Stop being worried about coming home. You have your incredible girlfriend and at least 90% of your efforts can be concentrated on helping her adjust to life in the States.
That being said, you should know that I've said "mulţumesc" in at least 10 different situations. My family is really tired of me asking "ce" when I cannot hear them, and I had a dream in Romanian the other night.
Get ready for the ridiculous amount of entertainment options, and be prepared to find very few of them interesting. The amount of English sinage is probably going to overwhelm you. You'll feel a little bit like Jim Carrey in "Bruce Almighty" when he can hear all the prayers- suddenly everything you hear is comprehensible.
Prepare yourself for getting upset at the grocery store when you spend $20.00 and they try to send you out the door with 8 bags. Try to remember that non-Romanian stores do not accept Romanian currency of any kind, and you'll feel like an idiot when you do it for the third time. You might forget that you can call and text people now (btw... will your number be the same?) Also, they have ice in America and they'll give you water that doesn't come in a bottle without going three rounds with the wait staff.
That's all the trivial stuff. I'll write the next part as if you didn't have your own Romanian throwback. You'll be sad. Depressed even. Everything at home looks good to you, but all in a Romanian light. You'll struggle with comparing everything to what you experienced there, what it's like there, what you saw there. You'll want to see everyone you can, and no one at all. You'll experience an insane desire to connect with people and a deep disappointment when you realize NO ONE knows what you are dealing with. They'll pretend to care while you pretend that you aren't thinking about the life you just left. You'll both try hard and fail. You'll scheme about going back even though you know you won't. You'll feel both alone and too close to everyone at the same time. If you are me, you'll cry when you see some of your best friends for the first time. You'll be happy and sad and confused and inexplicably angry at times. And you'll be tired.
And then you'll call me. Because I'm in the middle of it too, and it's a lonely place.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
A Week
It's been 167 hours since I landed at O'Hare Airport in Chicago after a rather harrowing experience. Let me tell you some of the things I've learned.
1. No matter how much you give away, you will still have too much in your suitcase.
2. Priorities make themselves abundently clear when you have 10 minutes to lose 7 kilograms of stuff. Goodbye, shoes, cosmetics, pillow, and blanket. I'll miss you.
3. You could have spent more time carefully planning what to throw away, because the airline isn't sure that they should let you on the plane with that cast.
4. People in an airport will ask anyone for advice... I'm quite clearly not an airline executive, but sitting behind a desk warrents all kinds of questions.
5. They do NOT mess around with security in the Bucharest airport... Dublin is somewhat different.
6. Every plane to ever depart from OTP will be delayed.
7. If you are getting wheelchair assistance, you will be wheeled into the back of a semi trailer, and driven across the runway and then wheeled into the plane through the cargo entrance.
8. The lovely Irish accent will make everything better. From the airline attendants to the wheelchair assistance lad Sean, it's difficult to get upset with the Irish.
9. Americans are obnoxious the world over. I'm sorry, Mr. California. But just because you went to Germany instead of Amsterdam doesn't mean you are a world traveller. And sleeping on a park bench whilst drunk and high doesn't mean that you got a "real European experience." Stop trying to arm wrestle people and then talk about how you could "take" anyone you wanted in high school. Take your flipping sunglasses off, and don't brag about how you've not bathed in 3 weeks. And do you really travel with your own plasic wine glasses? Take it from someone who got the real European experience... you should be able to drink wine out of whatever is available.
10. The Dublin airport is lovely, but those lights are BRIGHT at 4:30 in the morning.
11. Someone is going to notice that you need help when you are standing on one leg with two bags, staring at the flight board for 20 minutes. Do they really have to put CANCELLED in big block letters? They could say it in a nicer way, I think.
12. Having a broken ankle can work in your favor... pleading my case for why I should get onto the standby list first, getting escorted through security (totally could have blown that plane up... I barely got frisked) and customs by the lovely Irish Richard (who called me love, mhmm), and seated early on the plane... it worked out alright.
13. Having a broken ankle can be ridiculously stupid on a plane, because it will HURT. You know how your legs swell anyway in flight? There is no comfortable postion, and you therefore will keep not sleeping.
14. Ted from Ireland is a very nice man who will tolerate you crying (nearly) on his shoulder about four times in the course of a 9 hour point of contact.
15. Arriving in the United States is beautiful, but hearing that your parents are not at the airport is kind of painful. Thank you, communication mixup- my fault entirely.
16. Warm and friendly relatives are incredible... but visiting people you've only met a few times in your life after skipping DAYS of sleep and traveling for nearly 30 hours is a bit overwhelming.
17. You will want to cry when you see your mom and dad for the first time. Because they will take care of you, and you can stop being so strong for a while.
18. The I-80 stretch from Chicago to Michigan is still long.
19. It might take a while to sleep normally again.
20. Home people are wonderful, incredible really. But you will still miss belonging somewhere else.
1. No matter how much you give away, you will still have too much in your suitcase.
2. Priorities make themselves abundently clear when you have 10 minutes to lose 7 kilograms of stuff. Goodbye, shoes, cosmetics, pillow, and blanket. I'll miss you.
3. You could have spent more time carefully planning what to throw away, because the airline isn't sure that they should let you on the plane with that cast.
4. People in an airport will ask anyone for advice... I'm quite clearly not an airline executive, but sitting behind a desk warrents all kinds of questions.
5. They do NOT mess around with security in the Bucharest airport... Dublin is somewhat different.
6. Every plane to ever depart from OTP will be delayed.
7. If you are getting wheelchair assistance, you will be wheeled into the back of a semi trailer, and driven across the runway and then wheeled into the plane through the cargo entrance.
8. The lovely Irish accent will make everything better. From the airline attendants to the wheelchair assistance lad Sean, it's difficult to get upset with the Irish.
9. Americans are obnoxious the world over. I'm sorry, Mr. California. But just because you went to Germany instead of Amsterdam doesn't mean you are a world traveller. And sleeping on a park bench whilst drunk and high doesn't mean that you got a "real European experience." Stop trying to arm wrestle people and then talk about how you could "take" anyone you wanted in high school. Take your flipping sunglasses off, and don't brag about how you've not bathed in 3 weeks. And do you really travel with your own plasic wine glasses? Take it from someone who got the real European experience... you should be able to drink wine out of whatever is available.
10. The Dublin airport is lovely, but those lights are BRIGHT at 4:30 in the morning.
11. Someone is going to notice that you need help when you are standing on one leg with two bags, staring at the flight board for 20 minutes. Do they really have to put CANCELLED in big block letters? They could say it in a nicer way, I think.
12. Having a broken ankle can work in your favor... pleading my case for why I should get onto the standby list first, getting escorted through security (totally could have blown that plane up... I barely got frisked) and customs by the lovely Irish Richard (who called me love, mhmm), and seated early on the plane... it worked out alright.
13. Having a broken ankle can be ridiculously stupid on a plane, because it will HURT. You know how your legs swell anyway in flight? There is no comfortable postion, and you therefore will keep not sleeping.
14. Ted from Ireland is a very nice man who will tolerate you crying (nearly) on his shoulder about four times in the course of a 9 hour point of contact.
15. Arriving in the United States is beautiful, but hearing that your parents are not at the airport is kind of painful. Thank you, communication mixup- my fault entirely.
16. Warm and friendly relatives are incredible... but visiting people you've only met a few times in your life after skipping DAYS of sleep and traveling for nearly 30 hours is a bit overwhelming.
17. You will want to cry when you see your mom and dad for the first time. Because they will take care of you, and you can stop being so strong for a while.
18. The I-80 stretch from Chicago to Michigan is still long.
19. It might take a while to sleep normally again.
20. Home people are wonderful, incredible really. But you will still miss belonging somewhere else.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
The Magic of Juxtaposition
As many challenges as the land of Romania has presented, I am still incredibly saddened to be leaving this place. This place of growth and discovery, chaos and change, and magic- it has infected me. There is a mystical sense of space, of time, of culture in Romania. It is a land of old superstition coupled with new developments, a location that looks forward to its place in the new world while still clinging to the tradition of old.
For years, my favorite word has been juxtaposition. Meaning the bringing together of two unlike or different elements or objects, I like the word itself and the concept. I love the beauty often created by juxtaposition, the sharp contrasts that bring out the fine details of each part of the equation. Exploring the little differences inherent in each of the two unlike elements is fascinating, and it allows for a deeper and almost more meaningful understanding of each piece.
I think part of my addiction, my fascination, and my love for Romania comes from the juxtaposition here. You can walk amongst lovely parks and still find crumbling concrete. The consumerism of the city slams so quickly up against the peasant life just outside the boundaries. A place that is producing some of the most technically skilled workers in the world still requires triplicate copies of everything, stamped and sealed and signed by everyone in the world except the person you know. You ride on two new busses and an extremely efficient underground metro train to wait in line at the post office for two hours. Romania is a land of juxtaposition, and it is rather fitting that I fell in love here.
For years, my favorite word has been juxtaposition. Meaning the bringing together of two unlike or different elements or objects, I like the word itself and the concept. I love the beauty often created by juxtaposition, the sharp contrasts that bring out the fine details of each part of the equation. Exploring the little differences inherent in each of the two unlike elements is fascinating, and it allows for a deeper and almost more meaningful understanding of each piece.
I think part of my addiction, my fascination, and my love for Romania comes from the juxtaposition here. You can walk amongst lovely parks and still find crumbling concrete. The consumerism of the city slams so quickly up against the peasant life just outside the boundaries. A place that is producing some of the most technically skilled workers in the world still requires triplicate copies of everything, stamped and sealed and signed by everyone in the world except the person you know. You ride on two new busses and an extremely efficient underground metro train to wait in line at the post office for two hours. Romania is a land of juxtaposition, and it is rather fitting that I fell in love here.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Packing
I have quite the reputation as a terrible packer. Really really bad. I don't do anything until the last minute, and I get terribly overwhelmed, and then I do a very poor job. Usually I have help. This time, I not only don't have help... but I don't have one leg.
I will be good this time. I will start packing and keep going until I finish. I will feel accomplished and productive. My brother and Jane will not be aggrevated with me, and a woman with the initials C.B. will not be snickering at me.
Lots of stuff is getting left behind, I'm afraid.
I will do this... just not right now.
I will be good this time. I will start packing and keep going until I finish. I will feel accomplished and productive. My brother and Jane will not be aggrevated with me, and a woman with the initials C.B. will not be snickering at me.
Lots of stuff is getting left behind, I'm afraid.
I will do this... just not right now.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Party!
I "attended" my brother Ean's graduation party last night via Skype. I basically sat in a corner and creeped on people for a while, but it was really nice. I found out a few things about myself:
1. I am craving traditional American breakfast food more than I realized. I'm really glad that so many people showed up at the party... but my mom promised me some leftover bacon. Tragic.
2. You can tell who just about everyone is by their hind end. Sorry, hope that doesn't make anyone uncomfortable... it did me for a while.
3. I miss "home" people more than I realized.
Congrats Ean.
1. I am craving traditional American breakfast food more than I realized. I'm really glad that so many people showed up at the party... but my mom promised me some leftover bacon. Tragic.
2. You can tell who just about everyone is by their hind end. Sorry, hope that doesn't make anyone uncomfortable... it did me for a while.
3. I miss "home" people more than I realized.
Congrats Ean.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Hmmm...
Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I am just supposed to sit and relax and be unemployed. I'm working really hard on finding the good things, finding the lesson. But I'm tired.
I lost my summer job due to under-enrollment. My stability is just... gone.
I lost my summer job due to under-enrollment. My stability is just... gone.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Constanţa Cont.
A lot has happened in the last few days. Most of it involved pain of some kind, but I think I'm on the upward track finally.
I enjoyed exploring Constanţa on Saturday afternoon and evening, and slept incredibly well. You wouldn't think that to get good sleep you should go to a hostel, but all of my evidence points to the contrary. Sunday morning I got up and went out... and thus it began.
I was in the old part of the city, in a place where the pavement is really broken up and there is loose stone and rock everywhere. Everything was going well- beautiful crisp morning, tons of sunshine, the sea to the east and incredible history and culture all around me. And then my friend the Dacia (circa 1271) passed by making a noise I have NEVER heard a car make. And I'm my father's child... I've heard cars make some weird noises. In my moment of distraction (and okay, amazement at the functionality of this car) I rolled my right ankle- the weak one- and fell pretty hard on the stone. I was in walking sandals and consequently hit the big toe of my left foot pretty hard on the broken pavement.
I kind of realized the severity of the situation when I looked down to see the blood all over my leg from the loose stones. I have a habit of talking myself through stressful/traumatic conversations. Yes, I do this aloud... the presence of another voice helps.
"You're okay. You're okay. Stephanie, you are okay. You are going to get up and start walking and you are going to figure out what to do. This is fine, no big deal. You are totally fine. OH my God I can't move my ankle. Okay, get to the shade. Get to the shade. Holy **** this hurts. Okay, we need a plan. We'll figure this out, no worries. It's okay, you can figure this out. Shade first- get into the shade. We can do this."
And it continued. My (incredible) hostel host Dave rescued me in his van and drove me back, where I iced and cleaned and bandaged and realized I really was going to need to go to the hospital. Dave and Mada and I climbed into the van and went in search of a clinic, but ended up at the emergency room as it was a Sunday. Mada was there to help out with language issues, and the service was incredibly fast, if lacking a bit in tenderness. They took me right in and I got an injection (I freaked at first because I thought they were going to inject my knee), but it was just a tetnus booster. I then had my leg cleaned up... with rubbing alcohol. I've never sucked in such exclamations of pain in my life. Right after that I was headed to radiology, but not before I had to get undressed and into a (used and quite smelly) hosptial gown... in the middle of the hallway. No big deal, right?
The emergency part of the hospital is very modern. The rest of the hospital is not. My personal wheelchair woman Laura pushed me down a ramp to the radiology hallway and ohhhhh buddy. It was like a time warp back to 1972. The walls were grey and bleak, the tiles that were left in the ceiling were not doing a very good job of stopping the gross drippings that we were swerving to avoid. They took something like 14 xrays- loads of my ankle, plenty of my toe, and then a few of my scraped knee. Just in case, I suppose.
After the radiology room I was wheeled to an elevator (the old freight kind, with an attendant and the squeeky metal doors) and taken to the fifth floor. I counted, because I was trying to distract myself from the pain- it took 129 seconds to go from ground to 5. I should say that all of this, and I've not had any sort of pain medication at all- at all. So imagine my horror when I was wheeled into a creepy little doctor experiment room with a tiny little window at the top and instructed to lay on a couch. And then the most swarthy and giant Romanian man I have EVER seen picks up my leg and just like THAT he sets my ankle and then plasters it. Um, ouch.
I was told to stay off of my ankle completely, but also that the hospital didn't have any crutches. Good plan... I just got them, nearly 48 hours and 2 trips to school and 14 classes later. The pain pills aren't exactly the most effective things... basically the equivalent of Ibuprofin. I don't have a residency permit here, so I had to pay right there for my treatment. Folks in the States are going to freak out about this... emergency room treatment, tetnus booster, 14 xrays, doctor consultation, plaster casting... 450 RON. Do the conversation (about a 3 to 1 ratio for those in the States)... it is going to blow your mind. I think they charge you more for diapers in American hospitals.
There is a lot to complain about here... but also so so much to be thankful for.
I enjoyed exploring Constanţa on Saturday afternoon and evening, and slept incredibly well. You wouldn't think that to get good sleep you should go to a hostel, but all of my evidence points to the contrary. Sunday morning I got up and went out... and thus it began.
I was in the old part of the city, in a place where the pavement is really broken up and there is loose stone and rock everywhere. Everything was going well- beautiful crisp morning, tons of sunshine, the sea to the east and incredible history and culture all around me. And then my friend the Dacia (circa 1271) passed by making a noise I have NEVER heard a car make. And I'm my father's child... I've heard cars make some weird noises. In my moment of distraction (and okay, amazement at the functionality of this car) I rolled my right ankle- the weak one- and fell pretty hard on the stone. I was in walking sandals and consequently hit the big toe of my left foot pretty hard on the broken pavement.
I kind of realized the severity of the situation when I looked down to see the blood all over my leg from the loose stones. I have a habit of talking myself through stressful/traumatic conversations. Yes, I do this aloud... the presence of another voice helps.
"You're okay. You're okay. Stephanie, you are okay. You are going to get up and start walking and you are going to figure out what to do. This is fine, no big deal. You are totally fine. OH my God I can't move my ankle. Okay, get to the shade. Get to the shade. Holy **** this hurts. Okay, we need a plan. We'll figure this out, no worries. It's okay, you can figure this out. Shade first- get into the shade. We can do this."
And it continued. My (incredible) hostel host Dave rescued me in his van and drove me back, where I iced and cleaned and bandaged and realized I really was going to need to go to the hospital. Dave and Mada and I climbed into the van and went in search of a clinic, but ended up at the emergency room as it was a Sunday. Mada was there to help out with language issues, and the service was incredibly fast, if lacking a bit in tenderness. They took me right in and I got an injection (I freaked at first because I thought they were going to inject my knee), but it was just a tetnus booster. I then had my leg cleaned up... with rubbing alcohol. I've never sucked in such exclamations of pain in my life. Right after that I was headed to radiology, but not before I had to get undressed and into a (used and quite smelly) hosptial gown... in the middle of the hallway. No big deal, right?
The emergency part of the hospital is very modern. The rest of the hospital is not. My personal wheelchair woman Laura pushed me down a ramp to the radiology hallway and ohhhhh buddy. It was like a time warp back to 1972. The walls were grey and bleak, the tiles that were left in the ceiling were not doing a very good job of stopping the gross drippings that we were swerving to avoid. They took something like 14 xrays- loads of my ankle, plenty of my toe, and then a few of my scraped knee. Just in case, I suppose.
After the radiology room I was wheeled to an elevator (the old freight kind, with an attendant and the squeeky metal doors) and taken to the fifth floor. I counted, because I was trying to distract myself from the pain- it took 129 seconds to go from ground to 5. I should say that all of this, and I've not had any sort of pain medication at all- at all. So imagine my horror when I was wheeled into a creepy little doctor experiment room with a tiny little window at the top and instructed to lay on a couch. And then the most swarthy and giant Romanian man I have EVER seen picks up my leg and just like THAT he sets my ankle and then plasters it. Um, ouch.
I was told to stay off of my ankle completely, but also that the hospital didn't have any crutches. Good plan... I just got them, nearly 48 hours and 2 trips to school and 14 classes later. The pain pills aren't exactly the most effective things... basically the equivalent of Ibuprofin. I don't have a residency permit here, so I had to pay right there for my treatment. Folks in the States are going to freak out about this... emergency room treatment, tetnus booster, 14 xrays, doctor consultation, plaster casting... 450 RON. Do the conversation (about a 3 to 1 ratio for those in the States)... it is going to blow your mind. I think they charge you more for diapers in American hospitals.
There is a lot to complain about here... but also so so much to be thankful for.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Constanţa
I almost took a mountain bike this morning. The only consolation that I am repeating again and again is that maybe instead of falling and fracturing my ankle I would have gotten hit by a car or something. And then I would be dead or in the hospital instead of writing this blog. But then again, my ankle wouldn’t be aching inside of this cast either. It’s a toss-up, really. But then of course, the whole trip started on a bit of an odd trajectory. I should have guessed.
The city of Constanţa is really a lovely place. It’s a pretty big city (the third largest in Romania) and offers a very different landscape and culture than anywhere else I have traveled. It is located on the coast of the Black Sea, and is THE summer vacation destination for a lot of sea-going Romanians. The beaches are incredibly beautiful and the old part of the city is charming. The harbor is peaceful and there are a million little places around the city to visit. I love traveling to places that I can get to know in just a few hours.
I didn’t sleep at all on Friday night because my train was scheduled to leave quite early and I didn’t want to sleep for a few hours and then be totally exhausted. My logic is a mess, I know- but it works for me. I got to the station on Saturday morning and got on the rather modern (by Romanian standards) train, looking forward to going to sleep and waking up in Constanta. This plan went swimmingly until about 30 minutes into the journey, when we stopped. Now, I’ve sat in a train before and I wasn’t really too concerned… until about 30 minutes later. And then 45 minutes, and then 60 minutes… we just kept sitting. A little bit odd, but at least I am comfortable and cool, right? Nope. This is the part of the story where they turn the air conditioning off and we all suffocate. Slight exaggeration… instead of suffocating people just started taking their clothing off.
I'm too drugged (legit medicine from a doctor...) to continue this for now. More to come...
The city of Constanţa is really a lovely place. It’s a pretty big city (the third largest in Romania) and offers a very different landscape and culture than anywhere else I have traveled. It is located on the coast of the Black Sea, and is THE summer vacation destination for a lot of sea-going Romanians. The beaches are incredibly beautiful and the old part of the city is charming. The harbor is peaceful and there are a million little places around the city to visit. I love traveling to places that I can get to know in just a few hours.
I didn’t sleep at all on Friday night because my train was scheduled to leave quite early and I didn’t want to sleep for a few hours and then be totally exhausted. My logic is a mess, I know- but it works for me. I got to the station on Saturday morning and got on the rather modern (by Romanian standards) train, looking forward to going to sleep and waking up in Constanta. This plan went swimmingly until about 30 minutes into the journey, when we stopped. Now, I’ve sat in a train before and I wasn’t really too concerned… until about 30 minutes later. And then 45 minutes, and then 60 minutes… we just kept sitting. A little bit odd, but at least I am comfortable and cool, right? Nope. This is the part of the story where they turn the air conditioning off and we all suffocate. Slight exaggeration… instead of suffocating people just started taking their clothing off.
I'm too drugged (legit medicine from a doctor...) to continue this for now. More to come...
Friday, June 3, 2011
Things I've Done Today
6:45 am: Wake up. Twice. Two alarms. Stumble to the bathroom, use the toilet, look in the mirror and determine that I really don't need to wash my hair, thus affording me about 30 minutes more sleep.
6:47 am: Reset alarms for 7:15 am and crash.
7:30 am: Wake up in a start (thank goodness for half consciousness) and jump out of bed, throw clothing on, french braid my hair (dang, I really should have showered...) and grab my bag.
7:35 am: Walk like a zombie to school. Pretty sure I saw one of my students walking with his mom, but I don't have a lot of recollection about the journey.
8:00 am: Oh my goodness. I don't think I can do this. 1F will be the death of my spirit and creative potential and life force... twice today.
8:45 am: Yeah, I'm taking a ten minute nap in the teacher's bathroom.
8:55 am: Can 9:40 get here soon enough? Because having 1A once a week is difficult enough, let alone two days in a row.
9:40 am: Back to the teacher's bathroom for nap time.
10:00 am: Woops. I missed that bell. I should probably go to class. Except. Ugh... I have nothing to do with these students because there are only 2 classes left and I finished the unit yesterday. Bring on the 45 minutes (well, 40 :) of making crap up. Oh, and eating bread.
10:40 am: Okay, I can hang in the teacher's lounge and pad a certain amount of grades in the catalog to ensure my 8th graders all get a 10, regardless of effort or quality of work performed this year.
10:50 am: Well hello again, 1F. Please just... um... color. Please stop yelling. Okay, stop yelling now. You probably shouldn't swing between the chairs. Is there a reason you cannot stop running? Why is it that you aren't listening to a thing I say? Okay, just talk right over me. None of these songs are working. None of these tricks are working. Please just color. Don't mind me, I'll just be strangling myself with this scarf. No worries.
11:31 am: Seriously. So. Close.
11:32 am: No way has it only been one minute.
11:34 am: Let's count really loudly. Really loudly.
11:35 am: I am free. Freedom. What is this? Such a curious feeling.
11:45 am: This chicken tastes really good.
12:19 pm: Why isn't Vodaphone open? That isn't very nice, because I need more credit on my phone. Who takes a lunch break, seriously?
12:35 pm: Sleep. It's rather glorious.
And then the rest of the day happened.
6:47 am: Reset alarms for 7:15 am and crash.
7:30 am: Wake up in a start (thank goodness for half consciousness) and jump out of bed, throw clothing on, french braid my hair (dang, I really should have showered...) and grab my bag.
7:35 am: Walk like a zombie to school. Pretty sure I saw one of my students walking with his mom, but I don't have a lot of recollection about the journey.
8:00 am: Oh my goodness. I don't think I can do this. 1F will be the death of my spirit and creative potential and life force... twice today.
8:45 am: Yeah, I'm taking a ten minute nap in the teacher's bathroom.
8:55 am: Can 9:40 get here soon enough? Because having 1A once a week is difficult enough, let alone two days in a row.
9:40 am: Back to the teacher's bathroom for nap time.
10:00 am: Woops. I missed that bell. I should probably go to class. Except. Ugh... I have nothing to do with these students because there are only 2 classes left and I finished the unit yesterday. Bring on the 45 minutes (well, 40 :) of making crap up. Oh, and eating bread.
10:40 am: Okay, I can hang in the teacher's lounge and pad a certain amount of grades in the catalog to ensure my 8th graders all get a 10, regardless of effort or quality of work performed this year.
10:50 am: Well hello again, 1F. Please just... um... color. Please stop yelling. Okay, stop yelling now. You probably shouldn't swing between the chairs. Is there a reason you cannot stop running? Why is it that you aren't listening to a thing I say? Okay, just talk right over me. None of these songs are working. None of these tricks are working. Please just color. Don't mind me, I'll just be strangling myself with this scarf. No worries.
11:31 am: Seriously. So. Close.
11:32 am: No way has it only been one minute.
11:34 am: Let's count really loudly. Really loudly.
11:35 am: I am free. Freedom. What is this? Such a curious feeling.
11:45 am: This chicken tastes really good.
12:19 pm: Why isn't Vodaphone open? That isn't very nice, because I need more credit on my phone. Who takes a lunch break, seriously?
12:35 pm: Sleep. It's rather glorious.
And then the rest of the day happened.
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