School Days

This week  I began my new part-time career as a substitute teacher.  I say career because being a teacher, even part time, is more than a job.  Way more than a job. You are responsible for educating and caring for a room full of children that are complete strangers to you, and you to them.

On Monday, I taught "Reading", a class to help 6th graders who struggled with the reading on the FCAT to 3 classes totalling 64 six graders.  I never had to take the FCAT so I had no idea what to expect as far as curriculum  I received the assignment the night before so I didn't have much time to reflect on the students either, except for the obvious preteen angst I would be up against combine with the substitute teacher get out of jail free card they would be waving in my face.

School started at 8:45 and ended at 4 pm.  My first class came to me before lunch, as in 4 minutes before the lunch bell.  I had to march them to the cafeteria.  They lined up and we set forth down the hall, when suddenly one of the boys sprinted back to the room.  I raced after him while the class continued on without me.  He left his brownie in his backpack.  My heart was racing.  The kids were not supposed to be alone in the halls.  Hurry up kid.  I kept saying in my brain.  Finally he gave up searching his backpack.  We caught up with the class and marched to lunch. It was a rough start.

After lunch, they came in like a tornado and raged for the entire 1 1/2 hour time block.  Stuff flying all over the room, note the chinese star above. 

I was mocked. Openly defied constantly.  Completely disrespected.  Lied to.

"What is that?  Food?"  

"We are allowed to eat in here."

"Well, last class I busted someone for eating.  He was keeping it on the down low, which if he was allowed to eat he would have done it openly.  Put it away."

"No."

"Put it away, or I throw it away."

"Fine. Ugh. Someone said you were nice?"

I stood my ground.  I was firm.  I yelled.  I even sent someone to the office.  But it was insane.  Such a rush. What went down in that class room left me in shock.  I was giddy after class, like I had just been skydiving or something.   God help us if this is the state of the next generation coming down the American public education pipeline.   They are buck wild.

The Butter Song

Weekends are good for love songs.  Actually, any day is good for love songs...except for maybe Monday.  This is a blog about the infinite happening of food in life, and a few weeks ago a song about butter rocked my world.  Balthrop, Alabama, a ten piece+ band, including a visual artist illustrating each song live, refers to themselves as a small township. A brilliant witty auditory landscape if you ask me.  My friend Jimmy Saal, producer of Atypical Arts Presents brought Balthrop, Alabama from Brooklyn to Jacksonville.  Big thanks to him.  There is no better gift than being introduced to wonderful new music.

This particular night was special because it was Chef and I's first date night in the big city by bicycle.  We rolled down to grab some mediocre sushi, and then cruised to Five Points Theater  to celebrate its final show before renovation.   The opening act was this gorgeous sassy sweet soulful southern lady named Valerie June.  Chef and I both developed a crush mid set.  Then came Balthrop, Alabama.  In the middle of the show someone appeared with a piece of cardboard ripped from a box that had the words "The Butter Song" scrawled across it in blue marker.  The phrase alone brought joy to my heart, and as members of the audience began to chant the phrase...well this is what happened next.

The lyrics speak for themselves...but you have to listen to the music here

The Butter Song

I was always trying to find the butter knife

you were always trying to find the butter

you and me we should be together

And then you could find the butter knife

and I could find the butter

you could be my pretty wife

and I could be your lover

try to be a little more PC

don't mean to be gettin' so greasy

but I am gonna cover your butt with a big stick of butter

I was always trying to find the butter knife

you were always trying to find the butter

you and me we should be together

and then you could find the butter knife

and I could find the butter

I could your pretty wife

and you could be my lover

try to be a little more PC

don't mean to be gettin' so greasy

but I am gonna cover your butt with a big stick of butter

and the butter

and the butter knife

ran away

and they lived happily ever after

and so should we

I was always trying to find the butter knife 

you were always trying to find the butter

you and me we should be together

and then you could find the butter knife

and I could find the butter

you could be my pretty wife

and I could be your lover

try to be a little more PC

don't mean to be gettin' so greasy

but I am gonna cover your butt with a big stick of butter

That last line cracks me up.  No pun intended.

Creepy Meals

My daughters received these in their trick or treat bags.  They were individually wrapped and labeled "Creepy Meals" with no nutritional information.  The man who handed them out was in is sixties, red complexion, white hair, yellow grinning teeth.  Grandfatherly in a truck driver sort of way.  He seemed really proud as he dropped them into their baskets, and we thanked him and wished him a happy holiday.  And I made a mental note that as soon as we got home I would remove them and throw them away.  Take a closer look.

 

Miniature gummy fast food, combined with human body parts.  Of all the candy, of all the glorious candy in the world...why this?  I just had to share these little culinary curiosities.

Completely unrelated, I have started writing a novel two days ago.  You know, because I have nothing else to do.  It is National Novel Writing Month and I decided to go for it.  55,000 words in 30 days.  Hundreds of thousands of writers all over the world are pecking away like kamikaze typists.  In two short days I have squeezed out 20 pages during nap time, after bedtime, and even at the gym.  Don't ask me how.  I have wanted to write a novel since I was eleven years old, and now with two kids, in school, with a part time job I have finally decided to make the time to do it...or find the time in the little cracks of daily life.

I am  a woman on a mission, so forgive me if my posts in the next three weeks are short.  Wish me luck.