How strange to trace the roots of my blogging experience. A writer of friend of mine mentioned to me that he talked about me in his blog. Blog? Huh? So I checked it out (manwithoutaband.blogspot.com). I wanted to leave a comment, and found that I had to log in to do so. Ok. No problem. A couple of clicks, a username and password later, and blam--I blog.
Luckily for me, while browsing around the blogosphere (truly guys--can we come up with a better name? I hate that one. Has anyone tried blogdome or blogtown? Ideas anyone?) I came across strangafeet.blogspot.com and the adorable Master Noah. She was kind enough to check out what I had to say, and to sympathize, along with Jen O (quittymcquitter), while Sophie was going through a nasty infection.
This lead to that, and now I have this wonderful collection of blog friends. Plus, my two sisters and good pal have jumped on the band wagon. Now of course, I spend too much time on the computer, and some days get a bit obsessive about who said or did what, but isn't that a better way to pass my time than, say, cleaning house or playing solitare?
Tonight I have to go to an awards banquet. I am getting an award. Honestly, I kind of feel like shit about it. It's called "The Power of the Dream" (Erik can't get it right. When trying to brag me up to people, he keeps telling them that I won "The Dream of the Future" or "The Power of the World" or some other random thing) and it's given to about 6 teachers in our school district each year for excellence in teaching.
As a teacher, I can definitely say I have my strengths. I am naturally a people person, and I can connect with my kids pretty easily. I've mentioned that I work at an alternative high school, so my kids are either in state custody, have been kicked out of the other high schools, or for some other reason don't fit the mould. I tend to be a little irreverent, and have been know to say shit in class on one or two occasions. (I dropped the F bomb--just once. I feel I was justified. I said, "Look. You can't keep saying fuck in class," to a kid who just didn't get it.) Because of my wayward youth, I understand things a little better than my colleagues, and can take a kid to task if I notice her/him building a hash pipe out of a soda can in my class. (Several times, it's taken all I have not to yell at some poor glassy-eyed kid, "Look you little shit, I was getting high when you were in kindergarten. I wasn't born yesterday! Wait until after school for that crap!")
So the connecting part is easy for me. I'm Mizzuz J. We get along. However, since having Sophie and going part time (I teach every other day) other shit has started to slip and I feel guilty as hell. My grades are always behind. Kids are always asking for their work back. I haven't done as many assessments as I should. My lesson planning is mediocre. I didn't attend any conferences this year. In fact, if I were to grade myself this year, I'd get, at best, a C+. I honestly feel like the reason I'm getting the award is that no one from our school, which is relatively new, has received it yet, and so they picked me because I've been there the longest. That said, I just finished my 5th year teaching, and people usually receive this award after 10 or 15 years. I'm going to look like a total wipper-snapper at this thing.
So now I need to come up with about a one minute acceptance type speech. Fuckity Fuck-o-rama. Should I prepare something? Get up and say, "You like me! You really really like me!" I kind of feel like telling the truth. Saying, you know what, I don't deserve this, but I promise to try harder next year.
Today's best thing about being a mom: (I guess I should say something about Sophie today)
Sophie and I went and got a pedicure together today. She sat on my lap and we both soaked our feet in the whirley pool thing. Then she sat so still and was so good while the lady painted her toes. I can't wait for more mother-daughter bonding stuff like that.
Today's worst thing about being a mom:
I can't convince Sophie that she's not indestructible. She keeps going INTO THE STREET! I've spanker her, yelled at her, reasoned with her. Nothing seems to be working. Today while we were on a walk, I finally said, "Sophie, if you go in the road a car will squish you and make you dead!" Her response was, "I'm not an abocado." Huh? Maybe we've made too much guacamole lately. So, she didn't stay out of the road, but she did yell "Hey! I'm not an abocado!" to all the cars that went by.