Spring Break

Minus a few hiccups my stint at teaching completely solo was a success. I know I'll never feel 100% comfortable in a classroom that isn't mine, so it's safe to say that I can't wait until I finally get a job and start getting my life together. And of course since it's the break I'll be spending most of the time busting my ass to finish some much needed work for seminar. All the notes I've taken need to be reread and typed out and put into my e-portfolio. I also need to complete two four-week cycles of my Inquiry Project, which I am woefully behind on.

But first: traveling!

I'm leaving for Paris tomorrow morning at 6:30 and staying until Monday. Judith is driving and I can't tell if I'm more excited about seeing the city or just getting out and driving through the countryside. Grass, trees, rolling hills, wide open landscape. Finally. After my last trip to France (a five hour fiasco in Cannes in the middle of a Saturday night) I'm hoping this one will override any and all horrible memories I've had against the country.

Back Monday, then leave Wednesday for Italy! My need to go back there is so great that at times I feel like I'll crawl out of my own skin. To say I'm excited would be an understatement.

Mom and Dad are going to meet Mrs. W in Athens on Sunday, which I'm really happy about. How surreal. Mrs. W went to Bombay Cafe this past week and said she really liked it. I felt like a proud mother.

In other news, by the time I get back from Italy there will be a group of Americans staying here for about a month. They're from the University of South Carolina and I'm so pumped to meet them I could spit. Granted I'll be leaving for home in a little over a week by then, but I'll have a lot of free time and I'm so desperate to hear a Southern accent I'm embarassed. Here's hoping they'll want my company, or at least my advice for living here.

6c

Give me angsty teenagers, snide comments and the silent treatment any day to the hell I had to go through with this class. Give me the stubborness, the anger, the depression, hormones, the too-cool-for-school attitude.

Today was awful and I did everything I could think of and nothing worked. And what I hate the most is that this would have never happened if CT had been around. Never in a million years would she have let the class get so out of hand.

Tomorrow will be much much different. I have a game plan now, one that I will not let fail. I've had time to reflect upon my defeat and I've come up with a strategy, like a general about to go into battle. Location, strategy, structure-- all will come together in this tiny classroom and the victory will be so deafening that the only sound to be heard for miles is the sounds of pens on paper. You'll learn, dammit. You'll learn and you'll like it.

Brussels: Andrew Bird, Food, Old Scottish Men, and Not Making the Most of Anything

Brussels: capital of Belgium, headquarters of European Union institutions, and home to buildings ranging from Gothic palaces to modern skyscrapers. A busy city packed with people who have places to go, people to see.

Too bad my trip wasn't as impressive as that all sounded.

FRIDAY:
Took an ICE across the countryside on the two hour trip and was struck by how eerily similar the train was to the Monorail at Disney World. I was sitting right behind the driver's compartment and could see miles of track stretching ahead of the train. All in all it's the best train I've ever been on in Europe. Ever. Hell, the bathroom looked clean enough to sleep in compared to some of the trains I've been on. Take the Italian trains, for example. I still have nightmares of a trip Stephanie and I took to Nice one weekend.

Upon arriving in Brussels at 6pm I proceed to walk around a half mile radius of the train station because the directions I had were vague as hell. Luckily a hobo, sensing my distress, helped me out. I say "hobo" because this man looked like a Vietnam POW just released from years of captivity, save for the pair of nice-looking headphones covering his ears (which were plugged into nothing, mind you). Then a couple of police officers helped me out because Hobo wasn't up to par with the job. I finally found the hostel and prayed that Erin and Mark wouldn't be too upset for showing up an hour late.

Well surprises of surprises when I find out I'm the first to arrive. I'm slightly worried at this news since Erin's flight was to get in at 10am in Brussels. No Erin, no Mark. Just me in a lobby of the hostel that already looks and smells better than the place I'm living at in Germany. Check my email, watch two seconds of American television, and see the two have arrived. I won't even go into the details of Erin's trip through Satan's asshole-- all you need to know is that it was bad and it was long and dammit if we all weren't starving by then.

Ate a meager kebob and had a fantastic time at the Andrew Bird concert. I love that man more than I should but listen to "The Naming of Things" off his debut album and you'll never listen to the violin the same way again. Had the opportunity to say hello to him after the concert and let it pass me by, but I have no regrets. The concert was truely great though it couldn't beat the 40 Watt.

10:30pm and back to the hostel. I almost buy a bottle of 32 euro champagne but pick up some Belgium beer instead. We make friends with the other people in our room and have long discussions about movies and music. The highlight though were the five of us nearly ripping this poor boy apart because he said that you played Beer Pong with a paddle. The sad part was that he was from Georgia. The shame of it.

SATURDAY:
Woke up way too early and spent most of this time contemplating life. Said goodbye to one of the roomies who left at 5:30am. Everyone woke up around 9 and we were out by 10:00. Erin and I walked with Mark to the station were he left to go to Amsterdam. Erin bought a ticket for a trip back to Verona and I bumped up my time. We had all day ahead of us and were now scheduled to leave Sunday, 7am.

Let me break down the day:

10:45. Leave the station after eating breakfast, saying by to Mark, and purchasing tickets. Walk back to hostel to check email, pick up map, etc.

11:30. See the famous "peeing boy" fountain. Eat a Belgium waffle topped with bananas, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. Nearly die of happiness. Take pictures of city hall and look inside chocolate shops.

11:40. Spilt a Brie and tomoato sandwich with Erin near City Hall after finishing the waffle, deciding that we need water and something else to cut through the sweetness we just inhaled. We both realize how exhausted we are and wonder what the hell is wrong with us.

12:00. Walk through a shopping gallery and Erin. Erin buys a bag, I buy yet another book (The Last King of Scotland). We are trying to stay warm but the weather has been shit all morning. We go off in search of a place to get a cup of tea and just to sit down and relax.

1:20. We pass by Chez Leon, a Rick Steve's recommended restaurant. We see the words "French Onion Soup" and, ignoring that we've already eaten way too much. We then proceed to eat a three course meal: soup, meat and potatoes, and dessert. It was amazing and I can personally say I almost threw up just thinking about how much we've eaten already.

3:00. Leave Chez Leon. Food adjusts and we are thankful we had so much time for some of our meal to digest. We are still extremely tired and agree to go back to the hostel to shower and take a nap.

3:40. We see H+M. Purchases are made.

4:10. We see Zara.

4:30. We see Mexx and Erin buys another bag.

5:00. We walk by the movie theater and decide that The Number 23 would be perfect and we buy our tickets. Upon reaching the hostel we relax for a while, but no naps. Erin realizes that we were given tickets to 300 instead due some botchy English exchange that occured at the theater earlier. We vow to see The Number 23 no matter what.

During this time we also meet our new roommates, two girls studying in London. Very nice and they reminded me a lot of Erin and myself. There is another bed made and I made the mistake of saying another girl was probably staying in the room. So of course a 60 year old Scottish man shows up, a bit embarassed to be in a room full of girls young enough to be his daughter. The awkwardness of the situation could have been cut with a knife.

7:00. Head to the theater and exchange our tickets.

7:45. Buy the worst tasting bags of M&Ms, watch the movie. On this note I will recommend everyone to see The Number 23. Fantastic film and I was really impressed with Jim Carrey. Erin said it reminded her a lot of Momento and I agreed.

9:30. Eat Pizza

10:30. Back to hostel. Old Scottish man isn't there and the girls are. We pack up and prepare for tomorrow. We have to get up at 5:30, made worse by the time change. Finally get to bed sometime after 11pm.

So in short the highlights of the trip: Andrew Bird, hanging out with people that spoke English as their native language, shopping, food, and a movie. Not a typical trip one would usually have in Brussels, but in the end I had a lot of fun. I don't think I've ever laughed so much during a three course meal.

The train ride back was just as nice as the one there. Erin is still in transit and should be arriving in Verona in about 4 hours. As soon as I got back I passed out until noon and have been in a cafe ever since. Tomorrow is the start of my last real "teaching" week at the school and I'm doing it all solo. My CT is actually heading to UGA for a conference while I'm here taking over her classes. All I have to do is make it to Friday and then it's Spring Break. Hello Paris, hello Italy, hello unspecified place at the end of week two. Then home three days after school starts up again.

School Scandal

Going into school today I did not imagine getting caught up in a war of words. Apparently a number of students have been leaving nasty comments about teachers on the German equivalent of rateyourprofessor.com.

But the comments went *beyond* mean. Some were so horribly slanderous and demeaning that no one would repeat them to me. One of my teachers said "I don't even want to think about it. This is the type of stuff you wouldn't even find in a gutter." Of course I couldn't do anything, considering the site was completely in German. But every teacher was involved with the conversation and talking about what to do.

The infomation about the site has been know since the beginning of the week. The principal confronted the website to report the absusive language but that apparently got no where. A major German news station wanted to interview the principal but he said no (good idea). All day today people from the radio were outside interviewing students and another newspaper wanted to get interviews done.

Some students were foolish enough to sign into this site using their real names, two of which I know personally. What made things even more complicated was the fact that this is the last school week for the 13th graders. It's tradition for the school that the teachers and 13th graders put on a show together, play silly games, and generally make a fool of themselves. Like my own highschool's "Senior Week" we liked to poke at the teachers a good bit, but all in fun. This celebration was to occur today, right when all this stuff about the website came out.

So the teachers had to make a choice. Ignore the site and still go in front of the school and joke around, or take a stand and say "no" to the celebration/gmaes in response to what students have been saying about them.

All the teachers talked together and debated for a good hour. It's like the entire school had shut down and everyone knew what was going on. Luckily I had one of the interns translate everything for me, but half the time I didn't need to understand what they were saying to know what was going on.

Out of 55 students only the principal and two other teachers thought everyone should go ahead and do the show with the 13th graders. One spokesman from the graduating class actually came in and made a very heart-felt plea but it wasn't going to work. Everyone was asked to go to the auditorium where the teachers made their announcement and you could hear a pin drop. The 13th graders had to cancel their show because their weren't enough teachers and many started crying. Everyone had to go to their scheduled classes and resume teaching/learning. I think the teachers made the right choice. They were very worried about pictures and videos being taken of them on stage and being put on websites/YouTube. This celebration is supposed to be all good fun, but how can one go up there and smile when just moments earlier they just read horrible things said about them? The teachers wanted to make sure they presented a united front, which was also a smart move.

Also, my CT mentioned I was on the site. The post about me was made yesterday after their tests were given back (in which the average between 60 students was around a D-). The comment: "What else does she do here besides follow Mrs. W around?" I don't know if there's any more comments and frankly I don't want to nor care to know.

The opinion of an angry 16 year old boy is not going to phase me and I'm going to do my best to treat him the same as I have been. But...I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't a bit dissapointed.

My CT wants to address the issue in class tomorrow and wants me to lead the discussion, though I'm coming up with a blank. All I have in my head right now is freedom of speech and Volatire saying "I may disagree with what you have to say, but I shall defend, to the death, your right to say it."

Learning From the Worst

Monday I have four classes, one of which is a double lesson (two 45-minute sessions) with a 10th grade social studies class. These kids do not like the class nor the teacher, and she vice versa. She's told them (and me) that she doesn't like the class.

Mistake #1. Never admit that you don't like a class to the students. You will lose all respectablity and they will never do anything you say because why the hell should they when you don't even care about it yourself?

These students have been working on a project that has lasted one-month-too-long and they are creating a webpage as their final project. Still. Teacher decides that whoever has a camera can go out around the city to take pictures for the site. All by 8 students leave.

Mistake #2. Just because you don't want to be there doesn't mean you can make the problem go away by getting rid of the students one by one.

Don't have a camera? Well, while the rest are taking pictures you can read this three-page article about immigration within Europe, create a PowerPoint, and present your findings to the class. Unfair, you say? Well life is a bit unfair, isn't it? I'd really like you to read this and do a presentation for the class. Oh come on, it's not that difficult of a read.

Mistake #3. Never ever give an assignment that you aren't willing to fight for.

Fine, don't read it then. The others are doing a stand-up job. You can just sit there for the next hour, but you aren't leaving.

Mistake #4. Don't tell your students to just sit there. Even if they aren't going to do an assignment you need to give them borders or by God they will do everything in their 16-year-old-power to make your life hell.

Yeah, I'll sit here. Watch me sit. Watch me sleep, talk, roll around the room in a chair that's not supposed to be in here (God, where did that come from?). Watch me talk behind your back about how this class is a waste of time. Watch me grumble, doodle, flirt, distract, stare out the window, make paper airplanes, and finally use the article to wipe the desk clean from a Diet Coke spill.

The students that did decide to read the article finish it within the first lesson. Teacher asks them to explain it, which they do. Teacher prompts, they answer. Teacher prompts some more, they think, then answer. Teacher is good at this part and she knows it. But after? After...

Mistake #5. Always have a back-up plan.

Teacher doesn't really have anything for them to do. One has a laptop and is putting together the PowerPoint, an incredibly bright boy who likes to work on his own and God help me but I can understand why when in this crowd. The other seven students chat, paint their nails, and I can feel the lesson slipping between my fingers. I say nothing, hating myself. I just read the article, there has to be something to talk about. I look over at Teacher and she's just sitting there watching the students.

I can't stand the silence. This class is dying and you're letting it. You may care about the students but the class holds no place for you and same goes for everyone in this room. I saw it the first day, you know? That this was going to be my hardest class. I only have two social studies classes to work with here dammit and you've ruined it for me. This attitude of indifference and unenthusiasm has been festering like a sore since September and what the hell can I do with that? I've tried and you've let me, you've encouraged me. But then when it's your turn again here come the grumbles from the students. The "why do we have to do this" and what do you say? "I don't like it either."

It's a never-ending cycle now. Teacher doesn't like the class, students don't like the class, students are unmotivated, unwilling to do work. Teacher tries to make them do work but what's the point? Teacher gets frustrated that students don't do the work and begins to dislike the class more. On and on and on. How did this even happen? Is it the class? The structure? The students? I'm always on the verge of asking but never do, because I don't have to ask. What you'll tell me I won't want to hear, because I refuse to believe that a teacher would dislike a class so much that a students education would suffer for it.

It's not about you, don't you get it? You become a teacher and you sell your soul to the system. You do it because it's that one out of every 200 students who might thank you. You do it because you know that you're going to have to do a lot of things you don't like but you do it anyway just to see the lightbulb go off in someones head from time to time. You hate your job some days but most you don't because the students are pretty fun to be around and they keep you young. But this halfhearted attempt at teaching is disrespectful to all parties involved.

Mistake #6. When you don't like what you're doing. Really and truly could do without it in your teaching profession, suck it up and make the best of it because by God you're going to have to do it no matter what. You dig to the end of your toes to find something you like about the class because if you don't then what the hell are you teaching for in the first place?

Erin Visits Germany

Offically leave Germany in a month. Very excited, mainly because my remainding time here is going to kick so much ass. This weekend Erin visited and from here on out it's all downhill. I'm constantly working on stuff for school it seems (school here and the seminar I'm missing and summer stuff). The last week of March I'm taking over all of Mrs. W's English classes. Oddly enough the program I'm a part of is having it's conference in Athens, which means that she'll be at UGA for a couple of days while I'm here. I find that hysterical and am still deciding on which restaurants she has to eat at. Five Star, of course. Maybe Last Resort Grill? The Globe?

Anyway, adventures from this weekend!

Friday:
Erin gets into town via plane (from Verona to Frankfurt-Hahn) and bus (from Frankfurt-Hann to Cologne). The main station in Cologne is really nice, but the bus depot is kind of creepy. Especially at night.

Back to my place where we ate Indian food I had made earlier. Showed Erin the ghetto kitchen and much laughter was had at the expense of the oven. Gave her a tour of the place and we decided on which bathroom I should be using on the floor (you would never understand how that can be confusing until you come here). Showed her Dingleberry's, which was absolutely dead. Dingle's was dead. It was just the two of us, Christie (from California) and Jay, a guy who is also from Athens and has been living in Germany for 18 years. Four Americans in a bar in Germany, three of which have lived in Athens. What the hell.

Saturday:
Erin's Birthday/St. Patrick's Day.

We wake up and grab some Starbucks and rolls for breakfast. Head out around noon and hit up the Dom. The weather wasn't great and we decide to not go up thr 509 stairs to the observatory and instead I give Erin a shoddy tour of the church. It was so cold inside that you could see your breath.

Next is the Ludwig museum which definitely had its highlights. The first being the colored statue of David (he's a blond), the next being a fake movie trailer for a non-existent remake of Caligula starring Helen Mirren, Gerard Butler, the girl from The Fifth Element, and Courtney Love. God...I just..I wish I had taped it, but I found a clip of it on Youtube and you just have to see it for yourself.

Warning: Not suitable for those under 16 and please don't watch this at work. It's pretty...sexually graphic. It is also supposed to make you "question your morals" but instead it just made me question who told Courtney Love she could act. Watch it HERE

After walking around the city for three hours, eating Currywurst, and shopping at H+M, and buying awesome pens (like my colorkilla) we took a pretty nice nap. We made plans to eat at Jameson, an Irish pub that is supposed to have great hamburgers, and just hang out there the rest of the night.

Well low and behold Jameson at 8pm: backed to the brim with Irishmen and most of the crowd well into their third round of drinks. Or sixth. Gave up the idea of an actual solid dinner, grabbed some Kolsch and enjoyed the atmosphere. An hour later Judith and her friend Kirsten joined us and basically the night turned to making friends with the musician (after Judith went up and joined him in song), dancing, and lots and lots of drinking. God, I love the Irish.

Erin and I were desperate for food by the time we left and we walked to McDonald's after being told it was open ("Until 4am!") only to find it very much closed. In our anguish we stumble (literally) home and eat cream cheese sandwiches, one of which I dropped on Erin's bag. Oh, and Erin also ate a tomato.

You would think the night would be over, but you'd be wrong. Turns out I have new neighbors, none other than two Irishmen. A knock on the door tells me one of the fellows wants to talk, so into the wallway we go where somehow the conversation turned to me being "Red in the head, hot in the hole" and the like. If it wasn't so funny it would have been horribly awkward. Erin was absolutely no help in my misery, but it's my own fault. Especially when he decided to "machine gun" my ass. I'm not even going to bother explaining it. I'm sure after that we'll be fast friends. In order to remember the conversation I wrote some stuff down last night to help. Some of it I understand, but there's a note that says "Multiple Languages '69'." I don't even want to know what that means.

Sunday:
Erin had to be on the 11am bus to Frankfurt-Hahn so we got up reasonably early. Lots of laughing over the pictures we took. Finally got our McDonalds (twice), and said our goodbyes. I'll be seeing her on Friday in Brussels, so the rest of my week will be spent working and finding out things to do there. Can't wait.

Plans for the rest of the day: upload photos, sleep, eat, watch The Office.

Currywurst and Rhine Park

I've realized that you can't get more German than eating Currywurst in Rhine Park. But let's back up, because the first sounds like some horrible spread you put on sandwiches and the other sounds like the German equivalent of Disney World.

Currywurst: Basically a brautwurst cut into big chunks, covered in a dark thick curry sauce and served with pommes (fries), which are also drowning in the same sauce. If you're adventurous you'll get mayo with the fries, as I've discovered most Germans are want to do. For the bland and boring people they get ketcup. If you really want to feel the burn (and who doesn't?) ask for paprika and curry powder over the whole thing. It's fantastic. Granted, everytime I eat it I feel the sauce clogging my heart until I'll finally kill myself, but who the hell cares? It looks disgusting but tastes great. Currywurst, people, a gift from God. Or Berlin. No one is quiet sure.

Rhine Park: a small park overlooking the Rhine River. There are tables for cafes in the park, plenty of stone walls to sit on, and several walking/biking paths. What's great about it is the location. The Rhine isn't anything to marvel at, but it is still nature. I've come to deal with the lack of green this city has to offer, but I (like most) really appreciate what there is. Rhine Park is one of these areas. And the weather that we've been having this past week is perfect for reading outside in the sun. It was around 48 degrees (F) and it's best I've felt since I've been here. Sadly "White Death '07" is apparently right around the corner and I'm hearing whispers of Cologne's "second winter" approaching fast. Wonderful.

Erin comes to visit tomorrow. Words can not describe how excited I am. I feel like I'm busier than ever but it really is all downhill from here.

More on Last Night

A number of oddities occured last night, some of which I feel the need to share.

-Me explaining to two German lesbians what "smack by bitch up" means.
-Two labradors trying to mate in the middle of the bar (one was the owner's, one was a friends) and everyone standing around watching them for about 10 minutes.
-Me threatening to put "two in the head" of Steffie, the other co-owner of the bar that has taken it upon herself to kick Christie out so she can own the bar herself.
-Steffie glaring at me the whole night because I think she heard my threat.
-Karo crying hysterically at one point, which made me smile slightly because it reminded me of all the girl drama I was probably missing out on back home.
-Speaking horrible Italian to Mario, the oldest and frailest man I have ever seen.
-Waking up this morning and finding my stuff all over the room, including my jeans hanging out of the window. Apparently I decided that airing them out was necessary.

4:09am

It's after 4:00am here. Just got back from Dingleberry's. I love Christie, the now ex-co-owner of the bar. She's from California and one of the few people I don't alter my voice (read: accent) for. I can speak to her as myself, without considering my tone, inflection, word choice--- I know she will understand it all. She likes me, which I am thankful for. Finally got to hang out with Karo after a long hiatus, which was nice. She was fighting with Timo, though, so I talked with Yasmin a lot. I love them all.

Last weekend alone in Cologne. Erin visits next weekend and I will take her to Dingleberry's and Jameson's (an Irish pub, for St. Patrick's Day), then Brussels, then Paris, then Italy, then Berlin (?), then home. It's really all down hill from here.

Marc had a suprise for me this weekend but it didn't work out because I had to be at the school today. I was one of the six teachers who got to decide which 15 students (out of 32) got to go on the exchange program to Connecticut. I absolutely love the English teachers and was very happy they inclulded me in their conversations (most of the time). These past two days I really let myself shine-- my humour, my personality, my dispositon--- everything. I feel like even Mrs. W got to know a side of me she had never seen. I think is was the uniqure environment of interviewing the students out of regular school hours. Or something like that.

Besser Essen

Every morning my roommate watches this show called Besser Essen (Eat Better). The show is exactly like You're Killing Your Kids. Basically people go into homes whose children are a bit out of control with their eating, the "moment of truth" hitting the parents when they see their 9-year-old son morph into some 40-year-old pervert who will most likely end up alone and fat with a bald head and peircings.

Telivison at it's finest.

But what gets me the most about this show is the music. Just now I heard The Strokes ("You Only Live Once"), Royksopp ("In Space"), Gorillaz ("Dare"). It's all background, of course, but very distinguishable.

It just kills me that a show like this could be playing music I love.

Current Time: 7:45am

How Could I Forget?

Today I picked up my music player, shoved the buds in my ears, and chilled the fuck out.

I haven't touched my music player since I was on the plane over here. I've been listening to music, mind you, but always off my laptop. But my player...God, I had completely forgotten about it. How could I have been so careless?

I forgot how much I love music surrounding me, enveloping me like a fire. The soundtrack to my life is playing in my head as I walk through the city and I haven't felt this happy in a long time. The same music I played last night in my small room is completely different in this big open space of a city. To say that my spirits were lifted is ridiculous and cliche, but oh so true. I've been walking around the city for the past five hours, just listening. Listening to songs long forgotten and replaced, songs no longer on my notebook but still in my heart. Songs where you know the music by heart and can sing every word perfectly, even though you can't sing worth a damn. And you wonder why the hell did you delete this song in the first place?

Music pulls me back and forth so much. Certain songs are associated with certain memories, just as a particular smell will always remind you of an event, person, thing. Like the smell of that Fruit Stripe gum that came in the zebra wrappers that we ate as kids will always remind me of Girl Scout camp and pranks on other cabins. Like Damien Rice will always remind of me Mary Lyndon Hall and the orphanage in Italy feeling the wind and sunsets. Sufjan Stevens will always remind me of freedom and Joni Mitchell's "A Case of You" will remind me of riding in Lauren's car at dusk to her place, past the hospital on Prince Avenue and her saying "This song reminds me of Ben."

I have no idea what songs will remind me of Germany, but I have the next month to figure it out.

April 17th, 2007

PostSecret is coming to UGA two days before I get back.


Of course.

Schedule Changes and Trips

The Trips:

Next weekend: Berlin
March 16-18: Erin visits for St. Patrick's Day.
March 23-25: Brussels/Andrew Bird concert
April 4-8: Verona, Cinque Terre
April 10-13: Paris

April 19: Home

That's all I have planned at the moment, though I'm sure I'll find something to fill in the other weekends. Maybe Prague or a quick trip to London. I didn't realize how much time I didn't have anymore. God, where did all the time go?

Schedule change at the school this upcoming week, due to new teachers coming and old teachers leaving. I'm dropping my class load like woah and will finally be able to put more effort into one or two classes instead of running around like crazy. 11 classes and 5 teachers will drop down to 6 classes and 4 teachers.

It's all downhill from here. I'm looking forward to the future too much still. Home, the summer, beyond. I have an interview in Virginia for a teaching position and my parents have decided to make the trip with me instead of me driving up alone. We'll visit D.C., which they haven't seen in a couple of years. It'll be nice and most likely the end of April. I want to get the interview done as soon as possible. Then it's back to Athens, graduation, then life. I have a big ? on my planner on August 14th. It'll be around this time that I leave the warm breast of hand-holding and university for the cold and bony shoulder of real life.

Head Injuries (Not Mine) Jar Memories (Mine)

I work with 11 different classes and 5 different classes at the moment. That's around 200 students whom I have gotten to know in the past month I have been here and I can say I love them all. Even the ones I hate love, because no matter what I'm still learning. Learning so much my head feels like it's going to explode.

So when I see one of these students lying in the doorway of his classroom, hands on his head with too much blood seeping between his fingers and onto the floor, I'm a bit concerned.

This happened two days ago and I was walking with Mrs. B to 9th grade English. We've turned the corner and walking to the end of the hall where I see two things immidiately: Katie (names have been changed) crying hysterically and Johnny bleeding an impressive amount.

Turns out Johnny thought it would be a good idea to jump into the room and consequently picked the worst spot to do it: right underneath the doorjam (you could still see blood where he hit). At first I thought he had cracked his skull, but upon further inspection it was just a gash. Mrs. B was in perfect control and sent specific students to do a job.

Ben, go to the secretary's office to call an ambulance.
Laura, go get some paper towels.
Mel, go to the teacher's lounge and ask for Mr. S and get the first aid kit.

The perfect example of calm, cool, and professional Mrs. B put everyone at ease immidiately. She stayed with Johnny the whole time, even after the rest of the class was put into another room to stay out of the way. The pool of blood around Johnny's head was growing so much we had to scoot away and, even though I knew I should have been scared, I wasn't. He was conscious, he was talking, he was laughing. Dizzy, but laughing.

But Katie wasn't laughing. Katie was crying as if she had personally caused harm to Johnny and the guilt was so powerful it was being pumped out of her body through tears and snot and hiccups. No one wanted to speak English, of course, so I stayed quiet and stayed next to her, rubbing her back and trying to calm her down. It didn't really work.

Katie's reaction reminded me so much of mine when I accidently hit my Mom in the head with a golf club.

(Background: Mother's day sometime in high school. Mom has taken me, my sister, my aunt, uncle, little cousin, and grandmother to a driving range. I am doing very poorly, despite my Mother's patience and tutoring. I thought she had backed away from me, but upon swinging my club and missing the ball, I feel it connet with something very real and solid. I turn around to see my Mom standing behind me with a pained expression on my face, eyes closed.

She opens her eyes and looks at me, saying "I'm fine." Almost immidiately blood starts pouring from her scalp. I react instantly and do two things: 1) put my hands on the wound to stop the bleeding and 2)start crying so hard I was sure I was going to pass out from a mixture of fear, shock, guilt, and love. But she's a nurse and my aunt and grandmother knew what to do. She was fine, but by the end of the ordereal her face and shirt were covered in blood, as were my hands. My mom actually wanted me to go to the hospital to get looked at, mainly because I couldn't stop crying or trying to get the blood off of me-- to the point I was scrubbing my hands raw).

But Johnny was fine and Katie couldn't see that. Mrs. B said Katie reacted this way to everything-- very emotionally, she meant. After Johnny was taken by the paramedics (he really was fine and walked on his own, the bleeding having finally stopped) Mrs. B talked to the students about what happened. I'm glad she switched to English because I really wanted to be a part the discussion. 'If anyone is feeling dizzy or sick please tell me,' she said. 'What just happened is a big deal and I understand if you want to talk about it, but I think it would be better to try and get some work done, to take our minds off of it.'

But she got the students to work, even after something like that. I feel very lucky to be working with Mrs. B so much. She's not afriad to bust some chops if someone is making her mad, but she's got this great relationship with all her students. She sets the standards high and expects them to match it, which they appreciate even if they don't say it outright.