Poking Around

I would like to thank Facebook, weight and measure of all things social and network, for confirming that I poked my friend Steve yesterday.  Even after asking if I was sure that I wanted to poke Steve.  While others rail on about profile page layouts and friendship pages, I find that it's still the simplest things that really, truly creep me out.  Thanks, Facebook.

On an unrelated note, this is blog post #200.  Pow.

I spent about two minutes on this.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Pennies Saved (which are pennies earned, of course)

As I procrastinate at Union Square's Barnes and Noble, which is something I cannot afford to do, I am sitting next to a fellow who apparently has trouble affording things as well.

Exhibit A: Prohibitively expensive materials.

This guy is using his iPhone to photograph recipes in cookbooks that he won't buy, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I mean, recipes really don't strike me as the best example of intellectual property, but this bistro burglar is just copying entire cookbooks wholesale. My mom occasionally photocopies a dish from a library cookbook (please don't tell on us), but she doesn't do it at the library. There's a pile of ten books and like four magazines here, and he's got every page! He's like The Pirate Bay of the kitchen.

Exhibit B: What a dirtbag!

I assume that his name is Albert, because it's written on his coffee cup (but by that logic, his name could also be "Made with 60% post-consumer waste"-and oh man, that would be awesome). Just watch out for this guy, ladies, because when he offers to cook dinner for your first date, it's not just because he's got a stack of recipes, but also because he doesn't like to pay for stuff. He can't take you on a harbor cruise, but if you'd like, he's got a great picture of one on his iPhone.

In a strange and coincidental turn of events, this is my first time blogging from my new iPod touch. I then took pictures of his stuff when he got up.  That is almost ironic.  Technology high five!

EXCITING FOLLOW-UP! Turns out "Albert", or "Post-Consumer Waste" , is not only too cheap to buy things, but he left all of the books (and his trash) for someone else to clean up!  Nice. Take that, B&N.  Apparently, customer service is not just limited to customers.  Before exiting, he checked out the Spirituality section (he'll need to redeem himself someday), the Newly Arrived section (in case there was something that he didn't get photos of last Sunday), and the Men's Interest section (too easy).  I would have and should have called him out publically, and by name, too.  Ideal Me would have done it.  Goshdarn propriety.

Don't Be a Flake

One thing that really, really aggravates me is when people say they would like to see you, even going as far as saying this date at this time, and then wait for you to call them so that they can tell you that they can't make it.  I've had more people flake on me this year.  This has literally happened more than real plans have gone through. No, I'm not being facetious. It's just getting ridiculous.

If you say you're going to be somewhere, be there.  Either that or you damn well have a better reason than "I'm tired" or "I forgot" or "I have to do this thing".  You should be meeting with Nelson Mandela and The Situation on the moon if you're making me plan around you so you can blow me off.

Checking In

I once wrote a very eloquent post about how most blog posts are posts apologizing for the lack of posts. I even successfully used raison d'etre in a sentence.  You should go read it; you'd love it!

Shown: Approximate size of RI.

This morning I find myself at a Starbucks in Providence, Rhode Island, a place where I have many memories, and a few nights without memories.  I used to come to this particular shop to unwind before my work study job at a nearby museum, as well as to get some work done when I used to do adorable things like write papers about literature.  Having woke up in Brooklyn this morning at 5 for a 7:10 bus out of Penn Station, Rhode Island at 10:30 strikes me as quaint in its littleness.  It's like it thinks it's a state or something.

None of these things matter to you, however, because you didn't come here for that.  You came here hoping to find out why I haven't posted lately, and I don't blame you.  Being a student teacher is hard.  Parent teacher conferences, disciplinary actions, and grades are all hard enough, but painstakingly crafting original exams and watching your class bomb them in front of you after a month of study and two days of review might be the most discouraging thing ever.

Hey, how do you feel about
stock photos? I'm for 'em.

At the very least, my 7th graders are killing it with vocabulary units and I couldn't be more jazzed.  Gradually I've been able to appear as less square-ish of a teacher, which is exciting.  Despite anything you've heard, most teachers would, in fact, like their students to think that they are cool, if all other things are equal.  Sure, teachers aren't supposed to be their students' friends and there is work to be done.  Still, holding back the perfectly timed joke is like looking at delicious red velvet cake without eating it.

Ah, but I've wandered into things that no one cares about again.  Coming back around to this blog, my blogging will probably pick up substantially in January, but in the meantime, it's a slow drip.  Enjoy your Thanksgiving and please tell all of your female friends about me.  I'm available and I'm a snappy dresser.

Resurfacing

Confession:  Student teaching has been kicking my butt.  I don't know why I decided to take 13 credits of grad work, teach a 7th grade English class, and spend 30+ hours a week in the fine public schools of Brooklyn, but I did.  I am legitimately amazed that I did not collapse during midterms last week (which coincided with all grades becoming due as well).

You can now add captions for photos.  That's pencilrific.

I suppose this is what I signed up for as an English Education major.  Generally speaking, my time is spent teaching reading, reading about writing, and writing about teaching. I also collect present-tense verbs and gerunds.

Anyway, I'm getting to the point.  POINT: I will start blogging again soon.  I have resurfaced after hell week and life is slowly returning to normal.  Although I remain very busy, I will now have more opportunity to procrastinate without immediate and collosal negative repercussions.  Besides, my class deserves a subsitute teacher and a VHS tape every now and then.

Adventures in Education, Chapter 20

Friday, Summer Camp, 11:14pm
Woodshop

Counselor DF:  "You might want to paint your names on the sides of your toolboxes, so you will know which one is yours when the paint dries."
1st Grader:  "I wrote 'Tool'!"

Adventures in Education, Chapter 19

Wednesday, Summer Camp, 4:02pm

Camper: "I have a joke. Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?"
Counselor DF: "I don't know."
Camper: "Because it died."

ADDENDUM (12/28/10): This is still potentially my favorite joke ever.

Adventures in Education, Chapter 18

Preface:  Although I hate setups, this one is necessary.  A theme of this week at camp was the "Dress A Bus Contest", where campers use materials provided to decorate a bus (as you may have guessed, you smart thing you).  Our bus's theme was "Under the Sea Disco Party"--a theme that could only happen when you work with young children.  Enough ado.  As always, true story.

Friday, Summer Camp, 4:32pm
Camp Bus to Manhattan

7 y.o. Girl: "Want to hear me sing my favorite song?"
Counselor DF: "Sure."
7 y.o. Girl: "Let's have some fun, this beat is sick, I wanna take a ride on your disco stick!"
[Awkward silence]
Counselor DF: [Too afraid to say anything]
7 y.o. Girl: "We should have a disco stick on the bus for our bus party!"

An Open Letter to the Boston Red Sox

Dear Socks,

Thank you for beating the Yankees today.  However strong your desire to relish this victory may be, I must implore you to stay the course and remain focused.

I live in New York City now.  I have been called an "asshole" and a guy with "a lot of balls" on the sidewalk as recently as last week for daring to wear a Red Sox hat and stand quietly [Note: the difference between "big balls" and "a lot of balls" is substantial].  I even got made fun of by a Mets fan once--which is crap.  On the whole, the city's disdain for the Red Sox is best described as a smug apathy.  You like the Red Sox?  Good luck with that.  However, the antagonism is ratcheted up quite a bit when the Sox are in town to play the Yanks.

As a Sox fan for my entire life (I vaguely remember Dave Henderson in 1990 and I definitely saw Mo Vaughn play in Pawtucket), I beg you to make a good showing in the Bronx this weekend.  Tonight was a great start, but at a bare minimum, please don't lose the next three games.  You need to at least win one more.  It is very hard to be a transplant and face the public after your hometown archrivals dismantle your team (like they did this time last year).

Just saying "Yeah, well... 2004" doesn't cut it anymore.  The Yankees are the defending champions and I have to take the heat if you dudes can't split this series.  I'm six stops away from Yankee Stadium and I don't want to be cussed out in Spanish when I'm just running out for a donut.

Love always,
Me

Adventures in Education, Chapter 17

Thursday, Summer Camp, 3:02pm
1st Grade Boys Free Swim

Camper: "I have spit on my hands."
Counselor DF: "Okay. How did that happen?"
Camper: "I spit on my hands."
Counselor DF: "So what did you learn?"
Camper: "If you spit on your hands, you get spit on your hands."
Counselor DF:  "Great.  Tell a friend."
Camper: [Tells a friend]
Friend: [Nods]