Argh

My "History of History and Historians" class has the most boring textbook.

Really, I'd rather clean my apartment than read that book. But essays do not write themselves (although many of my students wish they would).

Thank God this is the only mandatory class.

Cheers!

Grad school, week 1

I love college. I love the smell of school, the sight of students studying in small clusters, the open air feeling of many student unions/centers, row after row of over-priced textbooks in the book store, the students proudly wearing their school logos on sweatshirts, sweatpants, tshirts and other clothing items.

So I'm very happy to be back.

All last week, the song "I Wish I Could Go Back To College" from Avenue Q popped into my mind and I wondered if I could easily go back to school. After all, I am older than many students, I haven't had to study anything for a while, and I am going to continue to work full-time. But after this week, I can do it.

Wednesday's class, European Towns and Villages, filled quickly. Like the nerd that I am, I sat front and center - ready to be filled with the knowledge and wisdom that my professor was prepared to grace me with. As other classmates trickled in, I caught on quickly that they knew each other - and I felt like an outsider. So I busied myself with a book until the professor walked in. They greeted him enthusiastically, and he did so in return - a good omen. Perhaps this class will be wonderful and the professor will be wonderful. He didn't keep us long - just enough time to tell us what assignments we must do. Of the 4 books we're reading, we must critique 3 of them. Fabulous - I won't do it on the dull-looking Renaissance Florence book. And then we have a 12-15 page paper due in December, and we won't meet as a class for most of November so that we can have time to work on our paper. I've decided that my paper will be on children in London during the time of Charles Dickens. I can merge both my knowledge of England (and thus the research), plus be able to add specific influences in Dickens' work - especially Great Expectations, which I teach.

Thursday was class number two - Research and Methods (aka - the history of history). This professor kept us the entire time, and he poured the work on us - heavy weekly readings and 6 2-page critical thinking essays - one for the next 6 weeks. Then we don't have class for 8 weeks while we work on a 20 page paper. Yep, 20 pages. We are to find a local archive and dig around, find stuff, come up with a paper idea and write it. I think I'm going to head to the San Jacinto History Museum/archives and dig there. I hope to find fantastic primary source documents on various early settlements of Texas - either Spanish or American (when they decided that they didn't want Mexico to have it anymore). I'm excited because who knows what I'll find.

I did feel overwhelmed Thursday, especially when I saw how much work this one class required. But the feeling of excitement washed over me today when I went to the campus bookstore to buy my last book (the others were ordered on amazon.com, but I ordered the wrong edition of one and needed to get it quickly). I decided to show a bit of pride and bought a college t-shirt, although my loyalty towards LSU made me feel a bit guilty. Both schools are fantastic, and LSU will always be the better one, but this is my school now, and this is the school from which I'm earning my master's degree. Then, when I get my PhD, I'll have yet a third college to root for.

I love college. I can't wait to go to the library tomorrow and study and read!

Gentlemen, Start Your Engines

Pow! And you're off!

School has started, in both ways.

As for my day job, so far, so good. After two days I haven't seen any startling occurrences, but I've been teaching enough years to know that the bad kids can sometimes stay silent. I'm pretty sure that a few of my problem children last year showed a bit of their true colors in the first week, but so far I can't find anything THAT bad. My honors kids seem much tamer than last year- they were actually silent. I have about 13 less than last year, so maybe people told people and word got around that my honors class is hard. My enriched classes, although more in number and in class size, seem better than last year... so far. A good number of them were in pre-AP and just didn't want the workload, so those kids are promising. I've had a few of my current students' siblings and/or cousins, so I'm interested to see how they do - will they be better than their bad siblings or worse than their good siblings? Only time can and will tell.

I also started grad school today, taking my fun class - European Towns and Villages. History grad students are very interesting - my class was filled with older hippies and very laid-back nerds. Me, sitting in the front of the class with a new binder filled fresh paper and a new gel pen looked out of place. I guess I need to slow down. I want the highest A possible, and some are taking these classes for fun (as am I, but I want to get into a good doctoral program upon graduation).

This one class has its fair share of work. We'll meet every week for about 6 weeks, and then off for 4 weeks to work on a research paper. During the next 6 weeks, I have to read 4 books and write three 3-5 page critiques. Luckily, I'm ahead and almost done with the first book, so my first critique will be done by the end of the weekend. Luckily also I teach English - I can easily write a critique. I've been taking notes as I read and I honestly think I can pop out a good critique within 2-3 hours. I'm thinking about not doing a critique on the second book, which not only looks dry, but the professor himself said it was a tad dry. Great.

The research paper is what I'm really looking forward to writing about. We get to write on any European city, town, village, community. I'm torn between London during the brief reign of Richard III, or perhaps Salisbury during the Protestant Reformation years of 1533-1535, or perhaps Paris (and Palais Royal specifically) in the few years prior to the French Revolution. I don't speak French and lots of primary source documents will be in French if I go the Paris route, so I'm thinking I might just stay with England. Or I can research a town torn by the English Civil War. The possibilities are endless and I'm in heaven!

Remember, I'm a nerd.

Cheers!

Consider Me Oriented

The next step towards higher education is complete. I attended orientation for grad school. Surprisingly, I didn't feel as old as I thought I would - there were many grad students older than me, and some who haven't stepped foot inside of a classroom in 20 years. Luckily I was in a college classroom (a few mandatory grad school classes for my teaching certification) a few years ago, and then I'm always in the classroom as a high school teacher.

Much if it was pretty basic. Here's the fitness center, meet the dean of students (who is such a good speaker I asked if he'd talk to my classes at high school and he said yes), here's your student government president, here's the copy facilities, there's the library.

The most interesting, and yet daunting, time was when we were split into groups. I, of course, was in the group for graduate Humanities and Human Sciences. In a large lecture hall were psych majors, sociology majors, one lit major, criminal justice majors, etc. I was the lone history major. One of the advisors walked in and laid it all down: expect to study 9 hours for every 3 hours of classes/credits, expect to miss out on friends and family, meet as many students in your field as possible. Then she went away and was replaced with a faculty panel. One of the faculty members was actually my faculty advisor, but I saw her once in April so she didn't remember me, I'm sure. But then she started talking about study skills and class loads. When someone asked her about assignments and such, she said that whenever anyone in the history department takes the mandated research methods class, they should probably take only that class because it's so intense and there's a 20-page paper in there.

Gulp. Not only do I start that class Thursday, but I also start another class Wednesday. And I'm a high school honors English teacher (honors English=papers). And my boyfriend and I are training for a half marathon in February. And I'm on a Rodeo committee and the board of directors for a theatre.

It was nice knowing everyone.

My heart went thud. Luckily, I'm thinking, I'm probably smarter than many of my classmates (not necessarily in terms of grades, although my grades were always good), but being a high school honors English teacher, plus being a history nerd and having the advantage of doing a research paper last summer using the resource in the Folger Shakespeare Library has probably been nothing but beneficial. I know how to read books like a teacher, like a professor, and taking the right things out of it. I know how to research and get answers. I know a hell of a lot of European history and societal changes and norms. I'm hoping that my other class (European towns and villages) will actually be easy. I hope.

We shall see.

But my kids start Tuesday and I start grad school Wednesday. Keep reading!

Cheers!

Last Day

School starts tomorrow and ow am I spending my last day off? I'm laying on my couch with dilated eyes. I can't see much. I can't see enough to read, and the sun is too bright to venture out. I can barely make out what I'm typing and luckily I can type without looking at the keys, so I don't have to focus too much.

I'm not that sleepy, so no nap. No scrabble because I can't see the tiles, I'm afraid to clean my kitchen lest I stab myself. I cant' call anyone because I the phone keys are too tiny to make out.

Sigh.

Speak, and He Will Come

Sometimes I think I have psychic powers, having the ability to sometimes predict the next song on the radio or think of someone and see them almost immediately.

Yesterday's post mentioned two specific ex-boyfriends. Last night, I went to my favorite hangout, a coffee bar/wine bar. It's a place that my theatre friends and I go to after rehearsals and shows, and I frequently meet my friend Alex there (when he's not stationed overseas). So last night, Alex and I arranged to meet at 8:30. I walk in at 8:25 and lo and behold, I see Sam the cop. I haven't seen Sam in about year and a half, since the day we broke up. I hadn't talked to him in almost a year (having exchanged text messages upon me receiving a random email from his oldest son) and haven't had the desire to, since he had issues he had to take care of and broke up with me in a very uncool manner. So anyway, I walk into the bar, absolutely not expecting to see him. I take a few steps in, and there he is. He sees me about the same time as I see him and he smiles and gets up. I don't want to hug him, but I do. He asks how I'm doing and I say fine - and that I was thinking of him earlier because I think his friend now works at my school. Yep, he does. That's him. We chatted for less than 3 minutes, him asking me several times how I am. I ask how he is and he says he's doing fine - and then says that he had stuff messed up in his brain when we were dating (which I knew) and he's been taking care of that. Then a girl walks up, and I say, "Nice seeing you," and I walk away to get a beer.

Then I go outside and wait for Alex, and call the BF and thank him for being my BF - I can't imagine my life if I had continued dating Sam. I don't even know why I put up with his issues - maybe I felt pity for him. Anyway, he looked older and more tired. I do hope he's happy. As he left, he left hand-in-hand with another woman. I remembered his best friend telling me that I was the best thing he ever dated because his other girlfriends were crazy and needy and I was classy and they weren't, and that his wife found me about 10 months ago and said that ever since breaking up with me, he's been with a different woman every week and she can't keep up with them. This woman didn't look too crazy, but crazy isn't obvious. Sam has had a rough 20s and 30s, so I hope he does find happiness.

I surprised myself. I was bitter for a brief while, and though I haven't harbored bitterness in over a year, I had absolutely no desire to see him again. I thought that if I ever did see him again, I'd just walk away without saying anything. But I was pleasant. I wasn't necessarily warm, but I was polite, not rude. I didn't tell him about my present life (the BF, the theatre, grad school), and I didn't ask him about his. He at one time was significant, albeit briefly. Now we are basically strangers, and I like that. I'm friends with many of my exes, but I have no desire to be friends with exes who treat me less than I deserve. I wish him a good life, but I don't want to be apart of it.

I don't regret dating him, because I learned from that relationship. I learned that I need to speak up, and that I don't have to take crap just because I can. I also learned to be hesitant to those who declare love quickly, and I learned how to deal with a man who has kids.

Anyway, I'm going to be careful with what I post. I mention Sam, and I see him that night.

Wait - maybe if I mention Joseph Fiennes or Kenneth Branagh I'll see them today. :)

Joseph Feinnes.

Kenneth Branagh.

Maybe.

Cheers!

Books and Memories

I look at books and have memories, usually of where and when I bought them, to whom I loaned them, feelings I had when I read them.

Take for example.... cheese. Yes, cheese. As I write, I'm sitting at my dining table, snacking on smoked Gouda (the delights of which I discovered 13 years ago while in London - I had a turkey and smoked Gouda sandwich at the Upper Crust... yum). I take a bite and savor the taste and feel - firm, salty and smokey. I instantly remember a passage from "The Kitchen God's Wife," in which a Chinese character is introduced, as an adult, to cheese. The character describes her first taste of cheese as eating something spoiled and she spit it out. I move the Gouda around in my mouth and wonder what I would think of cheese if I had it for the first time as an adult. I love cheese, but I can see where she might sense of bit of spoiled food. Cheese is, after all, a mile biproduct. I still enjoy it, though and for the past 16 years, I think about that book and that description whenever I eat cheese.

Today I saw the film, "The Time Traveler's Wife." I remember the first time I saw the book - I was wandering around a Barnes and Noble, probably about 6 years ago, and it was a read for the book-of-the-month club. Always looking for a great book, I picked it up. I remember being captivated by it almost instantly. I devoured it, sitting on my bed in an apartment in Southside Place, the apartment I shared with an at-the-time boyfriend. He couldn't understand how a book could captivate me. Books easily do that - if I find one I connect with, my life is put on hold until I finish it. In fact, my life was put on hold for almost a month this summer while I read three books by this one author - I stumbled across the first at Half-Priced books and then HAD to read the other two once I finished the first. "The Time Traveler's Wife" did that for me. I laughed, I cried, I resisted peeking at the final pages to see how it would end, I cried again. I was cautious about the film, however, as I usually am in regards to a book that I enjoy immensely. I had no expectations of this film, although I hoped it wouldn't suck. I was pleasantly rewarded for having that hope - I really enjoyed the film. Of course plot points and characters were left out, but I cried for the last 20 minutes of the film - and was happy to because it meant the film carried the novel's essence. Truth to be told, however, the movie made me cry for many reasons.

Afterwards, I went to a place where I knew I had to be: the bookstore. I wandered into Barnes and Noble with a specific book purchase in mind. I suppose I was still saddened by the movie, but I walked around and just looked at people. I often wonder what their lives are like. I watched them, wondering what they did for a living, whether they were happy, whether they had the life that they want. I look at people and try to figure them out. I am a terrible judge of character sometimes, which is why I think I want to figure people out - are they good people or are they bad people? Sometimes it just takes a while to find it out, and frankly, I don't want to take a while to figure that out. My friends know that I don't like surprises - I don't mind knowing the ends of books, the ends of movies.

Anyway, I wandered around, contemplating the world and people who live in it, thinking about how insignificant certain people are in the grand scheme of things. I didn't know the older, pudgy, befreckled man talking to his frumpish companion, both blissfully happy in their conversation. Are they insignificant? Probably not, but I am insignificant to them - I am just another shopper/book lover. Just as they are insignificant to me. My life goes on after merely walking past them.

Perhaps I was being too pensive. Pardon me - I've had another ex-boyfriend shocker today. I've had two men break my hearts, and I've had run-ins with either them or friend of theirs within the past month. The first one who broke my heart, unfortunately, still haunts me with memories of things associated with him. The other is haunting me because a good friend of his is now working at my school.

Perhaps I'm being extra pensive because my current boyfriend is out of town for another week and I feel alone, especially now with these hauntings. I don't feel as confident as I usually feel. Maybe thinking of the past scares me about my future.

I need to get back to books. I bought a book that I hope will envelope me in its story, and right now I need to be enveloped in someone else's story. I'll let you know.

Cheers.

Cooking

I've always fancied myself as someone who plays around in the kitchen and comes up with some pretty good food. Until I watched "Julie and Julia" today. Great movie, by the way - congrats to the author (whose blog is really quite entertaining).

I realized that I don't cook as much as I used to. I was talking to the BF the other night and realized that I haven't cooked him that many meals - whereas I was always cooking for my exes. He and I just eat out too much, which completely separates the need for food and desire of food. I wonder how many people just eat automatically, without enjoying. I figure if I ate better food, I'd enjoy food more for what it is - an art - and focus more on what it can be than what it is.

Does that make sense?

Anyway, I decided to cook when I got home from the movie. The problem is that my pantry and freezer and fridge are relatively devoid of inspirational ingredients, so my meal was a hodgepodge of whatever I could find: fresh kale sauteed in a lemon-white wine-caper-butter sauce (leftover from Tuesday night's original chicken-in-the-above-sauce meal), chicken grilled on the George Forman (with a bit of grill herbs and seasonings on it) and Israeli cous-cous seasoned with a Mediterranean dressing. Completely random combination there!

I think my new goal is to cook one new meal a week, and then see where that goes. I'm scouring all of my collected recipes and books and will come up with dinner Monday night - for tonight and tomorrow night we're off to see Shakespeare and Sunday night is dinner at Mom's.

Cheers!

New Years

It's funny, but for as long as I can remember, I always considered a year to be from September to August, not January to December. My mental calendar looks nothing like the Julian calender so used in most of the world (if not all). For 13 years, I was a public school student, then a college student for 5 years. For 3 years, I wasn't a student, but as management in Starbucks, our fiscal year began in October and ended in December, which is pretty close to my normal schedule. Finally, I've been a high school teacher for 5 years now, and thus the September-August calendar continues.

So while many consider this the end of summer, beginning of fall, I think of it as the beginning of a new year.

So, what do I hope to accomplish this year? As always, I hope to grow in my profession as a teacher - both in terms of relationships with students and lessons that are relevant to society, and yet along the district and state curriculum. I also am beginning graduate classes in three weeks (eek!), so I hope to earn A's in those classes and write papers that may guide me in my thesis-seeking and writing. I hope to travel more this year - the only places I went last year were San Antonio and Memphis - neither really worth great celebrations (although I enjoyed, relatively, both). This year's travels will take me to Philadelphia in the fall for a convention, followed by a drive through New England, where I will end up in Vermont for a few days. Then, hopefully a trip to NY will occur, so I can visit with my dear friend Christine and, depending on when I go, either see her in the end of her pregnancy or meet her new baby! Next summer will hopefully consist of either a cruise or a trip to Europe (although I might save and wait for Europe the following year, which will coincide with my thesis-writing, and maybe I can do some primary source research while I am there).

I went to my classroom today to begin getting it ready, although I do not go back for over a week. I felt my heart soar when I walked into the room. I didn't quite enjoy pushing the heavy furniture around and relocating my desks, filing cabinets and bookshelves to their normal places, but it felt good to just be in the room. Tomorrow I'll go back and begin unpacking. Next week I'll go in for a few days and work as well. My goal is to have everything done before I have to, so that I can work on lessons and such during our work days. Knowing me, I might even have my lessons done by then!

Over the past couple of years, I've suffered some injuries. Almost three years ago I messed up my knee. I've acquired impingement tendonitis in both of my shoulders and I have cartilage damage and tendonitis in my left ankle. Finally, almost two weeks ago, I busted my knee again (and the bruising is just now going down). Those injuries have really brought me down. I used to say I am a runner. Now I say I WAS a runner. My orthopedic doctor told me I'd never run a full marathon again and he doesn't recommend the successive training I've put myself through. But I am going to work with that. I'm signing up for the Surfside half-marathon in February and I'll walk it. And once I've dropped the weight I've gained this past year, I'll start jogging slowly and smaller distances. And eventually I'll jog half marathons again, but I'm going to walk for a while.

The heat is on - I will complete my 6th half marathon in February, followed by my 7th in March. And eventually, I'll complete a 4th full marathon - even if I'm walking it.

Cheers!