It's easy to be negative, isn't it? I'm so guilty of that. It's so easy to get upset over things that throw off your routine, that make you late for work, or cause you to miss appointments and parties.
But when you look around, do you also see the positive attributes of your home / city?
I absolutely, positively love Autumn. The colours, the falling leaves, the temperatures, that feeling of settling in for work after a nice break... I love it all.
Autumn, for me, feels like a new beginning, despite it being the season for 'putting everything away for the winter.' It is the season of returning to school and that feeling of starting fresh.
School-aged children and educators all know that the year really starts in September and ends in June, and July and August are super-special bonus months, while everyone else runs on the January - December calendar year. It's kind of just the way things are for us.
Snye photo by Teresina Benoit
So, autumn makes me happy. One of the best things about the fall is going for walks on cool days, then curling up with a good book or movie and a steaming hot cup of your favourite drink.
In Fort McMurray, one of my favourite places is the Snye. I took this picture a couple of years ago in the fall at the Snye. Often, I go there to read or decompress, just to shake off the day's events. I used to bring Harlequin walking there before this summer.
The colours are beautiful. The river is beautiful. Sometimes, you just need to find a place that is a treat to visit, that makes you feel comfortable but is away from home. That is the Snye for me - outside, different, peaceful.
Autumn in Fort McMurray is beautiful. Absolutely, positively beautiful.
I've always been territorial. I'm not going to lie or make excuses. I am the way I am and that's just how it is. Maybe it's because I'm an only child. Who knows; who cares?
If I'm hurting your feelings, I'm not sure what to say about that. Please read the next paragraph to see whether or not I mean you. I probably don't, if you are reading this.
Have you ever deliberately called yourself a teacher, misguiding your audience into believing that you are solely responsible for children's education in a specific classroom? I'll use my class as an example. Have you ever told one of my student's parents that you were their child's English teacher, knowing full well that you did not teach ELA at our school... knowing full well that you don't actually teach any subject at our school (or any other school)? Have you been asked by a stranger about your profession and you answer, "Oh, yeah, I teach at that school." and left it at that, allowing your audience to think that you go to school everyday and expound, like an expert, at length about Shakespeare / Math / Science / whatever to the teens of today?
If not, then I'm not talking about you. Settle down.
If so, I am talking about you, and yes, I would say this to your face. Right to your nose.
Stop the lies. And you better hope that I never hear you say that in public because I will ask you (in front of your little audience) in detail every single thing about the B.Ed program/teaching college that you attended, child psychology, your subject matter (even if I don't know anything about it, I will ask questions until you can't answer anymore), your pedagogy, your future plans, specific details about our marking system, specific details about parent teacher interview techniques, literacy, the application of Catholicism in various subject matter, specific staff members and the various staff changes we have had over the past few years, staff meeting details...
... and I will make up sh!t that I can't even think of right now.
I will rip your story apart. You better start studying now. Because, you see, I don't mind being the b!tch. In fact, I will do it with glee.
I have worked hard to get where I am, as have many teachers and other professionals. And while some would say that teaching is not that big a deal, to me it is, because I *worked* to get here. Before I worked to get my Bachelor of Education degree, I didn't (have to) work at much else academically.
Because school came easy to me.
I read a lot, wrote a lot and enjoyed school work. I didn't learn study skills until I hit university. They were tough to learn, especially when I hadn't needed them for my entire school career up to that point.
There are a lot of things you are responsible for as a teacher. Standing at the front of a classroom and interacting with the kids is the fun part. But we also take on the legal responsibilities of having those children in the room with us, in addition to interacting with parents, colleagues and administration, not to mention the task of creatively educating said children while enhancing their self-esteem, among other things.
So when I hear someone who works in a school but doesn't teach a class / someone who doesn't know what they are talking about / someone who wants the respectability but have nothing to do with the real work / someone who wants the professional title but not have to do the university work to get there / someone who thinks it's fun times to be in a school but hates kids say, "I am a teacher," knowing they aren't one, without clarifying their position, thereby deliberately leading his/her audience to believe that he/she has done the work and holds a Bachelor of Education degree/teaching certificate, that *kind of* makes my blood boil.
Because the general public does not know the difference and they think you deserve the right to call yourself a teacher.
And you don't.
Show some respect.
While on contracts but not with the degree/certificate, I have heard people say, "I'm teaching xxxxx"... whatever, that's cool, because you are clarifying what you are doing. Teachers who hold a B.Ed./Certificate are often asked what they teach.
Thank you for being understanding that our profession is respectable.
I realize this is a non-issue for some people. I realize we are all teachers in some way.
My problem here is the *deliberate* lying of holding the degree/certificate. It is a complete lack of respect for those of us who entered the profession after working hard to earn it.
If you want to say you have the degree, go earn it.
If you can't earn it, because the work is hard or because money is tight, I hear you.
Some of the classes were hard, and it is expensive. Work harder. Save. If it is important to you, you will find a way. The rest of us did.
If you don't want to work harder, then it is not that important to you. And don't give the crap that it's 'too hard'... B.S.
Earn it. But shut up with the lying.
* I volunteered in a vet's office for a year. I don't run around, saying I'm a vet.
* If you need a lawyer, do you want the guy who is hanging around outside to defend you because, "Oh, well, I was inside the building a few times." ?
* If you worked hard to earn a degree, do you want people running around saying "I'm a xxxx" when people around you, your friends / family / acquaintances then say, "Well, it can't be that difficult to be a xxxx, since xxxx is doing the same thing, and she/he didn't even go to school for it!" ?
* I don't say I'm Administration. (Hmmm.... why aren't you saying that you're Admin? That's a totally different kettle of fish, now isn't it? Maybe give it a couple of years and you'll bump yourself up to that title).
No wonder people say, "Those who can, do; those who can't, teach."
We don't defend ourselves or our profession.
I've had the privilege of working with some wonderful EA's in my classes, some of whom taught things to both me and our students that were more valuable than anything ever written in a book. Never did I ever feel like I had to 'guard my territory' with them. I hope they didn't have to guard their territory with me. We co-existed, each teaching in our own realms, as teacher and EA: separate titles, similar jobs.
I've also had the privilege of working with some wonderful teachers, both as a student-teacher and as a team-teacher: separate titles, similar jobs. The same goes for this situation: if the boundaries are clear, then the situation works. I've also worked with some wonderful student-teachers: separate titles, similar jobs.
But this, "I'm an adult in a school, and I get paid, so I'm a teacher."
"Hello darlin' nice to see you, it's been a long time. You're just as lovely as you used to be. How's your new love? Are you happy? Hope you're doing fine - just to know this means so much to me. What's that darlin'? How'm I doing? Guess I'm doing all right, except I can't sleep and I cry all night 'til dawn. What I'm trying to say is I love you and I miss you and I'm so sorry that I did you wrong." (George Jones)
What I'm trying to say is that I've missed you and I'm kinda sorry that I haven't written in so long. Life has been passing me by. It's like a whirlwind of activity all the time, it seems. Since I was raised by country-folk and spent the first 12 years of my life listening to music that was created between the years 1900-1979 as long as it was country/Elvis/Beatles, and the next 20+ years listening to everything else, I thought I might serenade you with my best old-school 'I miss you' song. I know other songs that I'm sure no one in the world listened to except my family and the original artist.
Things have been happening!
Before Easter/Spring Break, I assigned a piece of work to my grade 10 English class. We are reading the controversial novel, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (I LOVE HUCK!! If anyone is reading this who is in a position to do so, please direct a new version of Huck Finn... yes, controversial, but a good time for it. Don't be afraid. Don't whitewash the truth about history! Racism & slavery are STILL problems!). Anyway, the assignment was to choose a portion of the text to illustrate cartoon-style.
At one point in the novel, Huck's father, Pap tells Huck that he didn't want to see Huck putting on any frills (i.e., becoming educated and moving upward in the world), as Pap considered 'frills' to be demeaning to him (Pap). In a panel on one assignment, a student had drawn Pap and Huck in the bedroom with Pap yelling, and Huck with a thought balloon over his head. In the thought balloon, Huck was completely befuddled, thinking of himself in a frilly dress, with the word "Frills??" added just in case I missed noticing his word confusion. Getting that assignment before I left for break was such a treat - we had a great laugh about it. Students finding humour in Twain's book while they are being taught the satirical background is fantastic. And they're reminding me that even the smallest things can have a bit of humour, too. Class act.
During the break, I started taking Harlequin on longer walks. We walked along the boulevard, down along the river, and eventually through Birchwood Trails. Before branching out onto the trails, I took him for a walk on our street. Last fall, I walked him on this route all the time. We were once nearly attacked by an angry black and brown striped dog that looked kind of like the one shown here. It was brought up short by the heavy chain around its neck, which secured it firmly to the tree in the front yard where it lived. There was also a lady in the yard who promptly yelled at the dog, and the dog watched us for awhile, and then Tiger Dog settled down. Scary stuff.
This time around, though, the Angry Striped-like-a-Tiger Dog was not firmly secured to anything except its own four legs. And those four short legs moved FAST. When I got near the corner of the street, I noticed that the guy ahead of us crossed the street before getting to her house. ALERT ALERT. So I tried to look at the tree to see if the heavy chain was moving around, but there was nothing near the tree except the lady who yelled at the dog on the day he tried to run out to 'play' the other time.
Tiger Tiger Burning Bright saw me at the same time I saw him. It was like in a movie, in a super slo-mo scene. He walked out from behind the tree just as I looked in that direction, and for a split second we just looked at each other, and then Mr Harlequin Fluffy-Chew-Toy must have caught the Angry Dog's eye.
And that bad boy came barreling across his lawn as fast as those legs could carry him. He might have barked once, maybe not. It seemed kind of like I was underwater, but I just kind of crouched down, scooped up Harley, and stood back up. It actually happened pretty quickly. It's a good thing H was right next to me. I didn't break eye contact once with the Tiger, and I was beyond terrified.
I've always heard that you should not fight an animal to save your pet, or something to that effect. I remember thinking that exact thought, but my body didn't do that, and my brain didn't agree anyway. I actually remember thinking that. I think maybe crouching and then standing, and staring him down, maybe made the dog think I was on a savage rampage (?), I don't know. He did turn away and put his head down just a little when he couldn't get H, but he didn't leave until the lady yelled at him a couple of times.
And I just kept staring him down.
I couldn't say a word. There were no words, no coherent thought - not one word.
Much to Harley's credit, he is as dense as a bag of hammers, so he didn't realize anything was happening. He sat in my arms like a fluffy teddy bear as I pulled him up and away from the Tiger Dog who would like to toss him around like a chew toy. Ol' Stuffing-for-Brains didn't know that, though. All he cared about was being outside.
The dog went back to his yard, and I went back on my route, but I didn't let H down until we were well on our way. I didn't need any sneak attacks. I bet Tiger Tiger Burning Bright was wondering why he didn't get the white fluffy teddy bear toy since he was such a good boy.
After that, Harley Barley and I stuck to the river walk and then we started in on Birchwood Trails. Harley prances when there is mud on the ground, so he needs to get used to being in the dirt more. The trails are good for him.
We have met quite the characters on the Snye. One day, one guy introduced himself and asked if Harley would bite. "I can't say for sure," I told him, "Harley does what he wants." I didn't lie. To this, he said, "Well, I have a pitbull. He's a nice dog. I take good care of him. You take good care of your guy, too." And I said, "Yeah, Harley's been chased by a pitbull once or twice in his little life." *sigh*
Another guy, when passing by, said, "Hey girls, you're out walking Fluffy, eh?" Poor dog, it's hard to get any respect when you look like a furry marshmallow.
In that respect, Harley kind of looks rather girly, and his habit of putting his entire penis inside his own belly by accident does not help matters. Yes, he did it again. I took Cookie Monster away from him. He got mad. I put it on the bathroom sink, so he couldn't get it. He sat by the counter and stared at Cookie. I told him off and threw Cookie in the bathtub. Harley went over, stood up and peered into the tub until I turned the light off in the bathroom and he couldn't see anymore. Now, if I say 'Cookie Monster' his head whips around to see where Cookie is. He is obsessed.
In addition to trying to get rid of the monster, I also started 'de-hoarding' my house. Over break, I sold 6 boxes of books and donated 3 bags of clothes, and threw away 3 more that were absolutely useless. I then managed to get rid of about 4 bags of trash. And that's just scratching the surface. I've accumulated a lot of stuff. I'm going minimalist. I'm claustrophobic in my own life.
I haven't worked out since Monday of this week but I did go 3 times last week. Monday was one of the hardest times I have ever worked out. I thought I was going to pass out but I kept at it. Spin is now officially over for TriClub, but we are going to join Holly's class on Tuesday nights so we can keep doing it. We can't just stop going on our little trips that easily!!
Speaking of, Jenny and I still have to plan our trip to LA. We have been so busy with our upcoming production that we hardly have time to do anything else. It's work, extracurricular, TryClub, sleep, repeat. Throw in some food, and there you have our lives. With the exception of writing, coffee/tea, incessant b!tching (whether at us :P or to each other :D ), grading, and sometimes going out for supper or shows with friends, life is pretty hectic with our work/volunteer schedules.
I received some mail by FedEx yesterday. Before getting it, I wasn't sure exactly what it was because I couldn't remember buying anything. I half hoped someone sent me a pair of Louboutins for a surprise. That would have been fantastic. One can only hope. But this piece of mail did not contain shoes.
However, I did in fact order a present for Mother's Day, which will have to be written about after my mother gets it. While my mother is not a net junkie, she may receive news via friends who are in the know. Sorry, Mom-Friends, you are in the dark until she receives it.
And as for daisies, I just love 'em. Any day on this side of the daisies is a good one, I guess. No real reason to say it, just givin' you somethin' to talk about. As long as my name is on the tip of your tongue, my popularity is on the rise. ;)
"You don't get to 500 million friends without making a few enemies." (the social network)
I'm a bit of a fetishist for accessories. You wouldn't say it to see me, because I don't wear them, but I'm like a rat or crow for those shiny, beautiful things... I love shoes and bags and stuff. I love the artistry and design of 'things.' And it's not just accessories - it could be a nice jacket, or skirt, or whatever. I just like things that are well put together. It's ART. I like to look at them. They're pretty.
So along comes the Louboutin website. Check out the red shoes - the 'Devalavi'. I want to wear them. I want to put them on my feet and look at them all day.
Check out the blue and white shoes - the 'Double Noeud'... how pretty would they be at a picnic? They are even beautiful in brown.
And last but not least, the other shoes, the '3 Fibbia'... my little lovelies. Seeing these makes my heart soar. I'm sure little kids get excited about unicorns the same way I get excited about these shoes.
So I went on eBay. If you know about Louboutins, they are pricey. As in, $1000-$2000/pair.
I bid on a pair of Louboutins... going for a much discounted price... I was the highest bidder.... I went to bed at 5am... and got an email in the morning saying the item was removed because it was suspected to be counterfeit. I suspect it was suspected counterfeit because the outbidded party was really upset about being outbid.
And my heart was a little bit broken.
But...
I love holidays. I can't wait until summer break. I don't even know what I will do with myself. I would like a front porch, lots of long days, some tea, a nice fenced front yard and a computer. Looks like I might be writing.
I'm on twitter: TeresinaBenoit. I haven't written anything yet, but I'm there. I have to think of something good to be my first post - can't throw it away.
PD: aSS: Chapter 8 “Put ‘er on pause for a spell, will ya?”
Last week, everything smelled like dog crap. I thought I was getting the flu.
This week, I am too tired to rest and my throat and ears hurt. I thought I was getting a cold.
Something is wrong, I figure...
Now, I don’t know about everyone, but I do know that when I get sick, I want to be home laying on my mom’s couch while she makes me soup and tells me what to do for a little while. Then I can nap and relinquish all life’s details into more capable hands while I rest. I also revert back to my young self when I am sick, so much so that even my strong Newfie h-accent returns. In fact, I gets so Newfie that sometimes even me own mudder can’t figger out fer the life of ‘er what is I is trying to say. I gets like dat sometimes. When I am sick, I am the worst I h-ever been.
So, since last week I been havin’ some troubles with the ‘ealth, you might say. H-at first, I tot I was just catchin’ de cold or fightin’ off some h-August / fall bug. I rested (‘til I tot to my h-own self dat h-I was in de coma) in the ‘opes of gettin’ rid of de little bug that decided to ‘itch de ride h-on my h-immune system. ‘Frig de bugs,’ I figgers, ‘I got no room for de freeloaders’. So h-into the coma I went.
Just like de Sleepin’ Be-auty, I wakes up and sure shot, de bugs is still on board.
So, h-off to de ‘ospital I goes in the ‘opes of gettin’ ‘er all cleared up right quick.
The doctor says to me, he says, “Missus, why in the name of all dat is good and ‘oly did you wait so long to come to get some of de medicine? You gots what we in de medical profession calls the h-ear h-infection! H-in bot’ h-of de h-ears, too!”
“Fine h-enough,” I says to he, “t’row on the medicine! I gots the sore t’roat, too, if it makes any difference to ye.”
85 pounds of pills later, h-off I goes to the ‘ouse to catch up on de lack of de coma.
H-a day later, h-I is still h-awake.
‘Dis h-is da pretty shabby circumstances,’ I t’inks to meself, ‘What is h-I to do now?’
So radder than ‘ead on down to de fine h’establishment known in dese parts as d’ ‘ospital, I gets de bright h-idea of calling de ‘ealth Link of H-Alberta!! I got ‘er knocked, I figgers.
So the missus on de phone bawls me out and says to me, she says, “Listen Missy, if you gots de problem longer dan four days den you knows it’s not the cold or the flu. It’s h-alright to go to d’ ‘ospital den, b’y, you know! My dear, you gots to straighten h-out and take better care of yourself.”
Well, dis is h-as close h-as h-I got to me mudder telling me h-off in de long while which makes me kind of ‘omesick. H-I decides right den and dere dat h-I is calling me mudder as soon as dis woman is finished tearing a strip off of de me for bein’ stunned.
“Well, b’y,” I says to the Nurse Missus, “h-I never had de h-ear h-infection before dis, ya know. How’s I gunna know what I is at in dat regards, now? C’mon, b’y.”
“Well,” says she to me, “you sounds like you’s gots the bad strep t’roat on the go dere but since you gots medicine h-already, you might as well give ‘er a shot before you ‘eads back to de ‘ospital so dat at least you knows if the drugs is gunna kick in. Drink some warm tea and try to t’row on d’ ‘umidifier!”
‘Fair h-enough,’ I t’inks to meself.
“T’anks a lot now, Missus!” I says to the Nurse Missus. And ‘angs up the phone. Picks ‘er h-up and calls de ole mudder. H-it’s t’ree h-AM in H-Alberta so h-it’s six t’irty h-on da rock.
Groggy and sounding like the wild tom cat, mudder says, “Hello?!”
“Mom! Whaddyat!” I says to me mudder.
“Nutting!” me mudder says to me, “What are you at?”
“I got de sore h-ears and de sore t’roat, mudder,” I says to she.
“Yes, b’y,” she says to me, “You go to d’ ‘ospital or wha’?”
So I tells ‘er de ‘ole yarn about de ways of the strep t’roat suspection.
She tells me to drink de tea and take de h-antibiotics. Good chance me mudder knows what she is at, I figgers. Mudders knows h-everything.
“T’anks, now, mudder!” I says and ‘angs up the phone.
What the God is I gunna do now? H-I is not sleepy, h-I got a t’ousand books but h-I don’t feel like reading. H-I got a anudder t’ousand crafts started but h-I is not feeling very crafty so h-I is at de loss now.
No chance on going to work now - ‘aven’t slept in two days, can’t stand up straight for falling h-over h-off de balance.
Pretty shabby circumstances, h-I figgers.
So, h-I gots the cup of de ‘oney lemon tea h-on the go. It’s almost daylight dere soon, I t’ink. H-if h-I was ‘ome, h-I could be getting ready to go on da water with de b’yes or in the woods with da crowd, I s’pose. But h-I h-isn’t ‘home a-tall, a-tall. H-and h-I s’pose if you gots de touch of the bad t’roat you shouldn’t be h-out frigging h-around h-anyway.
May as well take ‘er easy for a spell, as me grandfadder would have said. Nan would tell me to pack up good and warm if I called her. May as well wait for her Rosary to be done. Don’t want to get bawled out by the Grandmudder on de Rosary circuit.
I’ll just drink my tea and pause for a spell, I guess...
****
I gave up writing about this experience not long after this... I was just too busy. I went back to teaching in October, as being a student just wasn't financially feasible for me.
The experience was fun, and it was eye-opening, and it was HOT. It was nice to be nameless and faceless for awhile - this I mostly felt when I was waiting for the bus in the midst of the other hundred(s) of people doing the same.
This illness turned out to be strep throat and I was sick for almost month. Fun times. I found out I was really sick because I woke up one night and in my attempt to go to the bathroom, I stood up, kind of fell sideways and grabbed for my bookshelf. I kind of remember doing it, but not.
The bookshelf crashed to the floor in front of me. I picked my way over it, and completely naked, opened my bedroom door and walked across the hallway to the bathroom. This wouldn't be a problem except I lived with a friend and she had boarders.
One of those boarders had heard the bookcase crash down and had run upstairs to see if I was ok. No doubt he got an eyeful.
I didn't see him, so off I went to the bathroom, completely out of my mind, presumably in a feverish state. I came out of the bathroom, turned on my light, saw the mess, put on my robe, and walked out to the kitchen to get water. Immediately, the boarder asked me if I was ok. I said yes I was, and asked him if he was ok. He then asked if I was on drugs. I said no, of course not, but I asked if someone was running around the house because someone tore down my bookshelf. He asked me some other stuff but I told him I was tired and had to go to bed.
I then went back to bed. He must have thought I was out of my mind.
I didn't really know what was wrong. I went to the doctor, though, and the doctor thought I must have been crazy because my throat and ears were bad.But I hadn't been sick like that before so I didn't know. And I think when you are sick, and you are trying to sleep and heal, you might not know how sick you really are.
Anyway, I did really well with the Pipefitting Situation. I got on A on that practicum and would have done well in school. It's all good. I can't imagine working out there in the winter.
... on the memory of the dance we shared..." (Garth Brooks)
Last week, Jason asked me if I was going to miss school.
Today, a new guy I met at work was asking me about my previous job - he said he had heard that I was a teacher and was wondering why I would make that big a switch... he asked me about the school and the kids etc etc etc
* That's when it hit me, and today it hit me hard: I will miss school more than even I thought I would.* My heart kind of hurt.
Before I finished up in June, Nadine sent me an email stating the top ten reasons why she will miss me when I am gone. Here are the top things I will miss (cue the violins, please...):
1. the KIDS - even though sometimes getting through to a kid was REALLY hard, I will miss the laughs we had in class, the days some of them called me a bitch but then apologized because they did not want to hurt my feelings, the times they came to me for help or advice, the sassy kids who came to class just to torment me or just because they liked how the class was run, the times they came to me for a chat or a visit, the times they brought me coffee and smiles and brightened my days, the times in class we used to neogotiate our workload, the times in class that we neogotiated our movie choices, the times when they'd learn to be sarcastic back to me, the times they'd see me around town and want to say hi or give me a hug, the days when we'd all work our butts off and then play heads up 7 up, the scary stories, the fun times... that's the best part of teaching - getting to know all of those people - kids' stories are the best things in the world - that I will definitely miss the most. I think I might even miss the ones who truly hated me: you really have to get under someone's skin before they can hate you. And the trust they displayed in letting me see them at their weakest either through their writing or our relationships... that's true beauty right there. The stories - whether written or oral - priceless.
2. the ELA dept - the snide comments with Kirsten in the hallway, the bitch sessions with Jason, the camaraderie (wait a minute - I only had 100 days of school / year - can I use that word??) with Nadine ;), the smart chats with Lisa, the feel-good chats with Anita, the rant sessions with Elaine, the quiet chats with Eithne, and the good teaching advice from Patricia... you guys made my job fun :)
3. the school in general - I will miss the people - saying good morning to people in the morning and knowing that I have true friends there - knowing that when I need help, I can go to any one of these people and they will listen, or give me a hug, or help however they can... that sense of security is priceless. I will definitely miss that. The chats in the hallway, the pats on the back, the eye rolling as you pass in the hall, the knowing that even if we didn't talk this week, we are still friends and we could get together anytime - all those little things that really makes you friends with someone...
4. the routine - I will miss the days in terms of time - how the day was laid out, how I got to try to make kids love literature like I do, how I knew the spring was always busier but easier than the fall, getting kids ready for the exams...
5. I will miss teaching Huck Finn. When ordering the books for me, Elaine made me promise to teach it at least ten times. I tried!!!
6. I will miss teaching Macbeth. The best play in the world. I half want to be Macbeth or Lady Macbeth regardless of their fates...
~ point of interest: I hate it when people said 'irregardless' - WTF kind of word is that? same with 'supposibly' - but that one is in the dictionary F@%$
7. I will miss reading the short stories with great endings to the kids ("On The Sidewalk Bleeding", "Burnt Toast", "Just Lather", "Lady or the Tiger" and the one with about the bet and the snake with the lady who proved she was strong) and their reactions to those stories...
It's like when you move away from home the first time and you realize there are little things that made it home: your bathtub, the evening light through your window, the way the third step squeaked... those are the things you miss - the ones you don't really think about until they are not there anymore...
And now, in building a new home, so to speak...
Top Things about the new job:
* I learn new stuff everyday
* I am a Worker Bee and not Queen Bee for awhile
* It's a break from my normal routine
I get to go back to school
I get to slam things around sometimes
I get to make things
I get to be anonymous for awhile
Who knows how it will turn out... Elaine says I will be back by sem. 2 but I will be in school then :P
Who knew leaving something you love (of your own free will) to try something new could be hard?
The violins can stop now. Damn things are giving me a headache ;)
They tell me at work that I am not aggressive enough.
Go ahead, shake your head, rub your eyes... read again...
They tell me at work that I am not aggressive enough.
Yeah, you read it right the first time.
Never, in my life, have I ever been told this. Ever. If anything, it was just the opposite: "Terri, you are too passionate!" / "Terri, slow down!" / "Terri, you are too aggressive!"
Never: "Terri, you have to be more aggressive."
I thought it was a joke. It wasn't. See, when I finish something, I lay down the tool like my normal self and go about my business. When I use a machine, I am still tentative as it is new. So while I feel like I am being rough, I actually need to be more like the Hulk, it seems... now I just throw shit down wherever, stomp around, make a bit of noise, curse a bit, slam my lunch down on the table and shake my Crystal Light into my water bottle extra vigorously. I am fitting in a bit better, it seems.
And now, funny (as in not really 'haha' but more like a karate chop, 'hi-ya!') story...
So I am waiting for the bus to come home after work today. As is my usual, I am listening to music, texting and reading my book while I wait in line. I am at the head of the line. Someone pulled my arm really hard while I was texting so I turned around because I thought it was someone I knew messing around. I did not know this guy. He asked if the line was for the Timberlea bus. 'Yes, it is', I replied, 'but there are 4 of them - you have to ask the driver for the place you need.' Off he goes.
The bus arrives and we board. We wait for Go Time. Dude asks the driver if this is the right bus. There is a language problem. I can't help because it is a problem for me as well. Dude decides to sit by me.
Now, if I sit next to someone on public transportation, I do not fire up a convo with them and if they do, I am polite but not encouraging. I don't mean to sound snotty, I just don't want to be having a 'New Best Friends' chat in public, after a long day especially. And to be honest, as my Happy Bunny keychain says, "I know how you feel. I just don't care." That sums me up about perfectly.
Dude starts up a convo. Only I can't hear him because I am listening to tunes, texting and reading. He grabs my arm and shakes me. I am not kidding. The dude touched me and shook me. So I look at him, and the first thought I have is, "Is he in some medical issue? Cuz if he ain't, he will be shortly.." and he points to my earphones. I take one out and say, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
And obviously, visual cues would state that someone who is multitasking and especially doing something to drown out background noise is not someone who is interested in having a New Best Friends chat. I was thinking the man might need directions on where to depart the bus. He says, "So, do you work at Syncrude?"
So by now I am probably looking at him with a mixture of stupidity and confusion and disbelief (misbelief?)... and I am thinking, "No, I caught a ride out there to catch the bus in.." But I say, "Yes, I do." and put back in the ear phone. Dude grabs my arm again, points to the ear phone... I take it out AGAIN and the guy across the aisle looks at me and snickers so I smile back and put him in a Death Glare. So now, losing patience, I say, "Yeah?" with eyebrows raised... dude is completely f*ing OBLIVIOUS to visual cues.
Ok so seriously, I don't think - actually I know - I am NOT the most approachable person in the world. In fact, I try to ignore most people, or try to give off the 'leave me alone' vibe... life is easier when you don't engage every person you meet in Chat Time...bear with me in a re-creation of today's events (based solely on a true story):
Dude: So what do you do out there?
Me: I am a pipefitter.
D: *raises eyebrows* Why?
M: Why what?
D: Why are you a pipefitter?
M: *thinking hard about whether or not this man suffers from mental retardation on some level* Cuz it's my job.
D: How long have you worked out there?
M: Four weeks.
D: It's my second day.
M: Right on.
D: I am a mechanical engineer.
M: Right on.
D: I plan your jobs.
M: Right on. *earphones back in head*
Notice my lack of interest...
D: *grabs my arm*
M: *pulls my arm away, earphone out* Yes?
D: Why do you want to be a pipefitter?
M: Cuz it's a good opportunity. *earphone in*
D: *grabs arm*
M: *seriously considering an elbow drop to the nose, sigh, eyebrows raised, earphone out*
D: What does your mom do?
M: What?
D: Does your mom work?
M: Yes, why?
D: Where?
M: Why?
D: Just wondering.
M: *thinking to myself - is this a joke? I look around to see if any of my guys are around...no one is.*
D: What does your dad do?
M: My father is dead.
D: I am sorry.
M: *earphone in*
D: *arm grab*
M: *angry eyes to the dude*
D: Do you have a brother?
(I am not kidding about any of this - it's all true)
M: No.
D: Then where do you live?
M: With a friend.
D: How much does she charge you?
M: Excuse me?
D: How much does she charge you to live there?
M: Nothing. We are friends.
D: Does she have a room I can rent?
M: No.
D: Ok, it's my 2nd day in town. I need a place to live.
M: *thinking, 'Not my problem, buddy - why come here if you have no where to live? Do I look like the Fort McMurray Welcome Wagon?' to him: nod... *earphone in*
D: So why are you a pipefitter? How much do they pay you?
M: *earphone out AGAIN* Excuse me? ...getting very cold now
D: enunciates very clearly, as if he thinks *I* am the one with issues here... How much does Syncrude pay you to work for them?
M: I haven't seen a paystub yet so I don't know.
D: How much do they pay a journeyman?
M: I don't know.
(obvious lies but shouldn't he be getting the pic by now?)
D: You must have seen someone's paystub.
M: No. Someone's rate of pay is private.
D: Oh.
M: *earphone in*
D: *grab grab*
M: *arm pull away* WHAT?
D: This is just my opinion but a young girl like you should not be doing a man's work.
M: What?
D: Yeah, it's too hard for you.
Meanwhile, the dude might be 5'2 and 100 pounds. About the same size as my leg.
M: Too hard for me?... Obviously a joke, I think... D: Yeah, women were not made to do that kind of work.
Now, I am a smart woman. I know that the physiological make-up of the male and female bodies are different and were made for different purposes. I was raised with the idea that everyone is equal and if something needs to be done, do it - don't bicker over who does what better - get your sh!t done.
I also believe in equality, freedom and free choice. Is this not something I enjoy as a Canadian citizen? While my body may not be 'made' to do physical labour like a man's body, choosing to do said labour is a freedom granted to me in the country I live... It is my CHOICE regardless of what anyone else might think... you are entitled to your opinion and choices, as am I...
D: *grab grab* There are a lot of Newfies here.
I know I am on Candid Camera or Punk'd. Someone wants to see me attempt to bootstomp this little old man. Now I know I have to be nice.
M: Yes there are.
D: Do you know any?
~ As if we Newfies are some weird species of animal that could possibly be a danger to others who are non-Newfies. We aren't Hitler's SS or killer sharks or something... However, I am tempted to pretend this man is a little baby seal and I am a big bad fisherman in January 1800s...
*And PS* - nothing p!sses me off like some prejudiced jerk calling me a "NEWFIE" when he is not from Newfoundland. My friends and fellow Newfies can call me a Newfie but random arseholes cannot come up to me and claim some kind of solidarity with me because they know a provincial nickname. I don't go around calling people Rednecks or Gopher Chasers or any other foolish thing like that... and how would it be for me as a white person if I used some racist name in reference to some non-white person? It would not be good. So why do all these ARSEHOLES think it's ok to call me a Newfie?
M: *staring at him*
D: Are you a Newfie?
M: I am from Newfoundland, yes.
D: You must be an English teacher, then, because you don't have an accent.
M: *thinking to myself, 'he knows you, he is baiting you, stop talking to him right now'*
Dude is a freaking psycho or psychic - I can't tell.
I put my earphones in and ignore him the next two times he grabs my arm. I cannot take anymore. I would have moved away but I was on the inside of the front seat. God or the Devil was testing me, I think.
I tried not to be prejudiced or racist or anything stupid. I am not a perfect person though. I am only human. I wanted to beat up that skinny little prejudiced frigger. Then I thought, he is not worth my time. I will have to go to jail for beating up someone stupid. I am not doing it.
SO in the space of less than ten minutes, this little man insulted me at least three times, assaulted my arm numerous times and pissed me right off, to boot.
When he got off the bus, he said See you later to me. As if we were new best friends and we were going to hang out. That prejudiced little patriarchal jerk...
So this week, I had to deal with two stupid people. The first is not important. The second was unbelievable.
This sh!t comes in threes, though... Next time, I am just elbow dropping the idiot. No more thinking before acting. I am becoming like Macbeth.
I'm supposed to work at becoming more aggressive, right? ;)
