Garden
I’ve been thinking about my garden. I know! There is still snow on the ground, but lots of my vegetable seeds say to plant them inside 8 weeks before last frost. I think that’s now-ish.
We had such success last year that we are slightly expanding our operations. I am planning to add 6 vats for a total of 21, as well as increasing my upside-down-tomato quota.
I acquired seeds this weekend, and have added a couple new types of peppers and tomatos, as well as okra and runner beans. We decided not to go with kohlrabi and cauliflower this year, as the cauliflower didn’t do well, and I don’t really like kohlrabi after all.
So I got some little miniature greenhouses and plan to plant my seeds this weekend for those things that should be planted in advance.
I’m really looking forward to seeing what happens in our flower garden this year as well. We planted almost 400 bulbs in the fall – tulips, hyacinth, crocus, daffies, poppies, and lilies, as well as more peonies, hosta and astilbe. So every day I go outside and look to see if any of the crocus have come up. I guess it’s a bit early, but I live in hope.
School
I’m still enjoying being a teacher. Things are pretty busy, but I find if I stay focused I only rarely have to bring any work home. One thing I like about my school is that it is so small that I don’t have to wait my turn to participate in things. For example, this year I am leading the yearbook club. In most schools, there would be someone there who has been in charge of yearbook for the last 9 years, and no-one else would get a turn until that person retired in 2025.
I’ve also taken a leadership in a role on: we are doing a number of initiatives that will (if all goes as planned) lead to fewer suspensions and less violence and bullying in the school. I have two programs that we are currently training teachers on; we are piloting this spring and doing a full on roll out in the fall. The initiatives are Restorative Practices and Student Mediation. I have been using Restorative Practices in my classroom since semester change and in two of my classes it is working brilliantly. Less so in the third class – or it may just be it is taking the kids longer to come around. Even in the third class, the relationships aer slowly forming.
Speaking of my classes, semester turn around is a HUGE trauma. I know it is hard for the students, but I didn’t expect it to be so hard for me. Who knew it would be so hard to get used to a new group of kids? I feel like I was starting to make some genuine headway with the kids I had, and boom, I have new ones to break in!
March Break
People have this idea that teachers have lots of “holidays” but allow me to put it all in perspective. While I do get lots of time off, I don’t get paid for it.
Nevertheless HURRAY!!!! MARCH BREAK IN TWO DAYS!!!!
My plan is to have a lunch here and there with a few friends, perhaps a date with my beloved husband if he can swing a day off, and plenty of sleeping late and sitting around doing as little as possible.
Cooking
The only thing I’ve cooked lately that is interesting is Sardinian Flatbread, which turned out brilliantly. I’ll do another post on it – with a picture.
That’s all I really have time for now. I have a Community Council meeting in a few minutes.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Yorkshire Pudding
My good friend Adena posted a picture of my Yorkshire Pudding recently in her amazing blog she said I need a goal, along with threats if I didn't post more often, so I thought I would post my recipe.
Candace's Yorkshire Pudding
To make one tray of Yorkshire puddings. To double, double all ingredients including milk, then add another generous blurp of milk.
Ingredients:
1 cup flour
1 cup eggs (about 4 large eggs)
1 cup whole milk
dash of salt
Instructions:
Put the ingredients in a large measuring cup and whisk until smooth.
Leave on the counter and do something else for at least half a hour.
When ready to cook;
Turn on oven as hot as possible. I set mine on the convection setting at 500 degrees F.
While the oven is heating up, add a half teaspoon of duck or goose fat to each cup in your pudding tray. What!? you don't have a dedicated Yorkshire pudding pan!? Are you crazy? Buy one here: Golda's Kitchen.
What else!? You don't have a supply of duck or goose fat to hand? sigh. Whenever you cook duck or goose, cut off the excess fat and skin and throw them in a freezer bag. When you have some time (maybe the same day you are making stock with the duck and goose bones you saved), thaw the fat and skin, cut it into strips, put it in a wok or saucepan and cook it on medium until the fat is completely rendered out. The skin will be crisp and golden and is now referred to as "cracklings". Scoop the cracklings out with a slotted spoon, salt them and let drain on some paper towel. Eat the cracklings. The fat and salt may stop your heart, but I promise you'll die of pleasure. Put the rendered fat in a tupper and store in the fridge forever. Duck/goose fat can be heated to unbelievably high temperatures without smoking, so it's perfect for Yorkshires. It makes the most amazing fluffy-on-the-inside-crispy-on-the-outside roasted potatoes. I also use it to make Duck Confit once a year - a highlight of my culinary calendar. I'll write about that on another day!
Back to the Yorkshires: Put the pudding tray in the hot oven and let it and the fat heat up for about ten minutes. It needs to be smoking hot (but not so smoking it sets off the fire alarm!)
Just before the trays are ready, give the Yorkshire batter another good whisk.
Open the oven door and pull out the shelf with the tray on it. Quickly pour the batter into each cup, filling each about half way. Don't be alarmed if it sizzles and spurts. As soon as you are done your pour, push the shelf back in and close the oven. The whole pouring process should take less than 15 seconds so the oven doesn't cool down too much.
Turn on the oven light so you can watch and fret about whether your puddings are rising properly. Don't open the oven door to check on them.
After 5 minutes, turn down the oven to 425.
They take about 20 minutes.
The perfect Yorkshire pudding has a nice high rise, a golden brown colour, a crisp outer shell, a large hollow for sauce in the center and about a tablespoon of soft eggy custard at the bottom or along one of the sides.
Yum.
Candace's Yorkshire Pudding
Ingredients:
1 cup flour
1 cup eggs (about 4 large eggs)
1 cup whole milk
dash of salt
Instructions:
Put the ingredients in a large measuring cup and whisk until smooth.
Leave on the counter and do something else for at least half a hour.
When ready to cook;
Turn on oven as hot as possible. I set mine on the convection setting at 500 degrees F.
While the oven is heating up, add a half teaspoon of duck or goose fat to each cup in your pudding tray. What!? you don't have a dedicated Yorkshire pudding pan!? Are you crazy? Buy one here: Golda's Kitchen.
What else!? You don't have a supply of duck or goose fat to hand? sigh. Whenever you cook duck or goose, cut off the excess fat and skin and throw them in a freezer bag. When you have some time (maybe the same day you are making stock with the duck and goose bones you saved), thaw the fat and skin, cut it into strips, put it in a wok or saucepan and cook it on medium until the fat is completely rendered out. The skin will be crisp and golden and is now referred to as "cracklings". Scoop the cracklings out with a slotted spoon, salt them and let drain on some paper towel. Eat the cracklings. The fat and salt may stop your heart, but I promise you'll die of pleasure. Put the rendered fat in a tupper and store in the fridge forever. Duck/goose fat can be heated to unbelievably high temperatures without smoking, so it's perfect for Yorkshires. It makes the most amazing fluffy-on-the-inside-crispy-on-the-outside roasted potatoes. I also use it to make Duck Confit once a year - a highlight of my culinary calendar. I'll write about that on another day!
Back to the Yorkshires: Put the pudding tray in the hot oven and let it and the fat heat up for about ten minutes. It needs to be smoking hot (but not so smoking it sets off the fire alarm!)
Just before the trays are ready, give the Yorkshire batter another good whisk.
Open the oven door and pull out the shelf with the tray on it. Quickly pour the batter into each cup, filling each about half way. Don't be alarmed if it sizzles and spurts. As soon as you are done your pour, push the shelf back in and close the oven. The whole pouring process should take less than 15 seconds so the oven doesn't cool down too much.
Turn on the oven light so you can watch and fret about whether your puddings are rising properly. Don't open the oven door to check on them.
After 5 minutes, turn down the oven to 425.
They take about 20 minutes.
The perfect Yorkshire pudding has a nice high rise, a golden brown colour, a crisp outer shell, a large hollow for sauce in the center and about a tablespoon of soft eggy custard at the bottom or along one of the sides.
Yum.
Travels with Marc
There is more than one kind of journey. There's the literal kind, where you get a on a plane or a train, or in a car, and you actually go somewhere. There's also the metaphorical kind, where you share a long experience of life with someone and where you also end up somewhere other than where you started, but you get there by living, rather than by driving.
I had forgotten about how much I cherish these metaphorical journeys - how much I love and appreciate the people I make them with. They didn't do anything to make me forget about how much they mattered. We all just get caught up in the journey itself - life - and the next thing you know, a year has gone by and then boom! Something happens to remind you.
A couple weeks ago, a good friend of mine died of cancer. His name was Marc Rigby. I'd known him for more than 15 years, and at times it is so hard for me to comprehend that he is really gone. He was a truly good friend and I will miss him for all of my days.
I last saw him during the Christmas holidays. We were to meet for lunch, but for the second time his chemo treatment ran over and I ended up just keeping him company at Mt. Sinai in the out-patient chemo room. I was shocked when I saw him. His face had taken on that skeletal quality that I have associated with someone who will be dead soon for as long as I can remember. Yet it never occurred to to me that Marc would actually die. Marc wasn't a dier. It would be bad for a while, then he would get better. He always got better. But this time he didn't.
At the funeral, I was in a weird shocked place. I couldn't recall any good stories or special memories about Marc.I would listen to others talk about him and think to myself "Right! I was there for that!" but I, who had spent so much time with him, couldn't come up with anything.
But the paralysis is fading from my brain and I find myself thinking about him often. So I thought I would write down those memories and share them over the next couple months. In no particular order.
Here is a picture of Marc in Paris, which I'm not writing about in this installment. But Marc liked elephants and I like this picture, so here it is.
I think the sheer funnest trip Marc and I ever went on together was to Nashville. This trip was a freebee for us, as he had won it by entering a contest. Marc had a thing about contests and entered a whole slew of them every week. He won Raclette grills and shampoo baskets, dinners out, movies, and two trips. Nashville was one.
The Nashville trip was four days. We stayed at the Gaylord Opryland hotel, which even for us jaded travelers was truly a sight to see in itself. We spent half a day just exploring the hotel! Our main purpose was to attend a Patsy Cline tribute at the Grand Ole Opry, which we enjoyed hugely. During the days we did the usual tourist stuff including spending literally four hours in the Dolly Parton display at the Country Music Museum. Marc LOVED Dolly Parton! His wacky side adored her schtick – the big blond wigs, the crazy froofroo dresses and the over the top make up. His love-of-music side totally respected her talent. He made me listen to dozens of songs before we could move on to Conway Twitty and eventually Elvis. We went to Studio B and saw the cupboard that Elvis punched through and sat on the red stool where Elvis, Patsy Cline and other great artists perched to make their famous recordings.
But Marc's absolute favourite thing about Nashville was barhopping on Broadway. This was the Marc Rigby “perfect storm” of enjoyment. Plentiful and really inexpensive but decent beer, outstanding live music, people dressed up in strange outfits (in this case, like cowboys), dancing and people to talk to.
Marc was a little shy about new people when he was sober, but he relaxed with every beer and eventually got positively friendly. He decided we were going to be British Anthropologists, observing and interacting with the natives. He does a passable British accent, certainly good enough to get by the native "Nashvillains". I look more Scots than British, so I adopted a broad Glaswegian brogue and entered into the spirit! Before the evening was over we’d listened to amazing country bands about 6 different bars, drunk about 15 beers (Marc drank 10, me 4 or 5). I was ready to fall down; Marc didn’t even show that he had been drinking), spent about $30 in total on food and drink, and collected enough information about the habits and rituals of the Nashvillains to write a PhD thesis.
Another trip we went on due to a contest win was Japan. We flew into Tokyo, then moved on to Kyoto and then Hiroshima. In Tokyo, Marc had a chance to really and truly show off one of his huge talents. The streets in Tokyo are generally not named. Instead, each block has a name. As well, the buildings are numbered around the block, not in lowest to highest order, but in the order the various buildings were constructed. On top of it, most of the buildings were labeled in Japanese characters. I don’t have a very good sense of direction at the best of times, but Tokyo was impossible for me. From the moment I woke up until we returned to the hotel room at night, I had absolutely no idea where I was. Marc, on the other hand, had a brilliant sense of direction. We would take some crazy route through the subway system – maybe six different trains – and emerge in a completely new place. He would take a quick look around and lead us directly to wherever we were going. His sense of direction was like a comic book “superpower.”
His superpower didn’t help us in Hiroshima at the Peace Gardens, although I think he did have a lifelong fantasy fulfilled there. We were in Japan in the tourist off-season and the Peace Museum and Garden was mostly filled with Japanese school children. There was a group of, I’d say seven year-olds, who were there with their teacher doing a project on International Communications. A group of five of them approached us. They were dressed in their school uniforms and looked very cute and solemn. “We are Japanese School Children,” they chanted in unison. “We are studying In-ter-nation-al Comm-un-i-ca-tions. May we ask you some questions?”
They then went on, still chanting in unison, to ask us where we were from, why we were visiting Japan, about our families and so on. Then they gave us some bookmarks which they had made in their class as a small thank you gift.
It didn’t take long for us to realize that aside from a Norwegian guy on the other side of the garden, we were the only foreigners in the Peace Garden. More and more children started crowding around us. After about 45 minutes of the same chanting and questions and bookmarks, we tried to leave, but they were desperate to finish their projects. We tried walking away, then running. It was like that scene in the Beatles movie when the fans are chasing the Beatles down the street. I have rarely seen Marc looking more sheerly gleeful than he did running down the roads of Hiroshima being chased by a mob of screaming fans. I think he always thought he deserved a mob of screaming fans, and since he finally had one, he was going to enjoy every minute of it!
Actually, being mobbed by school children was a bit of a theme of our travels, since it also happened in Morocco. In one case, a school across the street from where we were eating some oranges let out for lunch and the kids were fascinated by my red hair. We ending up being rescued from a storm of young women and girls by the police! I think Marc was a bit jealous that he wasn't the centre of attention on that occasion, and since he always liked to be the centre of attention, he had to do something to make up for it. He decided his goal would be to blend in with the “natives”. He stopped shaving to enhance what he called his “swarthy attractions,” spoke only in French, and bought a fez, which he insisted on wearing everywhere. I didn’t think it was a flattering look on him, but he got a kick out of pretending to be an eccentric Moroccan. He also got a kick out of attempting to betroth my sister to an admittedly very handsome oriental carpet merchant, but alas, it didn't work out.
Like most tourists in Morocco, were also inundated with requests to buy things. Still on the theme of being mobbed by children, we were approached wherever we went by dozens of children at a time trying to sell little animals made from folded up palm leaves. Marc decided to give the kids a hard time and made a bunch of “origami moose”. I put both “origami” and “moose” in quotation marks because…. Well, let’s just say that while Marc may have been capable of constructing a bacon hat, he wasn’t generally what anyone would call “artistic”. His “origami moose” looked more like a crumpled up candy wrapper than any form of either origami or wildlife. He got a huge kick out of offering these sorry excuses for art to the kids in exchange for their leaf animals. He would laugh himself silly at the looks of confusion and consternation that would come over their faces.
More to come over the next weeks....
I had forgotten about how much I cherish these metaphorical journeys - how much I love and appreciate the people I make them with. They didn't do anything to make me forget about how much they mattered. We all just get caught up in the journey itself - life - and the next thing you know, a year has gone by and then boom! Something happens to remind you.
A couple weeks ago, a good friend of mine died of cancer. His name was Marc Rigby. I'd known him for more than 15 years, and at times it is so hard for me to comprehend that he is really gone. He was a truly good friend and I will miss him for all of my days.
I last saw him during the Christmas holidays. We were to meet for lunch, but for the second time his chemo treatment ran over and I ended up just keeping him company at Mt. Sinai in the out-patient chemo room. I was shocked when I saw him. His face had taken on that skeletal quality that I have associated with someone who will be dead soon for as long as I can remember. Yet it never occurred to to me that Marc would actually die. Marc wasn't a dier. It would be bad for a while, then he would get better. He always got better. But this time he didn't.
At the funeral, I was in a weird shocked place. I couldn't recall any good stories or special memories about Marc.I would listen to others talk about him and think to myself "Right! I was there for that!" but I, who had spent so much time with him, couldn't come up with anything.
But the paralysis is fading from my brain and I find myself thinking about him often. So I thought I would write down those memories and share them over the next couple months. In no particular order.
Here is a picture of Marc in Paris, which I'm not writing about in this installment. But Marc liked elephants and I like this picture, so here it is.
I think the sheer funnest trip Marc and I ever went on together was to Nashville. This trip was a freebee for us, as he had won it by entering a contest. Marc had a thing about contests and entered a whole slew of them every week. He won Raclette grills and shampoo baskets, dinners out, movies, and two trips. Nashville was one.
The Nashville trip was four days. We stayed at the Gaylord Opryland hotel, which even for us jaded travelers was truly a sight to see in itself. We spent half a day just exploring the hotel! Our main purpose was to attend a Patsy Cline tribute at the Grand Ole Opry, which we enjoyed hugely. During the days we did the usual tourist stuff including spending literally four hours in the Dolly Parton display at the Country Music Museum. Marc LOVED Dolly Parton! His wacky side adored her schtick – the big blond wigs, the crazy froofroo dresses and the over the top make up. His love-of-music side totally respected her talent. He made me listen to dozens of songs before we could move on to Conway Twitty and eventually Elvis. We went to Studio B and saw the cupboard that Elvis punched through and sat on the red stool where Elvis, Patsy Cline and other great artists perched to make their famous recordings.
But Marc's absolute favourite thing about Nashville was barhopping on Broadway. This was the Marc Rigby “perfect storm” of enjoyment. Plentiful and really inexpensive but decent beer, outstanding live music, people dressed up in strange outfits (in this case, like cowboys), dancing and people to talk to.
Marc was a little shy about new people when he was sober, but he relaxed with every beer and eventually got positively friendly. He decided we were going to be British Anthropologists, observing and interacting with the natives. He does a passable British accent, certainly good enough to get by the native "Nashvillains". I look more Scots than British, so I adopted a broad Glaswegian brogue and entered into the spirit! Before the evening was over we’d listened to amazing country bands about 6 different bars, drunk about 15 beers (Marc drank 10, me 4 or 5). I was ready to fall down; Marc didn’t even show that he had been drinking), spent about $30 in total on food and drink, and collected enough information about the habits and rituals of the Nashvillains to write a PhD thesis.
Another trip we went on due to a contest win was Japan. We flew into Tokyo, then moved on to Kyoto and then Hiroshima. In Tokyo, Marc had a chance to really and truly show off one of his huge talents. The streets in Tokyo are generally not named. Instead, each block has a name. As well, the buildings are numbered around the block, not in lowest to highest order, but in the order the various buildings were constructed. On top of it, most of the buildings were labeled in Japanese characters. I don’t have a very good sense of direction at the best of times, but Tokyo was impossible for me. From the moment I woke up until we returned to the hotel room at night, I had absolutely no idea where I was. Marc, on the other hand, had a brilliant sense of direction. We would take some crazy route through the subway system – maybe six different trains – and emerge in a completely new place. He would take a quick look around and lead us directly to wherever we were going. His sense of direction was like a comic book “superpower.”
His superpower didn’t help us in Hiroshima at the Peace Gardens, although I think he did have a lifelong fantasy fulfilled there. We were in Japan in the tourist off-season and the Peace Museum and Garden was mostly filled with Japanese school children. There was a group of, I’d say seven year-olds, who were there with their teacher doing a project on International Communications. A group of five of them approached us. They were dressed in their school uniforms and looked very cute and solemn. “We are Japanese School Children,” they chanted in unison. “We are studying In-ter-nation-al Comm-un-i-ca-tions. May we ask you some questions?”
They then went on, still chanting in unison, to ask us where we were from, why we were visiting Japan, about our families and so on. Then they gave us some bookmarks which they had made in their class as a small thank you gift.
It didn’t take long for us to realize that aside from a Norwegian guy on the other side of the garden, we were the only foreigners in the Peace Garden. More and more children started crowding around us. After about 45 minutes of the same chanting and questions and bookmarks, we tried to leave, but they were desperate to finish their projects. We tried walking away, then running. It was like that scene in the Beatles movie when the fans are chasing the Beatles down the street. I have rarely seen Marc looking more sheerly gleeful than he did running down the roads of Hiroshima being chased by a mob of screaming fans. I think he always thought he deserved a mob of screaming fans, and since he finally had one, he was going to enjoy every minute of it!
Actually, being mobbed by school children was a bit of a theme of our travels, since it also happened in Morocco. In one case, a school across the street from where we were eating some oranges let out for lunch and the kids were fascinated by my red hair. We ending up being rescued from a storm of young women and girls by the police! I think Marc was a bit jealous that he wasn't the centre of attention on that occasion, and since he always liked to be the centre of attention, he had to do something to make up for it. He decided his goal would be to blend in with the “natives”. He stopped shaving to enhance what he called his “swarthy attractions,” spoke only in French, and bought a fez, which he insisted on wearing everywhere. I didn’t think it was a flattering look on him, but he got a kick out of pretending to be an eccentric Moroccan. He also got a kick out of attempting to betroth my sister to an admittedly very handsome oriental carpet merchant, but alas, it didn't work out.
Like most tourists in Morocco, were also inundated with requests to buy things. Still on the theme of being mobbed by children, we were approached wherever we went by dozens of children at a time trying to sell little animals made from folded up palm leaves. Marc decided to give the kids a hard time and made a bunch of “origami moose”. I put both “origami” and “moose” in quotation marks because…. Well, let’s just say that while Marc may have been capable of constructing a bacon hat, he wasn’t generally what anyone would call “artistic”. His “origami moose” looked more like a crumpled up candy wrapper than any form of either origami or wildlife. He got a huge kick out of offering these sorry excuses for art to the kids in exchange for their leaf animals. He would laugh himself silly at the looks of confusion and consternation that would come over their faces.
More to come over the next weeks....
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Christmas is coming and my brain is too full. Maybe I can give some away...
Marking
I've just finished a pile of marking - mostly writing assignments. I have a facebook friend, Rory, who often complains about his marking. He is marking university level stuff, and while it doesn't seem to meet his standards, I say it's time to stop complaining. Try marking writing from Essential Level high school students! Is it even "writing"? Is it actually meant as communication? Who knows? I certainly don't. And then there is the problem of penmanship: It's no longer taught. My grade 11's were complaining today because they want me to print on the board because they can't read cursive.They also can't write cursive and their printing is darn iffy. I dream of having a job where assignments are typed! (Except I love the job I have!)
Grading
Report cards a couple weeks back. "Miss! I can't believe you passed me!" and just as likely, "Miss! I can't believe you failed me!" The kids fascinate me with their feelings that they have zero agency in the matter. I didn't pass or fail anyone. I simply wrote down the grade they earned. But they genuine seem to believe that I'm the one who decides who passes and who fails. They seem to have a mental block around the idea they decide for themselves. I need to work on this with them.
PTA
I have PTA tonight. We call it something else, but that's what it is. I find it really fun. Our parents are fantastic. Since our kids are all special needs kids, their parents are concerned about how to best make them successful. They particpate, they add value, and they are nice people. They don't complain that Susie won't get into medical school if she only gets an 89 in English! I'm looking forward to the meeting.
Parent/Teacher Night
Speaking of parents.... Parent/teacher night was an absolute blast. I got to rat out all the kids that are driving me crazy and praise the ones that are working hard. I got most of the parents' email addresses, so now I can send them the homework. Lots more of the homework is now, magically, getting done. The kids both hate it and seem to like it that I know their parents.
Unit Tests
Three weeks ago, I wrote the date of the unit test on the board in the "permanent" area. I pointed it out every single day for two weeks plus. Then, on Friday last week, we did a practice test and I reminded them that the test would be today. Monday we spent a whole period taking up the practice test in detail. And I reminded them the test would be today. Yesterday, we spent a whole period doing test prep, since from the practice test, they knew what they should study. And of course they were reminded that the test would be today.
I walked into the classroom today to be greeted by a scene of utter panic and mayhem. "Are you sure the test is today?" "What do you mean there is a test today?" "There can't be a test today!" "Oh my GOD!!!! There's a test today!" "There's Miss! Miss, Miss! is the test today?"
Bang head against desk.
Christmas
I have a tree. A nice tree. I've had it since Saturday and it remains greenly naked. But in my mind, it is covered in lights and decorations. Maybe this weekend.
Christmas Baking
I haven't done any. And I'm starting to (slowly and reluctantly) come to the conclusion that I may not be doing any. Here's the problem: since going back to work, I've fallen in love with the idea of resting on the weekends. I know it's radical. But the lure of the crackling fireplace, a glass of wine, my beloved's company and perhaps a good book is simply too extreme to ignore. But it won't feel like Christmas if I don't fit in at least a minor frenzy, so maybe I'll get in the spirit a bit more once my Christmas holidays start. At the end of next week. Thank you OSSTF!
Christmas Shopping
Thanks to the miracle of the internet, this is actually going a bit better than my tree and baking. I don't have to leave the comfort of my fireplace, wine and man to shop. I just pull out the iPad and away I don't go. I have just four gifts left. Two to order and two I have to physically go looking for.
Christmas Eve Dinner
We are having it at Laura's since my house is too far away. I think it should be good as usual. This year we are having fish for the main, which is a bit of a departure, but every year the meal gets lighter. Well, except for last year, but that was because of an unfortunate calculation error with the amount of beef short rib I cooked. At least it was fabulous, if a little "in excess" of what was needed.
The Shortbread Adventure
A couple weeks ago I was driving down Carlaw and saw a little tent sign at the entrance to an alley for what appeared to be a shortbread store. On Saturday, I mentioned it yet again to Jeff, who suggested we stop. We pulled into the alley, which was indeed alley-ish and not very promising as a source of shortbread. I got out fo the car and look around, and through a rather grimy basement window, I saw what appears to be someone in a baking hat. I spotted a fire door, so I went into the building, down a flight of concrete stairs, and I did indeed find a bakeshop. A marvellous bakeshop where they make the most wonderful shortbread! The retail space consists of a basket with shortbread in it, but the smells are terrific and the shortbread is to die for. One thing I love is savoury shortbread. I bought some of the Stilton and Rosemary flavour and it was great. I plan to use it as a base for my Savoury Shortbread with Carmelized Onion and Creme Fraiche hors d'oeuvres on Christmas Eve. This is one reason I think I may not bake. Solutions are being provided! Hello Coach House Short Bread Company!
I'm not really done, but I have to go. I will try to post more often!
I've just finished a pile of marking - mostly writing assignments. I have a facebook friend, Rory, who often complains about his marking. He is marking university level stuff, and while it doesn't seem to meet his standards, I say it's time to stop complaining. Try marking writing from Essential Level high school students! Is it even "writing"? Is it actually meant as communication? Who knows? I certainly don't. And then there is the problem of penmanship: It's no longer taught. My grade 11's were complaining today because they want me to print on the board because they can't read cursive.They also can't write cursive and their printing is darn iffy. I dream of having a job where assignments are typed! (Except I love the job I have!)
Grading
Report cards a couple weeks back. "Miss! I can't believe you passed me!" and just as likely, "Miss! I can't believe you failed me!" The kids fascinate me with their feelings that they have zero agency in the matter. I didn't pass or fail anyone. I simply wrote down the grade they earned. But they genuine seem to believe that I'm the one who decides who passes and who fails. They seem to have a mental block around the idea they decide for themselves. I need to work on this with them.
PTA
I have PTA tonight. We call it something else, but that's what it is. I find it really fun. Our parents are fantastic. Since our kids are all special needs kids, their parents are concerned about how to best make them successful. They particpate, they add value, and they are nice people. They don't complain that Susie won't get into medical school if she only gets an 89 in English! I'm looking forward to the meeting.
Parent/Teacher Night
Speaking of parents.... Parent/teacher night was an absolute blast. I got to rat out all the kids that are driving me crazy and praise the ones that are working hard. I got most of the parents' email addresses, so now I can send them the homework. Lots more of the homework is now, magically, getting done. The kids both hate it and seem to like it that I know their parents.
Unit Tests
Three weeks ago, I wrote the date of the unit test on the board in the "permanent" area. I pointed it out every single day for two weeks plus. Then, on Friday last week, we did a practice test and I reminded them that the test would be today. Monday we spent a whole period taking up the practice test in detail. And I reminded them the test would be today. Yesterday, we spent a whole period doing test prep, since from the practice test, they knew what they should study. And of course they were reminded that the test would be today.
I walked into the classroom today to be greeted by a scene of utter panic and mayhem. "Are you sure the test is today?" "What do you mean there is a test today?" "There can't be a test today!" "Oh my GOD!!!! There's a test today!" "There's Miss! Miss, Miss! is the test today?"
Bang head against desk.
Christmas
I have a tree. A nice tree. I've had it since Saturday and it remains greenly naked. But in my mind, it is covered in lights and decorations. Maybe this weekend.
Christmas Baking
I haven't done any. And I'm starting to (slowly and reluctantly) come to the conclusion that I may not be doing any. Here's the problem: since going back to work, I've fallen in love with the idea of resting on the weekends. I know it's radical. But the lure of the crackling fireplace, a glass of wine, my beloved's company and perhaps a good book is simply too extreme to ignore. But it won't feel like Christmas if I don't fit in at least a minor frenzy, so maybe I'll get in the spirit a bit more once my Christmas holidays start. At the end of next week. Thank you OSSTF!
Christmas Shopping
Thanks to the miracle of the internet, this is actually going a bit better than my tree and baking. I don't have to leave the comfort of my fireplace, wine and man to shop. I just pull out the iPad and away I don't go. I have just four gifts left. Two to order and two I have to physically go looking for.
Christmas Eve Dinner
We are having it at Laura's since my house is too far away. I think it should be good as usual. This year we are having fish for the main, which is a bit of a departure, but every year the meal gets lighter. Well, except for last year, but that was because of an unfortunate calculation error with the amount of beef short rib I cooked. At least it was fabulous, if a little "in excess" of what was needed.
The Shortbread Adventure
A couple weeks ago I was driving down Carlaw and saw a little tent sign at the entrance to an alley for what appeared to be a shortbread store. On Saturday, I mentioned it yet again to Jeff, who suggested we stop. We pulled into the alley, which was indeed alley-ish and not very promising as a source of shortbread. I got out fo the car and look around, and through a rather grimy basement window, I saw what appears to be someone in a baking hat. I spotted a fire door, so I went into the building, down a flight of concrete stairs, and I did indeed find a bakeshop. A marvellous bakeshop where they make the most wonderful shortbread! The retail space consists of a basket with shortbread in it, but the smells are terrific and the shortbread is to die for. One thing I love is savoury shortbread. I bought some of the Stilton and Rosemary flavour and it was great. I plan to use it as a base for my Savoury Shortbread with Carmelized Onion and Creme Fraiche hors d'oeuvres on Christmas Eve. This is one reason I think I may not bake. Solutions are being provided! Hello Coach House Short Bread Company!
I'm not really done, but I have to go. I will try to post more often!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
The Saga Continues
Hard to believe its already the end of October. I meant to write something every week, but the time has really gotten away from me.
I’ve been thinking about my new career a lot – as one might expect. Mostly, as I’ve already posted, I’m finding it really fun. But I’ve been at it long enough to be able to recognize some downsides as well.
I’ve developed one huge peeve. We have a union (OSSTF) meeting every Tuesday morning prior to the weekly staff meeting. I was frankly shocked at the amount of whining that goes on over unbelievably small things. I never really believed the reputation teachers have for being big crybabies, but these meetings are truly absurd. Can you imagine a software developer saying that “you only gave Bob 8 database objects – I got 9. It isn’t fair! WAAAAA!” or “Jim took 32 minutes for lunch. I only took 29. The company owes me 3 minutes! WAAAAA!” Truly this is the level of the complaining, and a surprisingly large number of people get in on it. I find it extremely unprofessional. And irritating!
So I haven’t been going to union meetings. I find each one I go to leaves me with less respect for my colleagues than before.
Although I just said that I find myself in a state of declining respect for (some) colleagues, I also crave their company. One thing I didn’t expect, given how much time every day I spend with students, is that teaching is a lonely job. Often I don’t see other adults all day. I like the kids, but my relationship with them is not collaborative in any way, even when it is. Does that make any sense? When I’m working with the kids, I get satisfaction from helping them learn, but isn’t the same as that teamy rush you get by working 18 hours a day for weeks to meet a deadline.
Professionally, I am used to very, very intense teamwork. Even working at home, I was in constant communication and collaboration with other people all day every day, and in the office it was always a mob scene. Every single thing was done with a team, or with a team of teams. It’s not like this at all at school. I see a couple colleagues regularly. But I simply chat a little with them, then go back to my own work. I never create things or make decisions with other people. It’s quite a different model. I remember the sheer bliss of having a door to close at the office. I would be exhausted from the effort of having to deal with people, people, people all day long. Now, I find I miss the contact, the connection, and especially the feeling of shared accomplishment.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
I’m not sure what week it is…
I was going to start this post with a title, “Week 2 in Teacher Land”, but then, I thought, maybe it’s week 3…or possibly week 4? The sad truth is I don’t have a calendar handy and I have no idea what the date is!
What do I want to say about being a teacher? Well. First, it’s the funnest job in the world. I am SO GLAD I made this career change. I feel like I’m making an important contribution to the world, rather than just laboring to make money for someone else making stuff that no-one really needs, wants or cares about.
That sound so cynical, and isn’t really fair. I spent many years making software when it was fun, and people did want what we were building. But the last project I did before I decided I was done was figure out how we could add an advertisement to all text messages using the space leftover after the message. Nobody wants ads on their text messages – except advertisers. What a waste of my life to make something so very unwanted.
Back to my new job…. It’s taken me a couple weeks (however many!) to figure out how not to have to spend every night doing prep until after 11 pm. The trick is to have a plan so you know what you’re teaching this week and this month. As I said in a previous entry, I didn’t even know what I was teaching when I arrived for my first day, and it’s taken some time to figure out what I’m doing. But I think I’m mostly there. My goal is to have my next whole units ready to go before I start teaching them. Then all I’ll have to do is worry about marking.
The kids are by far the best part of the job. Most are great. They are hilariously funny – although I don’t think they mean to be! They are also moody and sometimes difficult. I’ve only had one “incident” so far, and I’m pleased with how I handled it, and how I felt afterwards. Even though I was a little shaken up, I didn’t have any lasting bad feelings about the student or the incident. I think all the corporate nonsense I endured during my previous life has left me with a pretty thick skin.
I’ve taken on a couple responsibilities in addition to my teaching. As the English Teacher (I’m the only one teaching English full time. All other English classes are being taught by teachers who teach one English in addition to whatever else they teach), I was asked to take on the after-school literacy program. That’s an hour one night per week, so it isn’t too onerous. As well, the principal thinks I’m a good candidate for administration (becoming a principal) given my previous experience and has made some mentoring available. I have no idea whatsoever what direction my education career is going to go. Right now, I’m focused on doing a good job in the classroom and I’m finding that plenty interesting and challenging enough. But I don’t want to turn down now an opportunity I may want later, so I accepted her offer and joined the leadership program. For this year, all I am doing is helping out with the Parent Council, which is only 5 meetings this year and attending the monthly leadership program meetings. As time goes on, I’ll decide whether I want to build a resume filled with school, community and board level activities that might lead to an administration job. I’m not too keen at the moment, but I know myself, and I do get bored of the same job day in day out so I want to keep my options open.
I just checked the calendar and it’s the end of week three. It feels like three days have passed rather than three weeks!
Saturday, September 11, 2010
It’s back to school time!
I hardly know where to start. Everything is a blur. My current joke is that if a month from now someone asks me to tell them about my first week at school, I won’t be able to remember anything. I don’t have any big insights, so I’ll just stick to the facts.
I was lucky enough to get on the TDSB “eligible to hire” list back in May. I say “lucky” because I had no idea whatsoever what the criteria were when I applied, and after seeing who was accepted and who wasn’t, I still have no idea. After spending a lot of thought wondering about it, I finally just decided to be thankful and let it go.
I went to a couple interviews in June. I think there was one job I might have gotten – but my reference didn’t call them back. My fault really, for not making sure I had the best phone number. I struggled a little with the interview process. First off, I cannot for the life of me understand how you could hire someone to literally mold the next generation of our society on the basis of a 20-30 minute, four-question interview. I struggled a little with learning how to do this kind of interview. I think I may have intimidated some of the principals!
There was another flurry of hiring and interviews the week before the school started. I went to an interview on the Wednesday, got the offer late Thursday, and went to the board office to be “documented” on Friday. I called the school right after documentation and was told to show up Tuesday morning at 8:15 for a briefing. I didn’t even know what classes I would be teaching. Despite that, I wasn't nervous. I think I was so grateful that I actually had a job that it blotted out all other emotions.I prepped some ice breakers, and hoped that first day administration would occupy the rest of each period! At the briefing I received my class lists and discovered I was teaching three English classes – Grade 10 and 11 Essential and a multi-grade Special Ed English class. I also received a policy book that doesn’t tell you anything relevant to your first day (like where to find the keys to your classroom) and a pile of agendas for the kids.
The first day was a short schedule. I only had the kids for 40 minutes for each class. My homeroom is grade 10. They are super nice kids – a little young for their ages and collectively reading at about grade 3-6 level. A couple have some attitude, but it’s the “I don’t care about this” attitude, rather than anything hostile. Although one did go to the bathroom on Friday and not return, so I have to deal with that on Monday. I kinda feel sorry for the kid. He and his tiny little girlfriend usually snuggle their way through class, but they either had a fight or broke up right before and clearly he needed to get away. Still, can’t let it pass.
My grade 11s are a much tougher class. There is a group of five boys who really should never be scheduled into the same class. I’ve come to an understanding with three of them, and they are behaving much better; two to go! Starting Monday I have an Education Assistant in the class, and I do think that will help. Another thing that helped was I asked them about their interests, compiled a list of 10 possible units we could do, and let them vote on which three. Letting them have some “say” in what they would be doing has opened them up to me a little.
Am I allowed to say which kids are my favourites? My Spec Ed class is a pure delight. There aer nine of them of various ages, all intellectually disabled. They are willing to try anything, they behave well and they are eager to learn and to gain my approval. I have a fantastic EA in this class who is clear that it’s my class, but who is also ready to assist and lend his expertise (he has been an EA for 8 years). I like him and expect to have a good relationship with him.
So last week I did a bunch of diagnostic stuff – tried to figure out about how well they were writing and reading ( it isn’t pretty), and I now know what theme units I’m going to be teaching:
- Grade 10s voted for “The Big Sell” (Advertising), “New World” (Immigrant experience in Canada), and “End of the World” (from prophecy to global warming to SciFi).
- Grade 11s voted for “The Big Sell”, “The Contest” (sports, athletes and media) and “War” (International Conflict and Propaganda).
Fortunately, the “The Big Sell” is a unit I developed on one of my practica. It needs some tweaking, but is generally ready for use. I’m going to teach it first to both classes, which will give me some breathing space to come up with four more units. The upside is that next term, and next year, I’ll have some units in place!
My classroom is a mess. The same teacher taught in it for over 30 years, and I think every piece of paper he ever had is still in there! He retired unexpectedly the day before my interview, and never came in to clean his stuff out. I do a little every day at lunch.
My school seems a little underfunded to me, but I went to high school in the suburbs, so I may not have entirely realistic expectations. The staff has been very welcoming, and I am very impressed with the principal. She is smart, and ready to be a mentor. As well, a member of my “Tribe” from TES class at OISE has also joined the staff at my school. It really was nice to see a familiar face on my first day, and then later from time to time in the halls.
Now that it’s Saturday, and I’m through the first week and have a moment to reflect, I’m feeling good about this semester. I feel really energized and excited about this new career and am SO glad I decided to jump off the cliff and start fresh. It feels amazing to go to work thinking about having something real to offer. And even better, it’s reciprocal. I think the kids have a lot to teach me, as well.
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