Edubabble and other Blither

I sat down to update and, of course, had to check the posts. PG and I had the same thought-- it IS time for me to update.

Here's what's going on:
1. Thanksgiving is at my house. Yes, you read right. I am having a turkey here. I'm not nervous, though, even though it's my first. My sister and I did a turkey once and didn't fuck it up, and PG once told me it's next to impossible to mess one up, so I guess I'll try. My father and Saint Belinda are coming, supposedly. I called them today to ask them to bring a pumpkin pie, and it started. I'm to pray for him. You see, his meds have been changed, maybe the doctor didn't wean him off the other medicine, he's feeling emotional in all kinds of not good ways. Tripper and I were expecting this. Whatever. It's the invitation that counts.

My mom and stepdad are coming on Saturday, so that'll be nice. Tripper and I have painted both the dining and living rooms, and I want people to see them. They're beautiful, I think. Tripper thinks we should have done more than the mere "lipstick and rouge" we did, but I'm happy. When the wives are happy, the husbands should rejoice, say I.

Tonight I chopped everything so that tomorrow after school I can bake a couple of things. Then we have a Pilgrim and Turkey party. At the risk of being redundant, yes, you read correctly. We highly doubt we'll dress up. Surprise. :)

2. School has been going well, although lately I'm being plagued with cold sores. I'm a leprotic mess. Maybe that's a little hyperbole, but still.

The Dogpatch Institute of Education, the Institute I'll think I'll call it, has hired a person to "help" me and the other English teachers reach high achievers. I hate the word "help." I've never asked for or accepted help, even when I should have. It's the WASP way of life!! (I once mentioned on the Rust-Belt Times on-line forum that I used to be WASP. What are you now? someone wanted to know. I told him, W.A.S.)

When the Dogpatch Middle School principal approached me about this idea, I was skeptical, and I'm sure he could tell. He was selling it, to be sure. I suggested that the Institute "help" me by hiring me an aide to do the stupid piddly work like bulletin boards and filing so I could do the job they're paying me $50 grand to do. He shook his head.

"You see, Chrissy, we're going to do this in a 'push-in' sense, rather than a 'pull-out' program." (I'd like to tell them where they can "push it.")

"What will I be doing when this person is pushing into my class?"

"Co-teaching. You know, those things you don't have time to teach, but would like to teach to the really high-achievers." He actually appeared enthusiastic. Like I do when I'm trying to convince my kids how all this testing will help them. They don't buy it, and I didn't buy this.

The woman they hired is nice, but her only qualification to teach high achieving teenagers is having high achieving teenagers at home. (She's an elementary teacher.) Our classes are already homogeneously grouped, so I can differentiate (notice latest edubabble inserted!) all I want.



This, too, shall pass, I thought. Larry Geller, a former ancient history teacher and colleague of mine, said this all the time. He's now retired. He was famous for fabulously thick curly hair (even at age 60), Steve McQueen boots (ditto), and an electric-booger-green pair of polyester waffle-weave bell-bottoms older than I am, which he donned each year in honor of St. Patrick's Day.

One year our school tv studio crew filmed him entering the building, and showed it during morning announcements: green legs even the Grinch would envy strutted in time to "Another One Bites the Dust." Butta-bump, bump, bump, another year of green pants. Butta-bump, bump, bump....

3. Our diners on Thursday will include, ahem, my father and his girlfriend (see above), Tripper's brother Carlin and his girlfriend Kelly, their baby girl, and my mother-in-law.

Carlin and Kelly bring Baby Ruth over a lot. This past Sunday night, I entertained her for a LONG time with a new song. Look for it on American Idol this January:

Pepper- R O H -ni, pepper-R O H-ni. Pepper, pepper, pepper! Roni, roni, roni! If she knew how to laugh yet, I know she would have been howling. She smiled widely and sang along quite loudly. Baby Ruth's mother and I are kindred spirits, so we heartily indulged the baby (or was it the other way around?) until Carlin and and Tripper begged us to stop.

I'm thankful for all of you three people who read my blog! Have a great Thanksgiving!