On a Roll

Three days and three posts? Maybe it is a sign of the Apocalypse.

Grading papers for my class of remedial students is soul sucking. I have really connected with these students, but COME ON! Most of them did not come to conference, so they did not make the changes that I recommended to their drafts.

Oh those drafts are so bad. And some are too short? Who would like to guess how many times I told them that papers that were even a smidge too short would fail? I'll give you a hint-- it was more than twice. It was so many times that I started to feel like a real bitch for harping on it so much.

Here is the kicker-- this is the easiest assignment they will have in college writing. The assignment is a four page personal narrative about a time when the student learned something.

No matter, tonight the girls and I are going to go listen to Tim Gunn be wonderful. He'll be at UCA in 30 minutes. The only down side is that I am skipping a lecture on brain based philosophy that Norb is sponsoring, and I feel really terrible about that.

But whichever-- it is time to go!

Cleaning Out

So, evidently, W has some hoarder tendencies.

Since Thursday:
Washed = 11 hamper-fulls of laundry
Tossed = 8 bags of trash
Tossed = 2 bags of torn up clothing
Tossed = pillows past salvage
Packed to give away = 3 boxes of clothing/bedding that are no longer needed

Now, his room is in the state that most rooms are in when a normal kid moves out. Now we need to figure out what to keep, what to store, what to give away and what to pitch.

We are thinking we might make that room the guest room, since it is across the hall from the guest bath. It is also smaller than Mea's room, which is probably okay. She doesn't intend to move back in, anyway. I'll get input from her before I move her stuff, though. That would let us turn Mea's room into a craft studio. Her room is bigger, if suffering from an awkward layout.

I suppose I should quite planning and work on grading the papers I brought home with me.

Empty-ish Nest

Our two oldest kids have moved out. Mea is in college, of course, and W has moved in with my step-daughter and her husband. Both, however, have left substantial amounts of stuff behind. Mea's room is slated to eventually become our guest room, or perhaps we'll open it back up to be part of the great room. W's room is going to be a craft room, and possibly also a guest room, if needed.

Between now and then, though, is the cleaning. I have picked up (so far) three white trashbags full of trash. AND eleven hamper-fulls of clothing and bedding. I've washed clothes and washed clothes since Thursday.

I've swept broken glass, granola bar wrappers, icing containers, chocolate chip bags, dirt, and bugs. I've picked up change, tools, pieces of sewing machines that he was fixing, pens and pencils (although I've thrown a lot of those away, too), a clip, a scope, Pokeman cards, books & lanyards.  I've thrown away magazines, notebook paper, handouts from school, a Victoria's Secret catalog, study materials for FBLA contests, receipts and more.

At this point, I am tempted just to back up the truck to the window and throw everything out and start over. I know that would be dumb. There is a nice dresser in there, some nice shelves, and several of my books.

W got upset when he realized today that I was really cleaning out his room. He thinks I should clean his sister's room first, since she moved out first. And I'll grant that Mea's room is a mess. If we were to have company, I would have do so some serious cleaning for them to sleep there. But she has come and worked on it some. And, perhaps most importantly, it does not *stink.* There is nothing that smells quite as bad as a teenage boy in the best of circumstances, and this is not the best of circumstances. He still had dirty clothes from his FBLA trip in early July. And there was food in a cooler in his room TODAY from that trip.

He also broke his bed. It was made from 2x6s.

When he first moved out, we were looking at it as more of a trial separation. At this point, I am not sure if any of us could handle if he moved back in. That breaks my heart. It does. But I am not sure how I ever dealt with the amount of stress that he causes. I am not sure that I could go back to living under that much stress. I am certainly not sure that I should be subjecting Miss O to that.

I suppose I should go check on the laundry. It is kind of unending at this point.

Back to School

Another August, another school year. I started teaching composition on the college level in the fall of 2003, which makes this my tenth year (but only my ninth year teaching full time). 

There is a part of me that feels like I am too young to have been doing anything for 9 years, but if I am honest, I know that is not true. My eldest is a sophomore in college this year. My middle child is a senior in high school, and my baby (my baby!) turned 10 last May. Adding in my years in public school, and I have been a teacher for 12 years. 

Twelve years. 

I have been a teacher almost as long as I was in public school, which seemed like forever. 

It kind of feels like I have been teaching forever, too, though. It is hard to remember before I was teaching. Probably because I didn't sleep a whole lot because I had two little kids who never.went.to.sleep. 

Maybe, though, it seems like I have been teaching forever because I love teaching. I love giving my students the skills to write competently and persuasively. I do not love fighting for attention. Every time I go up against a boyfriend/girlfriend, car payment, greek organization or sick child, I lose. I can't win. I need students who will meet me half way. I realize that my gen ed classes (or worse-- major prerequisites!) are not the top priority in my students lives. Really, I have noticed. 

*Sigh. 

Maybe the answer is to make college harder to get into. Maybe we should require students to invest something of their own, rather than allowing them rely completely on scholarships/financial aid. Maybe.maybe.maybe.  

 

Another Summer, Another Funeral Post

I go to more funerals in the summer than I do through the school year simply because it is logistically easier to do so. Also, I can justify skipping a funeral in favor of sending flowers if I would have to take off work to go. In the summer, though, it is harder to justify not going to pay my final respects and give my condolences to families in person. Of course, all of this is complicated by the fact that most of the funerals that I want to attend are over two hours away. If the funerals were down the street here in town, I would actually go to more of them.

The funeral I am going to today is that of an old friend's grandmother. Her name was Iva. (Of course, being from the Ozarks, "Iva" is pronounced "Ivy." My mom named me "Laura" and has always called me "Laurie," too. And while we are the subject of pronunciation, the "au" in my name is pronounced like the "a" in "car" rather than the "o" in "core.") Ivy is the grandmother of Joe Jr., who was my brother's best friend when we were growing up. Joe Jr. went to our church and to our school, so we saw a lot of him. Joe Jr.'s mom, Linda, (Ivy's daughter) taught my Sunday School class one year. This is one of those situations that comes up a lot in small, close knit communities. I was not close to Ivy. I may or may not have ever spoken to her. But our lives intersected. Even with all that, though, I probably would have just sent flowers or a card if it were just up to me. 

But it is not just up to me. My brother is heading north for the funeral today and I am riding along.  I will be glad that I went, because I'll see people who were once important to me. Funerals up home tend to be a cross between a family reunion and a fire-and-brimstone, scare-them-into-heaven pentecostal (or Church of Christ) church service. I don't know what flavor of religious service I am getting today, but I know that I'll run into someone I know, and I'll be glad I did. 

Since my last post...

During finals, I had pneumonia. I would get up off the couch, unplug my vaporizer, and go sit in a classroom for two hours and collect finals, then go home, plug the vaporizer up again, put my head under the towel, lie down on the couch and try to breath.

I did that all week. I was really glad that I had finished grading the homework, so that all that was left were revisions and reflections. I must say, though, that I need to tweak the reflection assignment. I really don't want to read last-minute whining about how hard the class is.

Yes. Writing is hard. I've noticed. It is hard for me, too.

Last week and the first part of this one are my time off. The kids and husband are still in school, so I have the house to myself to catch up on what I need to do. I've done a huge amount of laundry, picked up the house, and actually made some things. I made Olivia a nightgown, which turned out cute. A top for me in the wrong size (also cute, but doesn't fit), and a dress, that is currently in two pieces because I had to shorten the top, which I discovered after I cut it out, and had it all sewn up.

End of Term Wrap-Up

I have a (metaphorical) stack of homework to grade on Blackboard, but I am antsy, waiting on UPS. I have a camera coming from a mad eBay sale.

After homework, I need to grade revisions. I need to figure out a way to give students exactly how many points are available for the semester so that they can keep up with their own grades. Now, I tell them what percentage of their grade assignments are, but only the ones who know how to work graphing calculators have a clue how to figure out their grades. (Those people my best students, but rarely my best writers.)

To kill time, while I am being antsy, I am watching Dr. Who. I have to say, I still am not a fan of Matt Smith. Part of this is just because I loved the idea of Patterson Joseph replacing David Tennant. Part of it is Matt Smith is just not really the same caliber of the Shakespearean actors that he followed.

I suppose I should hop off of here and do some work. Sure Mr. UPS will be here soon with my new toy. And if I do some work, I will be able to play with. :)

Just a drive-by update

I have been working on my dissertation for the last 5 days.

I am so frustrated because if I had had any kind of clue what I wanted to study when I was going through my coursework, this would have been so much better. I have spent so many hours pursuing topics that didn't go anywhere except for class papers.

And I just get so overwhelmed because I am really starting with nothing. I don't even really know how to use the method of analysis that I am using.

I am just floundering.

And any help is really about 14 hours away. Not something I can take off and do in a weekend, even a long one.

One of those days...

I overslept. My husband woke me up, as always, but then went outside to check on the dogs. One had escaped, so he spent 15 minutes chasing him and securing the fence.

I woke up when he came back in. 15 minutes late. I don't allow a whole lot of time to get ready in the mornings. I rarely wear makeup, my hair is low maintenance, so it really only takes me about 30 minutes to get ready and get out the door.

Olivia was also still in bed. She had neglected to lay out her clothes last night, so she was completely ineffective. (She ended up carrying clothes with her to the car and getting dressed on the way.)

Since I was running behind, I decided to wear my hair curly instead of heat-styling it. But it was a bit frizzy, so I needed my spray bottle to put some water on it. I saw the Ace-Hardware sprayer that I used, and sprayed my hair.

Only after I had lost my coffee did I realize that the sprayer was not my water sprayer, but was instead full of spray cleaner. I have no idea what is in my hair. I am hoping ammonia. It didn't smell like bleach.

I eventually found my coffee and ran out of the house. I was stopped by two red lights, of course, but that was okay, since it gave Miss O more time to get dressed.

I walked into my classroom at 7:54, so the morning ended okay, I suppose. But I am still worried about what is in my hair.

Oh, and to top it all off, I am sick. I've got a doctor's appointment at 3:30 this afternoon.

Time keeps on slippin'...

I don't know how the time keeps slipping past me. Well, I take that back. I do know what happened last week. Last week I was in a funk.

My job is as a contingent faculty member in a wonderful department in a wonderful university. Seriously, I love what I do and where I do it. I work with a great bunch of people. However, I am on a one-year, non-renewing contract. I always know that April may roll around and my name not appear on the schedule.

Evidently some other people in my same position practice magical thinking and secretly believe that some how, some way, they will achieve the holy grail for masters-level faculty: lectureship.

Right.

One person was actually kind of lied to about the possibility of a lectureship. But you know what? She read the writing on the wall and got a real job.

Me? I continue to hold on, mostly because I like our insurance and I have kids at home. One is in ballet and piano and one is in therapy. Both of them keep me running.

But I digress. The reason that I am all in a funk is that our chair, in trying to make everyone understand why we will not be getting lectureships, somehow makes us seem like... well, unimportant. Replaceable. Interchangeable. (This is not completely his fault. The university has a policy that codifies that stance.)

So there it is. For the first time in a number of years, I am considering work outside of education. I am even considering an MBA. (Evidently math is not really a requirement.)

(I am also considering whether starving myself the rest of today can somehow manage to make my weight go back to last week's weigh in by my weigh in tomorrow. I consider lots of things.)

Time Machine in a Legal Pad

There is nothing quite like stumbling up on an old notebook. I have rarely used separate notebooks based on subjects or even projects. Instead, whatever is on my mind during a particular time seems to migrate itself onto the pages of the notebook (or legal pad) of the moment.


Take the one I found today. In its pages nestle a book idea, free writing from writing along with students, perhaps, or just killing time, notes about an extinct publication that I was once part of, email addresses of students long graduated, notes from articles that I read, notes from a class that I was taking and notes from a class that I teaching, a phone message, and notes from a presentation that I gave.

From the class notes, I would place this notebook in 2007. I was in my second semester of my PhD program in my first class with Stephanie, Hannah and Vince.

A Week Later

I've been actually tracking my food since I wrote last, and have lost another pound. Maybe Weight Watchers in my head is not as good as Weight Watchers in my computer.

I've survived the second week of the semester, and I survived session three of some professional development that I have been doing at the local high school. I am so glad that contract is almost done.

I've at least looked at my dissertation lately, which is something. I am hung up on figuring out how much sewing women actually did at home before paper patterns and sewing machines. I feel like it is important to have that bit of information. How else can I talk about the rhetorical construction of "work"? And how women's identity were defined? That seems to be important to me.

How does this happen?

How on earth does 8 months go by before I post?

I think that I am too busy living life right now to sit down and reflect. Work. Kids. PhD (ha!).

I should report that Weight Watchers Online has been a success. I've lost about 30 lbs, but then I've stalled. I wish that I could make myself get serious about it again. Fine. I'll go track yesterday's food.

Done.

See? I need more reflection in my life.

Now, of course, I need to eat (something healthy!) and go teach my last class.

Autism Awareness Day

Every day is autism awareness day at my house. My autism awareness is aided and abetted by my son, who has autism. He is 6'4" and weighs close to 300 lbs. He's hard to miss.

Turns out, autism (well Asperger's), is not the hardest thing about living with my son. I mean, we're kind of a quirky family, all in all. (They say that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all.)

But the past couple of years, I would say since 8th grade, the boy has been depressed. Severely depressed. Keep in mind, he has been seeing therapists on and off since 7th grade, now. I suggested, during a family session (because secretly, the therapist thought I was the crazy one), that W might be depressed. The therapist paused, and said, "I can see that" and spoke to the psychiatrist about Celexa. (Really? What was I driving to Little Rock and paying that man for, anyway?) The Celexa helped. For a while.

Fast forward to last year. W is going into 10th grade. We ended up having to get the courts involved because he was knocking holes in the walls and occasionally striking myself or the girls. He was completely out of control.

We found a new therapist, through a tip from the wife of a former student of mine who is a psychiatric resident in another state. The therapist is very behavior-focused which is wonderful.

With the new therapist came a new psychiatrist, who played with the dosages a bit.

That went on for a few months. In January, though, W became suicidal, and got a few days at Methodist, where they changed is anti-depressant and took him completely off of stimulant medication. He's on Wellbutrin and Abilify. There is night and day difference. Suddenly, the suggestions that his therapist made are working, and he is back to being a wonderful kid. Now, he is still a teenager. Still a bit socially awkward. Still a bit lazy. And disorganized. We've been using Flylady to help with the organization.  And Parenting With Love And Logic to help with general parenting. But now the programs are helping.

Mostly just a ramble

Today, I got my hair cut, which was long overdue. Now if I could just get motivated to color it, I'd be in business.

My current project is rehabbing a couple of American Girl Kirstens that I bought on eBay. One of them, I knew was a Kirsten. She even had her "meet" dress. But some darling child had styled her hair in what can only be called dreadlocks. Her hair is dried out and in really terrible shape. The other one came in modern jeans, tennis shoes, and a jacket. It was billed as a "Just Like You" doll, which is one of the modern ones that have a variety of eye and hair colors to match the girl they are intended for. But she is also a Kirsten. And her hair is in much better shape. Mea and I have washed it, sprayed it with vinyl restorer and will probably get her ready to sell on eBay next week. I am hoping for a nice return on her, since Kirsten dolls are retired. The other one? I don't know. Her hair is soaking in Downy right now, which is really a "last resort" kind of treatment for doll hair. If it works, I probably sell her, too. I could sell her anyway. I saw a doll listed for "parts" sell for more than either of these did.

An old friend came over last night. He is grad school, so he had spring break, too, and spent at least part of the week with his family, who live about a half-hour away. Yesterday, though, he came to visit his friends here in town. It was so nice to see him and just visit. :)

Really, that is all that is going on. Oh, except my daughter's boyfriend broke up with her yesterday. Really, how is that to top off the week she's had?

Spring Break, Part II

First thing, Wednesday morning, Mea got a phone call from her friend, R. R had called to tell her that two of their friends, who were brothers, had been in a wreck. The younger brother, Jacob, was dead, and the older one was in the hospital. As the day went on, it became apparent that the older brother, Keith, wasn't going to make it, either. He passed away Wednesday afternoon.

Mea has not really lost anyone to death, other than her grandmother. But her death was hardly a surprise. Mamaw had brain cancer, so we all knew that it was coming. At the end, she couldn't even talk, which hurt her and hurt us to watch.

The death of these two young men, though, was unexpected. They were young. They never got into any trouble. They didn't drink or even dance. They were what we all hope are children turn out to be. Their lives ended so unexpectedly and so quickly-- they were just out running around on the back roads. Keith was driving with one of his college friends in the front, while Jacob and another friend were riding in the back. (I cannot tell you how many times I've ridden in the back of a pickup.) Keith lost control of the pickup and it rolled several times.

And they died. On Tuesday they were here and yesterday they were gone.

Two of my colleagues had Keith in their comp classes this year. By their accounts, he was a smart, dedicated, hard-working kid. He was acting in a film that one of my friends is making for her thesis.

He leaves a hole in our college, our town, his church, and in the lives of his friends.

Jacob, Mea says, is a "great big puppy dog." A "Labrador retriever" she says. Always upbeat, kind, sweet. He was in band and his locker was near Mea's.

The funeral is Monday-- after school. School on Monday, though, will feel hollow.

I doubt Tuesday will be much better.

Spring Break, Part I

This week has been a busy one. Mea and I went to Norman, Oklahoma to visit the University of Oklahoma. We left Sunday night, and came back Monday night. I have to say, I've been on a few campus tours, and OU knows how do a tour.

Tuesday morning, we got up and drove to Kansas City to see my husband's mother, Mabel, who is in a nursing home there. She has Parkinson's disease and Alzheimer's. My sister in law, L, manages her care, and spends a lot of time at the facility. She also pays a couple of women to come in a stay with Mabel. Mabel, however, is difficult to be with. She is agitated, and really doesn't know why.

She's just moved to a new unit, the Memory Care unit, on Monday because she needed more oversight than she was getting in assisted living. She's not adjusting terribly well to the new unit. She wants to get up and walk, she wants to be wheeled to different places.

On Wednesday, Todd spend the day with his mother and gave L a break. She got to go home and spend some time at her home, which was nice. Todd, however, had a pretty miserable time of it. His mother has always lacked tact, and losing the controls that helped her keep her quiet has only added to her bluntness. Several times, she asked Todd when his sister was coming back. She also asked when his wife was coming to pick him up.

I can't say either of them enjoyed the visit, but L enjoyed having a break, as well as having someone understand what she goes through. Every.Single.Day.

Weight Watchers update...

I've been on Weight Watchers for three weeks and have lost five pounds. This may be as well as I have ever done on a diet, except Phase 1 of South Beach. But South Beach leaves me light headed after a day or two. So I am avoiding it.


WW is not without it's challenges, though. Some points sneak up when I am not expecting them. (Mac & Cheese is 11 points? Really? Homemade chocolate chip cookies are only that high if I eat six.) I am often a little hungry. Quick fixes for hunger, like nuts or peanut butter, have points that start high and add up quickly. I should learn to eat carrot sticks when I am hungry. Today, unfortunately, I chose to eat a cupcake instead.

Regardless, I now weigh less than I did when I took my comps, a year ago. I would really like to lose another 15 or so pounds and get down to the weight I was before I started studying for the comps.

What I'd really like to do is get down to the weight that I was when we moved back to Arkansas after Miss O was born... But that is a goal that will likely take exercise and a lot of it.

Weight Watchers

At the point that my fat clothes were only kind of buttoning, I had to do something.

We had paid to subscribe Todd to Weight Watchers for a while. He has sleep apnea, and his doctor told him that if were to lose weight, he could also lose his bi-pap machine. This summer, though, he switched to a gluten-free diet. With the gluten-free diet and the subsequent elimination of all things made of flour, he was losing enough weight that he did not feel that he need to use Weight Watchers. I, however, forgot to cancel the automatic payment.

When January came around, and I decided to get serious about losing weight, I hopped onto his Weight Watchers account and changed everything but the name.

I started on January 18th, right after the "new" points system started. Unaware of the change, I logged in, typed in my vitals and how much I wanted to lose. Weight Watchers oh-so-generously gave me 29 points. (As nearly as I can tell, that puts me at about 1200 calories a day, plus weekly points.)

Then I saw that my Lean Cuisine lunch, three tiny "Thai-style" spring rolls were five points. I was still starving. I wanted to cry. A granola bar would be another five points. Anything from the vending machine would start from five and go up. So I starved.

I think I have it sorted out a bit better now, though. I figured out what the weekly points were and how they worked. And "free" (zero point) fruit is kind of a godsend. Unfortunately, I tend to hoard the points, and then splurge on the last day before they expire. And, the points expire the day before weigh in. I've done two full weeks and two weigh-ins. I have weighed more at weigh-in than on any other day in the week.

But, I weighed less at Monday's weigh in than I did the previous Monday. I guess as long as the overall trend is down, I'll be okay.

I'm not promising to be happy about it though.

Long overdue update...

We're still working with our son's psychiatrist to sort out medications. That leaves our lives kind of chaotic.

Just in case I don't have enough trauma, I decided to start a diet. It takes a solid level of obsession to make this work. I have to do something, though. I have gained about 40-45 pounds since starting my PhD. I am not happy with the way I look in my clothes. My blood pressure tends to run a little high, and I am concerned about my blood sugar. So it seems like obsession may be necessary.