I'm going to a training tomorrow and I am pumped! It's a good chance to break my normal routine and maybe learn a new trick or two. I fully expect much of it will be stuff I already know, but this is my first time out of my classroom by choice this year (The previous absences were strep throat fueled, and I would have much rather been healthy and in class).
Also, I think I'm having something of a "I've been at one job for a long time" crisis. I love my school, but the wanderlust has been kicking in. I'm already thinking about what to do next year. I've already applied for the an interview pool for a more technical position within the county. If I don't hear anything back by March, I'll probably put forward my interest for a interviewing at other schools for a transfer. Maybe there will be a good opportunity in 'the trenches' of alternative schools or a nearby elementary school. If nothing presents itself, I wouldn't be opposed to a fifth year at my current position (since it's great to have a job and all).
I want to work at all three levels (elementary, middle, and high) at some point. Normally, I get somewhere, settle in, and get content quickly. I'm not really used to the restlessness. Hopefully, an opportunity will arise, or I'll just work through it.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Random Cat-Fun
I've been playing around more with Carrie's iPad lately. What it lacks in flashes and editing options, it makes up for it in the "it's there when I need it" category.
Click if you're interested in random cat mayhem, or you can just wait for the next Shane-annigans post for more baby action!
Click if you're interested in random cat mayhem, or you can just wait for the next Shane-annigans post for more baby action!
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Molars, molars, molars
Shane's teething again. He's got his upper left molar peeking through, and there's a big ole lump where the right one is getting ready to emerge.
Thankfully, he's not been a complete cranky baby. In fact, he's learned how to play fetch!
Thankfully, he's not been a complete cranky baby. In fact, he's learned how to play fetch!
Thursday, January 19, 2012
I Can't Fix Dead
One of the science labs my county runs requires live goldfish. My school normally buys a small assortment and passes the tank from room to room until every class has run it. Once the experiment is done, we're left with a bunch of goldfish that no one really wants. The tank becomes an aquatic hot-potato as everyone tries not to be the last one stuck with it. Eventually, the goldfish usually find a permanent home. Some tanks decorating rooms can fit a couple, and we try to parcel them off to any students willing to adopt them.
That's the setup.
On Tuesday, my science co-teacher walked up to me while the kids were working. On Friday, she'd sent a goldfish home with an extremely excited student. The kid normally has some anxiety and stress issues, but the little fish in a bag gave her a case of happy-itus. Her parents bought a tank, set it up, and then all had a welcoming something or other for their new pet.
The goldfish died that weekend.
Maybe the family didn't let the water sit first. Maybe the goldfish was at a ripe old age. Who knows? The student was traumatized. There was much crying, and the parents wrote an email to my co-teacher explaining the whole situation and how upset their daughter was. They admitted that they were pretty upset about the whole incident and wanted to read up more on fish care so that it would never happen again. "They probably had a funeral too, knowing this family!" my co-teacher told me. At the end of the email, they asked my co-teacher to not ask about the fish, because the whole situation was so upsetting. They didn't want their daughter to break down or cry at school.
Of course, my co-teacher did not check her work email over the weekend. What was the first thing that she asked Tuesday morning?
"Hey! How's the fish?! Oh, I'm sorry....do you want another one?"
That's the setup.
On Tuesday, my science co-teacher walked up to me while the kids were working. On Friday, she'd sent a goldfish home with an extremely excited student. The kid normally has some anxiety and stress issues, but the little fish in a bag gave her a case of happy-itus. Her parents bought a tank, set it up, and then all had a welcoming something or other for their new pet.
The goldfish died that weekend.
Maybe the family didn't let the water sit first. Maybe the goldfish was at a ripe old age. Who knows? The student was traumatized. There was much crying, and the parents wrote an email to my co-teacher explaining the whole situation and how upset their daughter was. They admitted that they were pretty upset about the whole incident and wanted to read up more on fish care so that it would never happen again. "They probably had a funeral too, knowing this family!" my co-teacher told me. At the end of the email, they asked my co-teacher to not ask about the fish, because the whole situation was so upsetting. They didn't want their daughter to break down or cry at school.
Of course, my co-teacher did not check her work email over the weekend. What was the first thing that she asked Tuesday morning?
"Hey! How's the fish?! Oh, I'm sorry....do you want another one?"
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
My Prius Makes Me a Worse Driver
My Prius makes me a worse driver.
There, I said it.
There's nothing wrong with the car. This problem is not mechanical or electrical in nature. The Prius offers a touch screen display to access different features such as the radio and climate control. One feature calculates miles per gallon. It displays your current usage, averages your mpg every 5 minutes, and a histogram displays your trip data.
I am forever going for the high score. I am now that annoying person on the road who's speed varies more than it should. It's a compulsion. I thought it was mildly distracting at first, but now I can't help myself. I sacrifice steady driving for mileage readily.
Obviously, acceleration and hills kill gas. This means that I don't constantly accelerate and maintain a single speed. Instead, I speed up a little on downhills so that I can let off the gas and slowly lose the built up speed on the uphill. I have to maintain my speed somewhat to stay with traffic, but my eyes constantly wander to the display. I've managed a high score floating around 50 miles per gallon for short periods of time, but short grocery store runs and speeding up to merge with traffic usually keep my average in the 44-45 mpg range.
There's something in my brain that forces me to do this. Whenever I see that I'm getting less than 25 mpg my foot reflexively comes off the accelerator. The efficiency-oriented region of my brain recoils from the idea that I'm wasting my gas, or maybe it's just the game aspect and I hate thinking I'm 'scoring' that low below what I could be averaging. It's a strange compulsion that never existed back when I was lucky to get 20 mpg in my 5.0 mustang (that was a different kind of fun!).
If you see a Prius varying speed in front of you it may be me. You can honk all you want, but I'll be busy shooting for a new high score.
There, I said it.
There's nothing wrong with the car. This problem is not mechanical or electrical in nature. The Prius offers a touch screen display to access different features such as the radio and climate control. One feature calculates miles per gallon. It displays your current usage, averages your mpg every 5 minutes, and a histogram displays your trip data.
I am forever going for the high score. I am now that annoying person on the road who's speed varies more than it should. It's a compulsion. I thought it was mildly distracting at first, but now I can't help myself. I sacrifice steady driving for mileage readily.
Obviously, acceleration and hills kill gas. This means that I don't constantly accelerate and maintain a single speed. Instead, I speed up a little on downhills so that I can let off the gas and slowly lose the built up speed on the uphill. I have to maintain my speed somewhat to stay with traffic, but my eyes constantly wander to the display. I've managed a high score floating around 50 miles per gallon for short periods of time, but short grocery store runs and speeding up to merge with traffic usually keep my average in the 44-45 mpg range.
There's something in my brain that forces me to do this. Whenever I see that I'm getting less than 25 mpg my foot reflexively comes off the accelerator. The efficiency-oriented region of my brain recoils from the idea that I'm wasting my gas, or maybe it's just the game aspect and I hate thinking I'm 'scoring' that low below what I could be averaging. It's a strange compulsion that never existed back when I was lucky to get 20 mpg in my 5.0 mustang (that was a different kind of fun!).
If you see a Prius varying speed in front of you it may be me. You can honk all you want, but I'll be busy shooting for a new high score.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
When do I become "Dad?"
One of the strangest transitions for me as a new parent is figuring out when my name is going to change to 'Dad.' Whenever I say that name, I don't think of myself. I think of my father. I'm supposed to be calling him 'Papa' or something like that, but he's still 'Dad' when I don't catch myself. Shane's mainly babbling now, but I'm going to be 'Da' whether or not I'm ready for it once he really means what he says.
And for that matter, when is Carrie going to become 'Mom?' I've been trying to switch over to calling Mom 'Nana' and calling Carrie 'Mommy.' It still feels strange. There have been some odd conversations months back when I would say something about 'Mom' talking about Carrie and someone would think I was talking about my mother. Other times I said 'Mom' clearly meaning my mother and somehow it was interpreted as Carrie. I can't think of any specific examples, but I do remember the awkwardness (and no, I did not say anything involving romance, but yes that could have made a jaw drop or a pair of eyes bug out).
So when do I feel like I'm 'Dad' and Carrie's 'Mom?' I think this is going to be one of those things were you never know the moment when it happens, but you look back after you've been wearing the name for a while and realize it started to fit. Or maybe I'll always feel a little awkward with that title, but I doubt it. When I first started teaching, the kids called me 'Mr. Mike' or 'Mr. M' but I eventually got used to being called a 'Mr.'
On a different level of the family tree, I'm glad that my parents and Carrie's parents are NOT both being called Grandma and Grandpa. My mom wanted to be Nana and she nominated dad to be Papa. I know many families just throw a name on the end of Grandpa or Grandma, but I like having two distinct sets of names to avoid confusion. I had that growing up with Jama refusing to be called Grandma, because it made her sound old.
Time for Dad to go check on Shane.
And for that matter, when is Carrie going to become 'Mom?' I've been trying to switch over to calling Mom 'Nana' and calling Carrie 'Mommy.' It still feels strange. There have been some odd conversations months back when I would say something about 'Mom' talking about Carrie and someone would think I was talking about my mother. Other times I said 'Mom' clearly meaning my mother and somehow it was interpreted as Carrie. I can't think of any specific examples, but I do remember the awkwardness (and no, I did not say anything involving romance, but yes that could have made a jaw drop or a pair of eyes bug out).
So when do I feel like I'm 'Dad' and Carrie's 'Mom?' I think this is going to be one of those things were you never know the moment when it happens, but you look back after you've been wearing the name for a while and realize it started to fit. Or maybe I'll always feel a little awkward with that title, but I doubt it. When I first started teaching, the kids called me 'Mr. Mike' or 'Mr. M' but I eventually got used to being called a 'Mr.'
On a different level of the family tree, I'm glad that my parents and Carrie's parents are NOT both being called Grandma and Grandpa. My mom wanted to be Nana and she nominated dad to be Papa. I know many families just throw a name on the end of Grandpa or Grandma, but I like having two distinct sets of names to avoid confusion. I had that growing up with Jama refusing to be called Grandma, because it made her sound old.
Time for Dad to go check on Shane.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Brain vs Body
When your body is telling you it's time to whiz and your brain is telling you to hang up the coat in the closet, which is in control if you open the bathroom door, coat in hand, and are confused it's not the closet?
Friday, January 13, 2012
Shane's not sleeping well this week
Shane was only down for an hour before he woke up crying. I just got down from comforting him and laying him back to sleep. This morning, he was up at 4:30. Carrie ended up laying with him on her chest downstairs at 6 AM when we couldn't get him to stay asleep for more than a 5 minute stretch. Shane would rest quietly laying on either of our chests, but the moment we thought he was asleep and tried to move him the boo hoos kicked in again.
On Monday and Tuesday, Shane refused to go to bed until after 9 PM and both times I didn't leave his room until after 9:30 PM. I don't know if this is a manifestation of separation anxiety or my son desperately trying to fend off sleep. Either way, I envy Carrie's ability to sleep through the crying. In the beginning, Shane couldn't breathe without waking her up. Now, she can sleep through anything except an "I'm hurt" cry (which she usually hurts me when she bolts out of bed in Protective Mother mode). She hasn't been feeling well this week so she's been going to bed way early. She was down at 7:30 PM on Monday and before Shane the rest of the week. Yesterday, she managed to fall asleep while I put Shane down but then woke up when I checked on her. She then fell back asleep 15 minutes later leaning against me.
Why am I still awake? I'm a momentum kind of guy. Once I'm awake, I try to stay awake and postpone sleep. Once I'm asleep, I don't want to wake up. My no later than 11:00 PM bed time is coming up though, so I'm going to force myself to go try in a few minutes.
But hey, it's a three day weekend! Maybe Shane'll sleep in since he's already had his wake-up call for the night.
On Monday and Tuesday, Shane refused to go to bed until after 9 PM and both times I didn't leave his room until after 9:30 PM. I don't know if this is a manifestation of separation anxiety or my son desperately trying to fend off sleep. Either way, I envy Carrie's ability to sleep through the crying. In the beginning, Shane couldn't breathe without waking her up. Now, she can sleep through anything except an "I'm hurt" cry (which she usually hurts me when she bolts out of bed in Protective Mother mode). She hasn't been feeling well this week so she's been going to bed way early. She was down at 7:30 PM on Monday and before Shane the rest of the week. Yesterday, she managed to fall asleep while I put Shane down but then woke up when I checked on her. She then fell back asleep 15 minutes later leaning against me.
Why am I still awake? I'm a momentum kind of guy. Once I'm awake, I try to stay awake and postpone sleep. Once I'm asleep, I don't want to wake up. My no later than 11:00 PM bed time is coming up though, so I'm going to force myself to go try in a few minutes.
But hey, it's a three day weekend! Maybe Shane'll sleep in since he's already had his wake-up call for the night.
Sheldon Cooper is really real
I am a nerd. My wife is a geek. Therefore, we like the Big Bang Theory.
Plus, Sheldon Cooper reminds me of many of the kids I work with and have worked with. Obviously, none of them were "rocket scientists" like Sheldon's sister called him. It's his personality and affects which make him (amazingly) the most real of the characters to me.
I bring this up, because I had a real life Sheldon experience today. It's hilarious on the show, but sad in real life. I really feel for the parents of this one student I teach.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
No new post today
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| For now, it's rest time. |
Time will tell.
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