I had to stay home today.  The problem was I had some non-specific sickness symptoms like plegm and exhaustion.  Also, my patience was zapped, and I quickly remembered something about teaching middle school: it's way harder than teaching high school, especially when you're feeling sub-par.

For some reason, I agonized about taking the day off.  My school is small and we don't have a lot of subs.  My biggest fear was that the other teachers would have to cover my classes on their prep periods during the week before winter break. 

Luckily, that didn't happen.  Instead, I got a teacher who retired from our school a few years ago.  And, I stayed home and spent the entire morning asleep in bed.  Now I'm awake and ensconced on the couch.  I still haven't showered.  I thought about it, but I was too tired.

So, the English Department is in a pedometer contest against the Math Department.  We're seeing which group can log the most steps during a one-week period.  To keep track, we log into a website that shows us our hike around the United States by way of the state capitols.  Both groups started in Augusta, Maine, and we're proceeding counter clockwise across our great nation.

I hate to say this, but even after three days, it's pretty clear that the Mathletes are the ones who can log the most steps during a one-week period.  They have passed through Augusta, Montpelier, Albany, Harrisburg, Charleston, Columbus, Frankfort, Nashville, and are now just steps from Indianapolis.  The English peeps, however, are still several miles from Frankfort.

This is a bummer for me because I love winning.  I don't love winning as much, however, as Joanne from the Math department.  Even during our practice week, Joanne kept asking me how many steps I had and then making fun of me because she had more.  She came into my classroom and jogged with her arm around my shoulders while telling the students that I was going down.  Then she gave me a high five.  The kids keep asking me how many steps I have and encouraging me to walk in circles around the room or march in place while I give minilessons in order to raise my step total.  "Joanne is beating you," they say, with gravity in their tones.

This morning, I saw Joanne at our faculty meeting.  "How many did you do yesterday?" she demanded.

"Oh," I said.  "Only 7,100."

"That's sad and pathetic," Joanne spat.  "I got 18,000."

I'm just trying to run my own race at this point.  Let's just try to make it through a few more states, English teachers.  Let's just do our best.

Dan has gotten me into the Fast and Furious franchise of action movies.  Have you seen these?  Probably you should watch because (for no reason that I can articulate) they rock.

So last night, I was cuddled up on the couch in my cozy faux-down vest watching Fast and Furious IV, in which Brian and Dom are on the same team against the scary drug dealer.  The movie doesn't really end, but rather it just teases you into watching Fast Five.  We have that, too, but I was too sleepy to stay up, even for The Rock and Vin Diesel.

"No stay," Dan said.  "Let's watch just a little bit of it."

"I'm too tired," I said.

"Noooo," Dan said.  "Let's just watch a little.  Why don't you come over here, and I'll snuggle you and be really romantic and tell you all my favorite things about you."

Too be honest, that offer sounded nice, and I wandered back to the couch for the snuggle and the compliments.  Just as I was comfortably nuzzled in and listening, Dan began with this:

"Why are you wearing that ridiculous vest?  Who are you?  Marty McFLY?"

I've been sitting here staring at the blank blogger box.  I typed up some stuff and then deleted it.  Then I did that again. I told Dan I didn't have anything to write about.  "I know you're going to say I should write about how awesome you are," I said to him.

"Well," he said, "you have to write about something.  Maybe tonight's the night.  Tell your three favorite stories about me."

"Hmmm," I said.  "I've probably already written my favorite stories about you."

"Well, make me sound nice.  And funny.  A loving husband and father."

So, three stories:

• Dan is unabashedly devoted to the kids. He kisses and hugs them.  He tells them he loves them. When Shef is too embarrassed to say "I love you" back, this makes Dan feel nostalgic for when that kid was little.
• Dan loves to cook food for us.  When we eat it and compliment him he says, "My true joy as a chef is to see the looks of pleasure on your faces."
• When people ask Dan to help, he finds it impossible to say no.  Because I'm not as nice as Dan, this admirable trait sometimes annoys me.  But still, if you ask him, Dan will help you move furniture, set up electronics, take care of your children, or direct you to an excellent lawyer.  Pretty much anything you ask him to do, he'll try to do it. Because he is a loyal and spectacular friend.

And, everyone knows he's hilarious, so I don't have to say anything about that.

My sister Mary came to school today to give a brown-bag lunch (and when I saw "brown-bag" I mean gourmet corn friseé salad that comes free to me as part of my contract) talk about teen dating violence as part of the 16 Days Campaign against gender violence. 

My advisees and some of their pals came to the event, had some treats, and learned some staggering facts about teen dating abuse.  For instance, I didn't know that 1 in 3 adolescents experiences dating abuse.  Also, I didn't know that 1 in 10 adolescents have been purposely hit by a dating partner.  Further, I didn't know that rates of violence among same-sex couples are the same as those among heterosexual couples.  Finally, I had no idea that girls and women ages 16-24 experience the highest rate of intimate partner violence of anyone.

So, basically I didn't know much of anything about teen dating violence.

Next our advisory going to plan a project (PSA festival?  Assembly announcement?  Podcast?) to share what we've learned with the school.  81% of parents say that they either think that dating violence is not a serious issue or don't know whether it is.  We've learned otherwise, and now we plan to share out.

Today was great but interminable.


I went skiing with Mac. It was his first time skiing. Overall, it was fabulous. Mac was cheerful and resilient. I was patient and proud. Our only snafu was the time that I fell while getting us onto the magic carpet, and had to endure the shocked stares of a couple of eleven year-olds who were pretty peeved by the delay and underwhelmed by my repeated failures to right the situation.


No one's perfect, okay kids? That's the message.

This is serious: My hair is so weird, and I'm having kind of a crisis about it.  What's going on is that it used to be sort of wavy.  Like since middle school.  Then, like 13 or 14 years later, I got pregnant and my hair got really curly and then stayed curly for three years.  Then, I got pregnant again, and it got even curlier. I ended up kind of liking it like that, and I've been wearing it in a short style on which I've gotten lots of compliments.

Now, it's four years after that last pregnancy, and low and behold, my hair is going straight.  Maybe it's just a teensy bit wavy, but only over the ears. Otherwise, just straight and puffy.

So, I've been experimenting with various different hairstyles and I've decided to grow it out, which is a real pain. Last night, I blow-dried it, and then when I woke up this morning, I parted it far over on the right.  It looked very straight and kind of hung in my face a little.  Different and acceptable, I decided.

8th graders like to comment on every change in appearance, so naturally they noticed my hair.

"Oh my gosh!" said Will.  "Did you get a Brazilian blow job?"

Um, no, Will.  No, I did not.