Ride today! Wooppeee!

Missed my run or ride yesterday when I got something in my eye that felt like a lincoln log. It was a speck, but it knocked me on my back for about an hour while I tried to figure out why every time I tried to open my eye, my body's reflex was to slam it shut again. Big baby. Couldn't get out.

But today, after a bunch of after-school hullaballoo, I came home and took a quick nap. I needed it. Some afternoons, my energy is completely gone by 1:30, and it takes a lot to recover it. I'm trying to be better about spreading my calories out over the course of the day, but it doesn't always happen. So today, I was wiped.

I made a couple of slices of bread with some natural PB on them when I got home. Then I took a nap. And I woke up at 6:00 and jumped off the couch and got changed and was out the door by 6:10. Rock on. That's about as late as I can go to get a ride in here. So it was a shortie, but I was happy to have done it. 

Time for some relaxation. 

Sore legs = good

I went out today again. Sore when I walked out the door. I'd been working all day in the house, and the weather seemed to have finally broken, so I was ready to get out. The wind has been howling here from Hurricane Ike, and the skies were grey, but the rain has stayed away. And the temperature has dropped. Perfect start to fall running weather. And it was a good run. 

I'm full of excuses. I don't say them out loud, normally, but I'm full of them in my head. And I'm trying to silence that voice. I also like to nip that excuse-filled voice in the bud and invite in my more positive self-talk. so I expect that my writings in the next few weeks as I work my way back into shape will be full of both--positive self-talk and nipping excuses in the bud.

Big breath. Here goes. Kevin and I have been wanting to have a baby, and I've used that as an excuse in the last several months. Every month has been a different drug and another blood test and a big sigh... and it hasn't gone the way it seems to go for most people. But the drugs do change the body a bit. And the process does affect the mind a bit. And so running has taken a back seat as I was assuming that any day now I wouldn't be able to run anyway. Silly, but true. Enough of that nonsense. We still want to have a baby, but it's not an excuse to not run, for crying out loud. 

Putting it out there on a blog seems a bit forward. People whisper about these things. They don't seem to talk about them. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because they don't want people asking about something that holds such potential for both joy and disappointment. Or if people know that they want to have a baby, when they finally get to have one, the surprise of it won't be as great. Or maybe it's just because it's a pretty private thing (although some of my relatives don't seem to mind bringing it up now and again). I've considered just telling people that we're unable to have kids so that if we do finally get pregnant, it will seem to be some sort of a miracle...and perhaps then people won't ask about it. But maybe I just want to talk about it.

The thing is, we've wanted to sell this other house for two years now. And it's gotten to the point that it's almost embarrassing that we haven't been able to sell it--as if not selling a house that we aren't even living in is some sort of a reflection of inadequacy on our part. And Kevin's family has gotten to the point that they won't even ask about that house any more. What does this have to do with our trying to have a baby? If we put it out there that we are trying, I wonder if people will at some point get to the point where they, too, don't want to ask about it. 

Sometimes I enjoy being brutally honest about personal topics because I like to wade through the social crap that seems to create barriers between people... but then other people don't appreciate that bluntness, and it tends to have the same affect. 

Ahhhh, the phone... cut short by the phone. 

Starting somewhere...again...

I ran yesterday. Two miles. Two miles. Two miles. That's it. Have to start somewhere. I'm always telling myself that I have to start somewhere. I just hardly ever expect that somewhere will be where it is. And for some reason, I can't not beat myself up for having let it get so far from me. 

Kevin says I'm like Rocky. Always one to make a comeback. I'd rather just have some consistency again when it comes to workouts instead of a roller coaster ride. I've missed it since leaving Culver. 

There are times when I'm sitting there in my thoughts, and I feel like I can feel my body expanding just as I sit there. Getting bigger. I envision my cells just expanding. Fatter. It's awful. Just being honest here... not realistic. Why do I beat myself up so much?

On a good note, I can feel my desire to be out there doing this stuff finally coming back. I've reclaimed a lot since moving to this house just a short month ago, and my rhythm is coming back. I think some would call that mojo?

Today's another day to keep starting somewhere.

Living the dream...with a little bump of reality

We live on the bike route. I've wanted to live on the bike route for as long as I can remember. And I can walk right out the front door with my bike and step onto the street and get on the bike route. I trained almost exclusively on this route for Ironman--combining loops to make 30, 60, and 100 mile rides that were familiar and hilly and challenging.

Yesterday's little bump of reality was just that, a bump. In the noggin. With a soda can. I was doing just a short ride in the misty rain yesterday afternoon, and I was only about a half mile from the house on the road on which I actually live, when a car came up from behind me. Thinking nothing of it, I waved them around as the oncoming traffic lane was clear. 

Before I knew what had happened, I had been beaned in the head by an empty soda can. It bounced off my helmet and hit the ground and that was when it registered that someone had assaulted me. My immediate reaction was to flip the guy off who did it. Then I decided to chase down his truck. I didn't really have a plan beyond calling the police when I got the guy's license plate, but I was going to make an effort. 

I started a sprint to try and catch him, but he, of course, had hit the gas pedal as soon as the can was thrown, and I couldn't catch him. I rode the rest of the ride with my head up looking for the vehicle, and I actually thought I saw it coming back towards me a little further up the road. I stopped my bike in the middle of the road, took off my sunglasses, and stared down what I thought was the offending vehicle. It wasn't it. 

I rode the rest of the ride trying to sort out what I ought to do. Nothing. I hate bullies. I'll ride with my contacts on in the future and look for the plate. I'll also always have my cell phone with me. And I'll pick up the can next time it's thrown (if there is a next time).

The good news is that I've been riding for about seven years now, and I've really only had one run-in with a vehicle besides what I had yesterday. But two is two too many. I wonder if karma will bite him in the ass? I wonder if he'll know it when karma does?

Still living the dream. I'm not giving that power away. 

Home...finally, home...

For the first time in three years, I feel like I'm home. We have so much work to do that it makes me tired just thinking about it, but we have as long as we need to get it all done. So, that's what we're doing.

Home. Finally. 

Hopefully holding our breath...

We are about to join the ranks of the folks who have two mortgages. It isn't our first choice. For two years, we've lived in this run-down farmhouse with a sinking bathroom floor, leaky roof, rocking toilet, and no clothes dryer that is an hour and fifteen minutes from my job with the idea that we would move only when the house in Versailles sells. That was our plan.

But giving up 2 1/2 hours a day in the truck, $600 a month in gas, and the farmhouse's limitations were getting taxing. We've not been able to have our wedding gifts (or chosen not to, really), because we've been waiting for a house where we could really enjoy them. Still, we've been waiting.

Then, last Sunday was a bad day. I got up in the morning, got my morning coffee, and was looking online at some houses in Smith's Grove (a hobby of mine), and I discovered that one of the houses that I had been eyeing for quite some time had the price dropped $20,000. Oddly, I was heartbroken. We've been talking about how we were going to take advantage of this buyer's market, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. And suddenly, I was feeling incredibly overwhelmed by it all, really.

I strapped on my running shoes and went for a quick run, but my emotions were just boiling. I have to say that I was well-aware that I wasn't just reacting to the house that we wouldn't be able to get. I also kept thinking that it's really not bad. There are millions of people (literally) in the world who would be incredibly happy to be in our position--to have the opportunity to live in a house with a roof over their heads, jobs that pay well, a family next door, and the necessities--home, clothing, food. I know that because I work with people who don't have those things all the time. And I feel the weight of that knowledge when I get stressed about our situation. 

I stress about not having a house where family and friends can visit comfortably. I stress about not being able to sell that house in Versailles--it feels like I'm still paying penance for deciding to leave Culver and take that job. And I feel like life is on hold...has been on hold. Or at least, I know we've been choosing to put things on hold in a lot of ways. 

Monday morning. I started making phone calls. By Monday afternoon, I had information on the house with the dropped price. I had called our mortgage company to see if we might be able to get one and how much it would cost. I had made an appointment to see the house the next afternoon. I had talked with Kevin on the phone a hundred times. I felt like I had started to figure things out. 

Tuesday night, we went over to see the house. The weeds and grass around the house are grown up so tall that we could probably mow and bale it. But if you can wade through that and imagine the house without it, you can see the potential in the property. The front porch has room for our rocking chairs and a swing. The view is of a beautiful cow pasture across the road. 

The inside is another story. You have to get beyond the incredibly stupid DIY ideas that the previous homeowners tried to implement to see that there is potential there, too. There's damage to the floors--neglected problems with french doors and moisture. There's a doorway that was filled in that should have been left alone. There are the most hideous paint and wallpaper choices throughout the home. But what Kevin and I saw is a home..our own home. 

So we put in a bid, the bank counteroffered, we bid back, the bank counteroffered again, we bid back, and the bank accepted. Now, we're waiting for the home inspection. And we're so excited we're bursting at the seams! But holding our breath that the inspection doesn't reveal anything that we didn't already suspect was there or anything worse than what is there. Please keep your fingers crossed for us, as well. 

Putting it out there to the universe...

We want to sell our house. Our house deserves people living in it who can enjoy it and take care of it and grow their family in it. The house deserves some positive energy. The neighborhood deserves people who have something to give. We want the universe to hear that we are not holding onto that house for any reason. At all. We want the universe to know that someone can come along and make a great life in this house, and that we will not be the people to do that. We want to put those ideas out into the world. We are open to someone coming and buying the house.

I'm trying to stay positive. The discouragement I'm feeling right now will pass. We're open to good things coming to us.

Some scenes from our camping trip...

Boxes of memories

I just spent the week up in Michigan with my mom. A year ago, I promised her that I would come up for a week so that we could clean out the basement, and I kept my promise. I drove up last Saturday after running a miserably slow 10K in South Bend, IN, and we got to work. We spent a full 8 hours mulching and weeding out their garden before heading in to the basement. 

The rest of the week was dedicated to sorting, labeling, and reorganizing 43 years of family memories. More than 43 years, actually. We found the wedding gift that my grandparents' pastor gave to them when they were married--that was nearly 70 years ago. We found all kinds of pictures. We found my grandma's china. We had a great time while getting sweaty and dirty. It's amazing how much stuff can accumulate. 

So I ended up bringing back four shoe boxes to Kentucky that I needed to sort through. Turns out I saved cards and notes from my freshman year in high school through my freshman year in college, and I didn't remember having saved them. Amazing to read, really. I didn't remember that I had been a prolific letter-writer. I had penpals in two other countries and at least five other states, and I've forgotten all about all the hours I spent to put words to paper.

In one letter, I got a note from a friend saying that he was thinking about getting an e-mail account at the school he was attending, but he hadn't gotten around to applying for it yet. This was in the days before yahoo and hotmail. So we were writing letters. Lots of letters.

Some of my favorite notes I found were from my high school boyfriend. Ohh, I thought he was just the bee's knees. Based on his notes, he felt the same. We dated for almost two years, and I really have no idea where in the world he is now, but what great memories I have of that time. Incidentally, his third period English class was apparently torture as most of his notes to me seemed to start with "English is PAINFULLY boring."

News..but not what we were hoping for...

Sounds like we're back to square one. The folks who wanted the house can't do anything for at least another month. So we're sorta at square one. But with the possibility of getting to square two? Disappointment, though. I'm so tired of this disappointment. 

Two in the bush...disappointment...riding the real estate roller coaster

It has been a week of ups and downs. We're (I'm) down right now. We had the one offer. We got a second offer. We decided to not go with the first offer because it was so low that we'd have to dig up $12,000 to sell the house. That's just a lot of money to sell something, isn't it? That's a huge chunk of my yearly salary. The other person couldn't come any higher. If we cut the realtors out of it altogether, we'd manage to then only owe $5000. And somehow that seems more palatable, but we can't cut out realtors--we need them. We tried selling this house on our own for about 10 months FSBO, and we got nothing but nibble after nibble without a serious offer. For anyone keeping track, we've now had the house on the market for 22 months. A house we aren't living in.

The second offer came in yesterday, but it had a couple of glitches in it that made it tough to take...those issues left way too much up in the air. But in looking at their offer, I thought that the up-in-the-air issues could all be solved by asking them to get a letter from their mortgage company since they had a meeting scheduled for today. They, oddly, responded that they would be in touch and that they wanted a response to their offer by 5:00 today. Then, they never got in touch today. So while I thought things would be clarified today, they are now muddied by a lack of communication. And we're stuck waiting with no recourse.

In the meantime, my realtor e-mailed me that another woman who was previously interested in my house saw another house today, fell in love, and is making an offer on that. That easy. Why the hell can't it be that easy for us? WHY? What do we have to do here? 

An offer...

We have one. FINALLY. Someone made an offer. It's low, but it's an offer. Ironically, the woman who made the offer is the same one who wanted the house a year and a half ago when we had the house FSBO. But for various reasons, that didn't work out. She kept in touch, though, until we put the house on the market with a realtor. Then, she got in touch with our realtor. Finally, she made an offer on the house yesterday. An actual, written offer. But it's low. Low as in we'll have to dig deeper into our pockets than we can to pay all the costs associated with the offer. So we'll counter. But keep your fingers crossed for us today. It's a big day.

Last night was the first night that Kevin talked about moving without that "don't put the cart before the horse" feeling in the conversation. I know where he's been coming from--someone has to pull in my enthusiasm when I'm ready to go out and spend money that we don't have. =)

But we might actually get to open our wedding gifts now! (We've been married almost a year).

Two Showings...One Hour...Waiting...

We dropped the price on the house on Friday by another $4000. This actually puts us $2000 under the price that I paid for the house in August 2005; but the house is worth what someone will pay for it, and it isn't worth what I paid for it in August 2005. We'll be digging into our pockets at this point to at least cover the realtors' fees, but we'll gladly do that if it will get the house off our books. 

The news, though, is that almost immediately after dropping the price on the house, we had a showing scheduled for 6:00 tonight. And then this morning I was sent an e-mail scheduling another showing for 6:15 tonight. This means that we could actually have two groups at the house at the same time. This is a dream for us considering the few number of showings we've had in the nearly 10 months we've had it listed with a realtor. I'm excited that there will be two groups at the house at the same time--perhaps that will make one of the groups feel the need to be a little competitive for the place? 

When a showing gets scheduled, I sit and watch the clock. I imagine people walking through the house at the time that they are supposed to be there. I wonder what they are saying. Then I wait...thinking that I might get a call from my realtor. Last time she took someone through the house, she actually called me from the showing to ask me a couple of questions. But regardless of who is doing the showing, I sit and wait. And I hope that our realtor will call with an offer...but I almost dare not let myself hope for that. 

This is hard. Cross your fingers for us. We have to hope, but we almost dare not hope... so our fingers are crossed, too. (And our toes). 

The Week in Review

14 Class Days Left

The only class where I still have some work to do for the end of the year is my Advanced Class. And I actually have it worked out in my head that they are going to do something using Imacs and Ivideo/IDVD to create an introductory video for the Newcomer's Center for next year. I need to sit down tonight and do the planning for that, but I currently just have a vague image of what I want done in my head and not a clear rubric for the kids. My goals are to get them to do some thinking about all that they've learned this year, learn some new computer skills, and have a fun way to close out the school year. I've got the laptops reserved. I need to pull together the necessary cameras. But first I really need to get their assignment in order... tonight. 

10.5 mile run day

It's the longest run I've done since Ironman, so I'm happy with it no matter how much slower than the speed of light that I went today. I met several new four-legged friends. And I really enjoyed my time out there. I LOVE Jelly Belly's Sports Beans, but I save them for long runs, so today was a nice treat. I've got only about four weeks until the annual Sunburst half marathon up in South Bend, so I've got to get in some more of these long runs between now and then.

Now Hiring

We're trying to hire my replacement at work, and it's not going well so far. If you're an ESL teacher looking for an interesting challenge, you might want to check us out. E-mail me for details, but it's a good job with good people and plenty of red tape. We interviewed someone this week, but I can't say how it went for confidentiality reasons and all. I'm hoping that a colleague of mine will get the chance to transfer in from another school, but it's hard to tell what to expect when personnel issues are in play. 

Baby Hats--My new obsession

So I've got three pregnant colleagues, and I spent yesterday working on making baby hats for two of them. One, I know, will have a boy. The other, I know, will have a girl. The results were fun to see--I got to learn a couple of new knitting tricks. And I'll put a picture of the hats in with this post. I wish I could figure out a way to make a little extra money off the baby hat business--it's relatively quick (5-6 hours of knitting for a hat) and inexpensive (maybe $12.00 for yarn for the ones I made today), and I really enjoy it. I clearly couldn't charge for my time, but I actually enjoy knitting for the therapeutic side of things, so I'd just be knitting for the fun of it and the money would be extra. Then again, I have so many projects I want to do!

New Teacher Orientation and me

While out on my run today, I spent some time thinking about what I'll say when I get a chance to speak at New Teacher Orientation this fall. My principal volunteered me, and I'm excited. I think I'll speak less about what it's like to be a new teacher  (since I'm not) and more about working with international students. Gotta start making a list.

Enough for now...this is the most random-though post I've done in a while. Check out my cute hats!

A quiet Sunday on the farm...

We have just nineteen instructional days left in the school year. We're out of school on May 26. After that, there are some professional days and such, but there will be no students in the building. Our standardized testing lasts three more days and then we have two days this week and then three additional weeks. It's quite strange to try to fill the last seventeen days of the school year. There's a sense of urgency to get in whatever instruction I can combined with the same urge my students have to quietly resign myself to the joy of summer vacation.

Last year in the post-CATS test time, I got my students focused on one final project for the year--writing their own student handbook for our school to be used by ESL students the following year. This year, my students are more advanced, and I'm trying to design a project that is a bit more multi-media oriented--they'll be doing a welcome video/handbook video for students who will be new to the school next year. I'd actually like them to orient it towards new speakers of English so I can use it with my newcomer's but I've not yet worked that out, either. I have to work out the details of it, and I'll start that process on the run I'm about to go on, but I think it will be an interesting way to end the school year. If only the technology will cooperate.

But today is a quiet Sunday on the farm. Last night I had a dog follow me home on my run that was just adorable, but Kevin took her back to the house where she started following me from. They don't seem to own her, either, but they also don't seem to mind her being around. They told Kevin that she's been hanging out at their house all week, so it was fine by them if she stayed around there. She's an adorable chihuahua/beagle mix. And if it were up to me, we'd take her in here. But Kevin is the voice of reason in the family because we both know that if it were up to me, we'd have a house of MANY dogs. And we have a house that is tiny--too small for two people, really...let alone the two people, two dogs, and a cat who already live here. And having another dog is expensive because we really do take care of our animal companions (Annie's bills in the last month alone have been over $500). Honestly, I just want every animal (and human, for that matter) in the world to have a place where they feel like they belong, and I like the chance to provide that place for them. So whether it's a new friend on the farm or a new friend in my classroom at school, there's an instinct in me to provide that place... sigh. No new dogs for now. 

After twelve years in education...

I am no longer an intern. Thank goodness. For crying out loud. Geesh.

It's been a two-year saga. I knew that going from a career in private schools and higher education would mean that I'd need to jump through some hoops to get to teach in public education. But, as I've said before, I never thought that every time I made it through a hoop, they would make the next hoop smaller and light it on fire. 

I have a MATESL degree from a well-respected program at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. I spent a year teaching overseas in a k-12 environment. I came home to spend a year working as an intern at Utah State University in their intensive English Language Institute. From there, I moved to NW Indiana to a private high school where I taught ESL for three years and then worked in the student leadership program for three years. From there, I moved to Kentucky for an ill-fated job at an experiential learning place. From there, I moved to another part of Kentucky to take a job teaching ESL at the middle school level. BUT...the public school requires a pedigree that I didn't have, so I needed to get to work.

After much wrangling, many phone calls, and several strings being pulled by people above me in the system (to whom I am forever going to be grateful), I found out that I would only need to do a portfolio demonstrating my teaching experience and compliance with the New Teacher Standards for the state of Kentucky. Upon successful submission of that portfolio, I would be able to take several tests and then, I thought, I would have the necessary pedigree to teach ESL. Prior to the wrangling, phone calls, and string pulling, I was actually told that in order to be eligible to teach in Kentucky Public Schools, I would need to complete a second bachelor's degree or, alternatively, get another Master's degree in an area that I'm not remotely interested in and spend a year teaching in that area. I was grateful for the string-pulling. 

So I spent a full six months of the last school year compiling a teaching portfolio with sample teaching units, reflective pieces, and other documentation (references, notes from students, student work samples) to try to accurately reflect my ability to teach English and English as a Second Language (because Kentucky is just starting to offer the option of English as a Second Language as a standalone certificate, I needed to get my teaching certificate in another area first and then get the ESL endorsement). I was quite proud of my 127 page teaching portfolio and even more pleased when I finally submitted it and it was accepted.

The next step was to spend $435.00 on Praxis tests over English Literature, Teaching Methods, ESL, and the like. That was another two months of studying--I had to review works of literature I hadn't looked at in 10 years. Most people take these tests immediately upon graduation from their programs--I've been out of school since 1997. It was fun to do all that reading, but with a wedding about to happen last June, I would have liked to have had the time for other things! I took (and passed) my last Praxis test the weekend before our wedding last June. I was all set! (Or so I thought).

When we started school this last August, a teacher whom I admire and respect in my building came to me and said, "Kim, I'm going to be your resource teacher for this year. You're my intern!" I smiled in that polite, "I have no clue what you are talking about" kind of a way and said I'd look forward to that. Then I stopped and said, "Wait. Intern?" That conversation began a whole other round of wrangling and resume-submission and argument with everyone from the superintendent on up through the head of the department of education. It turns out that anyone coming into the state of Kentucky with less than three years of teaching experience is required to go through an intern year. 

Wait. I have three years experience. 

Ay, there's the rub. Those three years experience have to be following certification. 

But I got my certification based on my experience. [Imagine three different phone calls with this line being said by me followed by silence on the other end of the line]. 

We filed protest after protest, but they all fell on deaf ears. Regardless of the lack of logic of it all, I ended up an intern after twelve years of teaching. And an intern position meant another portfolio, 70 hours of conferencing, meetings, observations... sigh. And, it meant that I still didn't actually have my teaching certificate--I just had my intern certificate.

Fortunately, it's been a good year. I've gone through some more hoops (although not as many as some had to go through!), and I've just today completed the internship. When I got home, I paid the $35.00 via ePay for my teaching certificate, and I will hope to see it in the mail in the next few weeks. Phew.

But seriously. All this drama. I consider myself highly qualified to teach, honestly. And I had to spend two years proving it before the state would officially let me have a classroom. I can understand why people who don't take a traditional route to education can get discouraged by the process. I was also very lucky to have incredibly strong advocates in my principal and the superintendent of schools. Still, it was such a lot of work that a lot of people had to do when someone with their finger on the right button in Frankfort just needed to say, "Stop the madness!" 

Now, I'll write about my position on tenure in another post (don't think it should exist), but I do wish that more people would have to prove themselves as qualified to KEEP their classroom in public education. They should have to go through what I had to go through just to get a classroom. But it's amazing how much work it all was. I'm glad that it's over. (We did have a celebratory DQ blizzard on the way home!)

Why I run...

Some days, I run to spend time with my Grandpa Postma. He went blind when my mother was still in high school, and I never knew him as a man who could see the world through the same eyes I did, but I loved how he saw the world through his hands. We have pictures at my parents' house of my grandpa when he was a dashing younger man. And when I run, sometimes that young man comes with me. I always imagine my Grandpa Postma as the kind who would run just a step ahead of me to keep me on my toes. He'd chat easily even when I'd be coughing and wheezing. And he'd smile. He had a great smile. He's been gone for a few years now, but sometimes I can spend time with him when I run.

Some days I run because my best friend's mom got a double-lung transplant. Yes, a double-lung transplant. At one point, my best friend and I were talking about her having to spend her last Christmas with her mom. Then, a miracle happened for us all, and she was on her way to the hospital for a surgery that would save her life and enrich ours. Two months post-surgery, she was running a ten-yard stretch of the Chicago marathon with Jen and I. And now, when we race, she still will run parts of the course with us while cheering us on. I run for that.

Some days I run because even though it pains me to pull on the shoes, I know I'll feel better when I'm done.

Some days, it's because Coach Lawton, my soccer coach in high school, tried to tell me in the most delicate way possible that he would like to cut me from the team because I hadn't run off the weight that he'd wanted me to, but that he couldn't because otherwise he wouldn't have a goalie. 

Some days, it's because I can feel the natural instinct to run pulsing through my veins and can't imagine doing anything else. On those days, I run high on my toes.

Some days, it's because people are expecting me to, and I feel a sense of responsibility to those people. I've convinced a few people to try out running, and if I don't run, I feel like I'm letting them all down (or giving them an excuse to skip their run...and I definitely don't want to do that).  

Today, I ran because running can be hard. And I like to run when running is hard. I like doing the hard stuff. To quote Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own "Of course it's hard! The hard's what makes it good."

Coughing and running and wishing

Cough, cough, hack, hack, ahem, ahem...

I've been floating through this week. I came back from a weekend visit with my best buddy in Indiana, and I was flat out on the couch as soon as I walked in the door. I actually wasn't feeling all that well in the car on the way home and stopped at the rest stop to take a quick nap, but I didn't realize what was to come. By Monday morning, I was really in the thick of it. And it's been three days of just yuck. It's a miracle, really, that I haven't gotten sick sooner with all the germ carriers that I work with, but I hoped that with Spring coming I'd make it all the way to summer without the hiccup of an illness. I'll try again next year. 

Running

See above. Not much of it happening this week. One of my favorite runs in the world is around Lake Maxinkuckee in Culver, Indiana. It's a nice 10-mile loop, and it's where I got my start. I had hoped for the chance to run it with my best friend last weekend, but a) I wasn't ready and b)the weather wasn't cooperating. I honestly think I could have struggled through a ten-miler by myself, but I didn't want to put Jen through the torture of running such a slow pace with me--I'm embarrassed about my current state in a lot of ways. I'll work back from it, but I'm also very hard on myself, and right now I need to be hard on myself. 

House

After nearly two years of our house sitting on the market...empty...I'd think that the stress would even out. In some ways it has. It's a low-grade stress that is constantly there. Right now, it is slightly lessened by the fact that we have a trustworthy tenant in the house for the next month and a half, but then the house will go back to sitting empty if we don't sell it. And we don't have any prospects even considering the place at this point. I just don't   know   what  to  do. 

I have prayed. I have tried to earn karma points. I have put my time in living in a run-down farmhouse that is so small and falling apart that we have to put out no fewer than five buckets or trash cans each time it rains to catch the water from the leaking roof. Our wedding gifts are now coming up on their one-year anniversary in my father-in-law's basement along with 80 percent of my belongings, and looking at them makes me want to cry. I dream of having friends over for dinner, of living in a place where all the burners on the stove work, of having a dryer (yes, we have no dryer because we have no place to hook it up). I can't wait to cut my commute (currently 1 hour and 15 minutes each way each day). Yet it's been almost two years, and it's starting to feel like it's just never going to happen. It's felt like that for a long time. I just don't know what we can do. 

We are lucky. We aren't like the folks caught not being able to pay their mortgage. I just happened to leave my job at a time when the housing market was about to take a dive. And without going into too much detail, there's a story behind leaving that job that makes this all even more sad... and there's a level of unfairness about that whole situation that I just have to let go of. The boss I had at that job ran her tornado through the lives of me and my coworkers, and while we ultimately found a recourse for that, it was not without a heavy cost to me and my friends. 

So selling that house for me will be finally closing a chapter that I've been working to close for two years. And it will mean a new start for my husband and me. But we're doing alright. Just...wishing. 

ESL

We start standardized testing on Monday, and that will run for the next nine school days. Every morning. Kids will be tested in Math, Reading, Science, History, Social Studies, Arts and Humanities. And our school will get its funding based on their performance on these tests. The thing about it is, though, that there's no motivation for the kids to do well. I'd like to think that their sense of responsibility and community would be enough to make them want to do well, but at the middle school level, the world is all about them. And for a middle schooler to really want to do something just because it's the right thing to do is often a tough sell. 

I had a conversation with another teacher that went something like this:

Me: I just don't understand why we don't tie their CATS tests into something for the kids--hold them accountable for their performance on the tests.

Other teacher: I TOTALLY agree. And we had an expert on testing come in here, and he said that we just can't hold the kids accountable for their scores on these tests.

Me: But aren't we held accountable for how the kids are doing on their tests?

OT: Yes, we are.

Me: So you mean we are held accountable for the performance of kids whom we are not allowed to hold accountable? 

OT: Yes.

Me: [dumbfounded silence]

OT: Yes. 

Me: One other thing, are we also held accountable as a school for the improvement of our students or for the actual level of the students?

OT: The actual level of the students.

Me: So you are saying that if a kid came in here at the beginning of the year, and they were a novice, and they have moved up to apprentice (seemingly as a result of our instruction), that doesn't matter because they aren't proficient?

OT: Right. 

Me: So no matter what we do, if the kid actual shows outstanding improvement, we don't get recognition for that as long as they don't meet that "proficient" standard?

OT: Yep.

Me: [dumbfounded silence]

Annie needs to go out. I've gotta take her. 

My Kryptonite...grading

I'm PAPER FREE! I imagine this is what it is like to be debt-free. At least in some small way. I just sat and graded for the last three hours, and I have now officially caught up on all my grading--including entering it all in the system. I graded five or six different sets of papers and one poster project from my students. I have a horrible habit of giving my students a task in class, collecting their work, and then not getting it back to them right away. But I finally sat down tonight and got all caught up, and tomorrow will be catch-up day, as well, in terms of handing back work to the kids. 

I hate grading. I like feedback. I hate assigning numbers to things. I like talking them over with kids, negotiating changes, and having them rework them. I hate having to quantify how well a student received feedback and made changes. I like just watching my kids grow as learners...and I seldom think, "Wow, he his grades have improved." I wonder how I'll assess next year. This will be another new challenge for me.

I'm heading to Culver next week (home, in a way, really) to visit my best friend (see picture at right) and probably see some old friends. Fired up. 

Last, lazy Sunday

ESL
Classes start again tomorrow after a long break. We have about two weeks of classes until our two-week period of standardized testing called the CATS tests begins. We're going to use a program called "Read and Write Gold" as text-reader software for the kids for the test. I'm not sure what to expect, but I know that last year I had to do a lot of reading for several students, and I wasn't able to do as much reading as would have been helpful because I was so stretched. This might be better for them. We're practicing with it right now.

I have to admit that CATS testing is truly a time of discouragement for me and for my students. They are routinely asked to do tasks that they can't do because NCLB requires them to--reminding them that they are children who are behind. I totally agree with the need for accountability. However, I argue that we need appropriate accountability for ESL students. The very students whom NCLB is meant to support are not able to show their abilities because of the inappropriateness of the testing.

Running
I'm headed out for a quick four miler after I finish writing this post. I'm embarrassed at how small my running base is, and I have plenty of excuses to offer up for it, but the best way to remedy it is to just run. Sometimes, though, life just gets in the way of what you have planned.
The New Balance commercials on television right now really speak to me. I need to find a link to those somewhere online.

Annie
Miss Annie is trying out her crate for the first time since the operation, and there has been a bit of pouting about it, but she seems to be doing pretty well. This surprises me a little bit as she has historically broken out of every crate I've ever put her in to. It may have something to do with the fact that I'm still in the same room as she is in. She's pouting. And I'm sad about it. Two weeks since the accident, and she has four weeks of recovery left. Last night at about 3:30 a.m., I woke up to the saddest sound--Annie had rolled over on her bad leg and gotten it tangled up underneath her. She couldn't get it out. It was kind of like an overstretched rubberband. So she was panicking. And Guinness was on the floor trying to help (useless). And I was SOooooo sleepy. Four more weeks. Did I mention that one of her teats is swollen and the vet thinks she may need surgery? (The picture above is of Annie in the bathtub at my old house. She loved to sit in the bathtub).

A few hours later...running and houses

We've got a tenant in our house for two months. This is an incredible comfort to me. More comforting would be if the people who looked at the house this morning were to buy it, but that's maybe still in the works. Seems lots of people like the house, but few are qualified to own it. The folks who looked at it this morning are in some sort of a credit-recovery program that will allow them to buy a house, and they seemed to express a need to get a house soon. They apparently pulled up in a Mercedes to look at the house. Kevin said that's probably why they are in a credit-recovery program--car rich and house poor. What do we know? If they are interested in the house, and they can get the loan for it, we're totally willing to sell it to them!

10 miler update

As we were sitting having lunch today, Kevin and I came to the agreement that we won't be driving up to Louisville to run the 10 miler tomorrow. There are any number of reasons that we could list. The biggest is that we aren't feeling mentally or physically ready. I know I'm not. I know I could finish a ten miler. After enjoying the sufferfest that is an Ironman marathon--twice--I am confident that I can make any distance if I am willing to slow down enough and suffer enough. The question becomes what I'm looking to get out of the experience. And honestly, weighing all the other pieces of the equation, it just didn't make sense for us to go run that run. 

Reading

I was given a copy of The Freedom Writer's Diaries (or something along those lines for a title) at Christmas, and I just picked it up and started reading it. It's nice to see what a teacher is doing in her classroom that is so inspiring for her students. There's a bit of jealousy in me that I really do thoughtfully seek out opportunities to inspire my students, and I seem to get discouraged and miss the mark more often than I'd like to. But I guess I can just keep working at it. I grow so frustrated b y the state standards that require so much of my kids and take away some of the autonomy that makes a good teacher a good teacher. I seek balance. 

Teaching reading...New socks...a new adventure...

Annie has been the focus of this blog for the last week, but I've quickly realized that I have a lot on my plate. And I'm not sure if I'm going to have a multi-directional blog here.

ESL Newcomer's Center
I spent part of my trip to Michigan pulling together some materials for the ESL Newcomer's Center. In particular, I found a text by Mary Cappellini called Balancing Reading and Language Learning that is about working with developing readers while they are also developing reading skills. This is a challenge for me. In my MATESL studies, we spent quite some time looking at teaching reading in English, but I don't recall any focus on teaching reading to people who can't already read, and many of my middle schoolers are below grade level in their reading. Some are illiterate. So I'm looking forward to digging into this text. DH had to actually remind me that I am on vacation as I was reading and underlining in the text as soon as I got it home.

I'm now searching for some resources on Learning Centers. I'm excited to spend some time this summer pulling together my new classroom. Did I mention it has three windows? And two doors to the outside world?

Running
10 miler on Saturday. So I'm headed out for an easy six today. I have to admit that there is a certain amount of shame and guilt when I fall off the running wagon. I love running. I love triathlon. I love cycling. I love swimming. But now and again, I can't get myself going to do any of them and then I feel guilty. And now I'm signed up for some races, and I'm feeling unprepared. And even signing up for races doesn't make me feel motivated.

Ironman training took a lot out of me last summer and fall, and it's been really hard for me to get back into a rhythm. Quite frankly, I don't mind going to races underprepared. I just kind of run my own run and get done and quietly head on my way home. But I've signed up for running a half marathon with my best friend in a week. And I'm embarrassed at my lack of preparation in the way that you get embarrassed when someone comes over and your house isn't as clean as you'd like it to be. I've got to deal with the guilt.

The crafty knitty side of me
I'm posting a pic of my latest project--my first pair of socks. It's a pattern from Blackberry Ridge. This is some of their gorgeous hand-dyed yarn, and I bought it on a trip to Wisconsin with my mom several years back, but I'm finally getting around to knitting them. If all goes well, I'll be making socks for everyone in DH's family for Christmas. Last year, we really tried to do as many homemade gifts as possible, and I think we're going to try that again this year. The dog in the picture of this one, incidentally, is our other black lab mutt--Guinness. She's nutty in her own special way. But she's the perfect backdrop for the start of the socks.

10 miles...am I a moron?

So Saturday we are running a race in Louisville. 10 miles. I've not come close to running that distance since Ironman (last September), and my longest run has been just over 6 uncomfortable miles. Anyone with half a brain working in their head would decide not to run this race, but I'm going to be run/walking it, and I'm looking at it as my atonement for months of slothfulness. There's a part of me that likes to punish myself when I don't do what I think I should be doing.

Just got back from a trip to Michigan with Annie in tow. She had a rough time in the car--too much to look at and no self-control. She ate well; she wouldn't eat dog food, so I gave her people food that she doesn't normally get to eat. A cheeseburger. A hamburger. Gravy. An egg. Spoiled. I adore this dog...too much, really.

And there aren't any deep thoughts for this post. A trip home always makes me a little introspective and a little wistful. And I guess the very nature of introspectiveness means that I'm not going to post it for the world to see until I've done a little processing. 

Annie in her natural environment...

I'm trying to figure out how to upload a picture of my girl. She's not really cooperating. She's laying on the couch on her back, spread out as long as she can get. And, of course, she's laying on the side the doctor doesn't want her to be laying on--the side of her surgery. The computer isn't really cooperating, either. I'm still playing around with the camera on my laptop, so I'm a work in progress.

It was a rough night last night. I slept on the couch. She slept on the floor. And I think she only moved three times, but I woke up absolutely every time she even thought about moving. We've been outside once. It's raining. She couldn't make the one step it took to get back into the house without some help, and she was exhausted when she made it back in. She's been sleeping ever since. On her back. On the couch. She came and sat in front of the couch and gave me this look like, "Well, are you going to pick me up? I'm getting up there whether you help me or not." I can see where this is going.

I've learned a lot in 16 hours. 

Dogs experience pain like people do, but they like to hide it from their people. Dogs are tough. 

Even a small step can feel big. It's all about perspective, isn't it?

Sometimes sleep really is all you need. And sometimes even that isn't enough.

I've gotten out of my writing rhythm. I find myself making stupid spelling errors, making poor word choices, and writing like a middle schooler more and more. I have always kept a journal, but I've also always had an off/on relationship with my journal (as is evidenced by the spread of dates in this journal). But I have missed working with that voice in me that likes to put word to paper (or screen). I tell my students that the more they write, the stronger their writing will be, but I haven't been practicing what I preach. 

Annie's back! and Spring Break begins...

The Annie-dog is laying on the dog bed here in the living room...sigh. She has a four-inch long scar on her right hip, and she currently has no ball in the ball-and-joint-socket; they shaved the top of her femur off and are planning on six weeks of immobility bringing about enough scar tissue to act as a ball for her bone. But that means trying to keep her still for six weeks. Have you met this dog? She doesn't know she's injured.

I started Spring Break today for Annie. I'm staying home with her tomorrow to keep an eye on her. The vet wants her in a crate. For Annie, though, a crate is much more stressful and likely to cause injury than any other kind of containment. If we had a doggie day care option, we'd be taking her there. But our directions for now are strictly for her to go outside to go to the bathroom and then go back in the house--nothing more. I doubt that Annie will be interested in this. 

The rest of my school starts Spring Break tomorrow at 3:00. I teach three different groups of students over the course of the day, and I like them all differently for different reasons, but I like one of the groups much less than the others. Honestly, I think my liking a class is in direct proportion to how well I think I'm teaching them, and I'm not doing as well with one group as I am doing with the two others. 

Next year, I will only be teaching beginners to English--students for whom the most basic of English is a challenge. And I will be teaching that group all day long. That will be a challenge for me, as well. My one hour of planning will certainly be full of administrivia as we get this newcomer center up and running, but the reward of working with students who are generally highly motivated is an awesome thing to anticipate. It's also easy to see progress. I think it's at least once a week when I look at my students and say, "Man, do you know how much you've learned already?" So I guess the change is partially for them and partially for me. I can't wait!

Tired. Annie...day three.

Annie had her surgery today. The doctor says she is okay. Or someone who answered the phone at the doctor's said she is okay. They said we get to pick her up at 3:00 tomorrow. I'm excited to have my Anniegirl back home, but I'm tired, too. 

I've been sad in the way that you get sad when something really stressful happens that takes a major response and then requires a lot of waiting. That seems to happen now and again in life. So I'm tired. Also not sleeping, really. 

Thank goodness we're on to Spring Break this weekend. 

Annie versus car. Car wins.

Annie, my beloved black lab mutt, got hit by a car yesterday morning at 4:45 a.m. Kevin had gotten up to let the dogs out so that we could get ready to go run a 10K in Louisville, and one of my neighbors happened to be driving up the road at the same time. Saturday morning. 4:45 a.m. No one is on our road. BUT, yesterday morning was not Annie's best day. 

I heard it happen, too. I was laying in bed trying to talk myself into getting up and pulling on my running tights, and I heard a thwump. I sat straight up in bed and looked out the window, but I didn't see a car, and I didn't see the dogs, and I happened to hear our cat walking around the house at the same moment, so I thought, "Ahhh, it was just the cat jumping down to the floor." 

I pulled myself out of bed and walked down the hall to the bathroom, and I was standing there looking in the mirror when I heard Kevin say, "Honey, Annie's hurt."

I went out to the kitchen to find Annie laying on the floor panting. Her right rear leg looked like it wasn't in the right place. She seemed to have no blood, no ripped fur, no... well, nothing. But she was clearly in pain and uncomfortable. So we started calling vets. 

I'll spare all the details, but it was a LONG ride to the vet. When Annie sat up in the front seat, though, Kevin and I were both relieved. We had to carry her in to the vet wrapped in our U of M/Kentucky blanket, and then we had to leave her there. That was miserable. Annie was laying on the floor, looking up at me, wondering what the heck was going on. The vet was incredibly kind, and he clearly understood that taking care of the people is almost as important as taking care of the pets. 

So several hours, and several phone calls, and one hour-long trip around Walmart trying to pass the time later, we found out that Annie will be staying at the vet's through Tuesday--surgery on Monday. Her right rear leg was dislocated from her hip, and they couldn't get it to stay in. They had to anesthetize her to give it a whirl, and she wasn't waking up well from the anesthesia. And in order to get the leg to stay in place, they have to saw off part of her femur and allow the scar tissue that will form to serve as padding between the bones of her hip and leg. Sounds painful. The doctor says it will be eight weeks of recovery for her (and us).

SOoo, now we're driving to Michigan this weekend with Annie along for the ride. But first, we're keeping our fingers crossed that the surgery goes well tomorrow.