9/11

I still can't look at a firefighter without thinking of that day. I can't watch old movies or tv shows that have shots of the Towers. I can't see pictures of Ground Zero without feeling a physical ache in my chest. I can't watch anything about September 11th without bursting into tears. I can't believe that the pain is still as fresh as it was five years ago - if not more so.

I'd like to send out a special thank you to CBS for showing this beautiful, heartbreaking, and moving documentary on 9/11. It was incredibly classy, sensitive, and responsible all at once. Well done, gentlemen.

I'd also like to send out a special fuck you to ABC for showing their bullshit "docudrama of the events leading to 9/11" on the five year anniversary of that very day. It shows a remarkable lack of class, sensitivity, and responsibility. Well done, assholes.

September 7th

Last year nobody was able to get me what I wanted for my birthday. Maybe this year I will nail him get lucky. I'm still holding out hope. In the meantime, Sysm sent me this as a substitute until the real thing comes along. And Tits sent me this, so I am at least on the right track. Tits' present is NSFW - you've been warned.

Just because I turned 40 last year does not mean I can't turn 35 this year. Time is relative. Ask Einstein. I don't know what that means but it's my birthday so I can say what I want.

Happy birthday to me! Yay!~~

Where's my cake?

It's Raining Again

New Do

May I present - my new look. I like it. If you don't like it, keep it to yourself. I'm really not all that interested in your opinion. Unless you like it, of course. Then feel free to express your thoughts. In other words, if you don't have anything nice to say, go fuck yourself.

So instead of actually getting any real work done today, I played around with my new template. I wonder sometimes what I would do with my time if Al Gore hadn't invented the Internet.

Five days 'til my birthday. I'm turning 35.

Shut up.

You Can Take It With You

Telephone conversation with a friend while watching The Mummy on television for the 112th time.

Friend: Damn, Brendan Fraser has never looked so good.

Me: I know, he's usually so pasty.

Friend: I think The Mummy is hot, too. I'd do him.

Me: I think mummification should come back in style.

Friend: Did you hear how they removed your brains? No thank you.

Me: Yes, but you're already dead anyway, and with mummification you can take your stuff with you.

Friend: That is a bonus. Ok, works for me.

Me: So what would you take?

Friend: My jewelry for sure. And probably my breadmaker. I love my breadmaker. And I'm sure they like bread in heaven.

Me: You're so sure you're going to heaven?

Friend: Fuck you. What would you take?

Me: George Clooney.

Friend: You are such a freak.

Me: Fuck you, you're the one who wants to do a mummy. You're just pissed you didn't think of him first.

Friend: Do you always think of sex?

Me: Do you always think of food?

Friend: Like you don't.

Me: You can make us toast in the mornings after all the sex.

Friend: You're so sure you're going to heaven?

Me: Oh I'm going to hell. Actually no, I teach in the ghetto! I have a free pass to heaven. And I'll be banging George Clooney for eternity while you serve us fresh toast every morning.

Friend: Fuck you.

Me: Don't forget the butter.

**edited slightly after morning phone call from Friend stating that I didn't get all the dialogue correct. Well excuse the hell out of me. Artistic license or failing memory, you decide.

The Weturn of Ms. Wose

Now well into my second week of the new school year, I finally have a moment to take stock of the happenings thus far. The difference between being a first-year and a second-year teacher is beyond comprehension. I spent all of last year without a fucking clue as to what to do or how to do it. I don't even think that I realized how clueless I have been and for how long until just this week. I hate being clueless - it puts me in perpetual state of panic. It doesn't help that I am an anal-retentive freak who has to have everything perfect - an impossible feat for any first time teacher. But now I actually feel like...dare I say it... I know what I am doing. Other people are now asking me what to do and how to do it - and the best part is - I know the answer! It's nice to actually have some confidence again. Also, I like telling people what to do.

And now, a few highlights of the past couple of weeks.

• My classroom is so fucking cute I can barely stand it. I actually went to work a week early - with no pay - to work on it. Hello anal-retentive freak! But it was worth it. It's organized, colorful, and inviting. And the best part is, it no longer smells like dead rat. Why did it smell like dead rat, you ask? Because there was a dead rat in my room the week before school started. Welcome to the hood!
  


• Soooo excited about the promise of smaller class sizes this year. Last year I had 23 kids, 24 at one point until one child moved away. We were told we'd have no more than 20 this time around, and back in May I got my class list and saw that I had 19. Joy oh joy! Only 19, perfection! Two days before school I got my revised class list. 24 kids. I like to think of my naiveté as charming.
  


• I have a class full of sweet little girls and bad little boys. It's every kiddie stereotype you've ever seen. The boys actually pull the girls' hair. However, the girls outnumber the boys, so I'm looking forward to the girls kicking a little boy butt this year.
  


• There is one little boy in particular I am hoping the girls take care of for me. I never thought I would say this about a student, but honestly I'd like to throw this kid to the sharks. He's spoiled, loud, and generally a shit. He has had seven tantrums in seven days of school. And when I say tantrum, I mean crying-screaming-stomping-will-not-move-or-respond tantrums. Two of them were over crayons. One was because he got in trouble for kicking another boy. Another was because he got caught tripping a girl and laughing at her. If he doesn't throw a tantrum he gives me dirty looks or clucks his tongue at me. When he does behave, it's ruined by his need to point out his good behavior - I have heard "Look, I'm being good," come out of his mouth about 20 times a day. Yesterday he melted down yet again right before dismissal - which seems to be his favorite time. This was a mistake. I had had it. I dragged his scrawny butt to the office and let the principal ream him a new one. He actually gave her dirty looks while she did so. So Mom was called in for a conference. Today he showed me the mark on his leg where Mom took the belt to him. It was tiny, barely a scratch, but I actually smiled. Yes, I'm going to hell. I'm sure I'll be writing more about him in the future, so from this moment on, he will be known as Sharkbait. Hoo ha ha!
  


• Sysm sent me yet another fabulous present for my class. The kids went wild when they saw their new ubercool markers. Mr. Sysm is now the class hero, as he was to my class last year. All hail Sysm!!!
  


• My feet hurt.
  

I Have a Cold... Already

It's That Time Again

Tomorrow is the first day of school. Wish me luck!

Almost Famous

So a few weeks ago I received an email requesting an interview for The Blog Reader. Yes, you read that right. Someone actually wanted an interview. With me. To talk about blogging. Fuck, the world is a wonderful place. Of course I happily agreed, and two days later young Justin called me at the designated time to talk about ME.

Poor guy didn't know what he was in for. We wound up talking on the phone for well over an hour, and I was able to learn quite a bit about my new friend. Of course he didn't mention in his (well-written) article my amazing ability to get people to talk about themselves while elusively avoiding any personal questions about myself. In fact, he didn't even mention the laughter, the tears, the bonding! Harumph! Actually, I'm impressed he was able to cull anything at all out of my incessant rambling. In short, I'm a lousy interview. But a fabulous conversationalist!

Anyway, here it is: My Interview. Please click and read. And comment. Show Justin some love. Thank you.

P. S. I have no recollection of ever uttering the name Murgatroid.

It's a bird! It's a plane!

It's Super Teacher!

Super Teacher will be busy for a while as she makes the world classroom beautiful for her new crop of monsters students.
Carry on!