Hmm. People's politics outside the SLC bubble are very interesting. For example, I'm having more and more difficulty with my English Methods professor because he seems to have very fixed ideas about gender and politics. Not very receptive to listening to any other side.
There was also a disturbing conversation in Ed Psych this morning about teaching kids how to use standard English, aka "the language of power." Prickly. I'm finding that it's harder for me to keep my mouth shut, smile, repeat what the teacher wants us to say, and keep my own opinions to myself.
On the flip side, I'm now thorougly enthralled with Macs. When I have the money (if I ever have the money), I will own a Mac.
I also want to see a movie this week. I feel like I should see the new Herzog (especially since I quite enjoyed the last documentary), but my depleted energy levels are pulling me towards insipid movies like Madagascar. Or maybe even something even stupider, with a cast of pretty boys doing dumb things, and ending with the same contrived "let's cram this tired moral into the last ten minutes" conclusion that I've seen in at least fifty other films. Like, say, Wedding Crashers.
Maybe it's just advertising brainwashing. Every time I get on a subway or a bus, I see Owen Wilson's smiling face.
Ugh. I'm such a capitalist consumer.
Finished reading The Working Poor and started Atwood's Oryx and Crake. I don't feel like a semi well-balanced human if I don't read for fun.
Well, tomorrow is the beginning of my second week of NYCTF training. It's been interesting so far. Six hours of grad school every day (well, every week day), followed by two hours of Fellow Advisory sessions. It took a day for me to get used to Queens College (this campus is so big! Unlike SLC! There are so many straight men here! So unlike SLC! Maybe this makes me a sentimental geek, and kind of snooty to boot, but I miss SLC with its extreme politics and gently sloping lawns). I think my English Methods professor is great, and am still warming up to the Educational Psychology one. Oh, and I spent an exorbinate amount of time hiding from fellow Fellows during lunch breaks. I'm notoriously bad around people I don't know.
I took my English CST yesterday afternoon, and feel less than confident about how I did. I didn't expect there would be so many questions about public speaking, journalism, and phonology ... eek. If I don't pass the CST, it means goodbye to the Fellows program. So I'm crossing my fingers.
In other news, Jason's going to Dunkirk for two weeks. :( I start student teaching next week, at an undisclosed location. This morning J and I had brunch with Nina at Maggie Brown's. It felt very strange to be back in the old neighborhood.
Overheard snippet of conversation:
"Oh! That's where Martha Stewart went to prison!"
It is hot here. No. Hot is not the right word. Sweltering. We swelter in our studio apartment, with our one and a half fans and two panting animals (yes, cats do pant when they're hot and have over-exerted themselves by back-flipping off of futon sofas). Luckily there is a solution. There is a air-conditioner at Jason's old apartment that Dan is letting us take (yay Dan). We hope to pick it up on Friday, in Scott's car ... that way, perhaps we can take both the air-conditioner and Mr. Jackson to the neighborhood bar.
My mother called me early this morning to say that she received her bound-copy of my thesis in the mail, is halfway through reading it, and thinks it's "pretty good." The idea of my mother reading those stories puts me into a semi-panic ... partly because of her tendency to think every mother in every story is based on her ... and partly because a few of the things the mothers do and say in these stories are in fact what she once did or said.
In other news, I've decided to give Piper a middle name. She will now be called Piper Madagascar Maloney, only she doesn't seem receptive to "Madagascar." Piper and Maloney are both names she will answer to, but Madagascar will take some time, training, and people-shaped biscuits. I have some thoughts about also giving Rue the middle name "Madagascar II," but that might be pushing it. As Jason said to me earlier today, "Aren't you going to confuse them?"
I appealed to have my teaching assignment changed to Region 4 (an area that includes Astoria), and found out a few days ago that it was approved. So today I sent resumes out to all the Astoria middle schools. Hope I hear back from some of them. My heart is really set on teaching at the middle school level, and teaching at Astoria school would be great. Actually, any school that didn't involve an hour or more in transportation time would be wonderful.
Training starts in exactly a week, and I still have 80% of the bulky guidebook to read, an observation paper to write, and observation notes to transcribe. Eek.
And tonight's a showing of one of the new Herzog films.
Jason's home from the hospital (the specialist was unable to tell us why J's esophagus was closing up) and able to eat again, but I've been dealing with a nasty flu. I skipped out of a school placement fair last Thursday because my voice was shot to hell, and I didn't think I was up to four hours of interviewing. It was just as well, because Nina spent Thursday night at the apartment. Jason made wasabi tilapia, and the three of us sat up late, drinking red wine and talking.
My spring school visit last Wednesday was great, however. I went to PS 174, a "failing" pre-K to grade 8 school. I sat in on a 7th grade English class. The teacher, a cheerful fellow Fellow, told me that most of the students were either living in homeless shelters or with foster homes, and that many of them would wear the same outfit all week. I fell in love with those kids. They were sassy, bored with writing and reading a book called The Friendship. But still -- they were kids.
Yesterday, between bouts of hacking my lungs out (well, just about), Jason and I went to 30th Avenue and bought a futon couch. It completes our studio apartment, and even the pets are thrilled with it. Rue has been doing backflips off the couch since early morning.
This morning Jason tried to eat some chicken noodle soup and threw it up, so we went to the hospital. So far he's had some blood tests and X-rays done, but hasn't been assigned to a room yet. He's just lying on a gurney in a sea of gurneys in the ER. I had to go home and eat something before I threw up (I don't think this particular hospital has a cafeteria), so here I am. Must feed the pets and walk Piper before heading back. Hopefully Jason can have the operation to open his esophagus soon, and then can come home.
Jason still can't swallow any food, and hardly ever water. He's trying a teaspoon of meat tenderizer in water (apparently this sometimes worked when he was a kid), but if this doesn't work I don't know what we'll do. Go to the hospital. There's one about five blocks away.
But when should we go? I don't think Jason wants to go at all, but he's probably already getting dehydrated, so we shouldn't wait much longer.
A sort of harrowing day. Jason's esophagus keeps closing up, and he hasn't been able to keep any food down for a little more than twenty-four hours. He assures me that it's normal for him, but it makes me anxious. I hope he can eat tomorrow.
Despite that, we still managed to have coffee with Jee and Winston at a nice little Cobble Hill cafe. We sat in the outdoor section which was quite nice, despite the massive amounts of seed pods floating through the air, randomly landing on our clothes, our drinks, our food. The cafe had a fantastical selection of pastries, but I, uncharacteristically, opted for the potato leek soup instead. Jee had some quite nice looking madeleines, however. Winston launched into a story about a small sect of Proust scholars, infatuated with a description involving a spoon, coffee (or tea, I don't remember which), and madeleine crumbs.
I've never had a madeleine, myself. Certainly never one dunked in coffee. But someday I might.
Before coffee, Jason and I read pornography at Barnes and Noble (well, I read pornography. Jason read Robert Bly), got stuck in subway construction delays, and picked up my humongous NYCTF guidebook. Having a gigantic textbook to read makes me feel somewhat better about the teaching predicament I've placed myself. Theory and thick books always calm my nerves, make me feel (however untruely) that I'm a little more in control of the situation.
We'll see if that still holds true, come December.
Peppermint schnapps are gross.
But Dan Jackson got a job!
And today we will have lunch with Jee Leong, and perhaps meet Marie for coffee. Then to street fairs in Brooklyn?
Also, apparently Randy Kaplan is playing at the Living Room tonight.
Emmylou Harris on the CD player, and Jason reading Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart, and Rue plotting sneak attacks on Piper's tail.
Ahh, Saturday morning.
having s'mores in bed
We went to the Mexican restaurant near Jason's school instead. Three messy, overflowing guacamole tacos with sour cream, lettuce and tomatoes. Then we went to Cold Stone Creamery for my new favourite ice cream flavor: cake batter. Combined with graham cracker pie pieces in a crunchy coconut-chocolate waffle bowl = sensory overload. I love Cold Stone Creamery. Can't believe I never tried their ice cream until my family dragged me there.
The @*f&*#! English CST test I signed up for this morning cost a whopping one hundred fifteen dollars. It kills me that I have to pay so much money jjust to get up at the crack of dawn and then have my brain squeezed for four hours.
I played this game last night until one in the morning, while Jason slept. There's something extremely satisfying about rolling bananas, geese, and ice cream vendors into one squirming, squealing ball. Can't wait until I've advanced high enough to roll skyscrapers. Gee whiz.
Jason and I are going to try an Indian Restaurant on sixth street tonight. Can't wait ...
They finally assigned me to teach in region 9 -- an area including the South Bronx, Spanish Harlem, and lower and mid-Manhattan. I know few fellows get to teach in Manhattan, but I'm try my damndest to get into one of those schools. South Bronx sounds like a scary place, and I've never been to Spanish Harlem.
Oh, and I'm to do my grad work at Fordham University. Which I thought was a good thing -- at least it's a school I've actually heard of before. I'm not exactly sure what kind of academic reputation it has, but I guess that doesn't really matter.
A semi-productive day. Washed the dog in new mango-peach shampoo that smelled nice in the bottle, but disappoints on actual dog fur, put up a little wall bookshelf, unpacked the last of my boxes, swept and mopped the floor. Now to reorganize some of the apartment clutter.
My brother called last night. He wants to spend all of next summer with us, assuming that we'd have moved into a bigger apartment by then. I think that's a neat idea, especially if I'm not teaching summer school. Hanging out with my brother, playing video games and eating unhealthy frozen snacks ... like the old days.
