Oy.

This has been one tough winter.

And I know tough winters, man. I totally know them. But this one? It's been bitter and harsh and unrelenting and nerve racking.

I walked downtown this weekend to meet B and the in-laws for lunch, so I cut through Prentis Park.

Wet snow beat against my face, the wind rattled the trees, and the only thought that kept me going was:

Soon, green grass will be here, and I will be swimming laps at the pool. Soon, the sun will beat down on me as I lounge poolside with my latest, greatest book.

I don't think I'll make it until summer. I really think this winter may get the best of me. I really think I can't take anymore 35 mile-an-hour winds, frozen rain, slick roads, drifts, and the wind! thewindthewindthewind.

Stop.

Please.

Happy Happy Valentine's Day

• Me and Bridgie woke up to our 80 year old neighbor, Max, shoveling.

• We went outside and shoveled, too.

• We got ready for the day.

• We expressed our love in grown-up ways.

• We went to Mr. Smith's for gyros and whatnot.

• We went to Hy-Vee for Boca, green beans, chicken, and milk.

• We went home and put groceries away.

• I put in a load of laundry, wiped down the bathroom, and B cleaned the kitchen.

• We went to Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief.

• We LOVED Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief.

• We went home.

• Bridge set up a Scrabble game while I made dinner.

• We ate delicious homemade sweet potato fries, green beans with almonds, and raspberry chicken.

• Bridgie schooled me in Scrabble.

• I folded the load of laundry; Bridge put the dishes on.

• We watched an episode of Californication.

• We LOVE Californication.

• We have a beautiful, wonderful life.

• This was a fantastic day.

I Think About Those Kids

Four months after I graduated with my MA, I moved to Madison, WI.

I had no job, a new relationship, and over $30,000 in student loan debt.

We lived on the north end of town, in a big apartment we got for cheap, mainly because of how many registered sex offenders lived there, too. I job searched and I walked. Everywhere. Down to a strip mall branch of the Madison Public Library. Up to the state park bordering the city. Over to Warner Park to watch the geese. I usually carried a book and my discman. I needed a job and sent out a million and a half resumes. Mostly, for jobs I was, in no way whatsoever, qualified for.

I finally landed an interview with the Wisconsin Youth Company; an organization that ran Before- and After-School programs. I was hired as the supervisor for Hawthorne Elementary. It wasn't far from where I lived, which meant it was a poor school with poor kids.

It took us about two weeks to warm up to each other, and then it was game on. They were smart-alecky; so was I. They wanted to beat me in basketball; I wanted to school them. They wanted to eat homemade cookie icing; me, too. They wanted canned ravioli for a snack; I happily heated it up.

I think about those kids often. Emily, this light, sinewy little 5 year old, would be 9 now. You couldn't help but sweep her into your arms, she was that sweet. Drew, whose dad wasn't all that great and whose mom sucked even more, would be 13 now. I think about him the most because he was trouble and mean, and because we took a liking to each other.

There's Tony, the studly black boy who called me a "Cracker" after I beat him in 4-Square, which doubled me over, I laughed so hard. There's Anthony, who will probably grow up to be gay and who got teased for it mercilessly. Fernando, who hated it when I sang, "There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando!" Jamila, who spurred me to take away the Kids Bop CDs because of the way she danced to it.

I miss Taran, who had to wear a back brace and who was obsessed with pigs. Kylie, who was an amazing artist. Gabe, whose parents couldn't get it together and who could only express himself in anger. And Curtis. Curtis came into my program late in the school year. Some days he was clean and well-rested. Others, his eyes were so tired my head ached for him. I never knew if Curtis had a home.

These kids made me laugh, cry, scream, throw chairs against the wall after they all left, hate them, love them, punish them, and play with them. I would like to see them again. Mostly, I just want to know that they are ok. That the person who took over after I left hugged them as much as I did.

Just Another Sunday

I missed Mass this morning.

Kinda on purpose.

I just didn't feel much like it. This is a bit odd, as my Catholic Guilt rarely allows me to miss church, but instead, I think I'll go for a walk later or perhaps commune with God on the elliptical at the gym this afternoon. Though, God will have to share some time with Lady Gaga, but maybe that already happens.

The semester is underway, as the stacks of essays blotting the kitchen table attest to. My classes and studs all seem to be going well; especially, my Thursday sections of lit and comp are exceptionally rocking. Even though is seems impossibly far off, I know, deep down in my heart of hearts, Spring 2010 will fly by, and I'll soon be poolside. Oh, baby ...

Always look on the bright side of life ...

I had the P3 reading yesterday, and it was a beautiful, inspiring thing. We were surrounded by art and language; I am so proud of the collaboration between painter Jean Peter-Larsen and me. Perhaps I'll post it on here: my "Paraska in Spring" and Jean's rendering of Paraska.

I'm gonna knock on wood, but I do believe that Terrible Student Issue is no longer an Issue. This is an enormous relief. I feel that now I can fully concentrate on the 111 students for whom I will my heart on my sleeve this semester. Praise Be.

Alas, these response papers are raising their eyebrows at me, wondering just how many avoidance maneuvers I have up my sleeve. I should probably water the plants, make the bed, watch another episode of Mad Men, check Facebook, take the recycling out, back up my hard drive, rearrange the fridge magnets, and read Entertainment Weekly before I even open up my grade book.

Yes, I think so.

Happy Sunday to you all.

Whoa.

Whoa.

It's been awhile, eh?

I spent a remarkably pleasant afternoon cleaning. Put the iPod on my Country Hits playlist and sang along to Randy Travis, Loretta Lynn, and Dwight Yoakum while Windexing, Pledging, and vacuuming. Got the bathroom done, too, and I tell you what, we have a gorgeous bathroom. It's the bathroom I never knew I always wanted.

Guitars, Cadillacs, hillbilly music ...

I am headed to NoDak this weekend (surprise, surprise), but for good reason. I get to see my brother for the first time since September. My brother is home. For good. He is probably the most loyal person I will ever know, and I am so gladrelievedhappygrateful he is home. I texted him the other day: "Look, I am really into Lady Gaga, and you are just going to have to deal with it."

Oh boy, those poor people of Haiti. We should be so thankful we happened to be born here. Every time we see a tragedy like this, or see a homeless person, or turn on our taps for clean, running water, we should drop to our knees and throw up a prayer of thanks. Please do what you can through The Red Cross, Catholic Relief Services, or wherever else. It's time to be mindful of our days. It's time to be more conscious.

Spring 2010 is shaping up to be pretty good. I've met, so far, 92 of my 115 students. First day classes went well and went quickly. We jumped right into drama and Jon Stewart. I pulled a little rank with a kid who proudly and smugly announced to the class he hasn't read a book in 10 years. And when I got to the student who proudly and smugly announced she loves to read, she loves to write, and she loves to be in school, I beamed. It sure don't take much to make me happy.

Speaking of happy, B. and I celebrated 5 years over the weekend. Happyhappyhappy.

We are also almost through season 1 of Mad Men. Whoa! the smoking! Whoa! the scotch! Whoa! Joan! Hello, Joan ...

I have so much to be thankful for. So, so much.

I've neglected this space far too long. Game on.

the branch will not break,

the branch will not break, the branch will not break.

Tap, Tap

The semester started out pretty well, I thought.

I felt my class homework schedules were tight and challenging and interesting. I liked my batch of students, for the most part. My own creative writing was going to be showcased at different conferences, camps, and collaborations.

Now, I feel like everything is called into question.

My lit class needs a bit of work, and I've already made the changes to my syllabus and homework schedule to reflect more formal writing for my future classes. But, that doesn't really help me now. This is the second time I've gotten to teach lit, and I absolutely love it. I suppose I am still learning, but I've been teaching for 3 years.

I want everything to be perfect.

Always.

I want my classes to run perfectly and my teaching evals to be perfect and my students' work to be perfect. Yet, with some things this semester, I am not feeling so perfect. In fact, I am feeling like a fraud. Like any second now, I am gonna get a tap on the shoulder and someone is gonna say, "we realize you aren't doing your job and you aren't pushing your students hard enough and you aren't pushing yourself hard enough and you are a big, old, fake. So, hand in your keys, lady. You are finished."

Do all teachers feel like this? Like they are gonna get found out any second? I'm always grading and/or lesson planning and/or thinking about ways to make each class more engaging and relevant. But, am I doing that enough?

I should do more.

I want a new semester and a new start and a new committment to my classes.

I feel like things are seconds away from toppling.