Joint Custody

I'll be house-sitting for Heather again beginning tomorrow. I packed all my clothes last night and had Hubey stash Tessa's crate in the car. He and I have been texting and emailing about when we will each be responsible for her. Even so, we are both forgetful and try not to be so inflexible that neither of us can make last minute changes. This morning we had a text conversation that went like this:

H: When are you taking her?
Me: Can I get her on mon on my way to heathers from work?
H:Confused. Thought u were taking her 2nite? That's why u needed crate. Oops, u did mention getn acquatinted with sampson first. I 4got, no wonder I didn't have a time u were takn her. Sorry.
H: Any time is fine just txt me when ur able.
Me: Is this what it wuz like wit J? :) (his daughter)
H: Yep
Me: Im sooo sorry.
H: Yea, but aren't u sooooo happy we couldn't have kids....he totally saved us from an even worse situation.What would that have been like?!?! All for a reason.

That mad me sad. Not angry, just sad. Many people say the same thing and I know they don't mean to make me feel sad so I don't hold it against them. But here's the thing; I don't believe all things happen for a reason. As my husband for the past ten years I can't believe he doesn't know that by now. But since he'll not always be my husband I don't get mad at him for making such comments. He didn't mean to hurt me, that's what he believes and I can't be mad at him for his beliefs not matching my own.

I wanted so badly to have children, children with him. After getting married I remember a converstation I had with Donnawhere we discussed how many children we wanted. I said, "Four. More if we can afford it. I'd love to see how many combinations of Hubey and I we could make but I'll settle for four." I loved growing up in a big family and wanted the same as an adult. When it didn't happen I accepted it for being what it is. Just not what I planned and in life, you cannot always get what you planned for. I can't say we'd have made it through the first child to even get to second, third or fourth. But here is what I responded as my last text, and he didn't text me back afterward:

Nope, can't say im happy i never had ur child. Even if it is easier

Expensive Text

I have a friend overseas on a business trip. He travels frequently and claims that it's not as glamorous as it sounds. When you are aware of every hour that passes because of bells that ring every fifty minutes and you never take a lunch outside of your place of work because your lunch "hour" is only twenty five minutes, it's hard to imagine a trip overseas as anything less than glamorous. My youngest brother is currently in Mexico on business and his girlfriend is in Belgium. I'm completely jealous.

"You spend most of your time in hotel rooms and meetings," they tell me. I don't care. Those hotel rooms have cable and room service, right? The bathrooms are free of graffiti and have real mirrors not polished steel, right? You have lunch at cool restaurants not the cafeteria where women in scrubs and laytex gloves serve you from steam heated containers, right?

My friend sends me texts and pictures that make me smile. I text him after viewing a photo of a tall thin woman with an Afro smiling and standing next to a grinning shorter bald man, "Ur friends look fun! :)" He sends me another and I am reminded of an extremely expensive phone bill incurred while I was in Europe on sabbatical. My husband insisted that we talk daily. I warned him of the rates and worried that we'd be spending too much time on the phone and too much money on the time. "Don't you miss me? Don't you want to talk to me?" It wasn't that I didn't miss him it's just that we don't make that kind of money. I spent days on the Internet looking for the lowest price decent hostels to stay in and had saved frequent flier miles to pay for the flight. I'm frugal, I'm money conscious, I budget. I didn't work that hard to save money so I could spend it on talking to a man I lived with. "We have the Internet, boo," I'd tell him.

"You know that's not the same." I agreed to talk daily so that I could get him off the phone but he'd go on and on and on. When I got home the bill was $3000.00. No, that's not a typo, 3000.00 fucking dollars!!! When I told him about it he didn't even flinch. Nothing, like it was worth it to spend that much money on keeping track of me ac cross the ocean.

So, I get another picture from my friend and I reply: "hey, these texts aren't costing me 5 euros each, are they?" Then I call Sprint and learn that they don't, they cost twenty cents each. I am relieved.

I get the last picture from him at 9p.m., people dancing. Really, that is sooooo not glamorous.

New Boss

There have been some changes to the structure of our administration. The Board says they need to save money, we (teachers) think of it as another way to keep us divided and limit communication.

When I first started in this district I was hired by a Dean; Dean of Fine Arts. Our Dean was our advocate, our guy in a suit that was our voice and helped us look sane about the things we were most passionate about. Sane: us theater, dance, music and arts people. There is no longer a Dean, they were replaced by Content Area Coordinators, or CAC's. CAC's were teachers that taught only three classes a day, instead of two, and given a pretty good stipend for being in a leadership position. They didn't have as much say in decisions as Deans but they were all we had. The CAC's were all "fired" at the end of last year. They were replaced by Lead Teachers. They could, if they wanted, reapply for the Lead Teacher position. Lead Teachers do pretty much the same job as CAC's only for a lot less money and they also teach a full five classes. Our old CAC wasn't about to work harder for less money so she did not reapply. Nobody else in the department wanted the job. Administrators asked us all to consider the position.

My room is closest to all administrator offices and so I was visited my frequently by the most administrators and asked to take the job. I felt like I was being courted by many different suitors to go to a dance that I would have to attend by myself. My repy was always the same, "no."

"No, I'd be terrible at it."
"That's not what your colleagues say. They all suggested you when asked who would do a good job." Ok, that's a lie. Why do suitors always lie?
"No, I'd be terrible; I'm not organized enough. Also, I'm afraid my AP class would suffer because I'd spend more time on department issues than on them. My personal life is in limbo right now and I just don't think I can take on another responsibility."
Then, one Friday morning my Principal showed up in my room and asked me to take the job. "Why don't you take this position?" I repeated my usual also adding: "I never apply for or take on a job that I don't think I'll do well at and I really don't think I'll do well at this."
He said, "You'll be fine. This sort of thing looks really good on a resume."
I smiled and said, "where am I going to go?" He smiled too.
"Well, just think it over. You know what? Try it for a year."
So I agreed to take the stupid job. They sold me the crappiest car on the lot and now I have to drive this bitch for at least a year until I pay it off.

I sent out a note to all the teachers in my department cursing them all for not having the balls (ignorance) to take the position themselves. They know me, they all know I'm going to do terribly at this but I reminded them anyway.

I saw the video teacher this morning on my way in, "good morning boss!" was his greeting as he laughed at me. "Yea, yea. Good morning."
"Do we have a meeting today?"
"Uuuuuummmm...I think so. Yes."
"Are you running it?"
"Nope, our Assistant Principal."
"Oh, where is it?"
"Hmmm... uh...?"
"Hey, keep up the good work!"

Little Lady

So I got a little message from a Little Lady telling me how she thought my blog was funny and my life is interesting. I told her how much funnier this blog would be if I had written it back when she was in my class. I met her when she was a Sophomore in my Basic Art class. Little, cute, loud and funny Alba. She sat next to this really cute white boy named Kyle and they became fast friends. He called her "Little Lady." Alba is maybe five feet tall. Kyle promoted her when she ran for homecoming court. They walked the halls together; Alba yelling "VOTE FOR ME!" and Kyle following that up with "VOTE FOR ALBA!" If I remember correctly she didn't win. :( Kyle greeted her every day saying, "hello Little Lady." Alba wore a lot of polka dots, pink and little ribbons in her long black hair.

Their conversations with each other were like the classroom's edition of Erik and Kathy in the morning. If one or the other didn't show up it was unsettling quiet. A boy who never said anything asked Kyle on a day when she was absent, "where's the Little Lady today?" I don't think Kyle even knew the kid could speak.

Alba helped Kyle with his drawings, she was much better than he. One day he got a little too playful with her work and she belted out "Kyle, KYLE, KYLE!" The whole class stopped what they were doing. "Sorry." From then on if I saw him in the hall I'd yell out, "kyle, KYLE, KYLE!" and then LMAO.

There was a moment when Alba was somehow taken out of the class because of a schedule conflict and I went to her counselor with her to get her back in. The smile on her face afterwards was so priceless. Little Lady has an adorable smile.

Her senior year she was back in the room as an Advanced Placement student. She sat in the same place but with new buds, Erik and Edgar. She graduated in 2007, but before she left she arranged for the entire AP class to all write me a personal thank you note and on their last day with me they all walked up to me one at at time and handed me their pink envelope, said thank you and gave me a big hug. I felt like I was in a movie, those kids really got to me.

I'm going to have to write more about her, Little Lady.

Walking my dog in the hood...

She's big, she's beautiful, she's unusual, she looks fierce, she wiggles when she walks. So, she attracts a lot of attention. In my neighborhood many people are afraid of her and curious as well. The comments I hear most as I walk by with her:

"Ooo that's a big dog."
"You holding that dog? You holding it tight?"
"Daaaaaaaaaamn looka dat dog!"
"That's a big ass pit, right there."
"Don't nobody mess with you, do they?"
"You're well protected."

Questions I am most often asked:

"What kinda dog that is?" She's a bullmastiff and if I tell people that they most often reply, "a bullmaster?" So I repeat, 'bullmasTIFF.' Often I lie and tell them she's mixed because I'm afraid of her being stolen with intent to fight her or breed her.

"She have puppies?"
Nope, she's fixed.
"Why you do that? You coulda made a loooot of money!"
When I have a dog I have a dog as a pet, not a money maker. Though, with all this one has cost me it might have been a good idea.

"That dog bite?"
If it's an adult I answer, "Not unless she's got reason to." To children I say, "she doesn't bite children." The kids ask from a distance of at least ten feet and with my answer they come a little closer, then closer and ask:
"Can I rub her?"
Yes, they say "rub" instead of "pet." I can often say, "I'd say yes but she'll steel that bag of chips you're holding." They always then hold the chips closer to them, smile and run away.

"What you feed that dog?" This always makes me laugh. I mean, everything. I feed her everything. I answer, "dog food."

Huevos

In Spanish it means eggs. But it can mean the same thing that Balls means in English in certain context.

In the first weeks of school I use eggs on a white sheet of paper with one light source to teach beginners how to shade. On Friday I brought eggs to school without hard-boiling them first. Rookie mistake. One disappeared at the end of my last class. I alerted the Deans and they found the culprit before I got egg on my face.

This morning we began a new still life using simple geometric forms made of wood. Daisy asked, "Are you going to want our eggs first?" Laughter, and only in a school where many of the students are bilingual, Spanish being one of the languages.
"No Daisy, I don't need your eggs yet."
"So, we should just hold on to them?"
"Yes, hold on to your eggs."

I sit at my desk and try to take attendance. An IT guy had come in earlier and changed my monitor. He also changed my screen settings so the font and everything was HUGE. Sure, that made everything clearer but it also meant slower because I had to scroll all the time to see anything. I ask the class, "is anyone a computer genius that can help me?"
A boy says, "what do you need?"
"Everything is too big, I need it smaller." See, once you go that route you just can't seem to get to any other road. Daisy says, "he just said he knows how to get a virus, Miss."

Log of Funny Things Hansel Has Said

I told him I was going to keep a log of funny things he said so that I'd remember them after he left. He'd say something funny every day and I'd write it down on a little scrap of paper and tuck it in my binder or magnet it to my computer carrier. I lost most of those scraps and I never created a log of them but here are some of the ones I remember most:

Michael said something sweet to me so I blew him a kiss accross the room. Hansel said, "What are you doing? You aint got no lips! You just blew him air. Nothing is landing on his cheek but air right now."

I wore a new shirt to school and he said, "Nice shirt, what color is that? Pepto Bismol?"

One day he described in detail the path of air from a fart as it traveled through his boxers. I won't do that one justice here.

After returning to the room to check out some S.W.A.T. guys in the building the girls in class asked, "were any of them hot?" I answered, "oh man, one of them was once my student." Hansel helped me feel better by shouting out, "ohhhhh! Sit your old ass down! What? Are you teaching his grandkids now?"

Still on age...
I said something to the class about how being 40 was good and bad. Cherie dropped her paint brush and asked in a high pitch voice, "You're FORTY? Forty? My mom is forty!! How can you be forty?"
Hansel adds, "Yea, Forty? Damn, why don't you just turn to dust already? You're so old I'm suprised you can sit in that chair without an oxygen aid. I mean, if you added up the ages of all my friends you still wouldn't get FORTY!"

On the last day of school he came in the room proclaiming, "Yo, that was the last time I walk through that door for the first time of the day."

A New Relationship

Every year starts with September for teachers. I'm not a fan of the first day or the first week, for that matter. I don't know these kids, I want my old kids back, I miss my old kids, these kids don't know me. They look funnier than usual. This year our school implemented a dress code. The pants are khaki and shirts are white. It's a sea of beigeness out there. Now these kids seem even more uninteresting to me, they're all beige. Last weekend I went to Goodwill and bought giant men's shirts as smocks. White and khaki - not so safe in the art room. The shirts I bought are all blue and green. I encourage the students to color their hair blue and purple and pink. "You first," they say.

So now I must woo them and make them love me. When they fall in love I will love them back and enjoy my job so much more.

I receive text messages from former students. Hansel sends from the community college, "I'm in a drawing class right now, they're so slow. I have to dumb down A LOT!" Franco sends from same college, "what's going on? My new drawing teacher hates me. This class is so boring, we're doing stuff I did with you like soph year." Mari, at the same school, sends, "Hey! How are you? How's the new crop? Any diamonds in the ruff?" Vero, from SAIC, sends "Anyone going to any art openings tonight?"

My dad asked if my students stay in touch with me for long. They usually are pretty frequent they're first year out of high school. They become less and less in touch they older they get. "That sounds about right," he says. I get a call from Claudia, "you've been neglecting me lately," she tells me. I guess I neglect all the formers in September. I spend a lot of time developing my new relationships. I miss them most now, though. I miss them a lot.

I believe one of my greatest weaknesses as a teacher is also one of my strengths; I love my students way too much.

Poop Picture

So, I'm out with Heather and entertaining her with stories about my dating life. It sucks, but she laughs so there's that.

I'm explaining how it's really different this time around with technology. Last time I was in the dating world the most high tech form of communication I had was my pager. Now there's texting and email attached to your hip, if you like. I tell her how I sent pictures of myself sunbathing to a guy I'm seeing through my phone and she laughs. I show her the photos, "nice Lisa, not sleezy at all."
"No? Really? Because, you know, as an artist I'm seriously concerned about how artsy they are also."
"Not concerned about how good your breasts look?"
"Well, sure, there's that too."
She's laughing and scrolling through her photos. "Ok, here it is," she says when she locates what she's been looking for. "You've got your bikini shots, here's what I send to J.P. (who is out of town for several weeks)" She holds up the phone to show me a shot of little turds at the base of, not inside, the toilet. I'm LMAO.
"What is THAT?"
"It was a big day. Jackson pooped at the toilet, he didn't quite make it but at least he got the idea." I am trying really hard now to gain control again. "Please Lisa, send J.P. the photo of you in your bikini."
"NO! I'm not sending him a picture of my cleavage!"
"I just want him to see what other girls are sending their boyfriends."
So, I send him the photo with the message, "these are the sorta images I send my boyfreind." Then Heather re-sends the poop picture with the caption, "and this is the sorta picture I send my boyfriend."
Thanks to the snail speed of Sprint, or my Razor phone, or the combination of both, J.P. receives the poop picture first.
He calls Heather immediately. "J.P wants to know why he's getting the poop picture again," Heather tells me.
"Awww, damn! He got them out of order! Now it's not nearly as funny."
She's listening to him and then says, "J.P. doesn't have unlimited picture mail Lisa, he says everytime I send him the poop picture it costs him twenty five cents."
Really, was it the wine or is this not some funny shit?
"Oh, ok...he's getting your picture now. Yea? I know. Ok, now he gets it. He says nice photo Lisa."
"Tell him to send it to Cody." I tell her, Cody is twenty seven.