I get my best stuff from my students

Two piles

2009-07-24T10:15:00.000-07:00

One of boxes of stuff I'm bringing to school and the other I'm bringing with me to Heather's.

I still can't believe I'm leaving this place.
It would be so much easier if it were a move into a place of my own. Something new and something to get excited about.

It would be easier if he weren't staying here. In my house. My garden surrounding it.

I will miss my tub most. God I love that giant tub.

Roomies

2009-07-10T08:23:00.000-07:00

Living with my soon to be ex husband in this house has definitely had it's odd moments. Seven bedrooms was always too many for us and I often brought up renting some out but he was never comfortable with the idea when we were married. In this economy and in our situation it looked like a better idea. So we started with one rental. She's nineteen and a flight attendant. I loved her right away. When she worked out fine I found another young man who needed a place just for the summer to do his internship in the loop.

I haven't had roommates for a long time but I've always had really good luck with people. These two young people are no exception.

We all have very different schedules and are rarely all home together. Even when we are all home the house is so large we often only bump into each other in the kitchen. A couple nights ago we three put all the furniture back in place (the hard wood floors had been refinished)and then found ourselves on the front porch sipping drinks and talking.

Contessa romped around the yard eating grass and searching for remnants of cat while we got our buzz on and related stories of the hood. We all laughed as in unison we were able to recite the announcement coming from the train 1/2 block away, "Attention customers, an outbound train from the Loop will be arriving shortly."

I often doubt my decision to be the one leaving this house. At first it was difficult because it was my dream home; the home I imagined filling with children and having family over for barbecues. But with each life transition I have adapted and my new situation is fun and interesting also. Living with these young people is great and it's been wonderful sharing the house I've made a home with them. God, I hope I'm doing the right thing.

The Economy on Divorce

2009-03-26T15:31:00.000-07:00

It's bad for us too.
My brother, friends, my mom, the guy I'm seeing all ask me in some way the following:
"Have you seen that article/story about people divorcing that are forced to live together because of the economy in the Tribune/on 20/20/on Yahoo News?"
No, I don't have to watch the news or read about it online or in the paper. I'm living it, thank you very much.
If we had decided to divorce any sooner than we did, even by just six months, we'd have sold our house, be divorced and moving on with our lives long before now. But our timing had to suck.
We had our house on the market for seven months and it didn't budge. We probably listed it too high but there weren't any comps to help us out then so we listed it at what it would have sold for a year prior. In three months we dropped the price fifty grand. Still nothing.
I was warned by my mortgage broker not to drop it further because if I decided to buy my ex out a lower listing would effect the appraisal. The appraisal needs to be high enough that I'll be able to re-finance with equity so that I can get cash out of the loan and give it to my ex.
Finally after some talking, my ex agrees to take 25k as a buy out. I go ahead and have my mortgage guy order the appraisal. Two weeks later I get a message from him on my voice mail:
"Lisa, I'm sorry I haven't gotten back to you. The problem is that I can't find an appraiser that will give your house the value it needs to put you in a position to get cash back from the loan. I'm not even going to tell you what the guy you met last week appraised your house at, you'll fall over. If I can get someone to appraise it at 350 (six years ago we bought the house for 342)we might get somewhere but I don't even know if I can get that right now. Nothing in your neighborhood has moved in the past year. All we have to compare it to are foreclosures and they're killing the value of your home. I'm sorry I don't have better news for you."
So....
Still married.

Facebook Friends From the Past

2009-03-15T13:44:00.000-07:00

Last night I spoke for an hour with a friend I met fourteen years ago. Jesus Christ, fourteen years.

We worked in the same office renting apartments. I was an escort. Go ahead, smile and imagine. My job was driving clients around town and showing them apartments. His job...You know, I really don't know what Simon did. I remember he was usually on a computer. He created the Center's first Web page. I didn't know what that meant at the time and when he tried to explain it to me I went into deer in headlights mode. As if people could learn about our services through a computer in another state. Please.

Simon was from England in the States with his girlfriend, Caroline, "You look a bit like my girlfriend," I remember him telling me when we first met.
"I have one of those looks." I had replied. He invited me over to meet her and hang out. We were instant friends. Instant "mates," I mean. We went to the pool together, concerts, dinner, picnics on the beach, I took them to my parents house for a home cooked Sunday dinner. Often we just hung out in their apartment. Smoking bongs and drinking, Simon fiddling on his guitar, Caroline and I impressing each other with our deep thoughts.
I don't know who I loved more, him or Caroline. But in retrospect I think that my relationship with Caroline was what I needed most at the time. I had a shortage of girl friends at the time. Caroline and I went shopping together, she taught me how to highlight my own hair, we polished each other's nails. We were so girly. Really, it makes me laugh now. I remember when they left in their tightly packed car how I cried and waved. Like a scene in a stupid movie. I thought I'd never hear from them again.

But ever few months or so I'd get a postcard from somewhere. Australia...I can't remember where else. Then I discovered email and could write more frequently. I was able to hook up with Caroline in London six years ago when I took sabbatical.
Then, a couple years ago Caroline invites me to be her friend on Facebook and I'm like, "is this gonna bring more junk mail to my inbox? Is it going to be complicated? Can I even handle this?" Now I have reconnected with more old friends than I ever thought I'd want to reconnect with. I'm loving it and at this time in my life I can use all these people in my life.

Last night after a Facebook chat Simon called me using Skype. After we both stopped giggling like a couple of school girls we had one of our familiar deep meaning conversations about life. He across the pond with his Labrador at his side and me not two miles from where we first me with my Bullmastiff on my lap. His words comforted me though the British accent freaked me out a bit.

So thank you Facebook. Thank you my old friends for being there even when you're not here.

Outward Bound revisited

2009-03-15T13:32:00.001-07:00

I wrote the following in an extemporaneous manner. I truly had been brought back to a memory and felt I needed to explore it more. It didn’t occur to me why until I felt my way through it all:

I’m listening to a new song by Beck and it brings back a memory of being in a coffee house somewhere. I was young, in my twenties, and beautiful. I didn’t really know how beautiful I was and didn’t project beauty because of it. I felt more invisible than lovely. I may or may not have been on drugs, maybe coming down from some high or another. The feel of the Beck song brought me memories of other worldliness, a higher sense of myself.
It was sunny outside, bright light spills in the window box and over a couple that are sitting on the couch there. I am so jealous of them just because they appear to be a cool couple. “Cool.” I don’t think I’m in Chicago. I think maybe I’m visiting Heather in Colorado. No, I remember now. I’m in Minneapolis and I’ve just completed my second Outward Bound. I had four hours in Minneapolis to kill before going to the airport. I must have looked a bit Bohemian with only one backpack, dressed in camping gear and bitten to hell by mosquitoes. I was not in a relationship with anyone cool then. I was in another relationship with a guy that borrowed my stuff and ruined it, took money from me regularly and cheated on me. So the “cool” couple intrigued me.
There were no drugs, I was just high on the awareness that I was stronger than I had realized. Stronger physically and mentally than I knew I was. At the end of Outward Bound we sat in a circle and were asked to pick a person in the group to hear their impression of you from. I had not really formed any tight friendships with anyone on this trip; instead I had done my usual- flitted from one person to another. That way no one knew me too well. No one could see too intimately into my inner thoughts. There was one person I talked to more than the others but I didn’t want to hear what she had to say. I wanted to hear from someone else. How did I appear to people that I didn’t really talk to? I picked an older gentleman from a Southern State.
“Lisa is an incredible young woman. She has re-defined my idea of what it means to be a lady.” I don’t know if I can really use quotes because these may not be his exact words, but they meant so much to me I know I remember closely what he said. “She is stronger than I used to think ladies could be. I come from a place where the men are expected to open doors for ladies, carry their bags and such. They are fragile and need protection. Lisa has made it clear to the men on this trip that she doesn’t need us to carry her things for her. When I saw her struggle the first time she lifted a canoe on her own I really wanted to take it from her. But then she lifted it and walked. The guys and I looked at each other and shrugged. She’s smart, she’s witty, she’s beautiful and she’s strong.”
I had never received a greater compliment in my life. I told him so and thanked him. We wrote letters to ourselves right after that. The letters were sent to us one year later to remind us of the strength we found in ourselves on that trip.

I am feeling weak today, old. I am scared. Perhaps a part of me allowed Beck to bring me back to that funky coffee shop in Minneapolis to remind me of how I felt that day. If I could feel so strong at twenty-eight I could find it in myself to feel it again.

I do not need a man to lift my canoe for me. I don’t need a man at all. I am smart, I am witty, I am beautiful and I am strong.

Who's name is it?

2009-03-06T14:17:00.000-08:00

I first came up with "Lisa Who?" as my blog name because I didn't know what to do with my name. I was getting a divorce but I didn't want to go back to my old last name. That somehow seemed like moving backwards. It's also a really long process to change your name; all identification, credit cards, bank accounts, social security, all my school transcripts. I'm sure I'd miss something somewhere.
My students have been calling me by my last name only for the past ten years. I prefer it to "Miss" which is common. I also prefer it to "Ms.(first initial of my last name)". I think that's tacky. Ms. B, or Mr. A...there are many of them, and then the students never remember what your real last name is.
Also, I like my new name. I think it's pretty and I like pretty so I'd like to keep it.
So, when we decided to divorce I asked my then husband if it was okay with him if I kept my last name. He was a little surprised. He thought that would be the first thing I did but he replied that it would be his honor if I kept it.
This morning we were to finalize our divorce in court but the judge didn't like the way our papers read and so we are still married.
The morning started out badly. My soon-to-be-ex and I had a difference of opinion on the wording of the paperwork and he wanted me to make some changes. I reacted badly and he reacted to my reaction. I'll leave it at that.
We pulled it together and made it to the courtroom a little late. The clerk scolded us on not having everything organized. She was right. We waited until almost last and when we approached the bench the judge had a lot of questions that we simply could not answer completely enough for her. She told us to get a lawyer and come back. As we were waiting for the clerk to assign us a new date my ex turned to me and asked, "can I have my name back?"
I wasn't really sure what he said, so I asked, "what?"
"Can I have my name back?"
Yep, that's what I thought he said. I looked at him confused and asked, "you want me to have that put in the paperwork also?"
"No, forget it."
I was reeling already from the events of the morning and this, frankly, was a slap in my face. Here's why:
Before we married I had a really nice signature. That's right, signature. It had evolved over the years into a reflex of a thing to sign on checks, hall passes and my art work. With the new name I had to re-work it. I spent hours trying to get the new name to flow the same way the old name did and look as pretty as the old one did, look as pretty as the new one sounded.
Over the past ten (now going on eleven) years I have watched my husband's signature evolve into basically the same signature as mine. I'm not exaggerating. He's basically copied the exact way I sign "his" last name. He's eliminated his middle initial and made his first name less legible and more about his first initial. Just like mine.
So, if he asks again I think I might have to reply, "you can have it if I can have my signature back."
Is that petty?

I'm a Painter

2009-03-06T14:14:00.000-08:00

I tell my AP (Advanced Placement) kids things I don’t tell my other classes. We’re so much more like a family because of our common interest in art and we’ve known each other for at least two years instead of just a semester.

Somehow the subject of my husband came up and I confessed to them that we were divorcing. They got pretty serious and apologetic. “No, no,” I told them, “it’s okay. He and I are going to try and stay friends. I still love him but we can’t live together anymore.”
Nancy asked, “What do you mean?” I thought about it and gave her an example I thought she’d understand.
“About five years ago I was explaining to him how much I desired to teach painting. This was before I had a painting class and was still teaching photo. I told him how much happier I would be if I could teach the thing I loved most. He looked at me confused and said, ‘but you’re a photographer.’” Nancy shook her head but Janet didn’t flinch. She said, blank faced, “did you slap him? I woulda slapped him.”
“I know, right?” I replied.
“How could he not know that you are a painter?” asked Nancy.

It was so ironic that these kids who had only known me for a year or so understood that part of me more than the man I married. He was the same man whom I personally thanked in my Master’s degree artist statement. This was the man that was my muse long ago when we first began dating. I created paintings of him, with him, and then gave them to him. He is the man with whom I shared my home and had seen my paintings hang on our walls, seen my brushes and six foot tall easel, seen me make extra money by painting on the walls of peoples’ homes. How could he not have known that about me?
I was so disappointed in him, so sad, that I didn’t even get mad or, as Janet asked, slapped him. I just shook my head and said, “No, I’m a painter. Don’t you remember all the paintings in my Graduate show?”
“Well, yea but I just thought that was what you got your Master’s in, not what you did.”
I can’t explain that response. Really, I get sad as I type this. It felt like he never paid close enough attention to me, as an artist anyway. Maybe it's because he's not into art. It just felt important to me and they understood that.

Bad Example

2009-03-06T14:13:00.000-08:00

I got a new phone. I LOVE my new phone, it’s a smart phone and you know what? It is smart, damn smart. I normally keep my phone off at work but yesterday I was playing with my new smart phone and I got a text message. Touch and slide the little arrow up to “view” and there’s a message from Nelly, one of my AP kids. “Hey Miss! I’m in LAC and it totally sucks!” LAC is an in school suspension room. Kids are given LAC when they mess up, like violate uniform or get a bunch of tardies.

I shake my head and then text her back, “do you want me to send you some work?” I’m thinking, “I take phones from kids all the time for texting in school and here I am advocating it. I am a really bad teacher. The use of cell phones is prohibited during school hours.

Nelly texts back, “YES please!! Paper, charcoal, anything! I’m so bored.” I walk down with some paper and charcoal pencils for her. The room is really hot and I wonder how the kids can stay awake in there. They can’t sleep or talk to each other but the security person doesn’t notice how at least five of them are playing with their cell phones. “Oh my God! Thank you so much! You rule!” She says as I hand her the supplies. She’s sitting next to Dana, another AP kid. She puts down her phone and gets to drawing. Dana also drops her cell phone, grabs some of the paper and draws also.

Dining Room Table

2009-01-31T09:32:00.000-08:00

We never ate here unless people came over. He ate in front of the tv. I HATED that, so I compromised by getting a pub table to put in the tv room. At least we ate at a table then. I did not enjoy having the tv on while we ate but...you know, marriage is about compromise.
I searched for a dining room set that was affordable and that we both agreed upon for a long time. I love my dining room set. It's mid-century clean lines are gorgeous even though it's not very sturdy.
Now we use it to sit at and meet about whatever we need to talk about; bills, divorce proceedings, the dog. Last week it was about taking in our new roommate. I looked at this man that I once loved and knew so well and it hurt a little not to feel the things I once felt for him. It hurt to hear nervousness in his voice, why was he nervous about talking to me? Me?
I realized then that I've been thinking so much about how I've been hurt by him, probably not considered enough how much I've hurt him. Because in his face and in his voice there was pain.
He is familiar, he knows me like no one knows me. I hate him for that but I also miss it. I wish I could no longer hurt him. I wish for us to be free of this bond that keeps us from being friends because I would like to be his friend. I just don't want to be his wife any longer.

"My Dog has Cancer"

2009-01-17T07:11:00.000-08:00

I sent the text through tears to Heather as I waited for Tessa to be x-rayed.
"No," She replied.
"Lymphoma," I sent back.
She text talked me through the next thirty minutes until I was able to talk to her.

Earlier this week I was on the couch cuddling with my best friend. I always love snuggling around her neck where her fur is softest. She has a lot of sebatious cysts but the large lump I discovered was different. I felt a smaller one on the other side of her neck and believed she had swollen glands, probably an infection of some sort. She had an infection not long ago, maybe it needed another round of antibiotics. When I asked her dad if he felt it too he concurred that it was abnormal so I called the vet right away and made an appointment for the next day.

Everyone at the vet's office knows us and loves us. Well, her more than me of course. We're regulars. The techs usually come out from the back to say "hi" to her and she is always happy to see them all. I know the routine: weigh her (103 pounds), wait, then go to the exam room. Dr. Cidon was off so we saw Dr. Frye. "I don't know if I'm being paranoid," I told her, "but with her history I never want to take any chances."
"No, you're right. These are swollen." She checked her other glands and found them swollen too. "We'll take some samples and see if she's reacting to something or if this is possibly Lymphoma."
"She's not allowed to have Lymphoma," I told her.

Out came the needle, I held her and distracted her with tales of how wonderful she is. While we waited for the doctor to look at the samples I started to think of how likely it was that my dog had cancer. What are the odds that a dog that has been through as much as she has would now develop cancer just before her sixth birthday?

When Dr. Frye came back in I knew by her face that it was bad. I cried, sobbed, told Tessa, "bad dog. I told you, you're not allowed to be sick again." Dr. Frye explained that with chemotherapy we could extend her life a possible year beyond the few weeks the cancer would normally allow her to live. "Does this sound like something you're interested in pursuing?"
"Yes, I have to. I am not ready to let her go. I thought I'd have another four years with her. I'm not prepared to lose her anytime soon."

So, yesterday she was given her first round. I sent a text to her dad during the day, "How much did your morning suck today?"
"Pretty bad," he sent back.
"My stomach is in knots."
"I just want to curl up with her and cry."

We found out she had stage four lymphoma after more tests yesterday and needed to start on the chemo immediately. When she got home she was normally peppy.

Today she started on her meds. She's a little sleepier than normal. Another challenge for her to endure and us to support her through.

Blue City Lights

2009-01-10T05:49:00.000-08:00

Implanted by Chicago's finest, at first I thought them hideous and intrusive. You know the lights, right? They're posted high and blink and have the signature black and white checkered strip to let you know that you are being watched. Very Big Brother but now I love them.

A few years ago I got an email from my friend in Hinsdale telling me of how cool it was the other day to watch the sun set and see coyote gather around their kill as an owl perched nearby watched. This was all happening in her backyard.
I replied, "That's so cool, something similar happened in my backyard just yesterday. I saw a couple of crack heads in the alley gather around their new score and jitter about nervously as they waited their turn." She found that very funny. I guess it is but it happened all too often.

On the 4th of July I like to climb the fire escape and watch the neighborhood displays of fireworks. Two years ago I also got a show of a john with his prostitute in the front seat of his car. (Sure I called 311 but it was the 4th of July and the cops never showed.) When she finished her job she was given her prize and exited the car to partake. After inhaling and getting through her euphoria she did the strangest little dance, then got back in the car and they took off.

Another time I was leaving my garage to go to work when I noticed a man with his back against the garage wall across the alley from me. I was alarmed and about go back into my garage keep my gate shut when I noticed he wasn't alone. So fucking creeeeeeeepy. I shared eye contact with a twenty year old gang banger as he was getting head. Not cool. So not cool.

The apartment building at the end of my alley was a regular scene from HBO's "Wired." Regular games of dice took place on the sidewalk and frequent stops of cars made it apparent you could get all kinds of goodies from the guys hanging out in the parking lot. I'll give them this: that store was always open. I saw clients stopping in at all hours. I could always tell when there was a new salesman because he'd see my white face and think I was shopping. I'd resist the urge to give him the finger and instead avoided eye contact and drove on to my garage.

Then came the blinking blue lights. Suddenly my alley is so boring. I love the blinking blue lights.

2009-01-10T05:44:00.000-08:00

I'm having students grade worksheets from another class. We get to number 15 that asks, "explain how an artist creates the illusion of three-dimensional form on a two-dimensional surface."
"The answer," I say, "is shading and using value changes." I then read what a lot of students copy directly from the book and explain that they are to mark the question 1/2 off if the paper they are grading copies directly from the book.
"Wait," says Brian. "Could you read that again?"
"Can't you just tell by reading it that it's coming straight out of the book?" I ask him.
"No."
"Really? You can't tell by reading it that it wasn't a kid that said it?"
"No, I know some kids that actually talk like this."
"Like what? Read it to me."
"Ok...wait." He looks down at his paper and then back up. "What number are we on?"

Rain In My Kitchen

2008-12-23T06:04:00.000-08:00

After digging my car out of ice Sunday morning at a friend's house I arrived at home to find the kitchen pipes frozen.
Already late to pick up my step daughter, I did my best to thaw them with no luck. After two hours I left and got Jordan. We had a great afternoon at my mom's house making Christmas cookies. On my way home I stopped at Menard's for space heaters and talked with a gentleman who told me how his kitchen pipes burst open last year in weather like this. I prayed the whole way home. When I got there I was in luck; the pipes were still frozen but nothing busted open.
I set to work with my hair dryer and space heaters and two hours later there was running water in my kitchen. YAY! The bathroom upstairs, though, nothing. By morning the bathroom tub was dripping so I thought it was a good sign. At 4:00 I left the house for a skin appointment and when I got back home an hour later I heard the rain. At first I thought, "oh good! Running water." Then I remembered there was running water in the kitchen when I left so I flipped on the lights and to my horror water was falling from every recessed light in the cieling. It was kind of cool looking so the first thing I looked for was my camera to shoot a picture but I left it at my parent's house the day before. Damn!
Tessa got up to greet me but wouldn't enter the kitchen. I dragged garbage bins under the leaks and looked for the phone book. A nice guy at Gilchrist plumbing talked me through shutting off the water and emptying the lines to get the water to stop wrecking havoc on my kitchen. The water was going through the kitchen floor and causing rain in the basement also. I mopped, I moved electric things out of the kitchen, and I opened a bottle of wine.
My roommate returned my call but I didn't hear the phone. "Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry you're there alone dealing with this. Jesus...I don't even know what to say. More money, more problems."
Yup.

tide

2008-12-14T16:55:00.000-08:00

I looked at the ocean below my feet as I walked into it. It was pulling away from me and at the same time rushing toward me.
I kept walking and when the wave coming at me was bigger than I could jump over or turn my back to, I dove into it.

I could not help thinking, this is just like my divorce.

Undercover Racists

2008-11-15T17:54:00.000-08:00

I really hate when white people think that just because you are also white that you believe the same racist thoughts they believe.

In talking to men I'm going to have to get better at dragging this sort of thing out of them if I'm going to ever go back to white. What...it could happen.

Case in point:

I'm out with Dora and we're talking to two men who say they are from Orland Park. I'm not fond of the South Side. I have this idea that it's racist. I don't know where I get that from. I'm trying not to judge people because of their neighborhood and they're pretty funny so we talk a bit. Some really pretty black girls walk by and the Taller one, Mike, says. "They're hot." I agree with him and he follows it with a story. "I was dating this girl in college and she took me to her home town in Kansas one weekend to meet the family and half of them were black." I'm nodding, maybe he was expecting a reply like, "NO! What did you do?"
He continues, "so I had to break up with her. You'd never know it by looking at her but what if it got more serious and we got married and had kids. You know? I just couldn't take that chance."
Now my head is bowed and I'm shaking it. "What? Would you?"
I say, "um...my husband is black."
"What? No! Really?"
"Yes, really." His friend is not even trying to bail him out and he begins to take on more water.
"A black guy? I'd never picture you marrying a black guy."
WTF? Why do people say shit like that?
I say, "Well it was nice talking to you."
Ok, get this...he says, "No, what? You're leaving? I won't hold it against you. I teach at an all black school."
I didn't think it could get worse. Those poor kids.

So how do you tell and undercover racist? What questions do you use to bring it out of them?

What was I thinking?

2008-11-05T20:30:00.000-08:00

Whining about a missing bumper magnet?

I just got my President. My dreamy President!!

Keep the magnet.

Early Voting

2008-11-02T21:32:00.000-08:00

It was the second to last day of early voting. I waited, with many others for nearly two hours to cast my vote and the experience was moving.

I live on the West Side of Chicago and found the nearest location through the Chicago elections website. The Westside Learning Center is on the 4600 block of Madison Avenue. I am often the only white person in businesses that surround my house, my neighborhood is extremely segregated and mostly African American. Perhaps this is why I was so moved while waiting with the others to vote. We were given colored cards with numbers on them. A voting commissioner would call out in intervals, "Orange cards, numbers 66, 67, 68, 69....." I was red 23, I had a while to wait.

There was a sense of solemn importance among us, a sense that we were participating in a historic election and we were happy. We were hopeful, we were part of something big. We waited and waited and waited. No one complained about the wait. In fact, we were downright jovial about it. I listened as the lady across from me described her favorite dish at a Jamaican restaurant when the lady next to me started laughing and said, "she's talking about food." We all laughed and shared our common hunger.
"Let's all meet up there afterwards!" Joked one young man.

People passed the time by quietly talking, texting, just sitting. There were a few children waiting quietly with their parents. No children cried or whined or ran about misbehaving. As if they sensed the importance of it all as well.

I don't pray very often. I say my nightly thanks before falling to sleep but other than that...nope, not much. Only when I really need to reach out. Like when Kira had Cancer, when my mom was in the hospital, when I thought Tessa was going to die, when I first felt the impact of the word divorce. Important times, like this election. So I sat in my chair and said a prayer.

When my number was called the first time I didn't hear it, I was deep in thought or prayer or something. Then it was called again. I was able to enter another room where the polls were. I was led by a voting comissioner to a poll and she held my arm on the way explaining the process of the touch screen to me. I actually got chills as I entered my vote.

I left that place smiling and was greeted by a man waiting outside with his yellow card "77." He flashed it at me and said, "I'm the last one today!" I smiled and said, "make it count, my friend!"

Someone Stole My Obama Magnet!!

2008-11-02T21:29:00.002-08:00

Right off my car!!!

There's a cleaner than the rest of the car spot where it used to be and a hole in my Democratic heart.

Who would do this? Another Obama supporter? Nah...how could they?

A McCain supporter looking to break an Obama lover's heart? Is it a sign? A sign that another disappointment may lay ahead? That there just may be a way They can steal this election too?

Please don't let it be so.

Obama Rally

2008-11-02T21:29:00.001-08:00

On Tuesday I received an Email from the Obama people inviting me to the Election rally in Grant Park. I'm on their mailing list because I bought a cool magnet for my car from them, an Obama T-shirt, and have given several times to the campaign. I was so excited to receive the invite that minutes afterward I was filling in the blanks to get my ticket emailed to me.

All I've heard from them since is requests for more money. I'm trying not hold this against Barack, I know he's not in charge of his email. But I can't help but feel a bit slighted. I'm sure there are people who gave more to his campaign, but are there any who have started as heated an email fight between they and their brothers over Obamam? Whatever...

I don't care...I just wanted to be there with everyone else who cares as much about this election as I do. Wether he wins or loses I wanted to be in the spot where it was felt most. The joy or the sadness. I wanted to feel it.

And now, I don't even have my magnet anymore. Guess it'll be me in my vintage style Obama t-shirt at a bar somewhere biting my fingernails until the end.

Portfolio Day

2008-10-27T14:32:00.000-07:00

We've had some things occur at our school that make a lot of us nervous about taking field trips. Field trips can be really effective ways of sparking student interest and engaging them in education but law suits and accountability on behalf of the teacher is nerve racking.

This past weekend was National Portfolio Day at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Last year I offered to accompany kids as a club field trip, this year I helped them organize a time for them to all meet at the train and go on their own.

Nancy called me at 9 p.m. the night before, "hey! Um...I decided to go tomorrow and was wondering if you were going." I told her I wasn't but informed her of the plan. However, the next morning I was having coffee with Heather and J.P. while Jackson played with his trains and Sampson annoyed the fuck out of all of us when I looked at my watch. It was 9 a.m., the time they agreed to meet. I sent Nancy a text asking if she found the others. The reply was quick, "Yup we're at mcdonalds!!! Cuz we are hungry!!!!!" Her multiple exclamation points got me all fired up.and excited.
"Who all is there?" I asked her. She sent me back the names of five others. "Yay! Let me know if you guys want me to meet you down there."
Another quick reply, "ok well um yea!!! They want you to meet them down there!!!!" How cute is she with all those exclamation points?
I jumped in the shower and drove down to meet them. Jon waited in line for over two hours just to have a word with someone from his dream school, Parsons. The rest of us were in the old Stock Exchange room taking turns with all the Illinois schools. I was so proud of them and so happy theat I met them there. Priscilla was a little discouraged after speaking with her first rep but uplifted by the others. Nancy stayed peppy the entire time, Victor was a bit taken with University of Illinois and Illinois State. It's funny how a kid could decide on a school based on a five minute interview with someone that won't even remember them. Do these people who look at portfolios realize the dreams and feelings attached to the hands that present these drawings and paintings to them? We heard from Cindy through text, she had come also but we never saw her. On our way out we ran into Kelly who couldn't meet earlier because she was in a class.

That makes seven students who on a Sunday morning got up early and, unaccompanied by parents, met at a train and found their way into Chicago to learn about Colleges they may like to attend. I'm going to use this pride to get me through entering grades for first quarter report cards today. Yay kids!!!!!!!!!

Showering With a Friend

2008-10-24T16:48:00.000-07:00

There were only two other ladies in the locker room when I entered, they had already showered and were dressing. I grabbed my shower stuff out of my locker and went to the shower area to begin my routine. I picked up my black plastic scrungie and poured some soap on it and then scrubbed my tummy. I moved up to my arms and was about to get my chest when I saw something emerge from inside the scrungie and then jump out.

It was the same inch and a half long roach I made the maintenance guy try to find that I saw in my locker last week. Dude must have been chilling with my soap and shampoo the entire time before he took a nap in my scrungie and then joined me in the shower.

Well of course I screamed. Dammit, I even cried a little. It took a few minutes for me to get the courage up to get my shampoo and finish the job. But only after Mary Pat came and took my friend away in a toilet paper body bag. Ironically she was once an exterminator.

Ah the perks of a free health club in your place of work.

First Lead Teacher Meeting

2008-10-24T16:33:00.000-07:00

"Excruciating," Mary said after about twenty minutes.
I fought sleep. I doodled. A deer in headlights, then an abstract.
Ate some mints and offered a few to Mary.
Went to the bathroom just because I was bored.
Made lists: What I need to do today, Who I need to call, Ideas for my blog...
I counted how many calories I had eaten that day.

oh, another PowePoint. Now look, two Power Points at once on two screens.

I cannot be paid enough for this. Never will I be paid enough for this.

Cucumbers

2008-10-11T06:35:00.000-07:00

This posting is from Monday. I haven't been able to log onto this site until yesterday so I'm doing a lot of posting of blogs I've written all week:

I took Friday off. Just needed a day, don't tell HR because I called in sick instead of calling it a personal day. I went out that night and stayed out, LATE. When I woke up Saturday morning I noticed I had missed a couple of calls and a few text messages. Two of them were from senior AP student, Reyes: "Hey, it's Reyes. Jon said maybe ud b goin into skul 2moro. If u do can u look 4 my wallet. I think i dropped it there. It's blue and one of those with a velcro strap. I'm real worried cuz it's got my license in it n stuff. Thanx" I notice he sent this to me at 12:01 a.m. Why do I give these kids my number? I send him a text telling him I wouldn't make it in but I'd look for it first thing Monday morning,he replies:"Ok thanx. I'm really buggin about it."
Sunday nite at 8:44:"Sorry to bother...but just wanted to give u a reminder abt my wallet tomorrow...thank u!" I get to work on Monday at 7:30, see no wallet. Send a text: "Sorry kiddo, no sign of ur wallet. :("
He replies: "Ummm cindy said that she saw it after i left and that she gave it to the sub...so wut wud he do with it?"
"Principal's office"
"So do I have to go get it?"
Why do I respond to these kids? "I'm not the one who left it here."
"So do I have to go get it? ...or?"
"Yes YOU have to get it, it's UR wallet. duh! And stop texting in school!"

Many funny things were said today. A note left by one of the substitutes: "Jose had cucumbers for you but we ate them." I saw Jose outside my room, his locker is right there, i asked him about the note and he held up a cucumber and said, "I love cucumbers." Then he snapped off an end of it and ate it. I cannot make this shit up. I laughed and he said, "we have a lot of them in my backyard."

Speaking about a day of silence held last year to acknowledge the difficulties of being homosexual:
Daisy: "Remember that day last year when you could shut up for gay people?"
Juan: "Shut up for gay people?"
Daisy: "Yea, you didn't talk so gay people would be respected."
Juan: "Oh yea, I remember that."

In AP Studio while drawing from still life:
Reyes: "Why am I sitting over here when I can't see the composition?"
Jon: "You say that as if you actually know what that word means." Discussion begins about a YouTube video, "Leave Britney Alone."
Jon: "It's a transvestite."
Javier: "Yea, a dude that still wants to be a dude but dresses like a woman."
Me: "Isn't that a cross-dresser?"
Jon: "Transvestite."
Javier: "Yea, cuz he still wants to be a dude."
Jon: "He hasn't gone full woman yet."
Me: "What about the guy that doesn't want to be a dude anymore?"
Nancy: "A guy that changes his wee-wee to a v-jay-jay is a transgender."
I think I've got it now.

Footlocker

2008-10-11T06:12:00.000-07:00

At yesterday's faculty meeting we were asked to write Deans' Referrals for students out of uniform. Some of the most commonly seen infractions are jackets being worn, multicolored shoes and undershirts of different colors.

I was explaining the meeting and request to my first hour students, who are a pretty quiet group. "If you're wearing a shirt under your polo you need to be sure that it's plain white, ok? I've seen girls wearing those tanks with the lace at the top and bottom and those are ok as long as they are white." I try to be funny by asking a boy if he has any of those shirts, "It's ok if the white lace hangs out the bottom of your polo, we're told. So, that would be alright for you to do, ok, Jesse?"
He blurts out, "Foot Locker."
"What?"
"Huh?"
"Do you know a kid named Omar?"
"Um...yes he was in my night school class last year," I tell him. "Why?"
"He worked at Pizza Hut with me."
"Oh yea? How is he?"
"I don't know, I don't work there anymore."

Of course, that makes sense. Jesse can't find his sketchbook and asks for another handout to start over on the shaded face drawing. I give him one, he tells me he'll look for his sketchbook in his locker. After school he stops in the room to tell me he still can't find his sketchbook. "I know they took it because I made my cover real sick." Nobody steals sketchbooks. I tell him to check the other class cabinets. "No, I remember putting it in our cabinet, I'm telling you, they took it." I remember his cover and then it dawns on my that Jesse doesn't like tearing out his drawings so he turns in his whole sketchbook everytime an assignment is due. I file through the stack of things I need to grade and find his sketchbook. "Oh, Miss! Look at you! You made me look all over the place for that."
Sorry.
We talk a bit about the teacher that just dies. Jesse didn't know him, still he was moved by the somber mood of the school created by the loss of this man. "I hear he was real cool. Real good teacher, man. That sucks."

Legendary Teacher

2008-10-10T21:01:00.000-07:00

One of our veterans passed away a couple nights ago. An English teacher that had been in the school for thirty three years. This guy was one of those characters you imagine when envisioning someone completely dedicated to the job.

I didn't know the man very well, at all, really. A self-described introvert he spent almost all of his time in the building with his own students in his own room. He wasn't the big voice that opposed administration openly, not the funny smart ass comic relief, or the crabby guy that should have retired years ago. He was just there to teach and teach well.

He was admired and respected by the kids, the one who taught them the value of the five paragraph essay. He may have had very few friends but I don't know anyone that didn't like him.

Today there were many emails sent from teachers to us all about him, to honor and memorialize him. Many of these teachers are alumni of the school and had him as a teacher when they were kids. I came to realize what an impact he had on so many, how powerful our words and teaching can be to the children we come in contact with every day. How awfully he'll be missed by so many. This man that was so quiet in passing me in and out of the main office, auditorium, cafeteria (only to get coffee). I spoke about him with Mandy last night, with Mariko, and with Kathy. Everyone had a different story of how he influenced them and their teaching.

Today Vince came in to my class during Sustained Silent Reading and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "I just needed a little cheering up," he said and left. I smiled and blew him a kiss as he walked out. I wondered how long before I lost a good friend this way.

Leaving the building today I glanced down a hallway and saw four students seated on the floor in front of an open locker and surrounded by balloons. I don't know what they were doing but the sight just touched me. Kids, on a Friday, on the floor, with balloons quietly speaking to each other. Nobody was rushing them home. What's the rush anyway?

We are in the service of these children and I can only hope I serve them well.