Tag Archives: teaching

Permission

I keep walking near this but not quite landing on it. I need to start writing again, probably as close to daily as I can manage, because that is the process by which I sort through what needs to be done and I make firm decisions and I can start moving forward confidently. I need to actually weigh out the good and the bad. I have to talk to myself and when I am not writing I don’t actually think things through. I get distracted too easily. I don’t have the same sense of building climactic drama and escalation of hormone level as I think through all the ugh and unh and contractions of muscle groups associated with each option.

Then when I have a decision I feel ok. Often I feel great. I know what I need to do.

I am really struggling with a bunch of aspects of this. The last few years have been really challenging. There has been a lot of survival mode and we have not been living in a way that is sustainable. We’ve been sprinting. We can’t keep doing this. Not everything is going to get done. We are going to do the best that we can. It will be good enough. It won’t ever involve everything we could do if we had all of the time in the world. It will be enough.

The secret to happiness is low expectations. I need to keep pushing on physical activity with the kids because right now we are all rebuilding after a lot of indoor focus. It’s time to work on being animals that have to be able to move around in a rapid manner outdoors.

It’s time to slow down and stand still and feel what is actually happening in the place you inhabit. What does this space have going on? What kind of creatures already live here? What kind of creatures could live here? What kind of plants live here? How happy are they? What would we like to add?

I had my day segmented into blocks of time. Then life happened and most of the first block got sucked into solving problems for other people. I could have let one of the kids do it, but I got rid of a huge pile of recycling at the same time freeing up a lot of the front of the bike shed. We could really use the space.

And so I sit here trying to get my head back on straight. I have been grouchy and irritable and I don’t need to be. I’m acting like I’m in a big damn hurry and people better get moving. I’m acting like there will be a consequence if we don’t “finish” in time.

WTF? There is no finish. Not really. It’s a fucking garden. I’m about to purchase a whole extra .75 acre. I will never. Never. NEVER. Finish.

Do you know what is more important than rushing at this point? Helping the kids to feel like they have ownership of the space so they take care of it more assiduously. Getting them to have more self-created small projects they can feel pride in. Let them fail and try again and fail again. It really isn’t that big of an amount of money. They are learning.

If I want to have adult children who want to live nearby and come visit the garden…

Ok. I need to be acting and modeling very differently. I have been acting like my goals were different. I have been acting like there is a specific thing in my head and I am racing towards the finish line…

Honestly I was like 85% of the way to what I wanted to have in place for the whole garden I had in mind for my dream birthday at 60.

Now… oh shit.

Maybe I’m just playing. I’m kidding. Hey…. it was a joke… ha ha…ha? What the fuck are we going to do?!?@?#E$>@#W:ERFLJaelrdsfhvn;zskdjhnvsdklz/nv

fuck

Ok. I need to go hang out with kids in the garden for a while. We need to have some chats about intentions and the fun parts and what they would like to do more of and less of for a little while.

Ah crap. Another committee meeting. But they won’t respond to fucking email. lolsob

The gurus

They don’t all call themselves gurus, some use teacher, Owner, shaman, tantrika, daka, coach, guide, and memorably one just went by Dragon. That is outside the not-short list of Daddies I have acquired through my time as an adult. They were all men who were absolutely convinced that they knew what I should do to be happier/healthier/sluttier/less slutty/more attractive/more intelligent/less emotional/less crazy… in short what they all had in common was viewing me as a piece of clay that could be molded into their ideal woman.

If I’m at all honest I totally fucking have a type and it definitely extends to people who like having a massive reality distortion bubble around them that intrudes into other people’s sense of self so they could direct the people.

For the purpose of this writing I am going to assume that the controlling person is primarily male, mostly because I have yet to have an enby try to establish this sort of dynamic with me (not saying they never do at all) and very few women try to influence me in the same manner. I have a number of women I look to for advice and guidance and they are all people with extremely strong opinions (FUCKING HAWT 😍) who will tell me what they think then drop the topic and move on. I will listen or not and that isn’t their problem.

The men come back to check if I am obeying. They chastise me. They tell me “you have to ____”. They tell me that if I keep doing x that I will never (whatever they want me to do). They threaten dire outcomes if I don’t fall in line with their direction.

Before you try to go all “Oh look, just another feminist bitch hating on men” I need to point out that I married one of these dudes and many are still in my extended harem (the people I am deeply emotionally attached to who I have fucked or played with in the past), and I even talked to one about how to write this post. Clearly I don’t just hate all these men. I signed on for sucking one of their cocks for the rest of my days. He has no problem at all with my harem of much loved and adored friends. My husband knows that he has a biological family he may not adore but who would show up to rescue him with money and resources if something went sideways in his life. I have my harem, my triad of best friends, and the loose ties I have extending through communities in cities in many countries. He does not begrudge me the only safety net I have in this life. Mommy boards say that I have a lot of emotional affairs. I’m ok with that description.

So when I talk about the feelings I have about my relationships with men who share this personality trait it is not a purely negative topic. When I say that I would not be who I am without these men I’m really not kidding. I’ve done a lot of hypnosis, NLP, conditioning training, improvement plans, slave contracts, affirmation work, and even a fair bit of strait up corporal punishment when I failed to do as I was ordered.

Every time someone gushes about how confident I am about myself I mentally see that meme of an autistic woman accepting her Oscar for how well she masks.

I have a great deal of self doubt, well less than I used to. I have a great deal of suspicion about my own motives and why I am taking the actions that I am taking. I believe that the self I have constructed amongst my friends, mainly through the writing I have done for decades (it all went private when I moved to the UK but once I have citizenship locked down, finger guns I’m sure it will revive) is a binding contract. Old friends tell me that when they are doing things in their life they stop and consciously think about the delineated way I think through why to act the way I want to act when they are evaluating what they need to do in a situation. I feel kind of stunned when they say this. Then I laugh because immediately after they almost 100% feel the need to follow up with “I know what you would do and it would be ____ (sometimes they are right in that guess and sometimes not) but I am just using the PROCESS and I have different values so what I decided was ____.” There is usually this little bit of a funny energy about this exchange that is now emerging with my kids as they get older.

I do the teacher shit fucking hard too. I’m not just dissing on people who like to influence other people.

When you model how to think through a problem without giving a strong “the right answer will always be ‘x'” people can generalise from that into many cases you never considered initially and often there seems to be this little almost foot stamping response of, “Just because you are right about one part of this process that doesn’t make you right about everything! So THERE!

I think this is pretty subconscious for folks most of the time but when I see it over and over and over and over it gets a little hard to keep the smirk off my face. After this many years of parenting, I am getting particularly obnoxious about keeping a serious, slightly concerned face and leaning in a little to say, “So you are saying I win?”

I’ve now said this to a few friends in situ and they are people who have known me long enough to throw their heads back howling in laughter. Just like last night my coach said at the end of the conversation “So you are telling me that after this conversation you feel a lot more comfortable about the fact that you are clear in your purpose and you don’t think there is underlying inappropriate feelings driving your actions? Now you figured out what you are going to do going forward? So what you are really saying is, I win?

But do you know what I am honest with myself about? An awful lot of these men are uhm not people I can wholeheartedly endorse as upstanding gentlemen. Many of them have pushed far too hard and have raped women who did not use a firm enough “no”. I have supported communities in enacting blacklists that blocked these men from attending. I have spoken to the men in question and told them point blank that I was going to reach out to people in the community they just moved to and I am going to tell those people about your history. They usually sigh very deeply and nod. They know that it is not worth a single minute of their time to try and talk me out of it.

Someone recently mentioned the concept of being in an accountability circle with someone. I spent a little bit of time on DuckDuckGo and thought about that concept more specifically. Ok, that’s my husband and my triad and harem and my sisters and mothers in leather. Those are the people who keep me on the path I want to be on. They tell me when I’m an asshole. They tell me when I fucked up. They help me figure out how to fuck up less. Harm Reduction is the goal. They see me clearly in all of my layers of machinations and mixed feelings and need to learn what “healthy” responses are and they are really good at asking me the right questions.

Over and over I say that the purpose of working with a therapist is so that you can have access to someone who will ask you the questions you need to think about in order to figure out the answer. Therapists aren’t magicians and they aren’t priests: they don’t have all the answers. You have the answers for you and I have the answers for me.

I rode out most of the first couple years of the pandemic not talking much with most of my harem, my triad mostly went silent, and most of my sisters and mothers in leather were far too overwhelmed to have much ability to interact regularly. I did make more tentative connections with new people here in Scotland but frankly it is still early days. Bailey taught me that friends come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime and you don’t know who is who until the end.

Over the past year there has been a slow wave building in my life, the ocean is just starting to send the tide in. The people who are still in my life and who reach out daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, or just when they happen to see something that makes them think of me remind me of just how far the road has been. I have not sat still with just a couple of people, needing them to fill all of my needs. I have been privileged to be a comet in a great many lives.

It’s not that I still know everyone I have slept or played with. Many threads have frayed.

Do you know who stayed? The fucking gurus.

But not even all of them. I have kicked a few out of the harem. People who consistently showed me that they did not understand the agreement between us about which parts of my life and selfhood were up for attack.

I mean, I did marry the grand motherfucking prize winner of the game “What is wrong with Krissy.” I’m not opposed to being attacked on a great many fronts. These people I am speaking about get to stay because they have been able to shift their understanding of me over time with great nuance. They understand that the opening gambit of our relationship was not to be indicative of how we would get along forever. They can usually understand that they have crossed a line just by seeing me narrow my eyes.

I might be into providing service, I may be an absolute workaholic if I am given a project that will please someone in that group of people, I might be fully willing to be an owned possession who has limits about what they are allowed to do in big parts of my life, I might fucking live for the opportunity worship people and grovel as I appreciate the opportunity to please them…

That is always within a strong framework of you have to learn my idiosyncratic, difficult to track, highly specific to my life boundaries and not encroach on them. There are limits. I will comment when you have crossed them. I will retreat from you rapidly if you respond inappropriately. There are lots of kinds of inappropriate.

The only real appropriate response is, “I just said something that was not good. May I ask how that went wrong?” I train my people like I train my plants. To be clear I do not expect the appropriate response from anyone early in a relationship. Casual acquaintances and folks I know randomly/socially are absolutely going to 100% of the time have an inappropriate response. That’s totally fine. I get that. I am not mad. But whatever inappropriate response results in some level of gentle correction. I evaluate how gentle to be on a case by case basis.

If you laugh at my correction you are now out of the running for ever making it past “yeah I know that guy”. And you know what? I’m not mad about that. Really, it’s ok. I may feel lonely in a lot of ways because I have a lot of touch hunger for the specific people who have the right to touch my body because we are deep enough and close enough in our relationship. The people who have survived hundreds or thousands of little course corrections after inappropriate responses.

When I get word of them having fucked up in their community I figure out what went wrong and I proceed to talk to them about where and how that went off the rails. I am not gentle or kind but I am forgiving. I am just as fucked up as they are and they forgive me too.

I have gotten much better with practice about understanding when and how someone can be my prey.

I am pretty wordy about figuring it out though. Typing is my native language and I have been sitting on everything I’ve thought over the last few years. Necessary time to hibernate and slow down. You have to close some doors in order to open other doors.

When someone tells me that they are desperately holding on to a person in their life because they feel like they are afraid of the pain of the loss I can’t help but think of all the times when creating an empty space in my life lead to me being able to create a different connection that nurtured me deeply but wouldn’t ultimately be as all consuming. Sometimes the person I thought completely lost turns out to be a comet who can show up for chats every few years. Every time I have that happen I say a blessing for Past Me having the wisdom to smile brightly and wish my friend joy as they severed the tie to run off and grow somewhere else.

It’s funny how much this all feels more and more like a cross between gardening metaphors. Oy. That’s yet another detour.

The point, and the reason I haven’t hurried off the dang computer yet is that I know that if I am writing a contract in my head around my behavior and what I should be doing to continue the arc I have been on for quite some time I might have to say pieces of that out loud again. I can’t get to backstory yet but I will. This stretch of writing is a long time coming and most everyone has even told me it is fine if I just use their names. A few asked for pseudonyms and I go with that.

They are each of them a whole fabulous thread of interactions and course corrections and fucking opportunities for growth. Other people don’t need to care about any of this at all. I write it down simply because that is how I learn what I need to learn. I ask myself the question and then I write until I figure out the answer. I’ve made many of my closest friends through writing. We have arguments and debates and always come again and again to the same end result: we each have our own different right answer and it won’t be the same. This is part of how they taught me to think and I miss it deeply.

I miss letting them in.

Finding space for that writing is hard with running and gardening. There’s this whole web to weave. I don’t know how much of it will end up here, probably just most of the slutty or kinky stuff. But I have to start writing again. I am getting off course. As I was told several times yesterday: I am always at my finest when I am saying what I am thinking so that I don’t get cocky or shitty because I would have to admit that too.

I think fuck ups should be very publicly discussed and analysed. I’m not just saying “boundary crossings” or assaults or anything extreme. I find out who is going to end up closer in or farther out on the extended web with every time I talk about them doing something I don’t like.

I’m not talking about a big deal. I’m talking about noticing “Hey, x thing sucks and it isn’t cool”. There is a lot to be learned when people react to that. A whole lot of people will pick up their football and go home and will speak about me with scathing words. Cool. I’m used to that.

But the people who stay all wiggle into the right place for them. It takes time. Seasonal changes sometimes make waves in that group of folks who are around for reasons that might not be so needed anymore. And some of them fade out except for the occasional fond smile or grimace depending on why they faded out.

But the ones who stay. Well, chef’s kiss they are my kind of predators and I am very happy to recognise that my loving them means that I am choosing to do whatever is in my power to help them only go after prey instead of finding victims. I hope not in a codependent way? I really don’t have time for that much involvement with fucking anyone’s life outside of people I live with. Good grief.

I can only ask questions and hope they are the right ones. I can only tell them where they are fucking up and how. I can ask them to consider why they want to do a thing. I absofuckinglutely will do something to deplatform them as much as possible. Fine. Learn how to be a member of a community who is known as someone to keep an eye on. You don’t get to be the leader. You know how you are wanting to go do x, y, and z? How about if instead of you doing that you look around at who could be doing that even better than you can but they need some kind of support to make that happen. Don’t take the stage.

Cause with these specific predators we have agreements between us. I will call you what you are. You will never in your whole life have to worry if I am just sucking up to you. I will tell you what I think without reservation or softening my tone in any way. You get to find out what the inside of my brain instinctively produces in response to you doing that. And we will talk about this until you motherfucking understand how and why you done wrong and how you are fucking going to make amends.

Maybe not in that same city because you fucked up so bad you have to leave. (Ironic that I say that here. To the best of my knowledge I did not leave the bay area because I fucked up and was driven out of any communities. If anyone disagrees with my assessment feel free to comment below.) So maybe my level of intervention is going to be a bit messy and ridiculous. But I know what you are. I know what you have done. And you can have a redemption arc–that’s great. It will require you not doing the same ol’ same ol’. You have to choose to change. You have to figure out what your answers are. Where is the enlightened self interest in your need to change? What should you change to get what you are currently fucking yourself out of in your impulsive dipshit move?

The people who stay are messy and complicated and I hold no illusions about them. As a deeply flawed person I want to be seen and accepted for the totality of myself. And that has involved a lot of agreements about what had to change.

How in the fuck would someone new just know all that bullshit? For fucks sake. That’s ridiculous and unfair.

I know.

I can never really write it all down but it moves the conversation along by so much when I at least try.

So yeah. I suppose this is my personal ad. This is how I have always hunted. My prey is different for so many reasons but if you are patient with me I will be as explicit as I can. You don’t have to come for the whole ride. You are welcome to come in and out whenever you need.

Cause I’m a wordy bitch.

The class should be able to run without you

I just thought of something. A long time ago, when I was doing an assistant teaching gig in a middle school, my mentor gave me a book about how one of the most important things you can do as a teacher is to have thoughtful systems for how things will be done throughout the class day that you follow absolutely rigidly. This is so that going through the experience is so rote that you don’t even need to tell them to do whatever the next step is after a short time–they know.

I have been doing very poorly on that lately. As I say often to my oldest when he is trying to solve a problem, you are getting stuck in the weeds instead of looking at the big picture of the forest.

I am not modeling coping skills for living in a neurotypical world as a neurodiverse person in a conscious and deliberate way. I am hiding to do all of my regulation and that is opaque to kids.

It’s kind of interesting because we do talk about other aspects of mental health. Every so often a child (ambiguity there) will start acting out in some way and we will have a chat where I remind them that we don’t have easy access to therapists here so we have to actually talk to each other and figure things out. I acknowledge that I am not their therapist and I never can be because I am not a neutral party who is entirely on their side. I have my own agendas and biases so that means I am not the same thing and I’m not as good… but I am what is here. So far these sorts of conversations have ended with someone feeling like they are a little bit more ok and that’s all I can hope for.

But I’m not showing them how I organise information in my house. I narrate it quickly on rare occasions and that just isn’t the same thing. It’s not fair. I’m not always regulated the way I should be and I have a lot more experience being taught how to regulate myself. We don’t always figure these things out intuitively.

When did I learn these skills? I was always a real sucker for a school planner. I filled those bitches out. That allowed me to information dump like I do in my blog in the most nascent of forms. I blame you, middle school. My kids haven’t really had that experience. We do use Google Calendar but it is not the same. It doesn’t force you to organise your mind every time you look at it. You have to go turn on a computer/phone and check it. Yeah with a paper planner you have to open it and look at it but that part was always the easy step for me. I compulsively had the fucker out. Every hour or two I had new shit.

I am feeling especially pent up on the swearing front. I’ve been feeling so bad about all swearing around the kids that I’m doing way less and feeling weird about it. Also: conservative people in this community will judge. So, hello anxiety.

So yeah. I need to do that. Come on Krissy, get your shit together.

Just visiting.

Today I went down to the school where I used to teach to hang out with an old co-worker and a former student. I no longer know any students on campus. It was weird and hard. I was told more than once that I can come back any time I want to. I am still thought well of. My former co-worker told me that I am inspirational. And he apologized for not always being able to handle hearing my stories. I told him it was ok. I can’t handle them all the time either.

I asked my student what I taught him. He said, “You taught me to be myself. More than anyone else ever in my life, you taught me to like myself. It’s made a big difference.”

I didn’t cry, but it was close.

Not.The.Problem.

I’m not currently feeling massively pissy about this topic so this is probably a good time to write this post. Let me state emphatically, for the record, that being a stay at home mom is not the problem no matter which problem it is that you (general you) think I should fix. Let me explain why.

When I was teaching I worked 60-70 hours a week. I was chronically underslept. I was rather unhealthy because I had no time to exercise and we ate out constantly because when in the hell was I going to cook? My house was a disaster and keeping up with laundry was a nightmare. I was lonely (doesn’t anyone remember my angsty whiny posts from that time period?!) because I never got to see my friends and students don’t count as personal time. I loved my job, please don’t get me wrong. It was wonderful. It was deeply fulfilling for me on a personal and spiritual level. But it had a very high cost to my health, social life, and sleep schedule. Granted, I quit after only three years of teaching and everyone says it gets easier. But when they say it gets easier they mean it goes down to 50-60 hours of work per week. Grading papers takes a lot of time. In addition to the mandatory 35 hours/week of your contract time of which most of that is teaching/passing periods/breaks during which you have to deal with students you have very little time for prep work or grading. It pretty much entirely has to happen outside your contracted hours. And that’s not including commute time.

So, for those of you who believe I would suddenly have more ‘personal balance’ if I had a job–exactly when in the day do you think that would happen? When on top of an already stressful job I had to also take care of getting two children ready in the morning and try to add their needs on top of grading in the evening? What, you think I would have more time for myself on the weekends when I was trying to frantically do laundry, clean house, and pay attention to the kids who missed me all week? That’s fucking mental.

And between daycare costs and the increased amount of eating out and commuting costs and needing a better wardrobe for work and buying my own school supplies… I think our noticeable income would go up by about $400/month. Well that sounds like a bloody stupid ass trade to me.

Why being a stay at home mom is a good decision for me personally:
-I get plenty of sleep. Without sleep I am not a pleasant person for anyone to deal with. I went through the whole first year of Shanna’s life very well rested despite the fact that she woke up to nurse a lot at night because I could go to bed whenever I wanted and sleep in as much as I wanted. There were no constraints on my time.
-I have a better diet than I have ever had in my life. (Ok, pregnancy is kind of making this one harder but it will come back.) I eat a wider variety of vegetables than I even knew existed I shit you not. I had never heard of many of the vegetables I’ve eaten this year. And I am mostly eating a local, seasonal, organic, humanely raised diet. I feel really good about that both from a personal health point of view and from the point of view of my impact on the planet. That is just awesome.
-I really believe in Attachment Parenting and it is pretty fucking difficult to do if you are away from your kid 55+ hours/week. I believe strongly in nursing on demand and child led weaning and I am a shitty pumper. I honestly would not be able to keep up pumping at work for years so that my supply stayed present. I know this about myself.
-I believe very strongly in homeschooling. I have done the research. I have worked in education. I have 5,000 reasons that I will not ever put my kids in public school and private school isn’t much better. Kind of hard to do with two working parents.
-I get a lot of downtime to do shit I want to do. I do house remodeling projects (which while stressful also make me very happy) and read and get more exercise than I have gotten in years. I have had a blast baking. I love learning how to cook more interesting foods. I really love my weird hippie quirks and they are rather time consuming.
-I see friends during the day quite a bit and I still get to devote tons of time to my family. I really enjoy spending time with Noah. He’s my best friend. He’s funny and fun and interesting to me. I really appreciate that our time as a family together involves very little stress about cooking and cleaning. (Ok, pregnancy and the first six months of a kids life are more stressful but that would be 5,000% worse with a job.)
-I like the challenge to meet our financial goals within restraints. That is totally how my mind works. I feel very good about the many ways in which I am frugal. It’s like a game. I don’t do this in the ways that other people often do–I’m not trying to find name brand purses for cheap or anything like that. I’m trying to pay off our mortgage as quick as humanly possible while still having a really high quality of life. Given that we were able to decide to go to The French Laundry and up and go in less than a week means that I am succeeding really flippin well.

Every life choice carries with it challenges. I whine more about the hard things than I post about the things that make me happy. This is true of a great many people who journal online–it doesn’t mean awesome stuff isn’t going on offstage. If you (generic you) have an ounce of respect for me, my ability to make reasoned choices, and the best interests of my family you will never again tell me to get a job because it will cure what ails me. You are just fucking wrong and I’m getting really fucking sick of that stupid lecture.

Job irritation.

I hate parents. Ok, that is too broad. I hate the parents of my students. Ok, still too broad. I hate the parents who are sending me obnoxious emails. Ok, that’s fair. No, I will not go back and change your kids grade on the last progress report because he made up an assignment later. No, I cannot have a meeting with you Monday morning to discuss the fact that your son has had an F from the beginning of the semester. (WTF people, what do you think I do all day?!) Whining, bitching, and moaning is just nuts in my classes right now and I want to beat children over the head with sticks. Hates them all I does. Ok, not all. Some of them are just silly/obnoxious and I get to squirt them–that makes my day better.

I am going in to work today because of a parent conference and to help some kids catch up on work. I don’t really want to. I’ve been taking Fridays off and it is going to hurt that I worked five days this week. I have next Friday scheduled off and dear-lord I will need it. I can’t miss any other days next week because I have conferences scheduled with the kidlets during class all week and I am not physically up for making them up after school. 🙁 Only 14 more days until vacation. There are only 19 school days left in my contract.

The sophomores are trying to talk me into making the final just vocabulary–they keep claiming it is so I will have an easier time. Horse pucky I say. The lazy gits don’t want to have to actually study.

exhausted, but cheerful

This weekend has been very very good. I have seen lots of fabulous friends. I went and saw the Wet Spots in concert (Hey Tim! Their website is www.wetspotsmusic.com ) and had a smashing good time after getting drunk on margaritas with friends. I have gotten to snuggle my baby. I taught a self-bondage class and it went very well. The pacing was just about perfect (go me) and I cautioned everyone to never put anything around their neck so that a certain someone in the scene won’t bite my head off. I got to grab A’s boobs, which will make any weekend ideal. Therapy was good and it has been agreed that I will no longer go every week, thus saving my back some wear and tear. It’ll be great.

Yeah, wonderful weekend. I wonder what I am going to teach tomorrow…

Tales from the classroom

Just so that ya’ll know that I am not just obsessed with my romantic life…

The year has started well. I’ve had kidlets for two weeks and I’m already a little sad that I only get them for 172 more days. 🙁 That isn’t enough time.

I seem to have a generally good crop of kids. Comp & Lit is not terribly motivated, but they seem to be willing to work when I tell them to. We are working on motivation though. It’s a goal. My English 3 classes are generally decent. I have a couple of talkers in each class and a few lazy snots, but not many. Mostly we seem to be warming up to one another. It is kind of funny that if I have an awful day with one period the next day they are super great. I know that a lot of it depends on my own attitude on a given day, and I am trying very hard to work on that. I’ve only had to yell at three kids so far and they have been good since. Yay! Although my aide has detention on Tuesday because the shit won’t carry the classroom pass when he runs errands. (He earned this today. Cause I just got the pass *today*. I had him last year and so we get along and have lots of struggles with “who is in charge.” S’all good though.)

We start Writers Workshop today and I have their assessment packets finally. I get to do my first round of big grading this afternoon. It’s so exciting! heh. The pile is somewhat intimidating when I have this many students… It’ll be good though. I have confidence in them!

In block letters across the front of my room I tacked up: “Today is the first day of the rest of your life! What do you want to accomplish?” I ask different kids to respond to it almost every day. I’m getting some good answers and some smart ass answers. It’s a good tool though. I don’t know all of their names yet. I know about half. *sigh* That is not enough! I know the talkers and the ones with weird names. I’m having trouble with my 4 Breanna/Briana/Breanas. And I have 5 Michaels. And Kelsey/Chelsey/Kaylee/Cayleigh. And three Ashley/Ashleighs. Oy. Guess what names I won’t pick for my kids? The weird thing is–I feel awkward about talking about the really cool and unique names because that feels like I’m saying too much about a person. How odd.

But it’s going well. I am a full month ahead on planning for English 3 and I’m only two days ahead on Comp & Lit but the district is giving me textbook training on Tuesday and it seems dumb to go far ahead…