Home?

Last week, I went to my classroom and put the desks in a U-shape. Other than that, everything was barren and I spent last weekend Murder-Mystering and not worrying. But, it was barren.

This week, I worked from home, translating Romulus and Remus and trying to figure out what my 5th graders were going to think of me.

Thursday morning, I pulled into the parking lot and sat there, almost crying behind my sunglasses for ten minutes. I hoped no one pulled up next to me because I looked like an idiot. I was talking to myself, muttering, "I can't do this." Suddenly, someone knocked on the window. It was E, the math teacher who had interviewed me and taken me on my tour of the school. Without mentioning my rocking back and forth or the emo-ish music on my ipod he called through the glass, "You're gonna be late; let's go!" He didn't give me the opportunity to speak and as we walked into the lunchroom and I looked at the other new teachers, I felt better.

They feed us, every day. I was too nervous so I had coffee and made awkward eye contact with a few people. I knew one woman, but she was speaking Hebrew with another woman. Finally, another young-ish looking man made eyes with me and we started talking. His name is M.D. and he, like I am, is new to teaching. New to filling out insurance forms. New to retirement plans and spending plans and how much the government is going to take out every year.

I met my fellow teacher; L.M. who will share my room. She is artistic too and between the two of us, we're going to do some great things. We have started even with kid-made curtains from a few students who stopped in this week. I found myself easily slipping into the role I knew a few years ago. Last year, really. I found myself greeting parents warmly. And not completely shuddering when children reached out to touch me. "They're going to hug you," I.Z., my principal, said.

L.M. and I have our desks side by side and slowly but surely are receiving supplies. We're new, working together, and we have a great attitude with each other. Whilst moving the computer today, we dropped the printer. Instead of pointing fingers, we frantically put it back together and hoped it would turn on. It did. We made borders, learned how to use the lamination machine and used die-cuts. Suddenly, these things are at my disposal.

In 8th grade, I am teaching some of my favorite books, including Catcher in the Rye. I met with teachers about it; I preped more things for 5th grade and sat through meetings. Thursday night, I gave M.D. a ride home and we talked about missing college/Greek life and our friends. He went to UMichigan and I talked about how much I loved Ann Arbor. I made a tacit friend.

This morning, I was more energized upon waking. I didn't mind the storms from the night before; instead I felt ready for my day. I sat next to M.D. and L.M. through the sessions and learned about my retirement benefits and how my 401(K) works. I have a savings plan now, apparently. M.D. doesn't really have a classroom so he hangs out in mine, ordering posters and checking the computer because I get internet on my laptop. I laugh with him and L.M. and next week, we're all riding in together. I feel like I am building a community.

Instead of laughing that I don't know Kosher symbols, people are eager to help me. L.M. said she'd work with me on explaining all the holidays I get off and what everything means. I am thinking of learning Hebrew. There is another new Ashley, teaching Senior Kindergarten and she doesn't know anything about Kosher and Shabbat and everything else that had terrified me. But, instead, I'm learning and making friends. On Monday, I will have someone to sit with; things are good. M.D. comes to see me, L.M. checks up. And the veteran teachers are there when I need them.

It costs $16,000 to send little kids to my school. This is not even for the older kids; we're talking tiny tiny babies. The parents are demanding. This is why I could order like $200 in art posters and no one complained. This is why they order new things when old things are broken. I am going to get spoiled.

What I feared happening is happening; I am beginning to call it home. I have keys there, and smile when thinking about my room, smelling like cleaning solution and dry-erase markers. I am smiling thinking what it will be like when the borders are up and my art of Egypt mingles with Hebrew letters. And me, I'm getting easily sucked into the environment and their notions of community. The Temple is beautiful. The stained glass...I want to take pictures of it. The statues are moving and the artwork speaks. I've never felt so different but so welcomed. I'm learning, slowly, and finding that it's going to be alright this year. We had to write our "Hopes and Dreams" for the year (of course it sounds hokey) but, I kept thinking, I hoped not to fall in love with this place. I want to teach high school. But, it might happen. I just might not be nervous about germs when children hug me. I just might love their innocence when exploring To Kill a Mockingbird. I just might...love this place.

Three Bits O' News

• In-service begins tomorrow. I'm terrified and excited. I think once they tell me all the stuff that new teachers are going to need to know, I'll feel much, much better about the whole process. Like, which bathrooms are for teachers and which are for students. It's almost like a birthday, really. Four months ago, I was using the student bathrooms. Nothing's changed about me, I simply have a new title. And now, I get to use a different bathroom.
  

• Had dinner with LSB and EPS on Monday night. We went to Rosebud's which was, of course, amazing. I absolutely love going there; this time I even tried something new--the shrimp and shells. Delicious! But, more importantly, LSB says that she is going to get Erin and I a tv from Benet. Which is le awesome. Now we won't be watching on our 11 incher anymore. Actual movies and perhaps, actual reception for the 4 channels that we do get.
  

• Oh, and most importantly, I'm going to Vegas!!! CA and I got tickets yesterday so yesssssssssssss. We're definitely staying at the Luxor, and we're definitely going to have an excellent time. And I definitely think he's fantastic. September 13th, we're off and running. Where do I get shirts without sleeves? EEEEW.
  

Keeping Busy

This weekend, while it should have included more reunions than it actually did, has involved a lot of catching up with people. On Friday, I went to Hyde Park, dressed like a lipstick lesbian whore gallery owner for Dave's Murder Mystery party. It had been a long time since I'd seen the whole dorm crew, and I, although skeptical initially, was exceedingly glad that I'd gone. Dave even made a huge website for the whole thing. A murder took place at my gallery, "Xenophon," and Dave, the gallery's newest exhibitor, was killed. There were plotlines involving peanut butter, female impregnation and crazy flying cab drivers. SR wore a labcoat whilst her boyfriend, PW, wore nothing but boxers and a graduation robe [he was clearly supposed to be a mad dictator]. I was the one who impregnated someone, but with someone else's seed. An art critic killed Dave but on someone else's orders because Dave's lover was also her lover. And, S was secretly sabotaging the government, but crazy cab driver believed it was she, herself, that was the sabateur. Twisted, and decidedly fun.

I don't think I did enough of that general silliness in college; I think it was one of the most valid things about Boston for me. I reclaimed my silliness. I could owe this to my break with he-who-shall-no-longer-be-named or because CA is a fun-loving individual. I could owe it to removing some of my neuroses from my system or simply becoming who I was supposed to be, in a way, again. Either way, it was completely goofy. I had been skeptical about going; I hadn't seen some of the dorm gang [MP, AS, and others] for quite some time and was not sure what kind of a reception I'd receive. But, we had a great time. I even met people who had lived in the dorm once I had moved out. So, all in all, it was a really relieving, fun evening. Friend groups have shifted, over the years, and being back in Chicago, although wonderful, also means that I need to re-establish friendships. Because, I cannot and will not drive out to the suburbs on whichever weekends CA can't do something. It's a relief that SR lives so close and that I live with EPS. Overall, I think it's simply going to be just fine. This Friday was the start of the re-establishment.

On Saturday, after going to Sunrise Cafe with SR and PW for a salad, I was supposed to go to my five-year reunion. I was skeptical about it, too, because AR wasn't going, and EPS wasn't sure if she wanted to go. I then got a call from my friend JohnnyR, discovering he wasn't going either. Around 5, I called EPS and asked her if we were going. She really didn't want to, and in the end, I didn't either. If people are around, I'll see them. But those who were out of town didn't come in for it [it is, afterall, only five years] and so I decided, who needs a reunion when you live with someone from high school? EPS and I went to Piece with her boyfriend and his roommate; their pizzas were EXCELLENT. We came back here and watched Monty Python. Decidedly better than getting dressed up and explaining to six thousand people that no, I didn't know where he-who-shall... was and no, I didn't care.

Today, aside from cleaning the apartment because my old high school teacher, LSB, is coming over tomorrow, I met Petria for brunch at Orange. The place itself is really unique, with delicious coffee. We ended up being there for about 4 hours, talking about high school, old terrible roommates and our current situations. What it might be like to marry someone someday and everything else. We've promised to get together again soon since she picked up lunch/brunch/all-day.

Still nervous.

[begun on the night of the 14th, finished the morning of the 15th]

Let's face it. Life is nicer with him in it. Decidedly more regular. Decidedly nicer. Let's just be honest about that. I like my bed better with him in it. i like my life better with him in it. Period. End of story.

I had dinner with S tonight at innjoy on division street. They had amazing drink specials and totally cheap burgers (I love eating meat again) and so we stopped there and had a talk and a drink. It was a nice transition back into the city.

I'll be heading to school tomorrow; talking about my 8th graders and getting to see my newly finished classroom. Pretty soon, I'm going to have to go to the dollar store AND the teacher's store and get a bunch of stuff for my classroom. And establish a classroom library; I'm really excited about that piece of it. There's so much to get done. I'm saying to myself, when you wake up tomorrow, there's 14 days until CA gets home. In those 14 days, there is much to be done. I am making up a little to-do checklist with my time and hoping that when I either see him on the night of the 29th or pick him up in the airport, I will be able to say "these things happened and isn't that simply the most exciting! And I've done all this stuff." Ugh. I am so scared of this transition.

But, I am saying it's like when I went to Boston. I kept writing about it, thinking about how nervous I was, blogging all the time about everything and eventually, I just had to get there, have a couple terrible nights and arrive back where I was, comfortable and normal. It just takes a long time, sometimes, to get to that place.

I'll be honest and say there are thing about which I am scared; I don't know how things are going to work once CA begins his hellish work schedule. I don't know how things are going to work once I begin my not-so-hellish work schedule. I don't understand time, and validity and so many other things. I'm still a blurter-outer. I'm still nervous most of the time. I'll be honest and say that I wish it was October and I had worked through all of this. Maybe thinking about it just makes it worse. I don't know.

My classroom is done and I'm sitting in it now, looking at how quiet and dark it is without children and thinking about what it's going to be like once they arrive. As EPS put it, they're not going to love me the first day. They're going to be luke-warm and perhaps I should be honest with them and tell them that I, too, am working on things. We'll see how this goes. We'll see how all of this goes.

mope-a-thon

Perhaps I shouldn't have spent all of last week with him; I wouldn't feel so lonely now. I feel like something's missing. I am attempting, very diligently, not to call, since I know he's in Tampa this weekend with friends. I'm attempting to not be clingy. I'm attempting to pretend that I am not petrified about teaching, and work and everything else that comes with being me.

I have a reoccurring fantasy about driving to Michigan and going to wineries all weekend. Or flying out to New Hampshire to take long drives and look at leaves; all of these fantasies do not involve my being alone, of course. But they do involve running. I had dreams, before I left for Boston, of people trying to steal things of mine. I had fallen in love with this postsecret.The thing is, it all came to fruition. I spent a year without my things, and I did leave and was unable to say goodbye. Five days after CA beings work will mark the last time I ever talked to he-who-must-no-longer-be-named. How things change in a year. The postsecret remarks, in the bottom righthand corner, "Sono spiacente," which is Italian for "I'm sorry." The thing is, I'm not so sorry. I just feel differently now.

I think of this year, of all the things that I could focus on that are wrong. I am unprepared for this job. I spent a quarter of a million dollars on two degrees that are virtually useless. I don't feel entirely at ease with the circle I've chosen. I am scared to be in my apartment alone [but would never tell EPS]. I am secretly jealous that other people can afford bigger apartments, better places. I've never budgeted before, ever--I am worried about all of these things. I have not been sleeping well at night; indeed, I dread it. The last night at CA's, I took one of his Sonata, because I had lain awake for 2 hours tossing. I blamed it on the fact that I'd left my computer in the car, but really, it was something different entirely.

I want to call, already, and claim that I miss him, but it feels clingy. I want to scream across the table at ANR that I am nervous about school and don't think anyone understands how scared I am or how lonely it is when I am in bed alone, knowing that my roommate is with her boyfriend. I simply want to scream; sometimes, in August, I can feel myself going into a place I do not want to go. It's the latent heat and the fact that I'd rather be buying sweaters.

I bought a sweater dress today. It looks like this, except I don't look like that model and I'm wishing I did. I also bought a swimsuit. I like him enough to buy a swimsuit. I haven't worn one of those in years. I bought a sweaterdress ant it's 10,000 degrees outside. I want it to be time for sweaters. I bought him a sweater too.

In honesty, this is the list of things I want to do:

1. Murder Mystery Party: on the 17th, it's going to be real. I am excited to dress up like curator, be a jerk and make S take pictures with me.
   
2. teacher's store: buy some stuff for my students etc.
   
3. find a day when it is not-hot and be able to wear some of my new stuff, including this amazing J. Crew blazer. I own it in brown.
   

Other than that, I want to do very little. September 4th is when the children come. It sounds like an alien invasion. I need to get over myself but it's unlikely to happen. How things change in a year; how things change.

Halflife: Poems

When I read Susan Minot's "Poems 4 Am" I thought, in my almost freshman idealism, heading off to Indiana, that she was the way that I wanted to write. I still read that book, often and more often still that I understand what it means to leave and be left. I still hold "Did you always think we'd go/roaming wild over unlit roads?" as one of my favorite quotations that anyone has ever written.

But, I have read a book that takes Minot's quiet sensualism, her understated sexuality and overblown lack of intimacy and does not ask questions. Megan O'Rourke's book of poems, Halflife, is the first book since Minot that I wish I would have written. Many times it was enforced to me that I should not write with the "I" until I understood what possibly the I could mean. I believed this, hook line and sinker and so wrote poems about Vietnam, about homelessness and about a million other things I didn't know. I think, however, it took me writing a lot of poems about things I didn't know for me to reach the conclusion that there are things and selves that I do, infact, know. So, I am learning to use the I. To not vary my speech pattern in a poem and still capture the reader. I am learning that the tricks [ask a question here, or maybe put some quotations in...] are for beginners.

Reading O'Rourke's book made me think I might be ready, or that I am indeed writing, intermediate poems. There were poems in there begging to be read aloud, and others that I had to close the book and walk away for a moment because everything in the world seemed to be resting on my interaction with those pages. Those are the kinds of poems I want to write. Initially, I loved Minot for her understanding of the self, to embrace her longing, her loneliness and her desire. She knew the self. But O'Rourke knows the self in relation to the world; she too is poignantly aware of what she is missing as a self, but knows that this, in relation to the world is important too.

She only asks one question in the entire 100 pages of poems. "Do ghosts have neuroses?" It is moments like that that make me wish I could get a job simply writing poems. It makes me hate 5th graders and grading tests and having to show up to work every morning. It makes me want to quit my job, go to Spain with CA and write like I did when I was in Argentina. It makes me want to do irrational, terrible things. Or wonderful ones too. This, in and of itself, is the point of poems. If only I could get someone else to long in that same way.

Chic Teacher

Even if I'm petrified the first day of school, I can still be stylin'. I'll be wearing this little number on day one. I guess I can look the part at least.

Possible Regrets.

The days are rapidly approaching for boarder paper and stickers; for crib sheets and heels and only dress pants, please. These days are coming when I have a first and last name and children who reach my waist. I spent the weekend with high-pressure, high-power people, singing "Spider-pig" and building bookshelves. I spent the weekend wondering, for the first time, if I've made a terrible mistake.

There's a certain stigma that comes with being a teacher. There's a little bit of a frown when you tell people you teach fifth graders. EPS had some people over on Friday night and after a long, long evening of hauling boxes and discussing wedding rings with CA's sister, I went home to find five soon-to-be doctors sitting on my back porch talking of empathy and insurance and bad lawyers who sue doctors. I found myself, not for the first time since taking my job, attempting to explain what really goes into being a teacher. I came up short.

I don't know what options there are for me if I don't like teaching. I've been told, more often as of late, that I need to own myself and not wish my age or my job or my profession [which in my opinion, are two different things] away until it is too late. But, let's be honest, I have a feeling when someone says 5th grade teacher, we envision someone with a wooden necklace with apple beads and a sweater vest proudly displaying the 4 seasons. I do not wish to be this person, which is why I so desperately wanted to teach high school. And most of all, I feel un-intellectual. So, what's to be done about this problem?

I could go back to school. And do what?

1. Law School. Several times during my life, this has been a good idea to go to law school. After watching the misery that CA has gone through, I'm not sure how much I want to assume that much debt and go back to school to wear suits and eat Chinese food out of a container at 4 in the morning when I'm writing a brief. Besides, I don't think I have the hootspa for a top tier law school--and I don't even know what Torts really is.
   
2. Getting some kind of cogsci/psych degree. Also a decent option; I am not too good with sciences so we'll see how this would or wouldn't work. Also, since I've been a humanities major, I don't know how willing they'd be to take me to get a psych degree. If I wanted to dispense meds, I would have to go to Med School which would be a disaster in and of itself.
3. Get a PhD. But, in what?
   
   • Higher Education--become a principal, still not feel respected but maybe learn to get over myself, change the school system and feel good for a moment
   • Leaning Sciences--a really cool program at northwestern. But, I would HAVE to stay in Chicago. I do love me the NU though.
     
   • Get an MFA? (Oh god, do I really need one?)
4. Become a HouseWife. This is by far, at this moment, the most attractive option since I could travel, buy cleaning products and work out to my heart's content. But, I think that's just the fear talking.
   

Really, I have no idea what to do with myself; I don't think teaching 5th grade is my life calling, but what do I do? What if I can't get a high school job? What if I'm not a good teacher? At least, though, I will begin amassing my huge collection of apple-shaped paraphanelia that'll come from parents buying me holiday and end-of-year gifts. I guess there's an upside to everything. I'd love to start with this as my first bit of apple-ness, but, on a teacher salary who can afford Marc Jacobs? It's cute though, no? I don't know, and perhaps this sounds terrible, if I even GET holiday presents from the students, seeing as they do not celebrate Christmas. I've only ever gone to Catholic School where they most definitely celebrate Jesus' birthday.

However, on a Catholic Grade School Teacher salary, there'd be no way I could ever afford Marc Jacobs. So, thank goodness that I can now waste slightly more money on stuff I don't need.

Ah budgeting.

Pre-service teacher.

I've been actually staying at my apartment; it's nice to finally be where I am supposed to be. Over the weekend, my parents threw a bit of a graduation celebration for me, and the family got to spend some more time with CA [who even played bacchie ball... surprisingly enough] and I've had him and several other guests to my apartment. KF and EW are coming over tonight to eat at Sultan's Market and drink some wine and talk about life together.

Overall, though, the week's been eventful. On Sunday, I went to CA's new place, downtown near the Wrigley Building and Trump Towers. It's completely swank with a work-out facility and a pool. And a swell view of downtown/Michigan Ave. Such is the choice to write poems/teach kids versus work in business. He's starting to pack up everything now; being in his apartment for 2.5 years has had him accumulate a lot of junk. It reminds me of moving out of Hyde Park--my first apartment, first home and first place I took pride in whenever I asked people to come and look at something. Now, I feel much the same about this place and I'm sure I'll feel it even more so by the time they year's out. It looks fantastic, if I do say so myself. The more I'm around, the more I appreciate this neighborhood over a place like Hyde Park. It's safe here--at least moreso than HP--and when I drive home later in the evening, there is still a ton of movement on North/Damen/Milwaulkee Aves; it makes me feel safer knowing that there are other people up and moving in the world.

On Monday, EW and I had dinner and made a return appearance to Treats for more mixed-up soft serve. Yesterday, CA and I had lunch together. School and having to be professional is going to come as a bit of a shock to me, I think. Every time I look at purchasing a clothing item, I have to think about whether or not it's work appropriate. Not that I have a habit of buying inappropriate clothing, but there's an entirely other level of what can and cannot be done. I have to think about bending and cleavage and what's attractive to a 5th or 8th grader.

I'm more than slightly nervous about school after going to that Responsive Classroom seminar all of last week; I found that the majority of teachers who were there were great people, interested in teaching and bettering their practice. I befriended a Catholic grade school teacher and was relieved to find out that my salary is fantastic compared to what I'd be making teaching in the Catholic school system. However, the vast minority [can that even be said? Let's just say the majority and minority were close] of teachers were not prepared, were not creative and were just plain ignorant. People who say, "Wow, I've never seen that word before" [whilst pointing to the word pedantic] or say to me, "You Jewish? You don' t look Jewish" when I mention in what kind of a school I'll be teaching. It makes me question the education system and understand more why I kept hearing, "So, you really just want to be a teacher?" Still disconcerting though.