I pretend to be on top of things.
I am not on top of things.
Things are on top of me.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
First day of school joy!
Jack started preschool today. I have no sadness about this event, though I think Mare may have to come to grips with it. He's been pumped about it all week, asking me if I knew what he was doing today, then gushing out a list of what he's been told he'll do i.e. singing, playing, eating snacks, doing what Mrs. Stella says, making crafts, coloring and painting . . .all in one breath. Today he started.
The preschool he attends is on the campus of the high school where I teach, and I was treated to a pleasant surprise. Just before the end of my fourth period 9th grade English class I was hearing what I thought was my little kids making noises behind the closed door. The noise attracted the attention of some of my students near the door, and upon investigation I confirmed it was Jack and he was here to see me along with Leo and Mare.
I let them in the room and Jack immediately sprouted forth with all the fun things he did in preschool, with which I had difficulty keeping up. I introduced them all to the class and about that time the dismissal bell sounded. Jack was wearing his blue jeans, a new jacket, and his little green crocodile back pack from his aunt Clarie with his name embroidered upon it. He had his hair combed neatly, too. He was beaming.
They made quite a positive impression upon the class. When the students cleared out I guided them into the hall to stand against the hall wall while the high school students stampeded past. Once the fifth period class was in session I introduced them to my family, and the result was equally positive.
Some of my own students are the students who help out Mrs. Stella in the early childhood development classes which put on the preschool. A few of them made it a point to stop by to relate to me how Jack was very well behaved and polite and was the only child who could write his or her name.
Needless to say I was a proud dad. Preschool, it would seem, is a success. My hope and expectation is that, being the son of Mr. Broyles, the coolest, most beloved teacher at Ottawa High School, the student teachers in the preschool will treat Jack with extra special attention.
It turned cooler here, finally. Today's high was in the 60's. Looked grey and wet all day, though it didn't rain. This morning as I was pedaling west to the highway, I saw in my little helmet mirror behind me the sky to the east was in the red scale; all manner and variation of red and peach, purple and violet. It reminded me of the aphorism: red sky in the morning, sailor take warning; red sky at night, sailor's delight. I expected rain and weather today. I hope I don't have to wear my rain gear when I finish this entry and leave school for home on my bike.
Chili and football is officially in the weather. I've decided not to engage in any sports extra duties for the high school this year. Perhaps I'll take Jack with me to the Friday night football game, but as a spectator. Last year, as I was keeping score for an all day 9th grade girls volleyball tournament, my eyes bleary from watching virtually the same battle of attrition between two terrible teams all day long, I decided the hourly wage they were paying me was not worth it. I wanted to be home with my family, no matter how poor it ended up making us. Besides, with that extra money I had sacrificed my family time to earn, I'd just spent it on "stuff" and would be gone.
My third drawer down is full of sweaters from last year and a couple new ones I'm excited to get to wear in the upcoming weeks. My room at school gets cold and stays cold, and between my cold classroom and my bike ride to school in the cold, I usually wear my long johns to keep warm. The students would flip out at how weird that is. They already think I'm a freak because I use such an old fashioned thing as a handkerchief. They can't get over it. If only they knew the hanky was only the tip of the ice berg of my weirdness.
Give someone you love a hug and a warm kiss and tell them they are important to you, and mean it! Spend that time with them. You'll never get the time back that you took to read this ridiculous blog. Don't forget that. Time is a ticking.
The preschool he attends is on the campus of the high school where I teach, and I was treated to a pleasant surprise. Just before the end of my fourth period 9th grade English class I was hearing what I thought was my little kids making noises behind the closed door. The noise attracted the attention of some of my students near the door, and upon investigation I confirmed it was Jack and he was here to see me along with Leo and Mare.
I let them in the room and Jack immediately sprouted forth with all the fun things he did in preschool, with which I had difficulty keeping up. I introduced them all to the class and about that time the dismissal bell sounded. Jack was wearing his blue jeans, a new jacket, and his little green crocodile back pack from his aunt Clarie with his name embroidered upon it. He had his hair combed neatly, too. He was beaming.
They made quite a positive impression upon the class. When the students cleared out I guided them into the hall to stand against the hall wall while the high school students stampeded past. Once the fifth period class was in session I introduced them to my family, and the result was equally positive.
Some of my own students are the students who help out Mrs. Stella in the early childhood development classes which put on the preschool. A few of them made it a point to stop by to relate to me how Jack was very well behaved and polite and was the only child who could write his or her name.
Needless to say I was a proud dad. Preschool, it would seem, is a success. My hope and expectation is that, being the son of Mr. Broyles, the coolest, most beloved teacher at Ottawa High School, the student teachers in the preschool will treat Jack with extra special attention.
It turned cooler here, finally. Today's high was in the 60's. Looked grey and wet all day, though it didn't rain. This morning as I was pedaling west to the highway, I saw in my little helmet mirror behind me the sky to the east was in the red scale; all manner and variation of red and peach, purple and violet. It reminded me of the aphorism: red sky in the morning, sailor take warning; red sky at night, sailor's delight. I expected rain and weather today. I hope I don't have to wear my rain gear when I finish this entry and leave school for home on my bike.
Chili and football is officially in the weather. I've decided not to engage in any sports extra duties for the high school this year. Perhaps I'll take Jack with me to the Friday night football game, but as a spectator. Last year, as I was keeping score for an all day 9th grade girls volleyball tournament, my eyes bleary from watching virtually the same battle of attrition between two terrible teams all day long, I decided the hourly wage they were paying me was not worth it. I wanted to be home with my family, no matter how poor it ended up making us. Besides, with that extra money I had sacrificed my family time to earn, I'd just spent it on "stuff" and would be gone.
My third drawer down is full of sweaters from last year and a couple new ones I'm excited to get to wear in the upcoming weeks. My room at school gets cold and stays cold, and between my cold classroom and my bike ride to school in the cold, I usually wear my long johns to keep warm. The students would flip out at how weird that is. They already think I'm a freak because I use such an old fashioned thing as a handkerchief. They can't get over it. If only they knew the hanky was only the tip of the ice berg of my weirdness.
Give someone you love a hug and a warm kiss and tell them they are important to you, and mean it! Spend that time with them. You'll never get the time back that you took to read this ridiculous blog. Don't forget that. Time is a ticking.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
The broken season
Maybe you noticed the change to the title of this blog? If not, I'll tell you. I added "and ???" to the list of the family members covered by the blog in honor of the fast approaching due date of our next child. I also added a description to the top to help out any wayward "blog surfers" who may want to take a read.
If you read last Friday's post, you may have picked up on the hints that I was displeased with myself for dropping the ball on Marian's birthday. Needless to say, her feelings were hurt. I'd like to say this was an individual incident. The truth is I've dropped the ball on her birthday probably all eleven of the birthdays I've known her for. And Christmases. And Valentine's day. And anniversaries. And mother's day.
What can I say? I have no good excuse. I am NOT guilty of forgetting these occasions, overlooking them. I am guilty of procrastinating doing something for her until it's too late. I dwell on what to get her, do for her, weeks before and my inner dialogue goes something like this: Mare's birthday (or insert appropriate occasion here) is coming up in a couple of weeks. I really let her down last (occasion), I need to do something special for her to make her feel special. What can I do that would show her? Hmm. I'll have to think about it . . .
And that's as far as I make it. Procrastination! The bane of my existence.
I always want to do something special, something really original. Then I don't do any of it. I can't stand the thought of buying her something from Wal-Mart. Let me wander around in here until I find something to buy for her which she'll like. That doesn't sound appealing at all. But, a cheesy gift from Wal-Mart is better than a plate full of nothing. Nothing is what she got.
I had the audacity to focus my attentions on my own self hate rather than focusing on making it up to her. What can I do? Our tenth anniversary is coming up fast. I can try to do something special for that. But what? Leave a comment with your suggestions. It's time I start thinking of others first, instead of myself.
If you read last Friday's post, you may have picked up on the hints that I was displeased with myself for dropping the ball on Marian's birthday. Needless to say, her feelings were hurt. I'd like to say this was an individual incident. The truth is I've dropped the ball on her birthday probably all eleven of the birthdays I've known her for. And Christmases. And Valentine's day. And anniversaries. And mother's day.
What can I say? I have no good excuse. I am NOT guilty of forgetting these occasions, overlooking them. I am guilty of procrastinating doing something for her until it's too late. I dwell on what to get her, do for her, weeks before and my inner dialogue goes something like this: Mare's birthday (or insert appropriate occasion here) is coming up in a couple of weeks. I really let her down last (occasion), I need to do something special for her to make her feel special. What can I do that would show her? Hmm. I'll have to think about it . . .
And that's as far as I make it. Procrastination! The bane of my existence.
I always want to do something special, something really original. Then I don't do any of it. I can't stand the thought of buying her something from Wal-Mart. Let me wander around in here until I find something to buy for her which she'll like. That doesn't sound appealing at all. But, a cheesy gift from Wal-Mart is better than a plate full of nothing. Nothing is what she got.
I had the audacity to focus my attentions on my own self hate rather than focusing on making it up to her. What can I do? Our tenth anniversary is coming up fast. I can try to do something special for that. But what? Leave a comment with your suggestions. It's time I start thinking of others first, instead of myself.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Failing miserably with the ones I love
It's the Friday beginning a three day weekend for many people, and the students and faculty here are excited and ready for it. I hope you spend your valuable time with the ones you love. Do something nice for them or with them because you love them. Don't be like Mr. X.
Mr. X doesn't get a present for his lovely wife on her birthday. Mr. X doesn't bake a cake for his loving wife on her birthday. Mr. X spends five minutes before he leaves for work in the morning to make a birthday card for his wife's birthday from common typing paper and their children's water colors. Mr. X doesn't organize any friends or family to get together to celebrate his wife's birthday.
Mr. X doesn't use the telephone to call his family. Mr. X holds a grudge and stays mad for decades at those he loves. Mr. X imposes isolation and loneliness on himself and blames it on those he loves. Mr. X doesn't show love to his family.
Mr. X is ego-centric. Mr. X is self-centered. Mr. X is indecisive. Mr. X is ungrateful. Mr. X is an underachiever. Mr. X avoids responsibility. Mr. X takes, takes, takes. Mr. X doesn't give. Mr. X is full of self-loathing. Mr. X takes for granted all that others do for him and give to him. Mr. X hides. Mr. X brings it upon himself.
Don't be like Mr. X!
Have a good weekend if it's possible.
Mr. X doesn't get a present for his lovely wife on her birthday. Mr. X doesn't bake a cake for his loving wife on her birthday. Mr. X spends five minutes before he leaves for work in the morning to make a birthday card for his wife's birthday from common typing paper and their children's water colors. Mr. X doesn't organize any friends or family to get together to celebrate his wife's birthday.
Mr. X doesn't use the telephone to call his family. Mr. X holds a grudge and stays mad for decades at those he loves. Mr. X imposes isolation and loneliness on himself and blames it on those he loves. Mr. X doesn't show love to his family.
Mr. X is ego-centric. Mr. X is self-centered. Mr. X is indecisive. Mr. X is ungrateful. Mr. X is an underachiever. Mr. X avoids responsibility. Mr. X takes, takes, takes. Mr. X doesn't give. Mr. X is full of self-loathing. Mr. X takes for granted all that others do for him and give to him. Mr. X hides. Mr. X brings it upon himself.
Don't be like Mr. X!
Have a good weekend if it's possible.
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