Day #56

Arson event #3 today, before school even started. It was 7:15, and a handful of kids were in the building, most of them in the cafeteria eating their free Title I breakfast. I was rushing around doing errands, trying to find a copier that worked, etc. I bumped into two 7th graders who are always in the hallway when they aren't supposed to be. I directed them to move along to where they belonged and headed downstairs to the office. I came back three minutes later and my room door was popped and there was smoke in the hall. Then there was an announcement to clear the building.

It appears the two jackasses set fire to a bulletin board. They were on camera when I confronted them, then they were off camera when the fire was set, then they were seen on a different camera fleeing down the hall away from the fire after it started. Their story? "Mr. G was chasing us, that's why we ran." Didn't wash, because I'm on camera on the first floor while they were running upstairs.

My room was popped because some of my students at breakfast saw the fire. One ran to get me and another ran to get the fire extinguisher. By the time an adult knew what was happening, the kids had already alerted the main office, found an adult, and put out the flames! I was quite proud of them.

So the day began with everybody standing outside in the cold for 45 minutes as the fire fighters did their SOP. Figures this morning would be the first truly cold school day of the year.

netflixed

Four attractive Yankee stereotypes vacationing in Mexico have squandered their time south of the border lounging at the pool and sitting on the beach. They've ignored the local Mayan ruins, until the last day of their trip, when a seedy German they meet by chance mentions a newly discovered dig his brother is working. The German suggests a change of scenery might be fruitful. They can accompany him to see the temple, he says, instead of being wallflowers at the resort. A couple are reluctant, but one of their buds talks them into going. Our heroes decide to branch out and turn over a new leaf. Unfortunately, they can't see the forest for the trees.

They arrive at the ruins and find a magnificent temple covered in weeds. Unfortunately the Yanks are all saps, and end up irking the local tribes people. This stumps them. They think it's because one of them snapped unauthorized photos, but they are barking up the wrong tree. Following a close brush with death, they climb to the top where they are stranded. By the time they get to the root of the matter, it might be too late to stem the re-awakening evil which blooms around them. They find out that being marooned in the jungle plants discord amongst their small bunch, and they reap what they sowed.

Some of the gore in The Ruins was quite a-pollen, but the acting was pretty de-vine for a B horror flick. I must admit that though The Ruins follows a pretty standard formula, it grew on me in unexpected ways.

#45

Van Veen falls in love with his cousin Ada, who also happens to be his sister. The first hundred pages of the book explain the backstory of how this came to be; the rest detail Van's erotic awakening and his 90-year on-and-off again affair with Ada. Because it's Nabokov, the prose is lush and every page is chock full of literary allusions, scientic minutiae about butterflies and flora, philosophical disquisitions, and salacious dalliances. There are puns galore (Froid for Freud) in four or five languages; I got many but likely missed most, possessing nowhere near the requisite credentials to keep up with old Vlad, despite the inclusion of the greatest tongue-in-cheek endnote section since Gibbon. I spent four months reading Ada, or Ardor, and regret it not a bit, but I ain't smart enough to enjoy this cat to his fullest.

thankful for dreams

This morning, shortly before waking, I dreamt a long convoluted narrative. I only recall the end. I was standing by a window, looking out over a precipice at a vague landscape. A short and very dark Indian woman (Indian as in India, not as in Native American) approached. She was beautiful; I could have written a salacious Song of Solomon right there. She told me she was the Christ, and that she had assumed her current guise in order to seduce me to faith in her. We entered into a brief but complex series of theological exchanges. To sum up: I did not doubt that, were she actually the Christ, she would have both motive and ability to assume whatever guise she felt necessary to affect my conversion and to save a lost soul. I also agreed that assuming the guise of a beautiful Indian woman was likely to tempt me. But I doubted seriously that the Christ would assume a seductive guise and then tell me his (her?) plan. Further: Would the Christ deceive to save a soul?

The woman laughed and smiled. She was quite sexy. I knew then who she really was, and opened the window and leapt out, despite all temptation.

netflixed

I gave up on this franchise long ago, in a galaxy far, far away. Oh, wait--I'm mixing the franchises I gave up on long ago! Your experience might be similar to mine, or perhaps not. I liked the original TV show when I was a kid(tho the lamentably awful "Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea" was my favorite show), and even watched the animated series when I was a tiny tot, and saw the first five movies in the theaters because there was nothing better to do after 20 bong hits. I think one of the films was at least barely watchable, and that was only because two of the greatest hams of the small screen attemped to outdo each other. I'm speaking of course of Ricardo and William in The Wrath of Khan. I saw a few episodes of Next Generation, and thought it a yawn fest which took itself far too seriously.

I don't think I even thought of Star Trek in a decade, outside of a few nostalgiac bursts now and again skimming through YouTube clips. I recall seeing a chunk of one of the Next Generation movies on an intercontinental flight. It was a turgid bore with a time warp which brought Kirk and that bald dude together, and I couldn't bear it for more than twenty minutes.

I had a lot to overcome, therefore, before I could see this latest installment. After seeing Star Trek V: The Return of Insipidness, I vowed to never lend another dime to the franchise. But I thought this one was cute. Yes, the time-warp plot twist is back with a vengeance, but the in-jokes and the nostalgia were blended nicely with a backstory just different enough to give fresh teeth to a tired old saw. Turn off your brain and enjoy.

#45

A recommendation from John,who suggested Groo following my plea for a graphic novel of substance which was not all angst and gloom.

Yes, there's ultra-violence and not-so-subtle politcal and media criticism in Groo, but it's all balanced by chuckles and Sergio Aragones--who did marginal doodles for Mad Magazine back in the day--knows how to ink a pleasurable comic. The central character is a Conan-type wanderer who lives by his sharp swords and dull wits. I needed a book like this to help me finish off a couple weighty tomes, which I'll get to later this week.

Ellen Cherry also suggested a graphic novel fit for what ails me: I'll have to track down Lost Girls soon....

Day #55

Slept a solid 7.5 hours last night and felt pretty good this morning. A bit congested, a bit hoarse, a bit stiff and achy--no big deal. Went to work, felt pretty good. But it was just clown college today. The kids are all fired up because there's a field trip to the Science Center tomorrow and then Thanksgiving Break. They're already pretty unmanageable on a good day; when they are fired up, you just have to strap in and do your best.

I was a bit fuzzy-headed because of the cold, and wasn't as attentive as usual. I was catching a lot of bad actors who were throwing things back at the initiator; my timing was like Joe Flacco's on Sunday, just off enough to fuck up the day. Kids complained it was too hot in the room, so I turned on my fan and all the papers blew off my desk. Then later I moved the fan to another spot to avoid a repeat performance and started printing some question sheets. The printer of course was in line with the new fan position and all my question sheets blew out onto the floor.

Mr. E next door to me was quivering and quaking this morning and saying "I can't believe he's back in this school." "Who?" I asked. Apparently some gigantic ignoramus who got put out last year before I was transferred in is a student at the March again. He threw a molotov cocktail into Mr. E's room last year, fashioned out of a Mountain Dew bottle and M-60s. And then went after Mr. E. Mr. E is a large man who bench presses 300 pounds. I will leave it to you to imagine an 8th grader big enough to challenge him. I met him today. As I was walking through the cafeteria door he burst through it from the other side. I slid down the wall like Wile E. Coyote after a boulder splat. Then he burst into my room last period and said "I own this school!" I chased him out, but once I started thinking instead of reacting I was quaking on the inside. I haven't had anyone that big in my class room since I taught Derrick Battie at Temple U. in 1993. I can't believe that guy is a middle-schooler. He could stand at Mount Rushmore and look Abe in the eye. Abe would blink, too.

Six Faces was good today, but about fifteen minutes from the end of class she turned color. When her meds wear off she gets pink and flushed and I saw it and I tried to grab her but it was too late. Kicking, punching, pulling hair, jumping on the desk and shaking her ass, freak-dancing much smaller boys. I had to restrain her and carry her out into the hallway where she started swinging a sharpened pencil around. Then in Mr. E's room I heard a commotion and I looked over to see Clarice Starling throw a text book at He Has his Father's Eyes. He Has His Father's Eyes jumped up and charged her but Clarice nimbly stepped back and kicked him square in the balls. Mr. E and I both sucked in a sympathetic gulp of air. He was down for a good 8 minutes on the floor, rolling back and forth. Clarice got sent to the office but fifteen minutes later was sent back to class to get her belongings before going home on suspension. When she entered the room He Has His Father's Eyes charged her again and got another boot in the groin. Mr. E said "It's like the dog with the shock collar. It takes a couple times before he stops."

Day #54

Been very lucky this year to have only had minor sniffles a couple times and a very brief bout with conjunctivitis last Thursday. Nothing, so far, like last year's September-to-March sinus infection/sore throat, or the previous year's teachers' bronchitis. But this morning I felt like shit, and then by noon I wished I felt as good as I did in the morning. Ugh. Just an ass-dragging cold with super-thick phlegm and achy joints. Hope it stops there. I told the kids: "I'd like to have a couple of chill days this week. I'm sick, I'm not in the mood for bullcrap, and I'd appreciate it if you were nice. I have a test here that I will distribute if you get on my nerves. Otherwise we're going to read some chapters out of "Secrets in the Shadows" and I'll let you do extra credit questions if you want." The kids seemed to take pity on me. I only had a couple rowdy break-outs all day. I took the test paper over to my scanner/copier and immediately they got right.

Found out today that one of my students is homeless. Social services is trying to find her housing but she's been moving from place to place and none of us had any idea. Have already had several families evicted this year, but fortunately they've found new digs quickly. Very scary right now. A lot of previously comfortable folks are struggling, so I can barely imagine what's happening at the marginal end of the class spectrum. Makes Thanksgiving that much more poignant.