classroom door during my lunch period and pressing her lips against the glass in a lascivious manner and making little kissy faces (which she did today), we'd be in good shape.

BONUS STORY:
You'll recall yesterday's story about the "rockets" that an inclusion kid was drawing. Well apparently the paranoid schizophrenic was at it again today and drew another, more detailed, cock and balls on the podium without anyone noticing (I was observing another class at the time, so I don't know how). This new shaft and sack had a more wrinkled and veiny appearance... for whatever reason. Once again, the last period kids noticed this new addition and commented on it to my mentor teacher:
"Wow, Mrs. [X], there's a new rocket ship! It's got a lot of extra lines on it."
Now my mentor teacher is a sixty year old grandmotherly-type woman, but for whatever reason, she responded:
"I think that must be a really OLD rocket ship."
The class, and I, burst into hysterical laughter. My mentor teacher, suddenly realizing that she may have spoken too quickly, tries to hide her giggles, but she can't. The class then resumes their discussion of rockets and whether little curly hairs can grow on them.

I can complain about my life choices all I want, but I certainly didn't pick a BORING profession.

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"I'm a Rocket Man. Rocket Man, burning up his fuse out here alone."

Love and Rockets

I'm two days into my official student teaching, wherein I go into my placement every day. For this first week, I simply continue to observe my mentor teacher and go into some other classrooms to see how other stuff is done. However, the stories of legend continue to spring forth from the original classes that I'm in. I can say with pride that the ninth graders this year as every bit as immature and inappropriate as I am.

I've already blogged before about the smartass girl with the hyperactive sex drive in the inclusion class. This girl's FLIRT dial goes up to eleven. Only two days in, and she's already made a huge spectacle of herself in front of me on more than one occasion. Yesterday, my mentor teacher gave the class some time at the end of the period to talk quietly. Of course, some of the kids in the back turned around to talk to me... because I'm just that awesome. Hyperactive Sex Girl (HSG) was one of them. She looks down knowingly at my feet:
"Wow Mr. P! You have really big feet."
"Yeah," I say absentmindedly.
"So..." she says wickedly, "what else of yours is big."
I catch on fast and reply deadpan: "I have really big socks."
I thought that was rather clever of me, but then HSG caught me off guard with the following:
"You know, there's nothing wrong with dating a 15 year old."
I pause. I can't think of any response that wouldn't set me up for an interview on To Catch a Predator, so I simply roll my eyes and turn to talk to another student.

Today, things got even worse. I was conferencing about paper outlines with students in the inclusion class while my mentor teacher monitored the room. Of course, 3/4 of the room didn't even do the assignment, but HSG sure did. She comes sauntering back in a manner that I can best describe as amateurishly seductive. She flops down in her chair in leans dramatically forward, making damn sure that I know what she's trying to do. I'm ready for her bullshit now, so I tell her firmly to sit down. She still makes some attempts to garner my attention, but I ignore her and get through the damned conference.

With only five conferences to do, I finished early and assumed my usual role of wandering about the classroom to keep the inclusion folks from pulling each other's hair, dancing in the aisles, and flipping desks over. When I wander in front of HSG's desk, she pats her desktop and coos, "You can sit here if you want, Mr. P."
"I'll pass"
She glances at the guy who's subbing for the special ed teacher, a guy about the same age as me. "You're so much hotter than the sub," she says loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Get back to your reading," I say.
The sub has no reaction and looks rather bored. "You don't look happy to be here," says another student to the sub.
"I'm just doing what I can," says the sub.
"No wonder you'll never get laid!" HSG shouts to the sub before turning to me. "You're so much better than him."

My mentor thinks I'm handling HSG pretty well, but she makes me nervous. I know I'm not going to do anything inappropriate, but who knows what sorts of shenanigans she's going to pull next. Sweet statutory, I don't need this in my first year. Mentor teacher even admits that she's one of the stranger cases that she's had in all her years.

But the inclusion fun doesn't stop with HSG. Before the holiday, another inclusion kid came into the classroom while the mentor teacher was on her lunch break and proceeded to draw at least a dozen very clear and detailed pictures of penises and balls all over the teacher's podium. Apparently this is the kid's calling card, who routinely draws them all over his homework and assignments in all of his classes. He's a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic, but maybe he's got some Oedipal issues as well. In any case, the drawings are still there for some reason, and the final honors class took note of them yesterday.

Now honors kids are a different breed, of course. They're smarter and generally more mature; however, they're still kids who like to make jokes. Heck, I'm 26 years old, and drawings of genitals all over a teacher's podium would make me giggle like Beavis and Butthead too. The great thing about honors folks is that they're far more clever in their immaturity. Instead of jumping for the obvious, one kid blurts out, "Hey Mr. P!! Check out the rocket ships on the podium!" Another kid shouts, "Yeah! They've got big wheels on them too!" Then the floodgates open. "Looks like the exhaust is coming out the wrong end of that one." "That rocket looks pretty chubby." "Look at the size of that one!! It must be penetrating really deep space!" My mentor teacher was actually teaching the class, and even she couldn't keep a straight face. Meanwhile, I'm in the back trying so hard not to laugh and failing miserably.

I'm not sure why this English class in which we're teaching research papers has become a hotbed of sexuality and explicit content, but it's certainly more interesting and colorful than I'd been expecting. I have to admit, even though it's probably frowned upon by the administrators, it's certainly not boring.

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"What is it son?"
"I don't know, sir, but it looks like a giant..."
"Dick! Dick, take a look out of starboard."
"Oh my God, it looks like a huge..."
"Pecker! Over there. Wait, it's not a woodpecker..."

10 Resolutions for 2010

WE WISHEN YE UN HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM VALHALLA!

In the next year, I'd like the make the following changes to my life:

1. Learn to Dance - I'd like to take a legitimate dance class wherein I learn to cut a rug and trip the light fantastic. I'm not talking about the casual club dancing either. I want to learn something classy. My brother once learned swing dancing, and I've had the opportunity to take a class in it on more than one occasion, but I always declined. Now I think it would be fun and worthwhile.

2. Blog Consistently - I don't blog near as often as I should, and the subjects range from bizarre to downright self-indulgent. I need a focus and a commitment to content. I find it fun on my own (it's writing with no pressure), but if people are going to read this thing, there needs to be a bigger spark.

3. Find a Job - I will NOT be unemployed during 2010. Once I'm done with this certification program at the end of April, I'll have two months (May and June) to substitute teach. As long as I can find some temporary work in July and August, I can start applying to full time teaching positions in September. I'll move wherever I have to in order to find a job. I'm sick and tired of mooching off of my parents and government loans. I want to be able to take some pride in my work and have my own life. Such things require steady and earned income.

4. Get a New Haircut - I'd like to try some new style. I've had the same hairstyle forever, mostly because my frustratingly straight and fine hair doesn't do much on its own. But maybe I can try something new and exciting that will make me look suave and epic. This one, admittedly, sounds stupid given how sexy I currently am. :)

5. Lose Weight - I'm 22 lbs. away from my ideal weight (210 lbs). I'd like to get there to see what I look like.

6. Travel - I need to go SOMEWHERE this year. I've never traveled on an airplane, and I've never been out of this time zone. I've been trying to work toward a trip to India, and I just might have to push that through this summer. If I wait for the financial situation to be perfect, I'll never go anywhere.

7. Learn Spanish - This one is a long shot, mostly because everyone says they want to learn a new language, and no one ever does. So I won't be terribly disappointed if this one doesn't happen. But I have a lot of Spanish vocabulary floating through my brain from five and a half years of classes, but I've forgotten a TON of the usage rules. I'd like to start refreshing this stuff so that I could get something out of it.

8. Be More Social - I'm kind of a loner when left to my own devices, and while I like my solitude quite a bit, sometimes the loneliness can destroy a man. I'd like to make a greater attempt to do things with other people on the weekends and in the evenings. It's very easy to become acclimated to a hermitic lifestyle.

9. Find a Relationship - I'm not looking for my one true love here, but I'd like to have some sort of relationship with a member of the opposite sex that lasts longer than 2 months. It's been six years since I've been able to pull that off.

10. Write Every Week - I really would like to devote some serious time to my writing. I say this all the time, but I have some great ideas swimming around in my head, and I should make a scheduled commitment to typing them into story form. I actually have some new approaches to this that I plan to blog about soon.

Of course, if I can even do ONE of these things, I'd be ecstatic. The way I see it, having ten goals and knowing full well that I can't accomplish them all takes some of the pressure off. Having this out in the open on my blog keeps me honest. I can't just change my mind or pretend that I never had the idea. Here's hoping I can create a JP that is more to my liking.

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"WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF TOMORROW!!"