more matter | less art

I’ve spent the last hour typing up a study guide for the kids’ second short story test. I’m happy with it. First, the questions are worded in such a way that they will have to think to answer them and perhaps even go back to the stories to find the answer, thus solidifying their knowledge of the stories. Second, I have to monitor the spring pictures tomorrow and will have a sub the first half of the day, and the SG is “rich” enough to keep them busy for awhile.

No one cared about that paragraph. Not even me.

In somewhat unrelated news, I got my real estate textbooks in the mail! This is my new venture, and I haven’t been this excited about something since I married my husband. Well, maybe since we bought the house. That was cool, too. Anyway, yeah, real estate. New career path. I’m going to be licensed (hopefully) by the summer so I can dabble in it during those months off, and if all goes well, the shift could become permanent.

Don’t misunderstand: I’m not one of those flighty people that has to be doing something different all the time and will never be satisfied. I’m just not satisfied with where I am right now. I don’t feel like I’m where I need to be. And every rational fiber of my being is prompting me to take the “safe” route and just stick with it because it’s a good job and it pays alright and it’s fairly secure and I did go to college for it after all, but my fear is that if I give in to that part of me, I will spend the rest of my working years unhappy and will have no desire to go back to anything once SAHM-hood is over (stay at home mom, that is). The other day when I was at the doctor and they did the flu test, all I could think was, “please come back positive, please come back positive.” I mean, what is that??? Who the hell HOPES they have the flu? That’s when I realized how serious it had all become.

So here I am now. I’m praying every day that God will give me a clear-cut direction so that I can follow his will. I can’t honestly say that I know what that is yet; I do, however, feel fairly confident that I’m in the wrong place right now, and I want to remedy that.

The most important thing in all of this is that the hubby fully supports me. That is a cool feeling. That’s how I know I’m loved.

/sappiness

I want to meet my freakin’ nephew already. He should be popping out any day now.

I have this aversion to people that I’m just going to have to force myself to get over. My new path in life will require it, on two fronts. First and foremost, I have to quit being so passive in my Christian walk. Don’t get me wrong: you won’t see me on a street corner holding up a piece of poster board while shouting out the gospel at passers-by. I do need to speak up, however. There will be receivers of said speaking up. Those are people.

I think I will start with my cats first.

Secondly, my whole theoretical new career that is shaping up to be closer and closer to reality each day – that’s going to involve people, too. Networking, even. This part will be much easier, because it will be business-based rather than interpersonally-based. That’s a different kind of communication.

So. Yeah.

I am on a quest for my Chazown. God is doing some interesting stuff right now. Stay tuned.

I’ve been trying to muddle through the work week, but I finally gave in and went to the doctor yesterday. The NP thought that I might have the flu, but they did the “cram a Q-Tip up your nose” test and it came back negative. I don’t think she really put her finger on it, because she said, “Well, since it’s negative for the flu I guess we’ll just call it acute sinusitis and treat you for that.” Okay. That doesn’t really explain the vomitting and diarrhea, but give me some drugs and a note to stay home from work for two days and I’m happy.

So that’s what I’m doing. The hubby is pampering me to the max, and when I’m not bonding with the toilet, it feels good to be able to stay home and just lie down and relax. Getting up and walking around is exhausting, so there’s no way I would have made it at work.

I always get the feeling that when I call in, people talk about me behind my back and say I’m not really sick and am just slacking and yadda blah. Ah, paranoia. And if it is true, I don’t care. Whatever.

Despite the blahness of being sick, I am going to try to have all of my grading done before we go back to school Tuesday (yay Presidents!). I need a new system to minimize my at-home paperwork. That will probably entail maximizing the usefullness of my aides. I’m sick of bringing crap home. From now on, tests and papers only.

Back to the couch.

Why does it always feel that as soon as I’ve caught up with everything that needs to be graded, another mountain of papers awaits? It’s Sunday. I’ve spent the last hour or so inputting grades into the computer, and several more assignments have yet to be recorded.

I told the hubby the other day that my ideal job would involve lots of paperwork. Not on top of everything else I have to do (which is what teaching entails), but the actual core of the job would be paperwork that I could sit in an office and do during daytime hours. He looked at me like I was crazy (damned extrovert), and then promptly said that would drive him nuts. It would be my niche, though. My personality profile classifies me as an ISTJ (Introverted Sensory Thinker Judger). I’m organized. I like to keep to myself. I tend to be analytical. Bring on the paperwork.

That said, my job is much more suited for the hubby’s personality type (ENFP, or Extroverted Intuitive Feeler Perceiver). He will succeed at teaching and enjoy every minute of it. Well, most minutes of it. I, on the other hand, am just earning a paycheck.

I credit much of my disdain to last semester’s kids. They were awful. Terrible little human beings. L once described the situation perfectly: “You know, the earth could open up and swallow my 3rd block whole, and I wouldn’t miss any of them. Not one little bit.” And I agreed. I know it sounds hateful. I know outsiders that don’t spend their day with these people probably view that as a horrible statement, a disservice to the profession. Whatever. They sucked.

This semester is better, many times over. My 2nd block is wonderful, 3rd is kind of fun, and 4th is just sort of there. Still, despite the drastic improvement in student quality, I feel burned. Burned enough to tell pretty much anyone who brings up the subject of teaching. I come home tense and upset, I put things off, I dread the weekend ending. Yet there is this sense of responsibility that keeps me going, this notion of “if I don’t do this, I’m nothing.”

So many people seem to be of the mindset that I should just keep my mouth shut, pretend I’m happy, and continue to trudge along because it’s bound to get better. Maybe they’re right. Or maybe not.

So there. If someone can think of something that I can do that won’t make me want to go home and drink myself into oblivion (for the record, I don’t do that… housing rules and all… but I want to), please let me know.

So I totally busted this kid for pot tonight. Suspicion is one thing. Reaking of the stuff like you still have a joint in your hand? That’s just not smart. Especially on school property.

Is it wrong that it feels kind of nice to have sent him up the river? Because it does.

Other than that, I am trying to keep this tiny apartment somehow clean and organized, and despite the fact that we are continually carrying stuff over to the new house, I don’t seem to be accomplishing my goal. It bothers me. I just want things to be NEAT. And when they aren’t I want to cry like a little baby. I guess that’s my sexist gene screaming, “Bad woman! Failure!”

Someone remind me to pay my property taxes before the month is out.

update: and 1 hour late tomorrow!

Three school days off due to snow? In a row? This is all just too good to be true.

The miniature break has been really nice. We’ve gotten some stuff done on the house, visited family, relaxed and spent time together… all good things. Today is devoted to domestication (on my end… the hubby is in class today) and essay grading. I’ve decided I can’t really spend much more than 3 minutes per paper, because if you multiply that by 85, that’s 255 minutes. 4+ hours is a hell of a lot of time to be reading poorly written narratives. Next time we have a big writing assignment (short story analysis), I’m going to tackle 10-15 papers a day to make my life easier.

I would procrastinate, but I can get to that tomorrow.

I love Groundhog Day. LOVE it. In my mind it rests just atop Christmas and birthdays. I am, in fact, expecting a Groundhog gift of some sort. The hubby was informed of this ridiculously bizarre expectation months ago, and I will nudge him slightly to… er… refresh that memory.

Why would one be so fascinated with the most arbitrary holiday of the year? Well, the sheer pointlessness in itself gives it a lot of power. Do you realize that the tiny words “GROUNDHOG DAY” are printed in the February 2nd box of every US calendar? Does that not amaze you? I mean, this is a marmot we’re talking about. That’s quite a feat.

I can’t help but feel a sheer, childish joy when Punxsutawney Phil is pulled from his quarters by his tuxedo-clad keepers. I can tell you from experience that groundhogs are typically not the nicest animals on the planet, but not Phil. He’s as docile as an overweight housecat. They hold him out in the air in front of the crowd; they cry out in excitement. This marmot’s about to do some forecasting. How could you not be excited? They wait, and I wait, in anticipation of the arrival (or non-arrival) of his omniscient shadow.

So what happened on this cold, snowy morning? Watch and see!

If you want to know the history of this sacred day, read this article.

And if you want to join the official Punxsutawney Groundhog Club, which you know you want to, you can do that here (when their traffic dies down).