I love grass like this. I always have, and I think it’s because as a kid I got to lay in it with my sister and cousins. We took this picture and that grass has been burned into my memories every since.
I observe things too much. I saw this outside Jamba Juice and I think they made
a mistake with their weekday-themed alliteration.
Do you see it? Or am I just a bit obsessive compulsive?
This is my new running route. I start at Andrew’s place and end here.
Needless to say, it motivates me to keep going.
The plan
Since it’s summer and I won’t be telling crazy stories from school as often (but don’t fret – there’s still room for some good ol’ flashbacks), I need to come up with a fun way to share my summer adventures. And I have.
I’ll be posting a photo a day from something I did or saw or experienced using my trusty iPhone camera. Sometimes it’ll be funny or weird or sad or probably confusing. But it will be a good way to chronicle my summer days and maybe entertain you. Then, about once a week, I’ll post a narrative about something cool, an update on my projects, or a reflection on the year passed. Should be fun, and certainly won’t get boring.
Enjoy!
- Jeff
16 days later…
It’s not that I haven’t been inspired to reflect or to get on here and post about this or that. I’m usually inspired on a daily basis. In fact, I just looked up and saw this and felt pretty motivated. I think I just needed a break. A break from anticipating the next day, from catching up with to-do lists and scrounging for time to run or cook or clean. I’ve mostly decompressed from the school year, and it’s time to redirect a few things.
I haven’t taken a true summer break since the two months following my high school graduation. I’ve either been abroad or interning or researching or learning how to be a teacher. So six years later, I’ve decided to take two months to myself. No supervisors, no schedules, and, yes, no money. But being a teacher means a continuous paycheck and thus the ability to have a little fun on my school’s dime.
But my true summer break wasn’t a concerted effort to actually take a break. In fact, I tried to fill these 8 weeks with something more meaningful and productive. I applied to four different programs or internships and to no avail. Deflating my ego is one thing, but seriously – nothing? Did I not just teach in urban Philadelphia for two years? Did I not also simultaneously take classes and earn a teaching certificate and M.S. in Education? Did I not just work my ass off proving to myself that I was capable of just about anything? Yes, I think I did. But only to find, apparently, all that experience was not quite what they’re looking for.
Bitter? Me? No…not at all. Just wondering what all this means and where I’ll end up next. So in the spirit of being self-made, I’m taking this summer to myself. And don’t go thinking I’m just gonna do yoga and watch movies and eat all summer. I’ve got a few plans that might just make this a more meaningful and productive summer than any internship or office job could offer. And trust me, you’ll be hearing all about it.
It feels good to be back.
- Jeff
No countdown necessary
Today was my last day of school.
It was anticlimactic.
It was a shitshow.
It came way too late.
It doesn’t feel over yet.
It’s summer.
I won’t let this landmark go without reflection. But, dear lord, please just let me rest for a second.
- Jeff
Visualizing the oil
I’ve been reading a lot about the BP oil spill lately, and crossed this website, which is helping people like me and you visualize the size and scope of the spill itself. It uses data about the spill’s breadth and maps it onto the zip code you choose using google maps. It offers a fresh perspective. Take a look for yourself.
- Jeff
Self help
I have a bad habit. More than a bad habit, it’s an ugly habit.
Some people bite their nails. Others can’t stop shaking their legs sitting down.
I do this to my thumbs. (and yes, that is me)
It’s a combination of picking your cuticles and biting your nails. I’ve been unable to kick the habit since the 6th grade. I actually remember the day it started. I was showing off some weird hand trick with my fingers and a group of kids started making fun of me. And at that moment, I retreated and it began.
Over the years, it started to actually feel good – a repetitious movement that could both distract me from something nerve racking and provide a sense of control when I was out of it. Sometimes it gets so bad I bleed. Pale skinned band aids are my hallmark product. I’ve probably worn out thousands since middle school.
But as embarrassing and annoying as it is, I still do it. I’ve tried to stop so, so many times. I’ve filed the rough edges of my skin, carried around lotion to keep things smooth, used band aids and gels to cover them, and tried to develop other, less harmful habits to take its place. I even made it a challenge for one of my students to catch and stop me in the act. Nothing has worked.
For 12 years, half my life, I’ve been doing this to myself. I want to stop. I need to stop. And I’m coming to you here for some help. While I welcome any advice and tips you have, by simply making it public I’m hoping to face it like I never have before. My thumbs are usually shy around others – you won’t catch a glimpse unless you’re really looking. But hiding isn’t giving me any inspiration to stop.
So, there it is. I said it and I showed it. And while you might be a little disgusted, I hope you can take part in helping me overcome whatever it is that’s causing me to do this. If you’re a friend, bring it up. If your a stranger, check in with me. I’ll be posting updates every now and then through the summer in an effort to stay conscious and work toward breaking the habit.
If this is sounding like a cry for help, it is.
- Jeff
1891
I’m an observant person. I tend to notice things when they are changed. Come in my room and move a few things, a book or a frame’s angle, and I’ll probably say something to myself. Something like, “that looks different.” Anyway, there’s something I’ve noticed a lot lately and I just have to say something about it.
I was updating a profile for an online purchase and had to input the usual personal info they ask for when you update things like that. Name, sex, birthdate, etc. And I noticed something funny about the birthday years.
Then, earlier today I was making a purchase on Southwest.com and noticed it again.
So I checked facebook and there it was.
All different. And without an explanation I can fathom.
You see, all these sites provide varied years that you can choose as your actual year of birth. The 12 month, 31 day option is standard, but it’s all up in the air when you click and scroll down to choose a year.
Southwest, for example:
1891. Weird, huh? Then I got to thinking, maybe they base it on the oldest person alive. That way, their options would be inclusive of all people on earth. Makes sense. Well, made sense to me.
So, naturally, I looked up the oldest person in the world. And they were not born in 1891. They were born in 1896. Her name is Eugenie Blanchard and she lives in France. I swear.
Maybe Southwest is just really making sure not to leave anyone out. Then again, that 5 year gap between the oldest living person and the 1891 scroll down option might just be for the hell of it.
To make things more complicated, I checked facebook. Their cutoff, to my surprise, was 1900. Now, the century-mark makes more sense than 1891, but then again, they’re leaving some folks out. No matter their reasons (it’s probably up to the engineer who makes the software), I’ll never stop wondering, or scrolling down to check each time I enter my birthdate. It will haunt me as a habit until I die.
And I can’t help but feel kinda bad for Eugenie. She can never have a real facebook account. She can fly, though, and that is something.
- Jeff
Let me explain
My students are sexually active. It’s really not something I’m fuzzy or confused about. It’s actually quite obvious. Pregnancies at my friends’ schools (and, yes, even my own) are not unheard of. But beyond literal insemination, my student’s conversations in the hallway, and their references to sex acts and the such make it clear that they’re far more advanced than I was at their age. In the midst of growing up, I forget my first exposure to all things sex-related. My parents never sat me down for “the talk,” so I must have picked it up from someplace. Regardless, I don’t think it happened in middle school. Then again, that comparison isn’t really very useful anyway. The point is that my students, at my school, are definitely having sex.
While I don’t necessarily condone it, there isn’t the space at my school to even bring it up. As their history teacher and part time mentor, I haven’t found the right place or time to interject my own thoughts on sex at 12 years old. While I think they can assume my position, it’s better ignored in favor of their own moral (or hormonal) compass. My philosophy, as it has been for a long time now, is that young people need access to information about sex at a young age. The more mysterious sex is, the more glorified it becomes, and the less they realize the real-world implications. For this reason, I wanted to play a role in de-mystifying it all.
I posted a list of micro-reforms I wanted to achieve by year’s end back in February. Included on that list was the goal of setting up a sex ed workshop series aimed at educating my students about their bodies, choices and, above all, contraceptives. Although my administration was hesitant at first (“this isn’t really a problem, is it?”) they embraced the idea after rallying other teachers to echo the same sentiment, and collecting a few risque notes that were intercepted during class. Let’s just say my student’s sexual vocabulary is broad and impressive.
I contacted the school district to get their approved organizations for sex ed resources and, upon seeing Planned Parenthood on the list, jumped at the opportunity. So over the last month, Planned Parenthood came in to present three workshops covering a good breadth of topics: from reproductive anatomy and making choices about sexual intimacy to abstinence and contraceptives, we made some good ground. The kids were mostly immature and giggly the whole time, but the mere mention of sex in school must have opened a whole new space to express themselves. The taboo attached to the word “sex” probably became less intriguing when I joined the conversation, and with a straight face, said things they likely didn’t expect to ever hear in room 801.
Our last workshop took place on Friday, after a long day of babysitting 8th graders while the other kids were on a field trip. To keep things rolling, we watched Avatar before the workshop got started. And during the session itself, after getting frustrated with their giggles and loudmouths, I said “We watched Avatar and now we’re talking about sex – what more do you want? Now be quiet.” It shut them up for a bit.
At least until we discovered the presenter left her plastic penis condom-dummy on the desk in our classroom. And after snapping a quick photo, I hid that in a jiffy. I can’t imagine the phone calls I’d be getting from home.
- Jeff
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