Every year I wonder how my Christmas vacation will be played out. As a religious holiday, Christmas means little to me; however, I treasure the Christmas season for the pure spectacle and the honest improvement in condition of man for the duration.
As a child, Christmas was simply marvelous. We would put up our small, artificial tree and festoon said tree with a hodge-podge of ornaments collected from a variety of sources over the years. Christmas Eve was set aside for the opening of one gift and could be marked by a visit with my aunt and her family or a visit by some of the Davis clan who were superb carolers. Christmas Day started early with the opening of the gifts and then a drive to my grandparents or another aunt's house for the Christmas revelry with the family.
Of course, as a child, vacations are never considered an opportunity for rest. They are not occasions for catching up with life or embarking upon new projects. As an adult, vacations seem, more and more, time for just those things. As such, some of the bloom is off the Christmas rose, but I find that I don't mind much. I don't tend to travel during the school year, as I need the time to recharge the batteries and try and reorganize the life that has progressed into chaos since the previous vacation.
For the past several years, I have spent Christmas Day in blissful isolation. Curled up on the couch with a hot cup of coffee while watching movie after movie...the following days devoted to household projects, a bit of shopping the after-Christmas sales and more treasured rest. This year, Christmas Day was a bit different. First, it was warm and sunny. For New England, a Christmas Day in the 50's is an event of note. Couch and coffee are less appealing under those conditions. Instead, I grabbed the dog and headed for the beach. Along with many other dogs and their parents, we romped and played in the sand and surf. Poor pup was a complete mess of sand and dried salt when we returned home, but his tail was still wagging furiously. An odd Christmas Day, but a most enjoyable one.
The subsequent days went mostly as anticipated. A bit of shopping for much-needed clothes, a few books to consume before the return to the salt mine...However, my hoped-for relaxation was not manifesting as hoped. Perkunas is a very active dog. He loves people and dogs and would be happy spending all day playing, running, romping, etc. Like a rambunctious child, he has an inexhaustable supply of energy. Every time I took to the computer, he wanted to play. Pick up a book and he wanted to go for a walk. I began to look ahead to winter vacation and spring break and the momma of them all - Summer. That was enough to prompt me to pet store. Yes, I got him a playmate. A 2 1/2 month old, cream-colored schnoodle. I named him Rodney.
Perkunas is a good big brother and Rodney is an adoring little brother. Both have already begun conspiring to outsmart me and are succeeding nicely. A few snarly scraps are the worst they have done to themselves; they get along nicely. Right now, of course, I have even less peace than before. But that is temporary. Currently is the regimen of house-training and that means taking Rodney outside every 1-2 hours and getting up once at night. But, he is progressing very well and I suspect he will be in fine shape by next week. So, I am forfeiting a quiet Christmas vacation for more relaxing vacations to come. A small sacrifice...of course, I have always wanted a ferret...
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
My Rant on Education
The current philosophy powering American education is the most dangerous farce portrayed in our country in modern history. We are sending into the world legions of pampered, enabled, ill-prepared beings who will demonstrate lackluster adult performance and contribute only marginally to the future of this country.
The entire "No Child Left Behind" construct is preposterous. Not all people can learn all things to the same level. Some students are plainly and simply limited. Not only are they truly not up to the task of an academic environment, they obtain little benefit from their tenure of incarceration. We teach them nothing that they can really use to cobble together a productive life. Across the board, vo-tech programs are being slashed by budget cuts. The reality is that schools have to cover their ample butts in light of standardized testing and must channel funds towards core academic courses. Ridiculous. These kids need alternative programs that will teach them skills to find jobs, manage money and raise families. They don't need many of the courses that we mandate they take. They do not becomre more well-rounded by the experience, nor do they build futher critical-thinking skills. They don't have the intellectual capital - and there is no sin in that.
However, modern education theory dictates that all students be tossed into a common barrel and the teacher has to somehow find a way to deliver the curriculum to every mind. This is not possible. One person cannot deliver enough modified versions of a curriculum to meet the needs of every type of student now found in the regular education classroom. Into regular classrooms are tossed students with severe learning disabilities, behavioral problems, emotional problems and widely varying levels of intellect. Once this situation did not exist. Once, the truly problematic students had their own program, where they were given a curriculum more suited to their needs and they were not causing continuous disruption of other students' learning. Now, they are thrown (usually without support) into the regular education classroom and the result is not pretty. The behavioral problems demand a high degree of teacher attention and can bring the learning process to a near standstill. The learning disabled and intellectually-challenged students are frustrated and, too, demand tremendous amounts of individual attention. In a small, structured setting, this is possible. In a classroom of 30 diverse students, this is a pipe dream.
At the other end of the spectrum are the advanced students, who have to try and learn despite the obstacles of their classmates. When homogeneously grouped, these kids thrive. When heterogeneously blended with the remainder of the student population, they cannot receive the curriculum that the deserve and cannot perform up to the standard that they are capable. It is a tragedy that students who want to learn are prevented from doing so by a flawed educational philosophy.
Schools are chided when they implement levels in their system. Honors, regular and low-level courses are becoming a thing of the past. Honors is still holding on, but the low-level course is slowly becoming a thing of the past. These students are being thrust into regular-level courses and the prevailing attitude is that if these students fail, it is the fault of the teacher not providing a sufficiently modified program for them. When you have a number of these students in the classroom, that level of modification is simply not possible. So, teachers often give the students a passing grade to keep the administration and parents satisfied. That is a travesty of education and completely lacking in integrity, but it is becoming the norm.
No one wants to admit that some people are not cut out for an academic life. Academic intelligence has taken on almost a moral quality, so people are afraid of the stigma of having a "normal" or "average" child. To have a child with lower-ability is unthinkable. Some of these parents work through their subconsious shame by morphing into demons plaguing the school system. The demand unrealistic modifications and set ridiculous standards for their child and the teachers. They work like madmen to set up a system that ensures their child's failure appear to be, in no way, the fault of the child (or them). They are miserable, vain, petty people who think their child's success in school reflects upon their societal status. I'd pity them, if they didn't cause so much disruption to the academic community.
I love my job, but I see a bleak future for America. Comapnies and businesses will have to turn more and more to other sources of skilled labor, as we are not producing the necessary individuals for the jobs. We have to unload this unhealthy attitude that all of our youth are "too good" for vo-tech education and rebuild these programs. Everyone should have a basic liberal arts education, but not everyone will or should take jobs requiring college educations. Let students receive training and education in areas tailored to their abiliies and wants, not our view of what makes a fine Young American.
Rant Over.
The entire "No Child Left Behind" construct is preposterous. Not all people can learn all things to the same level. Some students are plainly and simply limited. Not only are they truly not up to the task of an academic environment, they obtain little benefit from their tenure of incarceration. We teach them nothing that they can really use to cobble together a productive life. Across the board, vo-tech programs are being slashed by budget cuts. The reality is that schools have to cover their ample butts in light of standardized testing and must channel funds towards core academic courses. Ridiculous. These kids need alternative programs that will teach them skills to find jobs, manage money and raise families. They don't need many of the courses that we mandate they take. They do not becomre more well-rounded by the experience, nor do they build futher critical-thinking skills. They don't have the intellectual capital - and there is no sin in that.
However, modern education theory dictates that all students be tossed into a common barrel and the teacher has to somehow find a way to deliver the curriculum to every mind. This is not possible. One person cannot deliver enough modified versions of a curriculum to meet the needs of every type of student now found in the regular education classroom. Into regular classrooms are tossed students with severe learning disabilities, behavioral problems, emotional problems and widely varying levels of intellect. Once this situation did not exist. Once, the truly problematic students had their own program, where they were given a curriculum more suited to their needs and they were not causing continuous disruption of other students' learning. Now, they are thrown (usually without support) into the regular education classroom and the result is not pretty. The behavioral problems demand a high degree of teacher attention and can bring the learning process to a near standstill. The learning disabled and intellectually-challenged students are frustrated and, too, demand tremendous amounts of individual attention. In a small, structured setting, this is possible. In a classroom of 30 diverse students, this is a pipe dream.
At the other end of the spectrum are the advanced students, who have to try and learn despite the obstacles of their classmates. When homogeneously grouped, these kids thrive. When heterogeneously blended with the remainder of the student population, they cannot receive the curriculum that the deserve and cannot perform up to the standard that they are capable. It is a tragedy that students who want to learn are prevented from doing so by a flawed educational philosophy.
Schools are chided when they implement levels in their system. Honors, regular and low-level courses are becoming a thing of the past. Honors is still holding on, but the low-level course is slowly becoming a thing of the past. These students are being thrust into regular-level courses and the prevailing attitude is that if these students fail, it is the fault of the teacher not providing a sufficiently modified program for them. When you have a number of these students in the classroom, that level of modification is simply not possible. So, teachers often give the students a passing grade to keep the administration and parents satisfied. That is a travesty of education and completely lacking in integrity, but it is becoming the norm.
No one wants to admit that some people are not cut out for an academic life. Academic intelligence has taken on almost a moral quality, so people are afraid of the stigma of having a "normal" or "average" child. To have a child with lower-ability is unthinkable. Some of these parents work through their subconsious shame by morphing into demons plaguing the school system. The demand unrealistic modifications and set ridiculous standards for their child and the teachers. They work like madmen to set up a system that ensures their child's failure appear to be, in no way, the fault of the child (or them). They are miserable, vain, petty people who think their child's success in school reflects upon their societal status. I'd pity them, if they didn't cause so much disruption to the academic community.
I love my job, but I see a bleak future for America. Comapnies and businesses will have to turn more and more to other sources of skilled labor, as we are not producing the necessary individuals for the jobs. We have to unload this unhealthy attitude that all of our youth are "too good" for vo-tech education and rebuild these programs. Everyone should have a basic liberal arts education, but not everyone will or should take jobs requiring college educations. Let students receive training and education in areas tailored to their abiliies and wants, not our view of what makes a fine Young American.
Rant Over.
Monday, December 19, 2005
The Taste of the Past
I have indulged in coffee since I was a child. It was as much a part of my daily routine as brushing my teeth. Each morning before school, I would be treated to a cup of strong coffee heavily laced with milk and sugar. Cafe au lait for the knee-pants crowd...but only that morning cup. After the breakfast mug, I would take my caffeine in soda form. That post-dawn serving, though, was a carved-in-stone necessity to start my day off on the right foot.
The bean of choice was the Louisiana classic - Community Dark Roast. Most people associate Louisiana with coffee and chicory, but that was not as widespread a brew as cliche indicates. We drank straight dark roast - rich, strong, hair-tingling...no weak-sister-sissy-pants beverage. The bag itself gave indication of the potency of the potion - red, with black and a touch of gold. Bold, eye-opening, rich with old-world style. Aahhh....a big steaming mug, saccharin sweet with swirls of milk from happy southern cows.
When I moved to Massachusetts, I was deprived of my cafe au choice. At that time, ironically, was the dawn of the coffee revolution. The roasted wonder bean had moved from subsistence status to gourmet level and the varieties and flavors exploded in number. Coffee could be had from all points of the globe and in as many flavors as one could dream. Grocery store shelves bulged with bags and cans...most offered whole-bean dispensers so that customers could grind to their own specifications. Nowhere, though, was Community to be found. It was easier to find beans from Zimbabwe than Louisiana. Nothing I tried compared to the full flavor of Community and I was continually disappointed in my search for an appealing substitute.
Then, Community began to look to a larger market. Not geographically, necessarily, but they entered the coffee house club. CC's began to open around Louisiana, operating much like the average Staryucks. With this move came the establishment of a website with online ordering. Praise the Force...Community could now be procured by those removed from Dixieland. I regularly order Community Dark Roast and, yes, their blend with chicory. What a welcome delight is that morning cup. I organize the coffee pot at night and set the timer to have it brewed and waiting when I wake. Facing the New England winter is much easier when fortified with a hot cup of memory. Yummmmmmm.....and I have to admit to sneaking the occasional afternoon mug on especially cold day. Leftovers make the most spendicious iced coffee. This is a pleasant surprise as iced coffee is nothing one ever considered during my youth.
Once again, online shopping has brought joy to my life. It has delivered to me a staple of my younger days, one that has a very special place in my heart. Let others pay the sun and the moon for some wanko variety or flavor. I'll take my plain perfection anyday....
The bean of choice was the Louisiana classic - Community Dark Roast. Most people associate Louisiana with coffee and chicory, but that was not as widespread a brew as cliche indicates. We drank straight dark roast - rich, strong, hair-tingling...no weak-sister-sissy-pants beverage. The bag itself gave indication of the potency of the potion - red, with black and a touch of gold. Bold, eye-opening, rich with old-world style. Aahhh....a big steaming mug, saccharin sweet with swirls of milk from happy southern cows.
When I moved to Massachusetts, I was deprived of my cafe au choice. At that time, ironically, was the dawn of the coffee revolution. The roasted wonder bean had moved from subsistence status to gourmet level and the varieties and flavors exploded in number. Coffee could be had from all points of the globe and in as many flavors as one could dream. Grocery store shelves bulged with bags and cans...most offered whole-bean dispensers so that customers could grind to their own specifications. Nowhere, though, was Community to be found. It was easier to find beans from Zimbabwe than Louisiana. Nothing I tried compared to the full flavor of Community and I was continually disappointed in my search for an appealing substitute.
Then, Community began to look to a larger market. Not geographically, necessarily, but they entered the coffee house club. CC's began to open around Louisiana, operating much like the average Staryucks. With this move came the establishment of a website with online ordering. Praise the Force...Community could now be procured by those removed from Dixieland. I regularly order Community Dark Roast and, yes, their blend with chicory. What a welcome delight is that morning cup. I organize the coffee pot at night and set the timer to have it brewed and waiting when I wake. Facing the New England winter is much easier when fortified with a hot cup of memory. Yummmmmmm.....and I have to admit to sneaking the occasional afternoon mug on especially cold day. Leftovers make the most spendicious iced coffee. This is a pleasant surprise as iced coffee is nothing one ever considered during my youth.
Once again, online shopping has brought joy to my life. It has delivered to me a staple of my younger days, one that has a very special place in my heart. Let others pay the sun and the moon for some wanko variety or flavor. I'll take my plain perfection anyday....
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Sunny Day with Dog
Not that we spent much of our time outdoors, but the sunshine added that "special something" do the day's going's on.
I always feel sorry for Perkunas on weekends. During the week, he is in daycare and gets to romp and play with many dogs of all shapes and sizes. Each day, I pick up a tired, but very happy, poodle. On weekends, however, he is home with me. What a boring experience. I do not roll in the dirt, sniff butts, fight for rawhide bones or any of the things that canines consider the height of hilarity. So, I can understand why he gives me those "pity me" stares starting on Saturday morning.
During warmer times, I walk him all over town. We go to the park and walk along the river. He gets to socialize with the children playing in the park while I chat with their parents. We go downtown, where everyone oohs and aahs over him. With the onset of the cold, I have not been able to walk him nearly as much. This is not really due to the cold, but rather to the lack of effort on the part of the citizenry to clear the ice from their sidewalks. So far, I have made two spectacular slips onto the ice while giving Perkunas a walk and would be happy if that were the winter total. He has also taken a few headers, but he is shorter and lighter than me, so the damage is rather negligible.
So, I have had to find other activities for the pup on weekends. We have settled in to a nice pattern of car rides and visits to the pet stores that allow dogs to visit. He gets to visit with other dogs while I check out the newest toys and attire for the well-dressed pooch. Today, one of the stores was having Pictures with Santa to benefit a local animal shelter. Needless to say, I succumbed and now have a photo of Perkunas giving Santa a big kiss on the nose.
He was also a big help today in that he taste tasted some homemade yogurt for me. I was trying out a technique that seemed easy enough for my students to perform as a lab activity and he was the first one to taste the experimental batch. It passed puppy muster and gave me confidence to try it myself. He was right, it was good. Of course, I have had to contend with a cloud of gaseous ferment issuing from his tiny bottom all evening, but that is a small price to pay.
Tomorrow, he is back in daycare and will again be a content little man. But, the next week is a vacation week...now I know why parents hate summer...
I always feel sorry for Perkunas on weekends. During the week, he is in daycare and gets to romp and play with many dogs of all shapes and sizes. Each day, I pick up a tired, but very happy, poodle. On weekends, however, he is home with me. What a boring experience. I do not roll in the dirt, sniff butts, fight for rawhide bones or any of the things that canines consider the height of hilarity. So, I can understand why he gives me those "pity me" stares starting on Saturday morning.
During warmer times, I walk him all over town. We go to the park and walk along the river. He gets to socialize with the children playing in the park while I chat with their parents. We go downtown, where everyone oohs and aahs over him. With the onset of the cold, I have not been able to walk him nearly as much. This is not really due to the cold, but rather to the lack of effort on the part of the citizenry to clear the ice from their sidewalks. So far, I have made two spectacular slips onto the ice while giving Perkunas a walk and would be happy if that were the winter total. He has also taken a few headers, but he is shorter and lighter than me, so the damage is rather negligible.
So, I have had to find other activities for the pup on weekends. We have settled in to a nice pattern of car rides and visits to the pet stores that allow dogs to visit. He gets to visit with other dogs while I check out the newest toys and attire for the well-dressed pooch. Today, one of the stores was having Pictures with Santa to benefit a local animal shelter. Needless to say, I succumbed and now have a photo of Perkunas giving Santa a big kiss on the nose.
He was also a big help today in that he taste tasted some homemade yogurt for me. I was trying out a technique that seemed easy enough for my students to perform as a lab activity and he was the first one to taste the experimental batch. It passed puppy muster and gave me confidence to try it myself. He was right, it was good. Of course, I have had to contend with a cloud of gaseous ferment issuing from his tiny bottom all evening, but that is a small price to pay.
Tomorrow, he is back in daycare and will again be a content little man. But, the next week is a vacation week...now I know why parents hate summer...
Friday, December 16, 2005
Substitute Teachers
You could not pay me enough money to become a substitute teacher. They have the a terrible job. The pay is lousy, the kids give them no respect and they often have little to actually do during the day - they act as babysitters in most cases.
That being said, they also cheese me off something fierce. I took the day off yesterday and, as usual, crafted specific plans for my students. It is generally accepted in the teaching profession that a day off is more work than a day at work. You have to provide students with work that is curricularly appropriate, provides individual accountability for student progress and keeps them busy for the entire period. This way, even your being absent does not significantly impact student progress. Also, students with a free period are students who lose all self control, and that is a heinous crime to commit against an innocent substitute.
So, I spent time putting together quality plans and duly faxed them to the school yesterday morning. Now, my plans did not require much effort on the part of the substitute and did provide students with sufficient responsibility to fill the period.
Imagine my annoyance when I returned this morning to find that my plans had not been delivered, as written, to the students. Now, at first thought, this would not seem much of a problem...after all, it was just substitute work. Well, teachers actually rely on subs to deliver the lessons as planned and use this confidence to reschedule the remainder of the week's lessons. I arrived today to find that students had not done the reading that I had assigned and were therefore incapable of engaging in the activity that I had planned that used the reading. Then, the substitute decided to continue with a movie I was showing 2 classes. I had planned on continuing the movie today and found myself scrambling to pull together the curriculum I had crafted for the post-film classperiod. Basically, my day was one large balll of stress.
Sometimes the situation is even more aggravating. I have come back from sick days to find my desk rearranged, my various piles of papers "reorganized," soda bottles and snack food wrappers littering the lab area... I generally can't find one thing in its correct location and have to take a prep period to recreate my usual level of structured chaos.
More gripes:
Substitutes sometimes have god complexes and and are utterly dismayed when teenagers do not listen to their every word with reverence. This leads to power struggles betweeen sub and students and that never ends well...
They don't know individual kids (which is to be expected), but try to implicate specific students in the notes that they leave you about the day's events. They are inevitably wrong, but I have to at least follow up on their reports and may wind up embarrassing the falsely-named kid.
Substitutes can be far too wishy-washy and let the kids run wild. This produces building-wide impacts with which I have to deal the next day.
End Gripes
Of course, there are no perfect substitute teachers, just as there are no perfect full-time teachers. And, ultimately, the price is small to pay for the knowledge that your classes are at least being monitored while you are gone. But, just once I would like to return to a classroom that appears as it normally does and students who are actually prepared for the new day's lessons.
Hey, a gal can dream, can't she?
That being said, they also cheese me off something fierce. I took the day off yesterday and, as usual, crafted specific plans for my students. It is generally accepted in the teaching profession that a day off is more work than a day at work. You have to provide students with work that is curricularly appropriate, provides individual accountability for student progress and keeps them busy for the entire period. This way, even your being absent does not significantly impact student progress. Also, students with a free period are students who lose all self control, and that is a heinous crime to commit against an innocent substitute.
So, I spent time putting together quality plans and duly faxed them to the school yesterday morning. Now, my plans did not require much effort on the part of the substitute and did provide students with sufficient responsibility to fill the period.
Imagine my annoyance when I returned this morning to find that my plans had not been delivered, as written, to the students. Now, at first thought, this would not seem much of a problem...after all, it was just substitute work. Well, teachers actually rely on subs to deliver the lessons as planned and use this confidence to reschedule the remainder of the week's lessons. I arrived today to find that students had not done the reading that I had assigned and were therefore incapable of engaging in the activity that I had planned that used the reading. Then, the substitute decided to continue with a movie I was showing 2 classes. I had planned on continuing the movie today and found myself scrambling to pull together the curriculum I had crafted for the post-film classperiod. Basically, my day was one large balll of stress.
Sometimes the situation is even more aggravating. I have come back from sick days to find my desk rearranged, my various piles of papers "reorganized," soda bottles and snack food wrappers littering the lab area... I generally can't find one thing in its correct location and have to take a prep period to recreate my usual level of structured chaos.
More gripes:
Substitutes sometimes have god complexes and and are utterly dismayed when teenagers do not listen to their every word with reverence. This leads to power struggles betweeen sub and students and that never ends well...
They don't know individual kids (which is to be expected), but try to implicate specific students in the notes that they leave you about the day's events. They are inevitably wrong, but I have to at least follow up on their reports and may wind up embarrassing the falsely-named kid.
Substitutes can be far too wishy-washy and let the kids run wild. This produces building-wide impacts with which I have to deal the next day.
End Gripes
Of course, there are no perfect substitute teachers, just as there are no perfect full-time teachers. And, ultimately, the price is small to pay for the knowledge that your classes are at least being monitored while you are gone. But, just once I would like to return to a classroom that appears as it normally does and students who are actually prepared for the new day's lessons.
Hey, a gal can dream, can't she?
The Worst Combination
Weather is an odd thing. It can inspire joy, pain, anger, fear...Generaly, like most folks, I am a fan of nice weather - mild temperatures, sunny skies, dry air...However, I am also a fan of truly inclement weather. The horrible, nasty snowstorm, miserable downpour of rain, galeforce winds - those situations are also enjoyable, but only when one can stay indoors and observe the goings on from the comfort of one's own living room. I cherish crappy days where I can sit on the couch, watch movies and quaff hot beverages. Unfortunately, today is that worst possible combination of weather events.
This morning is an unholy trinity of snow, sleet and freezing rain. And, I still had to go to work. No sitting at home and snuggling in the comforting warmth of fleece blankets. Normally, I could at least look forward to indulging once I got home this afternoon. Today, not the case. Today, the storm is supposed to rapidly move through the area and bring sunshine by afternoon. Rats. With sunshine, I'll want to be out and about, but out and about will be a slushy, pant-spattering mess. So, I'll either sit inside and be antsy to get out or get out and swear constantly about the awful conditions. And there is the puppy factor. Inside he'll be dry, but anxious to get out. Outside he'll be jubiliant and completely sodden with freezing slop. Now, here is where being Alpha comes in handy. I have final say as to his fate. Do I prize my own comfort over his happiness? Do I sacrifice warmth for a living Slushie? Already my head hurts....
This morning is an unholy trinity of snow, sleet and freezing rain. And, I still had to go to work. No sitting at home and snuggling in the comforting warmth of fleece blankets. Normally, I could at least look forward to indulging once I got home this afternoon. Today, not the case. Today, the storm is supposed to rapidly move through the area and bring sunshine by afternoon. Rats. With sunshine, I'll want to be out and about, but out and about will be a slushy, pant-spattering mess. So, I'll either sit inside and be antsy to get out or get out and swear constantly about the awful conditions. And there is the puppy factor. Inside he'll be dry, but anxious to get out. Outside he'll be jubiliant and completely sodden with freezing slop. Now, here is where being Alpha comes in handy. I have final say as to his fate. Do I prize my own comfort over his happiness? Do I sacrifice warmth for a living Slushie? Already my head hurts....
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Plump as a Partridge
Whoa Boy! Is that me! Plump is actually a euphamism for totally fat. This damn fluid retention and metabolic slowdown has packed 60 pounds onto my frame and I feel every ounce. Ugh! Funny, though, the actual impact to my day in terms of stamina, comfort, etc. is really the only thing that concerns me. Odd, but I don't care that I look fat. Anymore than I cared that I looked thin. I just go about my day, as usual, and don't budget any mental time to thoughts about appearance. When I get a "looks" bug, it is usually about my hair or wardrobe, both which need professional assistance in the worst way.
I guess I really place much stock in personal appearance. I do have concern about "proper" appearance and believe that it is a mark of character that one at least does the best with what one has. Nothing irks me more than seeing people put forth no effort towards putting their best face forward. The basics should always be covered - hair washed and brushed, teeth cleaned, body and face scrubbed, clothes washed, etc. Nothing has to be fancy, but there should be some standard of appearance that signals a person has a sense of self-worth. Perhaps that is a flawed attitude. Perhaps self-worth can be expressed in a myriad of ways other than personal hygiene. I grant that other factors come into play, but there does seem to be a strong connection between basic grooming and how you view your inner self.
So, despite the fact that I am a tubby blubby, I cobble together a clean outfit for work each day, my body and hair are clean and I apply a moderate amount of makeup. Takes me all of 10 minutes in the morning to make myself "presentable," and that is quite acceptable for my morning minutes allowance. There are many teachers (and students) who look far better than me, but I at least make the effort to demonstrate a degree of care about my appearance.
Funny, too, is the lack of blatant staring that I receive since I've packed on the pounds. People don't bother to give me a second glance and that is positively refreshing. I now blend in with obese America. Pity, really, but I'll take that bit of easement of daily turmoil and rejoice. Compounded with the benefit that I am warm and toasty this winter, owing to the extra insulation, and my days seem a bit ligher (pun intended) than before.
Of course, I know, for health reasons, that this weight has to come off. The daily diuretics help somewhat (at least my lungs stay dry), but I have to wait for some breakthrough in my diagnosis to start to slide back down the scale. A dream for another day...
I guess I really place much stock in personal appearance. I do have concern about "proper" appearance and believe that it is a mark of character that one at least does the best with what one has. Nothing irks me more than seeing people put forth no effort towards putting their best face forward. The basics should always be covered - hair washed and brushed, teeth cleaned, body and face scrubbed, clothes washed, etc. Nothing has to be fancy, but there should be some standard of appearance that signals a person has a sense of self-worth. Perhaps that is a flawed attitude. Perhaps self-worth can be expressed in a myriad of ways other than personal hygiene. I grant that other factors come into play, but there does seem to be a strong connection between basic grooming and how you view your inner self.
So, despite the fact that I am a tubby blubby, I cobble together a clean outfit for work each day, my body and hair are clean and I apply a moderate amount of makeup. Takes me all of 10 minutes in the morning to make myself "presentable," and that is quite acceptable for my morning minutes allowance. There are many teachers (and students) who look far better than me, but I at least make the effort to demonstrate a degree of care about my appearance.
Funny, too, is the lack of blatant staring that I receive since I've packed on the pounds. People don't bother to give me a second glance and that is positively refreshing. I now blend in with obese America. Pity, really, but I'll take that bit of easement of daily turmoil and rejoice. Compounded with the benefit that I am warm and toasty this winter, owing to the extra insulation, and my days seem a bit ligher (pun intended) than before.
Of course, I know, for health reasons, that this weight has to come off. The daily diuretics help somewhat (at least my lungs stay dry), but I have to wait for some breakthrough in my diagnosis to start to slide back down the scale. A dream for another day...
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Cobwebs like Steel Cable
Oh how my brain hurts! It has been a somewhat tortuous start to the school year and I am now, after many months, beginning to think with anything resembling clarity. Not that there has been any substantial trouble on the job front, but I returned to one of the universe's most bustling jobs after months of virtual inactivity. The energy requirements for making it successfully through the day are enormous for me and I have met the end of each day with a good nap and then bedtime.
As a general rule, my days have had demonstrated little above the level of basic survival behavior. Eat, sleep and work. The only distraction has been my little man - Perkunas! Snow Dog Supreme! He has decided that the greatest thing in the world is snow and would live in an igloo if I offered him the option. We were hit with over 16 inches of snow on Friday and the dog was as happy as any creature on Earth to jump through the snow piles and pretend to be a diminutive snowman.
Beyond that, my brain works dilligently to craft a succession of thoughts that allow me to effectively communicate wiht the living world. It is not easy, but I do my best. I am so ready for the holiday break.....
As a general rule, my days have had demonstrated little above the level of basic survival behavior. Eat, sleep and work. The only distraction has been my little man - Perkunas! Snow Dog Supreme! He has decided that the greatest thing in the world is snow and would live in an igloo if I offered him the option. We were hit with over 16 inches of snow on Friday and the dog was as happy as any creature on Earth to jump through the snow piles and pretend to be a diminutive snowman.
Beyond that, my brain works dilligently to craft a succession of thoughts that allow me to effectively communicate wiht the living world. It is not easy, but I do my best. I am so ready for the holiday break.....
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