first and second days.... done and done

yesterday's antics with new students included: 1- a student doing magic tricks during my discussion of the expectations i have for students, 2- another student introducing me to the word "awesomenatic," 3- and a student's question making me laugh so hard i had to look at the floor and think about something super sad and terrible to maintain some semblance of professionalism. that story....

i'm talking to students about how they are going to be reading selected passages from Fast Food Nation and we will be discussing how fast food is made and the chemistry of it and effects on our body systems. i ask how many kids eat fast food and about 90% raise their hands... i then tell them that i don't eat it any more, but if i did happen to sit down and eat a "hamburger" from McDonald's i would definitely "pee acid out my butt." yes. that exactly. they laugh a kind of freaked out, who the hell is this crazy science lady kind of laugh, then start asking questions. "but what about if you eat parfait" "how about salad? that's healthy." i quashed those silly silly notions by saying "sure, but if you eat that straight for 30 days you're probably going to poop acid out your butt." kid in the front row kind of furrows his brow, then raises his hand. ooohhhhhh sweet. what is this question going to be??? "um.... so a minute ago you said peeing acid out your butt. but just now you said pooping out your butt. are those the same things?"

OH. MY. GOD.

put my head down, took a couple breaths, told him i appreciated his attention to detail, then forced myself to think of drowning puppies and prisoners of war and restriction enzymes left out at room temperature and continued on. it's one thing to realize i say ridiculous things in class by watching the mouths of my friends form gaping holes when telling them stories, but it's another thing to realize it by hearing a student say back to you what you've just said to a class. peeing acid out your butt.

some of today's highlights: a student calling me "gansta" because i don't give points for incomplete homework, another kid falling asleep, me slamming my fist down on his desk to wake him up only to have him try cheating off a paper five minutes later, and being asked whether blood left at a crime scene could be traced back to a person. i assured that student that unless he was in the system already he'd be fine. he seemed really happy about that.

bare minimum

it never fails to amaze me..... the complacency of so many teachers, that is. the failure of teachers to recognize the potential of students, or to push, and really PUSH, students in deepening their understanding of just about anything.... . this week has been a week of preparation at school, and today i was once again reminded of the insanely frustrating and limiting viewpoint that permeates so much of education... the language of so many teachers makes it all the clearer to me that yes, indeed, i need to keep reminding myself that challenging students in their level of comprehension is not going to come from every teacher... and that i need to work extra hard to get these kids exposed to things that sure, might be a little bit advanced and probably not something they're expected to know, but are also exceptionally awesome and will blow their minds. and is something that they can all do! one topic that a teacher told me was too complicated for high schoolers was the same topic i taught my 8th graders. and they loved it and got it and could explain it and yes... the only thing limiting in that situation was my own ability to present the information to them. those same 8th graders were doing work i did not do until my junior year of high school... and these students were not exceptions. i just expected a hell of a lot of them and they understood that i had complete confidence in their ability to succeed. and never mind the fact that the labs being scheduled are the same sorts of things boyle would have done in his makeshift laboratory. potatoes? algae? really? can't we get a little bit more awesome? science is AMAZING and things should be glowing and exploding and boggling the mind of every student in the room. not lulling them to sleep.

and i guess a testament to fighting against the boring teaching machine would be hearing from a former senior at my new school (and now off to MIT) that the work ethic of my former students was out of control awesome.... and then when he asked the students how they were so prepared for the amount of work they had in high school they told him that yours truly gave them the same amount and expected them to kick ass on it. THAT makes me happy... kids are unbelievable and amazing and incredibly capable and the more information you throw at them the more they lap it up... i CAN'T WAIT to blow their little science worlds up....

seriously

really proton? do we really need to continue this game of dog escape from the backyard + sweating dog owner running through the streets of baltimore screaming out the name of a subatomic particle? yes... yes we do.

yesterday i was in the backyard with prof. proton, tending to the pumpkins and cucumbers and flowers, not paying too much attention to the fact the professor was doing a terrible job weeding because all of his energy was going to plotting his escape. escape from a terrible life of comfortable beds and loads of dog treats and trips to wonderful places. but apparently not as wonderful as the particulars of baltimore alleys. i turn my back for 1.3 seconds and out of the corner of my eye notice the dart of gray blasting through the back gate. "proton?.... proton?" DAMN IT. sure enough, open the door and there he is. 15 feet away, staring at me. i take one step toward him saying "good boy! good boy!" and then he's gone. running like a freaking maniac down the alley, turning around every few seconds to make sure i'm still chasing him. then he peels onto the main street and runs by the group of kids hanging out on the stoop. at least seven of them, not one of them interested in helping the sweaty white lady get her scruffy-ass dog under control. as i run by one of them says "hey lady... your dog is loose." really? thanks ace... i doubt i'll have you in class this fall, but one can hope for small miracles. one lone ranger of compassion saddled up on his dirt bike and took off with me to try to wrangle the beast... and about 10 minutes later, as proton made his way toward a major baltimore street and i was screaming his name in a much more panicked and frightened way, we finally got the hairy moron until control. and then i had to carry his ass past the stoop boys (who were kind enough to comment "hey... you got your dog." ) and to my apartment, where the hose had been left running and was now causing a minor floor in the alley. perfect. and may i add that this little escape jaunt happened AFTER i let him run amuck in a dog park for 1.5 hours. perhaps this is his own way of shifting my mind's attention from lost loves to lost dogs.... in that case, FANTASTIC strategy. let's plan a daily runaway escapade.

10 inches lighter

i cut 10 inches off my hair. every clothing purchase from here on out will go to my passing as a resident of the 1930s. or the bastard love child of louise brooks... someone find me a black tutu.

little things

babies are awesome. not because they're small and cute and squishy and smell nice... although those attributes definitely add to their overall awesomeness. they're awesome because they are legitimately amazed by things that us cynical adults don't give a moment's thought to. the color blue, the cat having whiskers, their own fingernails... everything is fantastic and wonderful and awe-inspiring and another reason to be excited about being wherever they are. i went to visit my friend's chunky bebunky baby and spent most of the time laying on my back, with chunkster on my stomach, and yours truly making outrageous snoring noises and spitting sounds. chunkster was BLOWN AWAY by the sounds and set out to determine how exactly i was making those magical notes by placing her hands on top of my face and giggling incessently whenever i forced noises through those little paws. i spent 20 minutes doing this and that was without a doubt the best 20 minutes of my week. i am never living as much in the moment as i am when letting myself enjoy every second i spend with chunky mcawesome..... and those moments are the best reminder of how important it is to KEEP being amazed by the small things... by the way pumpkin plants grow, by the way my bird feeder is empty 10 minutes after filling it, by proton and a squirrel having a 30 second staring contest, by how good lentil soup is, and every other small, completely significant thing that makes life fantastic.....

seduction step 1

another day of domestic bliss: cutting up herbs to make sweet little herb ice cubes, baking homemade bread that i am having an incredibly difficult time not pounding into my face every 5 minutes, looking up haircuts from the 1930s so i can figure out how much to get chopped off tomorrow. and, ah yes.... seducing the neighborhood hottie using my oh-so-subtle technique. that would be seeing him approaching as i'm walking proton, deciding that i am going to say hello since i see him all the time and he needs to realize that we are destined to bake rosemary-spiced bread together, and then making the move to greet first. however, i made that decision a bit prematurely and that resulted in me yelling "HELLO!!!" from a uncomfortably far distance. and then ssssooooooo mmmmuuuuucccchhhh tttttiiiimmmmeeeee until we were actually close enough to permit conversation to erupt at a normal, un-fog horn decibel level. unfortunately, he seemed a little rattled by my screaming greeting and just said "hi" as i stared at the ground and tried to imagine that i was invisible and could remain so as long as both proton and i had our eyes squeezed shut. another fantastic display of the art of seduction by yours truly. tomorrow i may try out an equally subtle net gun technique.

my mistake

“I’m sorry I treated you like adults yesterday.” At first I thought she had misspoke. But no… immediately following that statement, teacher X (that same teacher who had been the victim of rogue humping and was soon may be the victim of rogue paintballing) proceeded to delve into a diatribe of condescension and patronizing that awoke the sleeping beast of rage lying dormant in my belly. It’s a fairly interesting social experiment to observe a group of teachers be treated like disobedient children. College, med school, grad school-educated people resort to writing haikus and limericks about how they want to poke their own eyes out with firecrackers, doodling pictures of dragons eating teacher X, and not-so-subtlely daydreaming about all the different tequila shooters they will be doing later that evening.

Other delights that escaped her wrinkly little lips: “If some of you think I’m a *b* because of this, I’m ok with that.” “Perception is reality.” (that gem has been stated at least 65 times in the past three days) Also, every sentence or two ends with one of the following “K?”, “Does that make sense?” “Are you getting that?” “Is that clear?” All right?” UUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHH.

The highlight of the session would be realizing that the Bulgarian physics expert who’s supposed to be leading us through parts of these sessions hates teacher X as much as I do. I leaned over and asked Ms. B. whether she would be teaching us, and she said “I thought I was… I keep getting bullied out.” She also was muttering awesome quips like “I’m going to commit the suicide” and “This is the worst day of my life” under her breath the entire time teacher X was telling us how awesome she is. And then, the best… I look over at Ms. B’s computer at a point and she’s opened up her new Mac’s dictionary and is typing in “f-u-c-k.” Then BOOM. There are the definitions. I start laughing super hard and she says “I just needed to see if it’s working.” YOU, Ms. B., are the best Bulgarian physicist I have ever met.

twix tricks

ahhh yes. another fun-filled day of anarchy-inducing, zombie-fying teacher school sessions on classroom management, the best way to distribute and organize binders, and writing letters to ourselves to serve as "pick me ups" six months from now. you would think we were a group of lobotomized hamsters. with limited use of our front paws. i have had far more interesting interactions with the resident terrapin turtle in the room than with the folks leading these infantile discussions. and that lucky bastard gets to stick his head under water every minute to drown out the droning instructions on the best way to arrange desks and how that crafty student faked humped teacher X when she was leaning over to explain something and wasn't that a great teaching moment... a great chance to display classroom management skills. our four hour morning session was concluded with a twenty minute exercise trying to fold a dollar bill into a box. TWENTY MINUTES. i stopped 30 seconds in and began to practice sleeping with my eyes open.

and at the completion of this morning session, after the twenty minute origami nightmare, all i wanted, all i was yearning for was a delicious sweet chocolate treat. just one. i scampered down the steps to the candy machine and saw that YES! twix bars were one of my delightful scrumptious options. I popped in my box dollar (no way... no boxes), eagerly pushed "D1", and watched my candy dream plop down. I reached in to grab it, and as i pulled it out, i noticed something was very odd about it. it felt like one big fat piece of twix that had been vaccum packed into the twix wrapper... as though the candy bar was inseperable from the wrapper itself. i asked my friend what his take on it was... and he was correct in assessing that "that's what happens when candy bars melt." NNNNNNOOOOOOO!!!!!. are you serious? sure enough.... peeling open the wrapper pulled half of the twix treat with it. so there i was ten minutes later... outside in the 103 degree weather, reading my irish crime novel, sweating through my pants, using my index finger to scoop out as much caramel and chocolate i could from the mad mess of what used to be a twix bar. alone. no shame. licking every last chocolate molecule i could from my hands like a pacified plebian.

three. more. days.

SHUCK

Today was great. Lots of time at the dog park, reading up on how the science as an institution developed through very conscious and calculated maneuvers by elitists, intellectuals, and all sorts of folks threatened by artisans, and, of course, SHUCKING CORN. Shuck shuck shuck. Who knew that all of those hours spent sitting in the garage, tediously pulling the sticky, icky corn silk and green shuckings away from those sweet ears would pay off. I wouldn't necessarily consider myself a pro, but I would venture to say I've got 200+ hours of corn shucking under my retro belt. Although the setting today was a bit different: beautiful weather, sitting on my deck, watching Proton and Doobie take turns peeing on my bok choy plants, thinking about sweet corn blanching in my sweet big pot. Contrast that to: Midwest mosquitos, sitting in my parents' garage, the Cure blasting on my headphones running on 60% battery power... but that slurred, dreary moan/singing being so much better than listening to my sisters screaming about how awesome their C+C Music Factory gymnastic routine was.... those morbid tunes echoing in my ears as I threw shucked corn remnants into a steel garbage can, counting the minutes until I could escape from the labor and back into my room and Stephen King. So. much. angst. And now: so much corn! Boop dee boop boop.

aaannnd.......

She's back. Again. And it's only been 4.5 months.

Updates in the life: back in baltimore (wooh hooh!), living in my sweet ol' neighborhood, tending my awesome awesome garden, and soon to be teaching at an amazing science high school in the city. SO. EXCITED. The Professor is absolutely elated to be back and visiting the dog park daily and hunting rats and pretty much just being awesome.

So some dandies to kick off my return to the land of the interweb..... courtesy of my always deprecating and confounding mother....

Last night I was talking on the phone to my mom about my plans buy some fish and an aquarium. Her response: “ooh… taking care of fish is really hard.” Mine: “Mom, I already own a dog. And I have my PhD in biochemistry. I think I can manage taking care of a fish tank and some fish.” I also told her that my friend Gabby is a therapist at a woman’s prison in Maryland. She asks “Wait… they spend state money on giving those people massages in prison?” No. No they don’t. I believe I cleared up the error by calling Gabby a “brain therapist.” My mother finished the conversation by reminding me that raising a child alone is really hard. I'm guessing slightly harder than maintaining a fish tank. I had to remind her that I'm 32 and not dead yet. Although apparently the chances of meeting a person to share child responiblities with post-30 are, as we all know, statisitically improbable. I'm asking for the best turkey basters EVER for Xmas.