Requiescat

Unless something goes terribly wrong, by the time this post pops I’ll be well along the way to my uncle’s funeral in Michigan, a state run by even worse people than the ones who run mine.  While we’re just spending the day up there and will probably be back before or around dark, I don’t expect to much be in the mood for bloggery, and it seems unlikely that anything mutually entertaining will be happening while I’m there.  If I do manage to find some material, expect it to be Arby’s related, believe it or not.

One way or another, I expect to be taking the day off.  See you tomorrow.

In which homonyms are complicated

Under ordinary circumstances, I’m not really the type to bribe my classes with candy.  I hand it out now and again, certainly, and will use it as a minor incentive for minor stuff that they would be doing anyway.  For example, we write every Friday morning; I give the kids who read what they write a Jolly Rancher.   Sometimes I give them two if whatever they wrote manages to entertain me.  I used to do a trivia question every week that was due Thursday; kids who got it right got a piece of candy on Friday.  (You may be seeing a theme here.)

I’ve been trying to give away the same container of Jolly Ranchers for a while now, to the point where I thought they were getting old– at least to the extent that it’s possible for Jolly Ranchers to get old– and I decided that today I was finishing off the container no matter how ridiculously contrived the reason for handing out Jolly Ranchers was.   Making this easier was the fact that most of my knuckleheads in first and second hour are suspended right now, so the kids were much more likely to behave than normal.

“Work on this assignment,” I declared grandly, “and I shall reward those of you who do not annoy me with these Jolly Ranchers.  Perhaps more than one, if you please me greatly and are not otherwise foolish.”

(Yes, those exact words.)

Fifteen minutes later, they were noisy.  “Remember, folks, Jolly Ranchers are at stake here,” I said.

One of my smarter kids– I swear, one of the smarter ones– puts her hand up.

“Is you sayin’ you gonna give us steak, too?”

(I’m reproducing her words precisely.  She actually generally doesn’t talk like this; her speech gets more slangy when she’s expressing surprise.  True story.)

For a moment, this confuses me.

“No.  What?  Jolly Ranchers.  No steak.”

The students go insane.  There is a chorus of complaints.  I remain bewildered.

“You said Jolly Ranchers and steak!”

Sigh.

There has to be a factory somewhere that’s actually hiring, right?

On teaching and money (and Miley and Sinead)

ku-bigpic

I am– forgive me for knowing about this, much less bringing it up– kind of really enjoying the Sinead O’Connor/Miley Cyrus thing going on right now.  The first one was just interesting in an intellectual sort of “hey, this happened” kind of way; the second one interests me as a writer.  I knew Sinead O’Connor was kinda fucked up but I wasn’t aware she had a bitchy side and I certainly wasn’t aware that her bitchy side was awesome.  The second letter has this wonderful sort of “Ok, look, we can end this now, but here are my knives if you are foolish” sort of feel to it, as if O’Connor has absorbed Cyrus’ semiliterate trailer trash Twitter response to her initial letter, shrugged, and moved Miley to her mental “destroy” file.  The phrase “you have one last chance” doesn’t appear anywhere in the letter, but it should.  I really hope there’s a third.

I mean, Christ, the line “You could really do with educating yourself, that is if you’re not too busy getting your tits out to read” is art.


I voted to approve the contract, but I’m not terribly happy about it.  Oh, it’s not bad, as they go– we’re getting a small stipend this year basically just for the hell of it and we actually get our first real raise in seven years (two whole percent!) next year, that is assuming we don’t get placed in one of the two lowest evaluation categories.  More money is good.  I like money, even if 2% after having frozen salaries since 2007 is kind of bullshit.  It’s still better than the no-money we’ve been getting on the last several contracts.

The problem is that this round of negotiation really has driven home one important fact for me:  That two percent hike got eaten by inflation years ago.  We are never really getting a raise again, and by “we” in this case I basically mean all of Indiana’s teachers.  I get a yearly pay raise at my fucking minigolf job, people.  The way things used to work, we got yearly step increases until you hit sixteen years of experience and after that you’re depending on actual increases to the pay scale (ie, “raises”) for any further increase in salary.  What this meant is that if you stuck it out long enough eventually everybody made the same amount– sixteen years is a long time, granted, but it leveled you out sooner or later.

Now?  Anyone in my district who makes more money than me right now is going to make more than me forever, and anyone under me– particularly anyone unfortunate enough to have started in the last few years since even step increases became impossible– is going to make less than me forever.  There’s no merit pay of any kind that can increase salary– not that I even think that’s a good idea, mind you– and no bonuses for good performance.  There’s only the stick; you don’t get any raise of any kind if you end up in the lowest two evaluation categories, but it’s not like you get more money if you get a superior ranking.

It’s unfair in a way that I really, really don’t like.  Teaching is already a career with effectively no mobility– a teacher is a teacher is a teacher and while most districts do name team leaders and things like that (a job I’ve held myself on a few occasions) there is no actual salary increase attached to that.  As a teacher, I’ll never be anyone’s boss unless I move to administration– which isn’t teaching.  There’s literally no way to be promoted.  Which means that the fact that there are teachers in my district who not only make ten grand more than me but will make ten grand more than me forever really stick in my craw.  Similarly, I’m mentoring a first-year teacher this year; I make fifteen thousand dollars a year or so more than she does and I will make fifteen thousand dollars a year or so more than her forever, until she wises up and realizes that spending her entire life making $32,000 a year is untenable.  (She gets a raise to $34,000 in 2014-15; the poor schmucks stuck in the bottom two pay steps get a little bump.  But she’ll be stuck there forever.)  Once she realizes that she can make better money and have much less stress in her life doing something else, she’ll be gone, and she’ll be replaced by another 22-year-old making the same $34K that she did until she quit.

Note, also, that while teachers making more than base pay will be quitting a lot, or retiring, they will only be being replaced by teachers making base pay.  Which means that you travel far enough down the road– and I bet it won’t be more than seven or ten years– and something perilously close to all of us will be stuck at that base pay level.  Which people will put up with until they have kids, then they’ll move on to jobs where they’re actually treated like educated professionals, and kiss teaching in a public school district goodbye.

Which is a feature, and not a bug.  This is what they want, and this is what state law is written to do.

I fucking hate Indiana.

Today’s agenda

20130830-183623.jpgTake shower- go to work- don’t go to jail- give a bunch of math tests- hope the buses all show up on time- go to staff meeting- sit at a desk for 45 minutes checking people into contract ratification meeting- read new proposed teacher contract- listen to presentation about new proposed teacher contract- hopefully vote for new proposed teacher contract- go to birthday dinner for my mom- go home- put boy in bath- put boy to bed- go to bed my damn self.

Note the word “blog” doesn’t show up in there anywhere.

Have a good day; the next time I see you I’ll be asleep.

In which break out those recipe boxes

kale-granola-6

Announcement follows!  Beginning this Sunday, the sixth of October, in the 2013th year of the Common Era, I shall become a vegetarian for the time span of one (1) Earth week.  Here is my definition of “vegetarian”:  I will not eat anything that at any point in its life walked.  I shall limit myself to one (1) serving during the week of anything that used to swim, and I shall only consume things that swam if the alternative is devouring an enormous steak and destroying my streak.  Things made from former things that walked, or things that came out of things that walked are exempt; in other words, if I want some chicken stock or beef broth in my food, or if I want to eat eggs, I’m gonna.  Honey, despite being an animal product, is also clearly not meat. Plus whatever other rules I feel like I need for whatever reason I choose to need them.

Why am I doing this?

Well… uh… no reason, really.  I’ve had, through the purest chance, three dinners in a row where I didn’t have any meat, and something like six of the last eight meals (lunch today had turkey) were meatless and I noticed.  I’m curious to find out if I can drag it out for an entire week.  I have no actual attraction to vegetarianism as a sustained lifestyle choice– I don’t actually eat all that much red meat, to be honest, but doing without chicken is unimaginable– and animal rights appeals do not particularly move me.  No, I don’t slaughter my own meat, but you can be damn sure that if I had to I’ll kill the hell out of a chicken or a pig or a cow no matter how pretty her big brown eyes are.  I wouldn’t like it very much the first time but I’d get over it quick.  No, it’s mostly just curiosity.  I wanna see if I can.  The wife claims that it’ll be a piece of cake for her (she’s participating in the game is as well, which means so is the boy) but I’m waaaay more of a carnivore than she is.

Anyway:  gimme some recipes, kids.  Nothing’s off-limits.

(Also: I’m starting Sunday because we have preexisting dinner plans for my mom’s birthday tomorrow, at a Chinese restaurant, and while eating vegetarian Chinese isn’t exactly terribly difficult I’m not going to want to, and we’re out of town all day on Saturday, which will involve unpredictable food options.  I’m not going to set myself up to fail and I’m sure as hell not going to be a dick about what I’ll eat at my uncle’s wake, so we’ll start the day after and go Sunday to Sunday.)

This’ll be fun.

Regrets, I’ve had a few

Heartburn(That’s how the song goes, right?)

My lovely wife is in Indianapolis on some sort of work-related sojourn that required that she bring food.  She had me make piles and piles of grapefruit guacamole last night so that she had something to bring.  We didn’t get around to doing this until after the boy had been put to bed, so I finished the guacamole around, oh, 9:30 or so.  We made way more than normal so that we could have some.

And then we had some.  And by “some” I mean “everything that she wasn’t taking to work.”  At 9:30 at night.

I spent all night with massive heartburn and woke up this morning and threw up; the last eight hours have not been pleasant.

It’s not the guacamole, mind you– it’s that I’m not goddamn 22 anymore and I should never eat like that again.

I am not very bright.

The end.