I still shocks me how much To Kill a Mockingbird sucks me in. I've read it 5, 6 times, the first time being in 8th grade when it was assigned reading for English.
And, yes, I read new things into it each time. When I broke up the aforementioned chapter one into sections, I realized the obvious shift in Scout's narrative from "Arthur" to "Boo." She describes Arthur's first court case, the one involving locking the town cop in the bathroom, and Mr. Radley asks to release Arthur to him instead of sending him to the industrial school. The last sentence there is something about not seeing Arthur for 15 years. The next paragraph is when we no longer see "Arthur," and "Boo" is adopted for the duration of the description. Cool.
I sat down at the beginning of my prep to read chapter 7, though, and underline vocab in my copy - the one I bought for my 8th grade English class. By the time I'd completed 3 pages of chapter 7, I had forgotten to underline vocab, and I read straight through to chapter 9 before I looked up at the class and realized the lunch bell was going to ring. That's dangerous.
But I really love this book. I feel like I slogged through some things this year because I don't love them the way I love TKAM, or even Odyssey and R&J. I know I need to find the passion in the other things. I'll work on it over the summer. In the meantime, I love TKAM.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Sappy
I used to not cry at these weird newborn baby pictures. I do, now that I had my own and understood all the feelings behind these pictures. A post-hip mini-chick.
I cried.
I cried.
Rampant apathy
The man who is organizing next year's WASC visit is in the classroom next to me. He asked me to give my students a survey about their happiness with regard to school. I gave it to them today. Two things:
1) My 9th graders don't know what the word "adequate" means, but they know how to pronounce it.
2) One student, who I truly don't like, asked, "Can I just fill in 'no opinion' for all of the questions?" When I told him that this survey was an example of the adults asking him opinion about his school, he replied with a shrug, "I'm not going to this school next year anyway." [Insert here that he'll be going to a continuation school program like his sister is until he gets his act together.] Me: "You've made some friends here. Do you want them to have a good experience?" Him: "I guess." Me: pointing at the scantron and survey, "Then answer honestly."
I'm so afraid.
1) My 9th graders don't know what the word "adequate" means, but they know how to pronounce it.
2) One student, who I truly don't like, asked, "Can I just fill in 'no opinion' for all of the questions?" When I told him that this survey was an example of the adults asking him opinion about his school, he replied with a shrug, "I'm not going to this school next year anyway." [Insert here that he'll be going to a continuation school program like his sister is until he gets his act together.] Me: "You've made some friends here. Do you want them to have a good experience?" Him: "I guess." Me: pointing at the scantron and survey, "Then answer honestly."
I'm so afraid.
Growing up, up, up, up, up, up - UP (Ani-style)
My dad did a tour of service in Viet Nam. It was cut short when his shoulder was shot off. In the MASH unit, they told him they'd have to cut off his left arm. When he was transported back to Valley Forge hospital, the surgeons tried a risky experiment on my father that they hoped would help him keep his shoulder. They'd never done it before.
It appeared the damage was in the ball of the ball-and-socket part of his shoulder. They couldn't do much for the muscles and nerves there, but they could possibly fix the damage in the socket. So they sheered off the top part of the ball, replaced it with a semi-sphere of calcium, literally bolted it in with a metal bolt, and then closed him up. They hoped the body would use the calcium to regenerate itself, and that it wouln't reject the metal too much.
It worked for the most part, although Dad was feverish for a few days. Therapy sucked, but it was better than amputation. The end of the bolt calloused over, the calcium did help with the healing process, and my dad walked out of the hospital with use of his left arm... and my mom on it.
He had a limited range of motion, and playing anything but sports with his newborn son was mostly out of the question. The advent of drive-up human tellers and then ATMs was annoying, since he couldn't lift his arm high enough in a car to use the drawer and buttons. Drive-thru food places were annoying, too. They he hit a health kick and decided to park and walk in to anywhere that otherwise had a drive-in.
When I was in high school, the callous around his bolt was damaged, and he went through a series of nasty surgeries at the VA hospital, but ultimately everything healed again.
-
My dad is a staunch Republican.
He started working for wages when he was 10, brought them home to contribute to the family. He worked through high school to afford clothes, dates, and a car he shared with my uncle. He worked through college - until he was drafted - to afford the expensive education. When he came home from Viet Nam slightly injured, with no college education, a wife, and a soon-to-be baby, he took a retail job and worked himself through night school, until he became too frustrated with that. Ultimately, he got a sales job with an industrial supplies firm, worked his way up to director of several sale divisions, and traveled all over the US, Canada, and Europe showing others what to do. All without a college diploma.
My mom is a bleeding-heart liberal, though, so when they voted - and they always vote - well, mom used to laugh because they canceled each other out on almost everything.
Dad said that he always voted Republican. He doesn't do it blindly, but the conservative/Republican candidates and issues have always appealed to him more. After all, he was able to work for his money, had traditional Catholic values, and believes that big business can do a lot to benefit the nations.
-
My dad voted almost completely liberal in the past election. In Ohio, a swing state.
I was so proud of him. My little boy's grown up. /me grins
It appeared the damage was in the ball of the ball-and-socket part of his shoulder. They couldn't do much for the muscles and nerves there, but they could possibly fix the damage in the socket. So they sheered off the top part of the ball, replaced it with a semi-sphere of calcium, literally bolted it in with a metal bolt, and then closed him up. They hoped the body would use the calcium to regenerate itself, and that it wouln't reject the metal too much.
It worked for the most part, although Dad was feverish for a few days. Therapy sucked, but it was better than amputation. The end of the bolt calloused over, the calcium did help with the healing process, and my dad walked out of the hospital with use of his left arm... and my mom on it.
He had a limited range of motion, and playing anything but sports with his newborn son was mostly out of the question. The advent of drive-up human tellers and then ATMs was annoying, since he couldn't lift his arm high enough in a car to use the drawer and buttons. Drive-thru food places were annoying, too. They he hit a health kick and decided to park and walk in to anywhere that otherwise had a drive-in.
When I was in high school, the callous around his bolt was damaged, and he went through a series of nasty surgeries at the VA hospital, but ultimately everything healed again.
-
My dad is a staunch Republican.
He started working for wages when he was 10, brought them home to contribute to the family. He worked through high school to afford clothes, dates, and a car he shared with my uncle. He worked through college - until he was drafted - to afford the expensive education. When he came home from Viet Nam slightly injured, with no college education, a wife, and a soon-to-be baby, he took a retail job and worked himself through night school, until he became too frustrated with that. Ultimately, he got a sales job with an industrial supplies firm, worked his way up to director of several sale divisions, and traveled all over the US, Canada, and Europe showing others what to do. All without a college diploma.
My mom is a bleeding-heart liberal, though, so when they voted - and they always vote - well, mom used to laugh because they canceled each other out on almost everything.
Dad said that he always voted Republican. He doesn't do it blindly, but the conservative/Republican candidates and issues have always appealed to him more. After all, he was able to work for his money, had traditional Catholic values, and believes that big business can do a lot to benefit the nations.
-
My dad voted almost completely liberal in the past election. In Ohio, a swing state.
I was so proud of him. My little boy's grown up. /me grins
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Ridiculous
I just spent the last three hours cleaning out my home email box. Three hours. Replying to emails, filing emails, printing out important papers, saving photos, downloading lessons people sent me. Ridiculous.
But, there's good news. If you've sent me an email to my home account in the last 4 months, you have probably received a reply now. And my in box is down to 30 messages (anything in the inbox still needs to be acted on... oy) and my other main box - the Las Madres stuff - is down to less than 25. Rock on.
Pleased as punch, and no one understands.
But, there's good news. If you've sent me an email to my home account in the last 4 months, you have probably received a reply now. And my in box is down to 30 messages (anything in the inbox still needs to be acted on... oy) and my other main box - the Las Madres stuff - is down to less than 25. Rock on.
Pleased as punch, and no one understands.
Too much, too little, too late
So one of the lessons that I wrote personally - no help, little inspiration, no stealing - to begin To Kill a Mockingbird is failing miserably today. Bleh.
Inspired by a former teaching professor, I decided to take the first chapter and chop it into manageable pieces. Each student got half to a full page, and then I also underlined key words/phrases to understanding the passage. Each student was told to practice reading the passage, define the words or phrases, and then figure out what information they learn (about Atticus, Scout, Jem, and Dill plus the general setting) from the passage - independent of the context of the rest of the chapter.
Today, they sat in the order their passages came in the book. Number one mistake - I thought I was doing a good job separating the students who talked to each other, but in the first two periods so far I've made some MAJOR mistakes without noticing it. I had pre-assigned them passages, but I guess I was not careful enough in checking the order. Grrr.
Number two mistake - too much to do! The chapter has 19 different parts, and my first two classes so far got through 7 and 6, respectively. With reading out loud, defining words, talking about character and setting, rephrasing... too much to do in one class period! When I read the chapter out loud, it took 25 minutes, so I figured the kids reading out loud and answering a few questions would easily fit into a 53 minute segment. Uh, no. I needed to focus on either reading with periodic stops for discussion; characterization; setting; or definitions/vocabulary. Not all of it!
Number three mistake - too little, too late. The kind of expectations I had for my students for today's lesson should have been established earlier in the year. They had trouble finding the right meaning for a multiple meaning word mentioned in their part of the chapter. They didn't know where to go to look up historical allusions (like "disturbance between the North and the South" - even though we talked about the Civil War yesterday). They didn't know how to read into minute details to get characterization (like the "unsullied Code of Alabama" in Atticus's office).
So now I'm afraid that I'm going to start this book - which is fairly long and fairly difficult - and not finish it. Do I sacrifice some of the difficult parts of the story and potentially engaging activities/discussions for completion in reading? Or do I sacrifice the critical thinking aspect to at least build up their cultural intelligence? I plan to spend a lot of time reading in class, since most of my students have trouble completing homework (reading or otherwise) outside of class. Plus, all I have is a class set (20 books) for 59 students in three periods.
I have a unit plan, but now I'm looking at it trying to figure out what to cut and what not to. It's all good, it's all important, it's all key. But the end of the year crunch is terrible.
Inspired by a former teaching professor, I decided to take the first chapter and chop it into manageable pieces. Each student got half to a full page, and then I also underlined key words/phrases to understanding the passage. Each student was told to practice reading the passage, define the words or phrases, and then figure out what information they learn (about Atticus, Scout, Jem, and Dill plus the general setting) from the passage - independent of the context of the rest of the chapter.
Today, they sat in the order their passages came in the book. Number one mistake - I thought I was doing a good job separating the students who talked to each other, but in the first two periods so far I've made some MAJOR mistakes without noticing it. I had pre-assigned them passages, but I guess I was not careful enough in checking the order. Grrr.
Number two mistake - too much to do! The chapter has 19 different parts, and my first two classes so far got through 7 and 6, respectively. With reading out loud, defining words, talking about character and setting, rephrasing... too much to do in one class period! When I read the chapter out loud, it took 25 minutes, so I figured the kids reading out loud and answering a few questions would easily fit into a 53 minute segment. Uh, no. I needed to focus on either reading with periodic stops for discussion; characterization; setting; or definitions/vocabulary. Not all of it!
Number three mistake - too little, too late. The kind of expectations I had for my students for today's lesson should have been established earlier in the year. They had trouble finding the right meaning for a multiple meaning word mentioned in their part of the chapter. They didn't know where to go to look up historical allusions (like "disturbance between the North and the South" - even though we talked about the Civil War yesterday). They didn't know how to read into minute details to get characterization (like the "unsullied Code of Alabama" in Atticus's office).
So now I'm afraid that I'm going to start this book - which is fairly long and fairly difficult - and not finish it. Do I sacrifice some of the difficult parts of the story and potentially engaging activities/discussions for completion in reading? Or do I sacrifice the critical thinking aspect to at least build up their cultural intelligence? I plan to spend a lot of time reading in class, since most of my students have trouble completing homework (reading or otherwise) outside of class. Plus, all I have is a class set (20 books) for 59 students in three periods.
I have a unit plan, but now I'm looking at it trying to figure out what to cut and what not to. It's all good, it's all important, it's all key. But the end of the year crunch is terrible.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Clueless
Our tax preparer finished our taxes, and we're getting a couple hundred from state, but owe federal over $2,000. Since we were not prepared for that (we've gotten money back from both the last few years), we were unsure where the money was coming from. Not much savings available, need to set some money aside in checking for bills. My daughter's richer than us right now. This is what happened this evening.
Joe: Hey, Claire, can I borrow $2,000?
Claire: Um, um, um, um, um... no.
Joe: I'll give you a pretzel with peanut butter in it if you will. [Reader: Think Combo-like snacks that Target sells.]
Claire: Okay. They're up there. (points toward Joe's Easter basket)
Joe: (opens the container) Here. Actually, take two.
Claire: (taking two pretzels with peanut butter) Why?
Joe: Because you're doing me a favor. Thank you.
Claire: Oh, thank you.
Joe: Hey, Claire, can I borrow $2,000?
Claire: Um, um, um, um, um... no.
Joe: I'll give you a pretzel with peanut butter in it if you will. [Reader: Think Combo-like snacks that Target sells.]
Claire: Okay. They're up there. (points toward Joe's Easter basket)
Joe: (opens the container) Here. Actually, take two.
Claire: (taking two pretzels with peanut butter) Why?
Joe: Because you're doing me a favor. Thank you.
Claire: Oh, thank you.
Friday, April 14, 2006
It's hard out here...
I normally stay away from gang movies, or those that appear to have a great deal of guns or violence and cussing. I am just not that type of person.
But Joe and I casually watch Ebert and Roper every week. We don't normally GO to movies, but we like to think we're staying abreast of that medium and pop culture in general. They highly rated and recommended Hustle and Flow, a movie I would not typically be attracted to because of its content. But the idea of a pimp working his way out of the job and into the arts, well... that attracted me. I'd love to see it happen with some of my kids and their drug dealing/violence.
Then I saw the Oscars show. And the performance of "It's Hard Out Here (for a Pimp)." Um, yeah. While Queen Latifah's introduction and wrap-up of it was hysterical (and I'm a closet Latifah fan), I was not sure it was the kind of song I could appreciate in any movie. All the same, Joe and I agreed that it wouldn't hurt to Netflix the movie and see what all the hype was about. If we hated the beginning, we could send it back. So we watched it last night, even though I just wanted to go to bed early.
Wow.
Good movie. Sadly, the cussing and "adult themes" did not make me flinch as much as it did some of the characters. Desensitization - the topic of my senior research paper in high school. I really liked it. I was even shouting at Djay, the main character, when I didn't want him to do stuff toward the end. That's how you know I'm interested.
But this morning, both Joe and I had "It's Hard Out Here (for a Pimp)" stuck in our head. I was humming it during 4th period while I waited for kids to copy down some comprehension questions into their notebooks. Luckily, none of the kids recognized it, but then I told one of the kids I thought about him last night. I figured it would be a movie he would enjoy, if he hadn't already seen it. So then the kids wanted to know if I knew the song, and begged me to sing the chorus, which I DID NOT.
All the same. Still funny. I can't help but shake the feeling that the kids think I'm too old to really like it and I'm a poser. Which is fine. They can if they want.
But Joe and I casually watch Ebert and Roper every week. We don't normally GO to movies, but we like to think we're staying abreast of that medium and pop culture in general. They highly rated and recommended Hustle and Flow, a movie I would not typically be attracted to because of its content. But the idea of a pimp working his way out of the job and into the arts, well... that attracted me. I'd love to see it happen with some of my kids and their drug dealing/violence.
Then I saw the Oscars show. And the performance of "It's Hard Out Here (for a Pimp)." Um, yeah. While Queen Latifah's introduction and wrap-up of it was hysterical (and I'm a closet Latifah fan), I was not sure it was the kind of song I could appreciate in any movie. All the same, Joe and I agreed that it wouldn't hurt to Netflix the movie and see what all the hype was about. If we hated the beginning, we could send it back. So we watched it last night, even though I just wanted to go to bed early.
Wow.
Good movie. Sadly, the cussing and "adult themes" did not make me flinch as much as it did some of the characters. Desensitization - the topic of my senior research paper in high school. I really liked it. I was even shouting at Djay, the main character, when I didn't want him to do stuff toward the end. That's how you know I'm interested.
But this morning, both Joe and I had "It's Hard Out Here (for a Pimp)" stuck in our head. I was humming it during 4th period while I waited for kids to copy down some comprehension questions into their notebooks. Luckily, none of the kids recognized it, but then I told one of the kids I thought about him last night. I figured it would be a movie he would enjoy, if he hadn't already seen it. So then the kids wanted to know if I knew the song, and begged me to sing the chorus, which I DID NOT.
All the same. Still funny. I can't help but shake the feeling that the kids think I'm too old to really like it and I'm a poser. Which is fine. They can if they want.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
I can't even get common prep periods...
... and this guy thinks he can get the world to adopt a new weekly schedule?! I can't determine if he's serious or not.
I'm not a big fan of Daylight Savings Time either. Some people would like to rewrite the entire idea of time and calendar as we know it, though. Funny.
I'm not a big fan of Daylight Savings Time either. Some people would like to rewrite the entire idea of time and calendar as we know it, though. Funny.
Zak and Sara
I'm not sure if I'm PMS'ing or if it was a stress release from the previous days of STAR testing and grading or if it was a stress release to ramp up for the stress ahead including Easter brunch at my place and the in-laws visiting. (I know, fragment. Deal.) But I cried yesterday, on the way home from school. Not a big cry, but I did. The trigger? You'll never believe: "Zak and Sara" on the car stereo.
Some songs I exact to cry to. "American Pie" and "Vincent" from Don McLean get me frequently. "Louise" from Beth Amsel gets me tearing up a little, too. My mom used to sing me "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," so I'll cry to that when I'm not watching the movie.
But "Zak and Sara"? Come on... is there a more odd song to cry to?
Some songs I exact to cry to. "American Pie" and "Vincent" from Don McLean get me frequently. "Louise" from Beth Amsel gets me tearing up a little, too. My mom used to sing me "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," so I'll cry to that when I'm not watching the movie.
But "Zak and Sara"? Come on... is there a more odd song to cry to?
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
BNL: Be with me tonight!
My husband loaded up the iPod with the car, but only did A-D before he got bored and copied over all of the Peter Mulvey catalog. So I hear entire collections of Mr. Peter Mulvey, Beautiful South, some Beatles, lots of Ben Folds and Ben Folds Five, Blues Traveler, Bob Dylan, Bruce Cockburn, Bruce Springsteen, Bruce Hornsby, Christina Abbot, Cake, Chris Smither, Christopher Williams, David Bowie, Dan Burn, Dave Carter & Tracy Grammer, Dave Matthews and his Band, and Domestic Problems. It's amazing how many groups in A-D hubby did not copy over, and most of them are "my music." I think this is odd, since I'm the one driving the friggin' minivan 90% of the time.
All the same, I've been listening to a lot of Barenaked Ladies lately, and remembering again why I liked them so much. All their albums, including the recent not-good ones, are on the iPod. My daughter jives to "Another Postcard (from Chimpanzees)" and a few others.
I was reminded of one of BNL's songs, though, when I woke from a bad dream tonight. I am under a tad bit of stress: testing this week, grades due tomorrow, grant running out with no further implementation plans, in-laws coming next week, friends coming for Easter dinner on Sunday. And that's just the big stuff looming. The last few nights, once I wake from a bad dream, the remainder of the night is restless and I don't feel refreshed when Joe's alarm goes off.
When I wake from bad dreams, I normally need to reassure myself that all is well with the world, so I shuffle over to my daughter's room to tuck her in and assuage my fears that she's stopped breathing. As per usual, tonight she'd kicked off all the sheets and was sprawled in the middle of the mattress with her head off the pillow and almost off the bed. So I shimmied her up the mattress, covered her and tucked her in, and rubbed her back a tad to ensure she'd go back to sleep.
However, when I stopped, she rolled over with her arms up in the air and her eyes barely open. Inner thought: "Shit, I woke her, it's 3am, and she's not going to go back to sleep!" However, instead, she said in her sleepy voice, stretching up to me, "I want you to sleep with me." Awww. Skipping over the impossibility of that in a toddler bed with my height and my weight, my heart melted.
I knelt back down next to her bed, put my head on her pillow, and pretended to sleep again. When I made a move to get up, she tried to grab me around my neck, saying "Don't leave me." At this point, I recognized this pattern as one from the morning wake-up routine: I try to wake her up some; she rolls over and ignores me; I tell her I'm going into my bedroom to get dressed; she asks me not to leave and starts to drag herself up to a sitting position in bed. At 3am, I did not want the last of those steps to occur, so I told her that it wasn't time to get up and I was only tucking her in.
/toddler pauses
"Otay." She rolled toward the wall, cuddled her Curious George stuffed animal and her mostly-naked baby, and went back to sleep. Cute!
When I got back to bed, my husband berated me for waking up our daughter (which he heard over the baby monitor in our room), and I remembered again that he just doesn't get it. After a bad dream like the one I had, she is the only thing that I have to re-center me and remind me why I do everything.
All the same, I've been listening to a lot of Barenaked Ladies lately, and remembering again why I liked them so much. All their albums, including the recent not-good ones, are on the iPod. My daughter jives to "Another Postcard (from Chimpanzees)" and a few others.
I was reminded of one of BNL's songs, though, when I woke from a bad dream tonight. I am under a tad bit of stress: testing this week, grades due tomorrow, grant running out with no further implementation plans, in-laws coming next week, friends coming for Easter dinner on Sunday. And that's just the big stuff looming. The last few nights, once I wake from a bad dream, the remainder of the night is restless and I don't feel refreshed when Joe's alarm goes off.
When I wake from bad dreams, I normally need to reassure myself that all is well with the world, so I shuffle over to my daughter's room to tuck her in and assuage my fears that she's stopped breathing. As per usual, tonight she'd kicked off all the sheets and was sprawled in the middle of the mattress with her head off the pillow and almost off the bed. So I shimmied her up the mattress, covered her and tucked her in, and rubbed her back a tad to ensure she'd go back to sleep.
However, when I stopped, she rolled over with her arms up in the air and her eyes barely open. Inner thought: "Shit, I woke her, it's 3am, and she's not going to go back to sleep!" However, instead, she said in her sleepy voice, stretching up to me, "I want you to sleep with me." Awww. Skipping over the impossibility of that in a toddler bed with my height and my weight, my heart melted.
I knelt back down next to her bed, put my head on her pillow, and pretended to sleep again. When I made a move to get up, she tried to grab me around my neck, saying "Don't leave me." At this point, I recognized this pattern as one from the morning wake-up routine: I try to wake her up some; she rolls over and ignores me; I tell her I'm going into my bedroom to get dressed; she asks me not to leave and starts to drag herself up to a sitting position in bed. At 3am, I did not want the last of those steps to occur, so I told her that it wasn't time to get up and I was only tucking her in.
/toddler pauses
"Otay." She rolled toward the wall, cuddled her Curious George stuffed animal and her mostly-naked baby, and went back to sleep. Cute!
When I got back to bed, my husband berated me for waking up our daughter (which he heard over the baby monitor in our room), and I remembered again that he just doesn't get it. After a bad dream like the one I had, she is the only thing that I have to re-center me and remind me why I do everything.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Beastie Boys
My daughter is definitely the child of her father. This morning, when I was getting my hair up and she was wandering around, I asked her if she could do me a favor. She said, in true Beastie Boys fashion, "What chu, what chu, what chu want?" I laughed because I recognized the reference. Then she said, "What's the lines, Mommy?" She wanted me to sing the rest of "So What Cha Want", which I can't do. Her father can.
Sigh. Can we go back to Raffi and Elmo?
Sigh. Can we go back to Raffi and Elmo?
Monday, April 10, 2006
Boy friends
I'm ramping up to read To Kill a Mockingbird during the last grading period this year. I was reminded, in reading through the first few chapters and flipping through my lesson binder, how much I like Scout. She's such a tomboy, and the book is so much about her loss of innocence, which is a good loss in her case. I love her greatly.
My daughter is something of a tomboy, but I imagine she'll grow into a bigger one eventually. She's always the climber, and normally a big risk-taker. She doesn't hit mostly, although she can shout passionately on the playground with the rest of the boys. She loves splashing in puddles, playing in mud, and doesn't care a wink about the dirt stains Mommy scrubs at on the knees of all of her pants. Last month, she was going through a phase where she loved playing with the woodchips on the playground at school, and got a TON of splinters to show for it. But after a few good tweezes and some tears, she'd be back in the woodchips again, not caring about the consequences.
We are the honorary members of two mini-playgroups through my mothers' group. One meets on Monday afternoons and one meets one Wednesday afternoons. I always have management meetings on Mondays and I normally have SLC meetings on Wednesdays, so I don't get to more than two, possibly three of these playdates per month. Most of the time, there is only one boy at the playdates; let's call him... Garrett.
My daughter has a "buddy" from school, a boy named... Adam?, that she refers to as her "buddy." She can only have one buddy, evidentally, and her school friend is it. So when we go to playdate, the boy there... Garrett... Claire never calls him her "buddy" or "friend" because she can only have one "buddy." I tried to explain to her that she can have more than one friend that's a boy, but she didn't believe me.
This is my history, though. In pre-school and kindergarten days, I lived next door to and played regularly with a family of four boys, not to mention the other boys in the neighborhood. I played baseball and whole-block hide-n-seek nightly. I was invited to their football birthday parties. In junior high, when the girls shunned me for not shaving my legs and liking the band Queen, I mostly hung out with a group of 7 or 8 guys, 3 of which were my biggest crushes, even going into high school. In high school, I spent my Friday or Saturday nights in the fall hanging out with my brother school's marching band at football games, and then spent the other 3 seasons talking to them on the phone, planning retreats with them through my church group, and attending basketball games with those in the prep band. That's how I met my husband! In college, I was constantly hanging out with guys - crushes, but nothing more, although there were some serious rumors going around - and doing non-date stuff with them. After college, I shared an apartment with my now-husband and his guy roommate, and we spent a ton of time with his guy friends in Ann Arbor and out here, after his friends and then we moved to the left coast.
But now? I have few guy friends. When I was trying to explain to my daughter that she can have more than one friend that's a boy, I could not be the example, really. I told her, "I have more than one boy-buddy. I have Daddy..." And then I was at a loss! Neighbors? Nope: lesbian couple, single woman, single mom. People from my playgroup? Nope; they're mostly moms, although I know a few of the husbands. Other friends? Maybe Jeff, the husband of a friend, but we don't see them much. People at school? Claire's met Paul and Bjorn and Dan, so I guess I could count them. But I really was at a loss. So I named my co-workers and left it at that.
Claire, in her cute toddler way, said, "Nooooo. And Uncle Brian!" Oh, right, I forgot. My brother, who I just talked to for 30 minutes last Friday, and 10 more minutes on Sunday. Duh.
Thank God I have my daughter around; she helps me remember who my REAL friends are.
My daughter is something of a tomboy, but I imagine she'll grow into a bigger one eventually. She's always the climber, and normally a big risk-taker. She doesn't hit mostly, although she can shout passionately on the playground with the rest of the boys. She loves splashing in puddles, playing in mud, and doesn't care a wink about the dirt stains Mommy scrubs at on the knees of all of her pants. Last month, she was going through a phase where she loved playing with the woodchips on the playground at school, and got a TON of splinters to show for it. But after a few good tweezes and some tears, she'd be back in the woodchips again, not caring about the consequences.
We are the honorary members of two mini-playgroups through my mothers' group. One meets on Monday afternoons and one meets one Wednesday afternoons. I always have management meetings on Mondays and I normally have SLC meetings on Wednesdays, so I don't get to more than two, possibly three of these playdates per month. Most of the time, there is only one boy at the playdates; let's call him... Garrett.
My daughter has a "buddy" from school, a boy named... Adam?, that she refers to as her "buddy." She can only have one buddy, evidentally, and her school friend is it. So when we go to playdate, the boy there... Garrett... Claire never calls him her "buddy" or "friend" because she can only have one "buddy." I tried to explain to her that she can have more than one friend that's a boy, but she didn't believe me.
This is my history, though. In pre-school and kindergarten days, I lived next door to and played regularly with a family of four boys, not to mention the other boys in the neighborhood. I played baseball and whole-block hide-n-seek nightly. I was invited to their football birthday parties. In junior high, when the girls shunned me for not shaving my legs and liking the band Queen, I mostly hung out with a group of 7 or 8 guys, 3 of which were my biggest crushes, even going into high school. In high school, I spent my Friday or Saturday nights in the fall hanging out with my brother school's marching band at football games, and then spent the other 3 seasons talking to them on the phone, planning retreats with them through my church group, and attending basketball games with those in the prep band. That's how I met my husband! In college, I was constantly hanging out with guys - crushes, but nothing more, although there were some serious rumors going around - and doing non-date stuff with them. After college, I shared an apartment with my now-husband and his guy roommate, and we spent a ton of time with his guy friends in Ann Arbor and out here, after his friends and then we moved to the left coast.
But now? I have few guy friends. When I was trying to explain to my daughter that she can have more than one friend that's a boy, I could not be the example, really. I told her, "I have more than one boy-buddy. I have Daddy..." And then I was at a loss! Neighbors? Nope: lesbian couple, single woman, single mom. People from my playgroup? Nope; they're mostly moms, although I know a few of the husbands. Other friends? Maybe Jeff, the husband of a friend, but we don't see them much. People at school? Claire's met Paul and Bjorn and Dan, so I guess I could count them. But I really was at a loss. So I named my co-workers and left it at that.
Claire, in her cute toddler way, said, "Nooooo. And Uncle Brian!" Oh, right, I forgot. My brother, who I just talked to for 30 minutes last Friday, and 10 more minutes on Sunday. Duh.
Thank God I have my daughter around; she helps me remember who my REAL friends are.
Book club slacker
I'm in a book club with my mother's group. Actually, I started the book club. =) We started it last September, and we read a new book each month. We pick books 4 months at a time, with the fourth month being a "free read." I've written about the book club before. We've read Kite Runner, Long Way Down, and My Sister's Keeper, all of which I read and liked. The group (but not I) has also read I Don't Know How She Does It (which they thought was stupid), Little Earthquakes (which they liked as a beach read), and Three Junes (which so many people didn't read that the meeting attendance was 50% less than usual).
While the group was reading Three Junes, I tried to read it, and then gave up. I decided I needed to fine a book that I didn't have to think about as much. So I picked up Pride and Prejudice and re-read it. =) After I was done, I started on a road of strange books. Allow me to explain.
1) Heart on my Sleeve - Senior in high school visits an arts college, falls in love with it, and then falls in love with a guy there, also a senior visiting. They begin to have an email romance from their respective states, but they both have romantic interests at home, too. Eventually, they meet up in person to find out that they are not compatible at all. In the meantime, the girl goes to an all-summer resident arts camp, where she is very disillusioned with the camp staff that she used to look up to. You have no idea how much this book resonates with my life - internet crushes, resident camp, the disillusionment thing. The book is all the better because Dar Williams (and other folky people like John Prine, John Gorka, Jim's Big Ego, and Cheryl Wheeler) figures prominently in the narrative, and I learned about Dar Williams from a resident camp friend (Dopey, for those wondering). Don't worry, donnagirl and Lynne, you're getting a mix once the next paycheck comes.
2) After finishing that one, I started reading Watch Your Mouth, written by Daniel Handler, who is apparently Lemony Snicket's "press agent." This book is about a college student, who goes home with his girlfriend (Cynthia, or "Cyn" for short) for the summer to live at her house and work at the local Jewish day camp. He soon finds out that his girlfriend is having sex with her father and her brother, and her mother is lusting after the brother. Once the mom finds out that her husband is having sex with her daughter, she builds a golem to get revenge. The mom suddenly dies thereafter, the golem kills the girlfriend at the funeral, and then slowly attacks everyone else throughout the book. Add to this that the story is told as an opera, complete with description of when the tymbani swells, when the golem's cello theme begins, and when the curtain drops. Completely strange. Now I know why Daniel Handler writes under two names: this book includes such graphic and somewhat crude sexual detail (almost all of Cyn's sexual encounters are described)! As a reader, I'd find an author I liked and read everything, no matter which section of the library I found the books in. Lemony Snicket readers should not be reading this one (or Basic Eight). I'm not sure if I want to read his new one, which just came out last week.
3) In browsing through the book store recently, I found a book whose title sounded like "Girl's All-Night Diner." It seemed like an interesting title, cover, and description (which I skimmed VERY quickly), that I bought it. Once I started it, though, I realized the book was called Gil's All-Fright Diner. It's basically about two Texan friends, a vampire named Earl and a werewolf named Duke, traveling through Rockwood. They stop at a diner to get some grub (well, the werewolf does, and Earl wanders off to find cold cow blood, which he hates). The diner has a zombie problem, so they stay on to help exterminate them. Then come the ghouls, the ghost that Earl falls in love with, a portal to the Underworld, and a 17yo sex-kitten high priestess of black magic. Completely funny and quickly engaging, I really enjoyed it. Turns out, it got an Alex Award this year, so I'm glad I'm in good company... even if it's not the book I thought I was getting.
4) Now I'm reading American Gods, finally. The first scene has a prostitute literally take her customer into her body through her vulva. Then, we find out about an ex-con who gets out two days early because his wife and best friend/future employer died in a car accident. He is picked up by a man named Mr. Wednesday, who I can only assume is an "old god," and then threatened by the "new gods," to not f*ck with them. Joe, my husband, says it's a really good book, but I'm a tad bit concerned. But the continuation of the story, Anansi Boys is another Alex Award winner, so... bonus?
I'm thinking about going back to Jane Austen after Anansi Boys. What a weird combo of stories I've picked up lately.
While the group was reading Three Junes, I tried to read it, and then gave up. I decided I needed to fine a book that I didn't have to think about as much. So I picked up Pride and Prejudice and re-read it. =) After I was done, I started on a road of strange books. Allow me to explain.
1) Heart on my Sleeve - Senior in high school visits an arts college, falls in love with it, and then falls in love with a guy there, also a senior visiting. They begin to have an email romance from their respective states, but they both have romantic interests at home, too. Eventually, they meet up in person to find out that they are not compatible at all. In the meantime, the girl goes to an all-summer resident arts camp, where she is very disillusioned with the camp staff that she used to look up to. You have no idea how much this book resonates with my life - internet crushes, resident camp, the disillusionment thing. The book is all the better because Dar Williams (and other folky people like John Prine, John Gorka, Jim's Big Ego, and Cheryl Wheeler) figures prominently in the narrative, and I learned about Dar Williams from a resident camp friend (Dopey, for those wondering). Don't worry, donnagirl and Lynne, you're getting a mix once the next paycheck comes.
2) After finishing that one, I started reading Watch Your Mouth, written by Daniel Handler, who is apparently Lemony Snicket's "press agent." This book is about a college student, who goes home with his girlfriend (Cynthia, or "Cyn" for short) for the summer to live at her house and work at the local Jewish day camp. He soon finds out that his girlfriend is having sex with her father and her brother, and her mother is lusting after the brother. Once the mom finds out that her husband is having sex with her daughter, she builds a golem to get revenge. The mom suddenly dies thereafter, the golem kills the girlfriend at the funeral, and then slowly attacks everyone else throughout the book. Add to this that the story is told as an opera, complete with description of when the tymbani swells, when the golem's cello theme begins, and when the curtain drops. Completely strange. Now I know why Daniel Handler writes under two names: this book includes such graphic and somewhat crude sexual detail (almost all of Cyn's sexual encounters are described)! As a reader, I'd find an author I liked and read everything, no matter which section of the library I found the books in. Lemony Snicket readers should not be reading this one (or Basic Eight). I'm not sure if I want to read his new one, which just came out last week.
3) In browsing through the book store recently, I found a book whose title sounded like "Girl's All-Night Diner." It seemed like an interesting title, cover, and description (which I skimmed VERY quickly), that I bought it. Once I started it, though, I realized the book was called Gil's All-Fright Diner. It's basically about two Texan friends, a vampire named Earl and a werewolf named Duke, traveling through Rockwood. They stop at a diner to get some grub (well, the werewolf does, and Earl wanders off to find cold cow blood, which he hates). The diner has a zombie problem, so they stay on to help exterminate them. Then come the ghouls, the ghost that Earl falls in love with, a portal to the Underworld, and a 17yo sex-kitten high priestess of black magic. Completely funny and quickly engaging, I really enjoyed it. Turns out, it got an Alex Award this year, so I'm glad I'm in good company... even if it's not the book I thought I was getting.
4) Now I'm reading American Gods, finally. The first scene has a prostitute literally take her customer into her body through her vulva. Then, we find out about an ex-con who gets out two days early because his wife and best friend/future employer died in a car accident. He is picked up by a man named Mr. Wednesday, who I can only assume is an "old god," and then threatened by the "new gods," to not f*ck with them. Joe, my husband, says it's a really good book, but I'm a tad bit concerned. But the continuation of the story, Anansi Boys is another Alex Award winner, so... bonus?
I'm thinking about going back to Jane Austen after Anansi Boys. What a weird combo of stories I've picked up lately.
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