Staying Sane in the face of craziness

Here's what happened. I was called to a student/parent/counselor/teacher meeting after school today. So I brought my facts -- grade, assignments missing, observed behavior, etc. But this was no ordinary meeting...this student had been suspended last week for reasons I don't know. But it happened because of an interaction with one of this student's teachers. (Not me, by the way.)
So I go, expecting that we will all do the usual thing..."You have the potential, but you really need to focus more...you are respectful in class, which is great, but be respectful to yourself by turning in your work" etc etc.
But this was not on one teacher's agenda for the meeting. Oh no. The parents appeared to be listening, and so did the student, with sincerity and more than a little humility and everything was going swimmingly, as they say. Then it becomes this teacher's turn, and the whole thing turns into a circus. Phrases such as these were thrown about by both teacher and parent(not necessarily in order):
"[student] is the most disrespectful student I have ever had in my class."
"I want to make sure you understand that I'm not threatened by your child, nor am I racist."
"I want to make sure you know that I don't appreciate being called a liar, especially when your child is sitting there lying to me and you and all the people here."
"But it's okay for you to call my child a liar?"
"When he's lying, yes."
WOW. Who ever said teaching was a boring profession? I was ringside today, and I didn't even have to drive down to MGM.
But seriously, can you believe that? Let it go, said teacher! Be offended, okay, but don't get into a shouting match! While I was sitting there, I could see the faces of anyone who has ever taught me about education, aided me in my education, or even just held a conversation with me about education. And, as I went through this catalogue of people, I decided that none of them would have been so foolish as to go into this manner of reasoning. Wow.
Plus -- the most disturbing thing for me was that the kid has already been suspended and ended that suspension for whatever happened that he's allegedly lying about. So it's done, right? He's gone through the consequence for his actions, right? Apparently that consequence is a whole year with a teacher who considers him a liar, and I don't think that teacher will be changing that opinion or working on changing their view of this student any time soon. Wow. All I can really say to myself is wow.
But it brings up many questions...SOOOOOOOOOO many questions. One of the most important, I think, is the question of how racism exists in the current time. You only have to start off a sentence with the phrase, "Now, I'm not racist, but..." and that will have told me something pretty important about where you stand. I think there are MANY people in this country today who do not consider themselves to be racist, but actually harbor many racist tendencies. I have no proof to back this up. The important thing to understand about the Madame is that she bases most of what she writes on this blog off of her personal feelings, not facts or statistics. To facts, I say, poo-poo. To statistics, I say, who needs you. So many of our opinions are based on these things, but facts and statistics often lie. The only thing to always trust is your own mind, your own feelings. And this is how I feel. I will try to think of examples in the posts to follow, but for now, I have nothing really to say about that except that I believe it to be true.
Another question this incident brings up is, why did this seem okay to said teacher? Why would you do something like this? This person was very offended by something this student did and the way this student acted after the fact, but here's the deal folks -- he's in middle school. Do you think he's going to act like a mature adult? Hopefully he will in the years to come, but that's the job we as middle school teachers are charged with. If all of our students came into the classroom mature and thoughtful, it would make my job dull and listless.
The next question? What has this student learned from this experience? This student has learned that teachers are not to be trusted, because they will hold a grudge and will never forgive you for your mistakes. Yikes. That's scary to me.
But otherwise, it was a lovely day. There's some prime optimism for you. :)

The Village Idiot?

I've been cruising through the Monty Python TV shows, since we are still sans cable, and there is a particular sketch that is very funny. It is about the education of the village idiot -- how he must learn the proper way to eat dirt and yell in front of tourists. Very funny...very funny. But definitely the kind of thing you never expect to see in real life. But think again.
I have discovered Vegas's own Village Idiot.
He works the corner of Sahara and Fort Apache, which happens to be right next to my local yarn shop and the Einstein Bros. where Buckwalter and I meet for a short afternoon break. The first time I saw him, I was riveted. The second time, also riveted. The third time, amazed. And today. for the fourth time? Absolutely baffled. Apparently this V.I. is well educated and well trained...perhaps a training specialist himself? He stands on the corner, sometimes on the sidewalk, and sometimes walking into the street to wave at a particular car. He dances to music that I can't hear and waves at everyone, smiling and looking like he's having a lot of fun.
But the outfit is the best. The first time I saw him, he was wearing tennis shoes, spandex black leggings, a football jersey, a gold cape off to one shoulder, and a Pharoah's hat. Like King Tut. Dancing, waving, smiling -- it was crazy. So, if you can combine these three pictures in your mind, that would be sort of what he looked like:

I know it's difficult, but, dear readers, you are able and willing! Can you picture the majesty of this man?
Today on my way home from the Buckwalter/Madame break at Einstein's, he had changed costumes. This time he was wearing leopard spandex, a silver shiny short-sleeved shirt, and a hat that had a putting green on top of it. Your pictures for visualization:
Here...
Here...
and Here.
Now, put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Don't worry -- I shall be watching the V.I. very closely...he intrigues me.

If you ever wondered...

whether the UB kids fit on the St. Olaf campus, I have an answer for you.
NO! Better yet, why give an answer when I can show you a movie!
Imagine all those professors you knew and the administration, secretaries, etc., running into these wonderful children every summer. I tell you, it was always amusing, and more than once, some St. Olaf faculty showed themselves to be less than open to people not of the Hill.
P.S. Don't watch the whole thing -- it goes on for a LONG time. But make sure you get a sufficient idea of the...idea in your head.

A dilemma...

There are those dots again. Curses!
I have a dilemma. I wish to post, for it is lonely here at home when Buckwalter is away, but I have nothing to post about. That's not true -- I have plenty to post about, but nothing to say. No divine light to shed, no quips to utter. Not even a little pearl of wisdom from my day of educating. No, nothing much.
How about this? Perhaps this shall interest you...
[Please note: this next section of the post contains a complaint. If you are not in the mood to hear it, please tune in again tomorrow.]
I have a person (a very close relation) in my life who insists that I communicate with them, even though we both know the relationship is bogus and has been for a long time. They insist that these communiques be both lengthy and time-consuming. This person does not respond thusly. I just wrote a very long email last week to said culprit, and waited. Now, I have received voice mails from this person, asking where I am, what I'm doing, am I ever going to respond? Then the person has others (small, child-like others) send me voicemail, as if guilting me into calling will help. Yuck. I assure you, dear reader, that it has the opposite effect.
But, I find that every once in a while, I have to appease said person, in order to avoid this person calling others to seek me out. So, last week I did. I wrote this long email I mentioned -- even attached pictures! And what do I get back, after all this time, after all the voicemails, after all the cantankerousness beseiged upon me?
"Nice pictures! Love, Said Person."
Boy. I guess that was really worth my time.
Okay, I'm done complaining. I'll think of something more interesting for next time.
P.S. They didn't actually sign the email "Said Person." They used their name. Don't worry -- they may be a partial loser, but they aren't crazy...yet.

The musical moments continue...

Has anyone noticed that I end every post title with dot dot dot? Whatever could this mean? Time to find a shrink... (there it is again!)

Buckwalter's coworker was gigging down at the Plaza last night and we went to check it out. It was awesome! First of all, this guy is a really fun drummer to watch -- and he came and chatted with us during the breaks, complete with rock-and-roll neccessities, cigarettes and absolut on the rocks. He is definitely one of those guys who probably imbibed in too many illegal substances during the high points in America, and now conversations, although very interesting and friendly, are speckled with 30 second pauses, where I think he may not be aware of how long the pauses are, or maybe even that they're happening. Actually, unaware isn't correct -- he just doesn't seem to notice or be phased by it.

The band, besides the drummer, was made up of some Philipino men in their 40's to 60's, and they were great showboaters. There we were, sitting at our little table in the Omaha Lounge at the Plaza, just feet from the blackjack tables, basking in our Cherry Bomb drinks (a specialty at the Omaha Lounge) and the singers were smiling, singing, having the crowd sing along, and even getting people to dance. We saw some awe-inspiring sights last night.
It was the Las Vegas Bike Fest, which made for some excellent people watching and some even better (or at least comprable) bike watching when outside. There were also some frat boy types that wandered by just when the band played "After the Lovin'" by the infamous (he's so famous he's "in" famous!) Engelbert Humperdinck. One of them very seriously (so seriously that he was either so drunk his brain wasn't working or he was so sober that...well, his brain wasn't working) walked up to one of the old women who was sitting at a table and asked her to dance with him which she did. It seems sweet, but I will admit that I was undecided on my feelings about it, because his buddies were laughing in the back and taking pictures with their cell phones but she was obviously enjoying herself, and he didn't crack a smile once. But she was wearing all black Lycra and must have been pushing 70 with dark black hair and a gold spangly belt with a mini skirt. It was strange, to say the least.
But Buckwalter and I both noted that we dragged the average age down by about 40 years. Most of the people there were between 70 and 80, leading me to wonder, "If we live here forever, will this someday become Buckwalter and myself?"
My guess is this picture is more accurate, but perhaps that's too sappy for most people. Not me!

A Charles Dickens Novel...

Hard times ahead. (Get it? Charles Dickens? Ah, a sense of humor is one of the divine gifts in life.) I wish it were hard times for me, but that's not exactly the case. My mom's brother (so, my uncle) died this past week, and I have one important revelation to share: This is the first time in my lifetime that I have not been able to be there for my mom during a difficult time.

It's mainly difficult because I feel that I owe every part of myself to my mother and her family -- they shaped who I am and I who I will become in the years following. I consider myself somewhat of a child from a single parent home, since I grew up in my mother's home. And I've been there for her through both parent's deaths, aunts and uncles of her own, and other acquaintances that we both held dear.

Now I know that some of you might say, "But Madame, you can still be there for her even though you're not THERE for her." And this is true. But it's not the same, and for the first time in my life, I'm finding that out.

But who can't help to be comforted when you have such a cute kitty as this around you:

Two things:

1) Last night Buckwalter and I discovered a new joy -- there are two bar/restaurants with strong drink and appetizing appetizers just a mile's walk from here. We went out to celebrate the union of Mr. and Mrs. Muffin (congrats, folks!) and had a lovely time. Good reception, you guys!

2) There are a lot of fat people here. Now, I don't mean "overweight." I mean fat. I mean like the lower abdomen gut that pushes through the zipper area of the shorts and helps to make a serious indent at the waist where a belt is holding on for dear life between the two walls of fat. Yikes. But I will say that living among the large has done quite a bit for my own body image. Suddenly, I don't feel too overweight anymore. It helps when every other female teacher at your school is HUGE, except for the young, blonde one, and then you. I feel like maybe we should find another attractive short-haired brunette and then form a Charlie's Angels group...but my crime fighting skills aren't really up to snuff. (And who would we find to be Charlie? There aren't too many male teachers who bear resemblance at my school). But there's another way in which I did not forsee this being a good move...heightened self- esteem at the expense of the health of others.

Missing the gene?

We (or I should say, they, the students, but I like to keep everything equal...) answer journal questions every day in my class. On Tuesday, the journal question was, "What is your favorite word/phrase and why?"
Well, the responses were many and expected. Money, because I want some. Spinners, because they're tight. Peace, because it should be all over the world. And the ever-expected, "Are you sure we can only pick school-appropriate words?" Yes, my dear, I am. I shall not deal with 34 students answering this question with myriad swear words and javing to treat them all as if their answers are worthwhile and they're not just being jackasses. Ahh, eighth graders. I love them...I really do.
HOWEVER, after all of these expected responses came three girls in my 5th hour who absolutely blew me away. By how strange their answers seemed to me. Oh, never fear, dear reader, I kept my composure and nodded while smiling and said, "That's a well thought out answer, KeAndra. How interesting. How unique!" Three girls all responded thusly: "My favorite word is daddy."
Now, without knowing any more information, isn't that a little odd? I didn't know quite how to respond. So I let them continue.
"My favorite word is daddy because I love my daddy and he gives me everything in the world that I want and he loves my momma and he's so sweet and I want to meet a boy just like him someday."
Wow.
Well, at least it's not the worst case scenario. I felt a little sheepish at what I had thought they meant. But that's what spending too much time with the fantastical eighth grader will do to you. It corrupts the brain and steals the soul...not really -- actually, quite the opposite.
But here's the real question: is it normal to be a daddy's girl? I feel like if it is I am completely missing this gene. I used to have an okay relationship with my dad, and then it started to turn sour like aged Hellmann's Mayonnaise when I was in 8th grade or thereabouts. There's no question that it's nice to like your father, but do you have to be like a second wife to him? Cause if that's the case, I would point out that Utah's right here. It just strikes me as so gross. Yuck! "I want to meet a boy just like him someday." Sounds a little too Freudian to me. Good morning Electra.
Perhaps I am just too cynical about fathers because of my own misfortune in that category. I am completely willing to bow to that point. But come on. Gross. I mean, I've had great father figures in my life, who really filled any problems holes created by the actual father. But I can't say that my step-dad ever gave me "everything in the world I ever wanted," and that seems to me to be a good thing. Because, as a lovely lady, if your father gives you everything you want in life, then you expect it. Watch out, future husband. And watch out, any individualism you ever had. If someone else gets everything for you, what are you ever going to get for yourself?
I hope if I have a daughter, she's genetically deficient in this area too. Gross.

Go Team!

Buckwalter and I are finally getting to the stage here (perhaps stage three?) where we can begin to enjoy the benefits of living in this new city. Last night we went to a show at the Golden Nugget by the Lon Bronson Band -- totally free, totally awesome. We bought some drinks, played some slots and then went up to the show. One of the awesomest parts? It began at 12:00. Sweet. The crowd was great -- I don't think there were too many out-of-towners in the house, except a few musicians from Tower of Power who are buddies with some of the guys in the band, and came to sit in. It was so sweet.
How sweet, you still ask? As if all the afore mentioned weren't enough, there was a shared solo on one song between two tenor sax players. Dueling saxes are a little bit hipper than dueling banjos. Although I do love a good banjo duel.
These guys were tight -- their playing was right in sync, the singers were fantastic showmans (and ladies) and the crowd was spectacularly appreciative. We're going to be going again. And I have a feeling that anyone who comes to visit on a Saturday may have the pleasure of seeing this band too.
It brought up an interesting issue in my mind, too. I am not a sports person, nor am I a big believer in the "power" of sports -- it just doesn't do much for me. But I will say that there isn't enough attention paid to the power of teamwork in music. If you want your kids to learn about positive teamwork, how to build a cohesive unit (he he, unit) and all that jazz, it seems to me that more people should be thinking of putting their kid into a musical ensemble. Talk about only being as strong as the weakest link. In my experience, and I've been through alot of those teamwork bullshit kinds of activities, nothing has taught me how to create a positive team environment where everyone is striving for a goal and everyone helps everyone else out than being a part of a musical ensemble.
Also, I am so glad to be away from that stupid FISH movie about the guys who work at the Seattle fish market and love their job so much. That's great and all, but I have seen that movie way too many times, and I hate those guys a little bit more with each play of the DVD. Grr. Plus I always see groups of people like this band who obviously love their job, and wonder, "why not them?" And then I realize it might have something to do with the fact that stupid business philosophy companies might have their heads somewhere where they don't belong. I hate that movie.

First week down!

Well, all you feathered friends, my first week is finito! And it was a success. Some challenges, lovely students, good plans...ah, the beauty of good change.

Every morning this week I've been tuning into NPR to check up on the Katrina situation. It is crazy, as G-money was commenting. Crazy is a complete understatement. And I know people always say things like this after huge disasters of this kind, but I shall follow the rules and jump right in. It really shows you what's important in life -- every possession you own could be destroyed in moments. Whenever I hear about things like this it hits home how important people like Buckwalter and the rest of my family are to me, and how it really doesn't matter if I ever get another paycheck again as long as I'm able to have people in my life like him even for awhile.

Okay, enough sap. No matter how true the sap is, it does get a little too sweet after awhile. I'll just keep the rest of the sweetness to myself.

I am also impressed with New Orleans' mayor. He has got some balls and he sure does his best to come through for his city in times of serious trouble.

And, I know everyone has been waiting to hear, but the House of Spears has finally spoken:
"Britney Spears, who was raised in Kentwood, Louisiana, posted a message on her Web site saying her family was safe and that her "thoughts and prayers go out to everyone" on the Gulf Coast." (from CNN.com)
Thank goodness. Hopefully she can use her power for good.

A link for voluntary agencies that are taking donations, if you can and would like to:
http://www.fema.gov/press/2005/katrinadonations.shtm