TomAto-Tomato, PotAto, Potato! Let's Call the Whole Thing Off!

Last week saw another first. Jorge is/was one of my students. (I was pronouncing it the Spanish way--oddly enough the way it is spelled--until about 3 weeks into school when his mom dropped him off and said, "good-bye George". Oh, okay. That would explain the lack of response those first few weeks.) Anyway, I thought it would be good to have the class work with a 2nd/3rd grade class on a reading activity. Well, I set Jorge up with a boy that I knew spoke English. He was also the biggest kid in the class--and probably in the school. I didn't know at the time that for some reason Jorge is terrified of big kids--of course... This started him crying on Monday, and he literally cried almost every minute he was in school for the next 8 days of class. At that point his mom met with the principal where the problem was discussed, and his fear of tall people came out. His mom actually requested that he get a shorter teacher. He did--at the pre-school. So he'll be back for more next year. I'll warn the next teacher to invest in flats.

The next day saw the arrival of Jason, a boy fresh off the farm in Mexico. While Jason seems smart, I don't know if his name is in fact Jason. Or maybe he doesn't know that is his name. I was thinking for a while maybe it is like when Chinese families give their kids American names like Helen or John. Does Jason seem Mexican to you? But I asked and that is supposedly not the case. All I know is, I say Jason, and there isn't a glimmer of reaction. Maybe his name is pronounced George. I'll have to try that.

As far as other things go, I think my level of patience for idiots has totally evaporated. Somehow I have met the same man (who lives in two different bodies) that drives me crazy in both SF and SJ. This is not the good crazy. They are v-ball people of the sort that love to tell you and everyone else what they are doing wrong, when they in fact are lousy players, slow and make bad decisions. This is not helped by my being a female and these men being O-L-D and pigs. So I have to say I did feel a certain degree of satisfaction when I nailed the guy in the gut earlier tonight. Not on purpose, but sometimes God just gives me a little bit of satisfaction. Can I hear an Amen?!

From our field trip to the pumpkin patch...a great day! Plus I learned how pumpkins grow. Even saw a movie! 

Loren (teammate), Gustavo (friend) and other v-ball folk. 

You like what?

So progress reports need to be done by Wednesday, so on Friday I was testing the kids in my class while the other teacher read a story and then modeled journal writing. The topic was to write about their favorite food. At this point, they only know a few sight words (I, and, my, like, etc.), and 16 sounds, so their writing consists of only the letters they have learned thus far. So she is asking them what their favorite foods are and this boy says cookies, and she ends up writing on the board, "I like coks." I looked up and could not stop laughing. She quickly erased it and wrote pizza instead.

Yesterday was just a great day from start to finish. Played in the tourney on Saturday with Loren, Bill and Edith. We ended up losing in the 2nd round of the play-offs against the team that won the whole thing. It was a great day. Somehow we ended up in a sunny, almost completely wind free area of SF. Just gorgeous. Love, love, love that tournament. Saw Gustavo again, who I haven't seen since the spring tourney that we played in together. Love that guy. He is from Peru, and played professionally down there. And he couldn't be better looking. *sigh* After the tourney, went to B&J's, hit the hot tub, had a great dinner, drank copious bottles of wine, played hearts, watched a movie and rolled into bed with a snoring pug around 3 a.m. Good times...

Golfing with Dads

Last spring all the kindergarteners went on several field trips over the course of the year. One of the fathers (from another class) that went seemed to take a shine of sorts to me. To the extent that after the last field trip, he took my cell number off the info paper I'd given my parents and took it so we could play golf sometime. (He is O.L.D. and married of course). He never called this summer, but he still takes the time to stop by and chat with me, which causes great alarm for the other teachers, but I don't really think its a big deal. So, is it normal for fathers to want to go golfing (0r do other things) with a teacher from their kid's school?

Next topic...I am thinking about taking a second job of sorts. Applying to teacher adult ESL. Considering that the students would all be Spanish speakers, I think it would be an excellent way to improve my Spanish, and earn some extra $$ for travel to South/Central America next year. It would be kind of tough--4-6 M-Thurs, plus 30 minutes of planning. I'm going to see what the story is...but it would be great if I could be on the verge of fluent in Spanish by this time next year. My debate is whether or not to write my thesis this year and finish up the masters. Oh dilemnas...

This weekend I'm playing in a 4's tourney in SF, and then Sunday going to see the Blue Angels. Love Fleet Week. Who doesn't like young men in uniforms, you know??

Wedding Aftermath

So B is now married and on a fabulous honeymoon in Tahiti. Wedding and afterparty were great...the Sunday following was a bit tough, but I did make it to the Aquarium to eat lunch, color, and watch a magic show with the H family. Oh, and then look at animals. It was great to see everyone and officially become an aunt/sister-in-law.

This week's high/lowlight was when the other teacher in my class was flipped off by a five year old in her class. I ended up handling it, but did receive a fun suggestion from a dear friend of a more appropriate/direct kind of letter...see below.

Mr. and Mrs. Little Johnny,
This morning I saw your little fucker flip off his teacher. What are you teaching this kid that he thinks this is acceptable behavior? Do you allow him to kill small kittens and light fires on neighbor's porches as well? Well, it is time to pull your collective heads from your collective ASSES and be a parent. Beat this little bastard's ass until it is pink so he understands where the line is in the sand.
Lovingly, Miss F

I didn't go with that, but it will stay on file for another time.