10.01.04
After school.
Mr. S: Hey, how was your day?
Me: Let's just say that I'm doing much better now than I was 20 minutes ago.
MS: Fridays!
Me: Gotta love 'em.
MS: So what happened?
Me: (sighing) I don't know, I had to give a kid a referral today and that just made me unhappy for the rest of the day. You know.
MS: These kids are something else! They're out of control! I don't know how you work with middle schoolers all day long!
Me: (laughing) Neither do I!!
MS: I just lost it the other day!
Me: Yeah, I lost my temper the other day, too.
TT: (walking up) Hey guys.
MS: Larry, you probably heard it!
TT: What?
MS: When I lost it the other day.
TT: (laughing) Yeah! I was in my portable, and I hear this guy screaming in the next portable over.
MS: I stood up there in front of the class and I yelled, "You guys are all a bunch of -- (whispering) ASS-HOLES!"
Me: You didn't!
TT: (Laughing) My whole class heard it!
Me: Well, Laney kicks them.
TT: In my first years of teaching, when they'd give me shit, I'd just throw them up against the wall and pin them there, coupla inches off the floor. Those were the days!
MS: Yeah, you can't touch 'em now... too bad!
TT: The other day I walked over to this kid and pounded my fist on his desk so hard that it still hurts!
MS: I grab 'em by the neck sometimes, pretending to be all friendly, but I squeeze hard, and they beg me to let go!!
Me: ................well.... I guess I don't feel so bad for kicking the door open the other day. At least I didn't touch him.
MS: Yeah, good for you! You should get meaner! Kick more doors!
TT: Once I actually tackled a kid, took him down, for flipping me the bird!
MS: Ha ha ha!
Me: Oh my god... I got into teaching thinking I could make a difference... thinking I could make middle school a better place. And now... all my ideals from college are like... PPBBBBBTTTT!!
7th period.
Bronwin: La la la la! I'm hyper! I'm hyper!
Me: Bronwin, chill out.
Bronwin: But... I'm hyper.
Me: Dude, I know. But you need to read today, okay?
Bronwin: ..... did you just call me dude??
Me: Read!
Brownin: (whispering) She called me dude!
Adam: (whispering back) Yeah, that's because she's the COOL teacher!
1st period.
TT: Many people think this election will be a record voter turn out, which means that Bush might be in trouble. Do you know why?
Earl: Oh! Because Bush, like, bombed all those dudes?
TT: Does anyone know how the city of Artesia got its name?
Jerrod: From the President's daughter!
Melody: (beat) What president??
9.30.04
Confession: Yesterday I kicked a student out of my class, and it made my day!! I'd just had enough, so I grabbed his binder and portfolio folder and literally kicked the outside door open and slammed his stuff down on a desk that was sitting outside the art room door. He followed me meekly and I said, "I am so over this!" And then I left him outside and slammed back into my room, and the class was totally quiet for almost 3 whole minutes!
7th period.
Me: Edwin, I'm glad you're back! Without you, our class was so much less...
Edwin: Depressing?
Me: I was going to say fun! I was going to say sunny!
Ty: (whispering) She was going to say depressing!
Gary: Ms. Backes, what's the word that means there are voices in your head that tell you what to do?
Me: Well... like if someone has a mental illness?
Gary: Yeah.
Me: Well, schizophrenia...
Gary: Yeah, that's it!
Me: But you have to be careful how you use that word. Many people use it incorrectly, like if they're talking about having two opinions about a topic, and that's offensive to some people.
Gary: Naw, I know what it means. My mom's, you know, a shrink.
Me: Oh, really?
Gary: Yeah. She has her degree in, you know, shrinkism.
1st.
Jerrod: (trips and falls on his face; stands up and tries to look dignified) It's so hard to fit three people in this one small body!
Evidence that I've become, as my students would say, a "full-pledged" loser....
Bill: Ms. Backes, what would you do if you were invisible?
Me: Um....
Marsha: Sneak up on people?
Bill: Rob a bank?
Andrew: Break into a museum?
Me: Um... no. Probably just the same stuff as always.
Bill:
Marsha:
Andrew:
Me: But invisibility isn't that interesting to me. If I could have any magical power, it would be the ability to instantly transport myself to anywhere in the world.
Marsha: Cool! Where would you go?
Me: (excessively excited) I'd transport myself home during my prep period and walk the dog!
Kids: Uuaaghh.
Me: Or visit my friends across the world. I'd go to Africa!
Bill: Or.... transport yourself in and out of a bank?
Me: ....no, not so much.
Marsha: Wouldn't it be cool if you could stop time!
Me: Oh, that's one I know all about. I used to dream about that power in college.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Well, I'd be sitting in, say, a psych test and realize that I needed to study way more before I took the test. So I'd think about how if I could stop time, I could just leave and study all I needed and then start time and take the test. Oooh, or stop time and take a nap! That way it would be like you wouldn't have to sleep at all!
Bill: Let me get this right. If you could have ANY SUPERPOWER IN THE WORLD, you'd choose powers that would let you walk your dog, sleep, and do more homework?
Me: ...........................well, when you put it that way........ I'm a loser!
Kids: (all nod sadly in agreement)
9.29.04
from my friend Kate:
pet peeve #1: when you're sitting somewhere, waiting for that place to be unlocked, and more and more people come and unsuccessfully try the doors and then sit down and wait with you, and yet every new person to arrive also must try all the doors and determine for himself that it is, indeed, still locked. No, asshole, we're all sitting outside the forum for the hell of it. But yeah, sure, maybe it'll be like the fucking sword in the stone and it'll magically open for alone and you can be fucking king arthur of the forum.
Only it's a bunch of 12 year olds, and instead of just rattling the doorknob, they rattle, then pound, then throw themselves bodily at the door, and when I finally open it, they yell at me for making them wait for even 30 precious seconds. And that's my day.
5th period.
-- Ms. Backes, why did you fly into the room?
-- Um, what?
-- When you kicked Denny out of the room, remember, when you threw him outside? You flew back into the room. Was it, like, a kickback? Like a shockwave?
-- ....Are you finished with your worksheet?
-- You must have thrown him really hard, huh??
6th period.
[the class and I get into a fight about whether or not my drawing of a cow does, in fact, look like a cow]
-- Don't worry, Ms. Backes. I used to draw like that too --- in kindergarten!!
7th period.
-- Ms. Backes, can we move our desks by our friends during worktime today?
-- How do you know we're going to have worktime today?
-- Well... you can just... see it... in a teacher.....!
-- Ms. Backes, someone left their ear here! [holding up a bloody plastic ear]
-- Someone left their.... what?? Gross!
-- You can totally tell if a person smokes, just by how they look!
-- Do I smoke?
-- Do I smoke?
-- What about me, do I smoke?
-- You don't smoke, you raise pigs!
9.28.04
7th period.
-- In my classroom, everyone has the right to be safe.
-- Question. Do I have the right to punch him in the face?
-- No.
-- Even if he stole my pencil??
-- Do you think there are certain rights that every human on the planet should have? Joey?
-- Freedom of speech!
-- Summer?
-- Education!
-- Good, Dakota?
-- Um, life? The right to be alive.
-- Good! Arlene?
-- Love whoever you want. Everyone should get that.
-- Good. Jose?
-- The right.... to have a house. And food. And... respect.
-- Very good. Yes, Walt?
-- Yeah, when does this class get over?
6th period.
Tony: I can't believe you said the right to date or marry who you want is the most important! I mean, come on, people! You could be living on the streets!
2nd period.
Melody: (with a "Sponge Bob" blanket around her legs like a long skirt) Look, Ms. Backes! I'm acclimating to the cold climate -- like an Indian!
Jenna: These pencils are sharp! Let's play darts! Ms. Backes, darts!
Me: Jenna, I am not your dartboard.
Every day I have to have an essay question ready for 5th period, so when they start being disrespectful or fighting with one another, I can stop the class discussion and make them write essays instead. Isn't that sad?
Instead of letting myself get down, though, I just try to imagine my current students sitting in some of my college classes, and how the professors would have dealt with them. I particularly like to juxtapose my 7th graders into Steve Andrews' seminar about nature/writing/women, and watch what happens when the kids just won't sit down, or fall out of their seats, or ask 20 times "what are we doing today?" or "when does this class get over?" Or I like to think of Craft of Fiction, if it was full of these jerry-springer-inspired dramatics. I imagine students jumping across the table to attack one another for saying mean things about a story, or yelling, "Mr. Baechtel, can I punch him?? But he said my dialogue was forced!"
02 October 2004
And now, here's something we hope you'll really like....
Ever wondered what it might be like to take a road trip with Donald Rumsfeld? Maybe a little something like this....
"Are parts of the car on fire? Sure. Would we like them not to be? Of course. Have I gone insane from three decades of snorting military-grade rubber cement? Quite possibly. Do we need everything to be perfect for us to go out on the road? Well, that's absurd," says Donald Rumsfeld.
"That's very true," says me. "We cannot make the perfect the enemy of the terrible."
And a link from my friend Kate: Your Lameass Hippie Protests Are Worthless (Kate's title)
Ever wondered what it might be like to take a road trip with Donald Rumsfeld? Maybe a little something like this....
"Are parts of the car on fire? Sure. Would we like them not to be? Of course. Have I gone insane from three decades of snorting military-grade rubber cement? Quite possibly. Do we need everything to be perfect for us to go out on the road? Well, that's absurd," says Donald Rumsfeld.
"That's very true," says me. "We cannot make the perfect the enemy of the terrible."
And a link from my friend Kate: Your Lameass Hippie Protests Are Worthless (Kate's title)
24 September 2004
9.24.04
1st period.
(Current Events)
TT: Has anyone heard about the bizarre rape case in Wisconsin?
Kids: No...
TT: Get this: the woman was 76 years old...
Kids: Aaaaahh! Gross!!
TT: ...and the man, if you could call him that, was 11!!
Kids: AAAAAAHHHHHH!! GROSS!!!!!!!
TT: Which just proves that rape isn't about sex, it's about violence.
Me: Power.
TT: Right! Power! It's about power!
Me: A lot of people don't get that. They think women who "act sexy" are more likely to get raped or... that they somehow "deserve" to be raped, like they were "asking for it." It's not about sex at all, it's about power. No one deserves to be raped, ever.
TT: Like, once I had this student who had missed a bunch of class, so after a few days I asked the other kids where he was. "Didn't you hear?" the kids asked. "He went to jail!" Guess why he went to jail.
Kids: He raped someone?
TT: Right! He raped a lot of people! But it gets worse: he went to jail for raping BABIES!
(New Mexico Trivia)
Q: What town in New Mexico is known as the Chile Capitol of the World?
A: Oooh! Peru!
5th period. (I accidentally let down my guard)
-- Ms. Backes, is that your husband?
-- (me, utterly confused) What? Who?
-- Do you have a husband?
-- Are you married?
-- No, no I don't have a husband.
-- Do you have a BOY FRIEND?? Ooooh, oohhh!
-- (me, laughing) Um....
-- Oh my god, she's blushing!
-- You guys, she's blushing!
-- What's his name?
-- No, no I don't have a husband and I don't have a boyfriend.
-- Yes you do!
-- What's his name??
-- It's Mark, right? I can see it in your eyes!
-- No, it's not Mark, I've never dated a Mark in my whole life.
-- I know, it's Mr. Backes!
-- Yeah, Mr. Backes! You love him!!
-- Okay! I'm not married, and the only Mr. Backes I know is my father.
-- (utter confusion) .... you married your FATHER?
6th period.
Me: You should write a writing prompt on your card, something you'd like the class to write about. It should be something we can all write about. Last class someone said, "How about, the first time I knocked someone out was...." Hopefully this is not a topic everyone can write about!
Bob: But you could, Ms. Backes!
Me: What? Me? I've never knocked someone out in my life!
Special Ed Teacher: [laughs to herself]
Joey: What about that kid on the playground when you were little?
Special Ed Teacher: [laughs out loud] What!
Me: I made him cry, I didn't knock him UNCONSCIOUS!
Ty: What? I never heard that story!
Shawna: She was a bully.
Me: I used to beat kids up on the playground.
Ty: Oh my gosh!
Me: Well, I'm not proud of it!
Joey: Why do you always brag about it, then?
Jay: (reading his free-writing exercise in a quiet, slow voice) I dreamed that I had a pack of dogs that could talk. They became quite vicious....
After school: a note that I found on the floor.
Kaden,
I don't know why I said I did not like you when I do. Kaden will you go out with me?
Yes or No
Yes I will but when your friends ask you will you deny were going out? Will hold hug and hold hands?
No I wont deny we're going out. And yes we will hug and hold hands. I love you!!! :-P
9.22.04
Homeroom.
Andy: Rrrar! Raaaarrr!
Marsha: Ha ha ha! Oooh, I'm scared!
Andy: Rarrrr!
Bill: You wanna fight? Wait, I can't fight you!
Me: Okay, WHAT is going on?
Marsha: We're all scared of Andy.
Me: Why? Andy isn't very scary.
Andy: Maybe not on my own.... but I have a LETHAL WEAPON LUNCHBOX!!
1st period.
(watching a video about Bandelier)
TT: In another class, someone thought that's what the actual pueblo buildings looked like -- piles of crumbling bricks, three feet tall --
Jared: And bulletproof!
Jared: Whatever that guy's smoking, I want some!
TT: Speaking of smoking... Did you know that Native Americans believe that smoking mind altering substances is good for you. It makes you more intelligent, more open, more wise. Marijuana, peyote, mushrooms, acid... marijuana's even legal on the rez. When I coached, one of my star players got pregnant, and she had to take a weekend off so she could do peyote so she would have a smart baby!
Me: What? Drugs make you stupid!
Brad: How do you know, Ms. Backes?
Me: I just do. Everyone does! Peyote won't make your baby smart!
Jared: Legal pot! I'm moving to the rez!
Me: Aaaargh!
Team Teacher: So on the test tomorrow you have to pick five of the six essay questions to answer. Hint. Pick the ones you know.
Jared: Question. What if you don't know any of the essay answers?
Class:
Liz: Then you're screwed.
2nd period.
Melody: Ms Backes, who wrote this [sample essay paper]?
Me: Oh, just someone.
Brad: But WHO?
Me: A student. It was a long time ago.
Jimmy: [looking at the paper] Yeah, 1995? That's, like, prehistoric!
Brad: Seriously, who wrote it?
Me: No one.
Melody: Tell us, Ms Backes!
Me: Okay, okay. I wrote it, when I was about your age.
Class: [stunned silence]
Brad: But -- but -- it has big words! You must be really smart!
Me: Anyway.
Melody: You ARE smart, Ms Backes! You're way too smart to be a teacher!
Me: Now what does that mean? You don't want smart teachers? Dumb teachers of America unite?
Brad: Yeah, cause dumb teachers wouldn't make us work so hard!
(later)
Brad: Ms. Backes, why do you make us work so hard? You're evil!
Me: [making little wiggly devil horns over my head]
Bill: [laughs to himself]
Brad: I'm serious, Ms. Backes! It's too early in the morning! This assignment is too hard! Why do we have to do all three articles? Why do we have to write a paper?
Me: Because I answer directly to Satan.
Brad: !!
Bill: [looking between Brad & me, silently shaking with laughter]
Brad: .... really?
Me: No! It's because I know you're smart and capable and I'm trying to help you become a better critical thinker!
Brad: Like I said. You're evil.
1st period.
(Current Events)
TT: Has anyone heard about the bizarre rape case in Wisconsin?
Kids: No...
TT: Get this: the woman was 76 years old...
Kids: Aaaaahh! Gross!!
TT: ...and the man, if you could call him that, was 11!!
Kids: AAAAAAHHHHHH!! GROSS!!!!!!!
TT: Which just proves that rape isn't about sex, it's about violence.
Me: Power.
TT: Right! Power! It's about power!
Me: A lot of people don't get that. They think women who "act sexy" are more likely to get raped or... that they somehow "deserve" to be raped, like they were "asking for it." It's not about sex at all, it's about power. No one deserves to be raped, ever.
TT: Like, once I had this student who had missed a bunch of class, so after a few days I asked the other kids where he was. "Didn't you hear?" the kids asked. "He went to jail!" Guess why he went to jail.
Kids: He raped someone?
TT: Right! He raped a lot of people! But it gets worse: he went to jail for raping BABIES!
(New Mexico Trivia)
Q: What town in New Mexico is known as the Chile Capitol of the World?
A: Oooh! Peru!
5th period. (I accidentally let down my guard)
-- Ms. Backes, is that your husband?
-- (me, utterly confused) What? Who?
-- Do you have a husband?
-- Are you married?
-- No, no I don't have a husband.
-- Do you have a BOY FRIEND?? Ooooh, oohhh!
-- (me, laughing) Um....
-- Oh my god, she's blushing!
-- You guys, she's blushing!
-- What's his name?
-- No, no I don't have a husband and I don't have a boyfriend.
-- Yes you do!
-- What's his name??
-- It's Mark, right? I can see it in your eyes!
-- No, it's not Mark, I've never dated a Mark in my whole life.
-- I know, it's Mr. Backes!
-- Yeah, Mr. Backes! You love him!!
-- Okay! I'm not married, and the only Mr. Backes I know is my father.
-- (utter confusion) .... you married your FATHER?
6th period.
Me: You should write a writing prompt on your card, something you'd like the class to write about. It should be something we can all write about. Last class someone said, "How about, the first time I knocked someone out was...." Hopefully this is not a topic everyone can write about!
Bob: But you could, Ms. Backes!
Me: What? Me? I've never knocked someone out in my life!
Special Ed Teacher: [laughs to herself]
Joey: What about that kid on the playground when you were little?
Special Ed Teacher: [laughs out loud] What!
Me: I made him cry, I didn't knock him UNCONSCIOUS!
Ty: What? I never heard that story!
Shawna: She was a bully.
Me: I used to beat kids up on the playground.
Ty: Oh my gosh!
Me: Well, I'm not proud of it!
Joey: Why do you always brag about it, then?
Jay: (reading his free-writing exercise in a quiet, slow voice) I dreamed that I had a pack of dogs that could talk. They became quite vicious....
After school: a note that I found on the floor.
Kaden,
I don't know why I said I did not like you when I do. Kaden will you go out with me?
Yes or No
Yes I will but when your friends ask you will you deny were going out? Will hold hug and hold hands?
No I wont deny we're going out. And yes we will hug and hold hands. I love you!!! :-P
9.22.04
Homeroom.
Andy: Rrrar! Raaaarrr!
Marsha: Ha ha ha! Oooh, I'm scared!
Andy: Rarrrr!
Bill: You wanna fight? Wait, I can't fight you!
Me: Okay, WHAT is going on?
Marsha: We're all scared of Andy.
Me: Why? Andy isn't very scary.
Andy: Maybe not on my own.... but I have a LETHAL WEAPON LUNCHBOX!!
1st period.
(watching a video about Bandelier)
TT: In another class, someone thought that's what the actual pueblo buildings looked like -- piles of crumbling bricks, three feet tall --
Jared: And bulletproof!
Jared: Whatever that guy's smoking, I want some!
TT: Speaking of smoking... Did you know that Native Americans believe that smoking mind altering substances is good for you. It makes you more intelligent, more open, more wise. Marijuana, peyote, mushrooms, acid... marijuana's even legal on the rez. When I coached, one of my star players got pregnant, and she had to take a weekend off so she could do peyote so she would have a smart baby!
Me: What? Drugs make you stupid!
Brad: How do you know, Ms. Backes?
Me: I just do. Everyone does! Peyote won't make your baby smart!
Jared: Legal pot! I'm moving to the rez!
Me: Aaaargh!
Team Teacher: So on the test tomorrow you have to pick five of the six essay questions to answer. Hint. Pick the ones you know.
Jared: Question. What if you don't know any of the essay answers?
Class:
Liz: Then you're screwed.
2nd period.
Melody: Ms Backes, who wrote this [sample essay paper]?
Me: Oh, just someone.
Brad: But WHO?
Me: A student. It was a long time ago.
Jimmy: [looking at the paper] Yeah, 1995? That's, like, prehistoric!
Brad: Seriously, who wrote it?
Me: No one.
Melody: Tell us, Ms Backes!
Me: Okay, okay. I wrote it, when I was about your age.
Class: [stunned silence]
Brad: But -- but -- it has big words! You must be really smart!
Me: Anyway.
Melody: You ARE smart, Ms Backes! You're way too smart to be a teacher!
Me: Now what does that mean? You don't want smart teachers? Dumb teachers of America unite?
Brad: Yeah, cause dumb teachers wouldn't make us work so hard!
(later)
Brad: Ms. Backes, why do you make us work so hard? You're evil!
Me: [making little wiggly devil horns over my head]
Bill: [laughs to himself]
Brad: I'm serious, Ms. Backes! It's too early in the morning! This assignment is too hard! Why do we have to do all three articles? Why do we have to write a paper?
Me: Because I answer directly to Satan.
Brad: !!
Bill: [looking between Brad & me, silently shaking with laughter]
Brad: .... really?
Me: No! It's because I know you're smart and capable and I'm trying to help you become a better critical thinker!
Brad: Like I said. You're evil.
21 September 2004
9.21.04
1st period.
MB: Okay, if I said, "Julie is a jerkhead," would that be fact or opinion?
Class: FACT.
MB: Um. Okay. Let's back up. If I said, "Ms. Backes is a teacher," is that fact or opinion?
Class: FACT.
MB: Why?
Bill: Because you teach.
MB: Right. I do teach classes, and I get paid to teach, and I have a teaching license. That's three pieces of evidence we can point to. Whereas, if I said, "Julie is a jerkhead," can you point to a license she has saying so? Is she a card-carrying jerkhead? Did some federal judge decree her to be a jerkhead, officially?
Class: (thinking really hard) .....no......
MB: So if there's no evidence, how could it be a fact?
Ellen: I don't get it.
MB: Okay, think about it this way. Is it possible that someone else in the world thinks Julie is not a jerkhead?
Class: ....maybe....
MB: Can it be a fact if two different people have two different opinions about it?
Class:
Class:
Class: .... Oh! I get it!!
MB: Whew!
AND I used the story about the deaf people on Martha's Vineyard to talk about the social construction of, you know, EVERYTHING. I never thought I'd say this, but thanks, exceptional child!!
7th period.
Cody: Ms. Backes, can our conflict be that I'm a werewolf who can talk?
Me: .... So, what's the conflict?
Cody: And I eat people?
Me: So... the conflict is that it's hard to talk with your mouth full of people?
Cody: Um... nah.
Me: Okay... so maybe your conflict would be that the people don't want to be eaten.
Cody: Oh, yeah! Good one, Miss B!
9.20.04
1st period.
(I've been outside giving a makeup test, and come in halfway through THIS video....)
Video: [Xmas music playing, mom & daughter happily making cookies, little boy playing with game boy by xmas tree, dad on computer, happy dog and cat curled up by fire, sweet little birdie in cage in kitchen. Joy to the world, etc.]
Narrator on Video: Have you ever thought about how many things you have in your power grid? Computer, microwave, blender, clock radio. Imagine if all of these things gained a life of their own and decided they didn't like you.
Video: [Xmas music gets all screechy, man's computer starts flashing "THE END IS NEAR!!", little girl gets attacked by waffle iron, little boy gets attacked by christmas tree.]
My Team Teacher: I'm not putting up a christmas tree in 2012, that's for sure!
Me: [stunned and speechless in the back of the room]
Narrator on Video: Cats, dogs, pet parakeets, they'll all attack.
Video: [Shots of angry screechy cat and dog, parakeet basically explodes out through its cage.]
Narrator: Chickens, turkeys, horses, they'll all begin to talk and tell us of all our sins against them.
Student: We're all gonna die!
Narrator: This is what will happen on December 21, 2012.... ON THE DAY THE WORLD ENDS IN FLAMES.
Kids: Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!
Team Teacher: [strolling to VCR] Pretty scary, huh? Of course, that's just one theory about the end of the world, from the ancient Mayans.
Kids: Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!! We're all gonna die!!
(later)
Me: Um, that video was pretty over-the-top, don't you think?
Team Teacher: Yeah, but I did a pretty good job of emphasizing that it was just a theory, didn't I?
Me: Um...... no. I'm pretty sure the kids got stuck on the "we're all going to die" part, and missed the "or so one theory goes" part.
Team Teacher: Did you know that we are 99.99% genetically identical to chimps?
Jared: My dad says I am! My dad says I'm closer!
TT: There is a consistency around the world of alien intervention.
TT: All schoolchildren in India are taught that white people come from Mars!
Kids: What? That's weird!
TT: It's true!
Me: Wait a minute. I don't know that that IS true. I have several friends from India, and none of them has ever accused me of being from Mars.
TT: Well, maybe not EVERYONE learns that.... but most.
Carly: [turns around and smiles at me, as if to say "don't worry Ms. Backes, we all know that Mr. K is completely demented"]
TT: Let me ask you this. The teachers in India teach this as fact, but what do you think would happen to a teacher here if they were teaching it?
Kids: They'd get fired!
TT: Right!
Me: [strangling myself] Arrrghh! The irony!
6th period.
Me: A conflict is when someone WANTS something, and something stands in their way. For example, if I wanted to put this pencil on that desk, that's not a conflict. But --
Joey: If there was a NINJA.....
Me: Um, right. If there was a ninja standing here, that would be a conflict, because something is standing between me and the desk.
Joey: A NINJA!
Kellie: Or if you had no legs!
Me: True. It would be a conflict if I wanted to get to that desk, but I didn't have legs to get there.
Dave: You're pretty tall. You could probably just lean over and set it there.
Me: Ah, but not if I didn't have legs! Then I'd be short!
7th period.
Me: You should have your blue sheet in front of you.
Class: chatter chatter mumble murmur chitter giggle mumble mumble
Me: Blue sheet. In front of you. Blue.
Class: talky chatter mumble mumble murmur giggle mumble chatter whisper
Kid: Ms Backes, what do we need?
Me: Your blue sheet. Out in front of you. Blue sheet.
Class: whisper mumble mumble chatter giggle! mumble chatter chitter talky talky
Me: OH MY GOD.
Class:
Me: You know what I feel like? When Dorothy's house crashes in Oz, and she steps out and all the munchkins are going [munchkin voice] "mutter mutter whisper whisper mumble chatter mumble giggle query chatter talky." And Dorothy stands there totally overwhelmed by the muttering munchkins. That's how I feel!!
Class: Are WE the munchkins?
Me: YOU are paying my therapy bills if you don't get out your blue sheets!
Class: Blue sheets? What blue sheets? What did she say? What do we need? I don't have a blue sheet!
Me: [running for the nearest padded room] Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!
I feel so mentally ill today.
The upside is that I made up a good way of remembering teaching 1st/2nd/3rd person POV on the spot today: They couldn't get the difference between the three, so I had two kids come up and stand in a line beside me. I said, "**I** am first. I am first in line." Turned to Ciera. "You are second. YOU are the second one in line." Pointed over her head to Amy. "SHE is third. SHE is third in line." Then I said, "Now when you're trying to remember, just think of me turning to Ciera and telling her YOU are second. And Amy back there, SHE is third. And of course, I am first, because I am always first."
9.17.04
5th period. (free reading)
Kid: Ms. Backes, someone farted!
Me: [rolling eyes]
Class: giggle giggle.
Class: giggle giggle!
Class: Giggle giggle GIGGLE GIGGLE!!!
Me: Guy, you're supposed to be SILENTLY reading. Please get control of yourselves!
Kid: AND YOUR FARTS!!
Class: HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!
7th period.
Me: Okay, gang. Don't forget that Sunday is National Talk Like a Pirate Day!
Eddie: Do we get extra credit if we do?
Me: What?
Eddie: Do we get extra credit if we talk like a pirate?
Jimmy: Aarrrrr, me matey! Extra credit or walk the plank!
More great lines from 7th grade stories:
From The Year
“By the Jocks booth there was the Cheerleader stand. Maybe I could be a cheerleader. I started to walk up to the stand. When one of the girls stared at me straight in the eye. It was a cold dark stare, like she was saying this is not for you go away your blocking the sign. Suddenly I turned away. I realized why she stared at me like that. I was a short thin blond with glasses who still wore overalls to school. I was a full pledged nerd.”
From The first day of 7th grade
“We had to get our schedule. Then we had to meet all our teachers. Veronica! I saw her! She is the cutest girl out of the 7th and 8th grade. I like her but I don’t think she likes me.”
From 7th Grade Students Who Are Happy
"She hates history, but she likes him."
"She closed her locker and her best friend."
From 7th Grade Blues
"Being a mutant was not normal."
1st period.
MB: Okay, if I said, "Julie is a jerkhead," would that be fact or opinion?
Class: FACT.
MB: Um. Okay. Let's back up. If I said, "Ms. Backes is a teacher," is that fact or opinion?
Class: FACT.
MB: Why?
Bill: Because you teach.
MB: Right. I do teach classes, and I get paid to teach, and I have a teaching license. That's three pieces of evidence we can point to. Whereas, if I said, "Julie is a jerkhead," can you point to a license she has saying so? Is she a card-carrying jerkhead? Did some federal judge decree her to be a jerkhead, officially?
Class: (thinking really hard) .....no......
MB: So if there's no evidence, how could it be a fact?
Ellen: I don't get it.
MB: Okay, think about it this way. Is it possible that someone else in the world thinks Julie is not a jerkhead?
Class: ....maybe....
MB: Can it be a fact if two different people have two different opinions about it?
Class:
Class:
Class: .... Oh! I get it!!
MB: Whew!
AND I used the story about the deaf people on Martha's Vineyard to talk about the social construction of, you know, EVERYTHING. I never thought I'd say this, but thanks, exceptional child!!
7th period.
Cody: Ms. Backes, can our conflict be that I'm a werewolf who can talk?
Me: .... So, what's the conflict?
Cody: And I eat people?
Me: So... the conflict is that it's hard to talk with your mouth full of people?
Cody: Um... nah.
Me: Okay... so maybe your conflict would be that the people don't want to be eaten.
Cody: Oh, yeah! Good one, Miss B!
9.20.04
1st period.
(I've been outside giving a makeup test, and come in halfway through THIS video....)
Video: [Xmas music playing, mom & daughter happily making cookies, little boy playing with game boy by xmas tree, dad on computer, happy dog and cat curled up by fire, sweet little birdie in cage in kitchen. Joy to the world, etc.]
Narrator on Video: Have you ever thought about how many things you have in your power grid? Computer, microwave, blender, clock radio. Imagine if all of these things gained a life of their own and decided they didn't like you.
Video: [Xmas music gets all screechy, man's computer starts flashing "THE END IS NEAR!!", little girl gets attacked by waffle iron, little boy gets attacked by christmas tree.]
My Team Teacher: I'm not putting up a christmas tree in 2012, that's for sure!
Me: [stunned and speechless in the back of the room]
Narrator on Video: Cats, dogs, pet parakeets, they'll all attack.
Video: [Shots of angry screechy cat and dog, parakeet basically explodes out through its cage.]
Narrator: Chickens, turkeys, horses, they'll all begin to talk and tell us of all our sins against them.
Student: We're all gonna die!
Narrator: This is what will happen on December 21, 2012.... ON THE DAY THE WORLD ENDS IN FLAMES.
Kids: Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!
Team Teacher: [strolling to VCR] Pretty scary, huh? Of course, that's just one theory about the end of the world, from the ancient Mayans.
Kids: Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!! We're all gonna die!!
(later)
Me: Um, that video was pretty over-the-top, don't you think?
Team Teacher: Yeah, but I did a pretty good job of emphasizing that it was just a theory, didn't I?
Me: Um...... no. I'm pretty sure the kids got stuck on the "we're all going to die" part, and missed the "or so one theory goes" part.
Team Teacher: Did you know that we are 99.99% genetically identical to chimps?
Jared: My dad says I am! My dad says I'm closer!
TT: There is a consistency around the world of alien intervention.
TT: All schoolchildren in India are taught that white people come from Mars!
Kids: What? That's weird!
TT: It's true!
Me: Wait a minute. I don't know that that IS true. I have several friends from India, and none of them has ever accused me of being from Mars.
TT: Well, maybe not EVERYONE learns that.... but most.
Carly: [turns around and smiles at me, as if to say "don't worry Ms. Backes, we all know that Mr. K is completely demented"]
TT: Let me ask you this. The teachers in India teach this as fact, but what do you think would happen to a teacher here if they were teaching it?
Kids: They'd get fired!
TT: Right!
Me: [strangling myself] Arrrghh! The irony!
6th period.
Me: A conflict is when someone WANTS something, and something stands in their way. For example, if I wanted to put this pencil on that desk, that's not a conflict. But --
Joey: If there was a NINJA.....
Me: Um, right. If there was a ninja standing here, that would be a conflict, because something is standing between me and the desk.
Joey: A NINJA!
Kellie: Or if you had no legs!
Me: True. It would be a conflict if I wanted to get to that desk, but I didn't have legs to get there.
Dave: You're pretty tall. You could probably just lean over and set it there.
Me: Ah, but not if I didn't have legs! Then I'd be short!
7th period.
Me: You should have your blue sheet in front of you.
Class: chatter chatter mumble murmur chitter giggle mumble mumble
Me: Blue sheet. In front of you. Blue.
Class: talky chatter mumble mumble murmur giggle mumble chatter whisper
Kid: Ms Backes, what do we need?
Me: Your blue sheet. Out in front of you. Blue sheet.
Class: whisper mumble mumble chatter giggle! mumble chatter chitter talky talky
Me: OH MY GOD.
Class:
Me: You know what I feel like? When Dorothy's house crashes in Oz, and she steps out and all the munchkins are going [munchkin voice] "mutter mutter whisper whisper mumble chatter mumble giggle query chatter talky." And Dorothy stands there totally overwhelmed by the muttering munchkins. That's how I feel!!
Class: Are WE the munchkins?
Me: YOU are paying my therapy bills if you don't get out your blue sheets!
Class: Blue sheets? What blue sheets? What did she say? What do we need? I don't have a blue sheet!
Me: [running for the nearest padded room] Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!
I feel so mentally ill today.
The upside is that I made up a good way of remembering teaching 1st/2nd/3rd person POV on the spot today: They couldn't get the difference between the three, so I had two kids come up and stand in a line beside me. I said, "**I** am first. I am first in line." Turned to Ciera. "You are second. YOU are the second one in line." Pointed over her head to Amy. "SHE is third. SHE is third in line." Then I said, "Now when you're trying to remember, just think of me turning to Ciera and telling her YOU are second. And Amy back there, SHE is third. And of course, I am first, because I am always first."
9.17.04
5th period. (free reading)
Kid: Ms. Backes, someone farted!
Me: [rolling eyes]
Class: giggle giggle.
Class: giggle giggle!
Class: Giggle giggle GIGGLE GIGGLE!!!
Me: Guy, you're supposed to be SILENTLY reading. Please get control of yourselves!
Kid: AND YOUR FARTS!!
Class: HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!
7th period.
Me: Okay, gang. Don't forget that Sunday is National Talk Like a Pirate Day!
Eddie: Do we get extra credit if we do?
Me: What?
Eddie: Do we get extra credit if we talk like a pirate?
Jimmy: Aarrrrr, me matey! Extra credit or walk the plank!
More great lines from 7th grade stories:
From The Year
“By the Jocks booth there was the Cheerleader stand. Maybe I could be a cheerleader. I started to walk up to the stand. When one of the girls stared at me straight in the eye. It was a cold dark stare, like she was saying this is not for you go away your blocking the sign. Suddenly I turned away. I realized why she stared at me like that. I was a short thin blond with glasses who still wore overalls to school. I was a full pledged nerd.”
From The first day of 7th grade
“We had to get our schedule. Then we had to meet all our teachers. Veronica! I saw her! She is the cutest girl out of the 7th and 8th grade. I like her but I don’t think she likes me.”
From 7th Grade Students Who Are Happy
"She hates history, but she likes him."
"She closed her locker and her best friend."
From 7th Grade Blues
"Being a mutant was not normal."
17 September 2004
9.16.04
In case anyone has been questioning the influence of my conspiracy theory team teacher....
-- So let's pick an example most people know. The Lion King. What would the climax of the Lion King be?
-- Oooh, Ms. Backes, I know!
-- Yes?
-- Um, when Mufasa dies?
-- Well, that's pretty dramatic, but it's not the MOST dramatic....
-- I know! I know! When he has a baby!
-- Getting closer....
-- When Nala almost eats the little guy! Timon!
-- Again, though that was dramatic, and it was a turning point, it didn't answer the central question of the movie, which was: Will Simba overcome the shame and guilt he feels at his father's death to take his rightful place at the head of the pride? What part of the movie answered that question?
--
--
-- Oh! I know!
-- Yes?
-- When Mufasa dies!
--
--
-- Okay, here's a hint. The climax comes near the end of the story.
-- Um......... Scar?
-- What about Scar?
-- When they fight?
-- Yes! Right! The battle between Scar and Simba, when they battle for control of the pride. Remember? It's the MOST dramatic! They're fighting, and everything's in flames, and the flames are leaping higher, and the hyenas are licking their chops, waiting to move in, and the winner takes all! And then Scar falls into the pit and the hyenas eat him! SUCH drama! That's the climax! And remember, we talked about how the climax is the final turning point in the story, so after that scene it starts raining and there's food again and Simba's the king and everyone's happy. The end.
-- Ms Backes! Ms Backes!
-- What?
-- I figured it out, I figured it out!
-- Figured what out?
-- I figured out when it is?
-- When what is, the climax?
-- No, when the Lion King is?
-- What?
-- When it happens.
-- Uh... okay. When does it happen.
-- On December 21, 2012!
-- Okay.... why?
-- Because Mr. K said that that's when the world will end, and everything will be burning, and all the animals will talk to us and tell us how bad we are, and the machines will all turn and attack us!
-- (oh. my. god.) You know, I don't think Mr. K actually believes that, I think he was talking about what some people believe a Mayan calendar predicts.
-- No, he does! He said we'd better be nice to the animals, or they'll tell us how bad we are before they kill us!
-- Ms. Backes, did she say 2012? That's only 8 years away!
-- I'll be 28 then!
-- You're twelve.
-- Yeah, if the world's gonna end in 8 years, so why do we have to learn about plots or whatever?
-- Yeah, what we should be learning is how to fight machines!
-- Yeah!
Why is it that so many of the conversations I have with students leave me feeling like Ricky Ricardo? It's a combination of disbelief and desperation and, secretly, amusement. Oh, Lucy!
9.15.04
Middle Schoolers on Love:
from 7th Grade
"The next day Johnathon asked Lidia if she was ready to hold hands and she said yes. So they held hands during classes and between classes. At lunch Johnathon and Lidia hugged and went to hang out with their friends. Johnathon told his friends he was going to kiss Lidia, and Lidia told her friends she was going to kiss Johnathon. So at the end of the day they went to each other and kissed. They both blushed then kissed again. The next day every one started to hang out with Lidia and her friends. The end."
from Her First Love, but Not His.
"She was still happy though just because she was going out with him. Every second of the day she felt goodness flow through her body. Until after 7th period when he told her that he had lost interest in her and that he wanted to break up with her. She was so crushed she actually loved him more than anything in the world. After she kept trying to get him back even if it took to break him up with every one of his girlfriends...."
from I Made a Fool of myself
"There was this boy named Nick and he was a geek. He had fore friends and they were geeks too. Nick licked a girl name was Christina and she was a popular girl. One day he went up to her and said hi how are you doing and she said go away.... He licked Christina, but Nick still licked her. She picked the pop star because Nick was a loser.... His friends didn't lick him anymore."
from Alex Found Her Guy
"He saw her and walked towererd Alex and Taylor. He asked Taylor to the dance they had announced that morning. Of course she said yes!!! They ended up dating!!!"
from Love at First Fight
"After that Ashley apologized to Derrick (after he got out of OSS) and they were best friends through high school. Then Derrick proposed to her at their senior prom. They got married four years later after collage and had three kids together."
from A Hidden Love
"He kissed Josh smack dab on the lips, and then he shoved a piece of paper into his hand and ran off. Josh stood rooted to the spot unable to speak. He went outside, opened the piece of paper, and leaped into the air with joy. Once P.E. was over he ran to the library and checked out as many books as he could find on grammar for this is what the note had said:
Listen up, I love you
Meet me at my house at
5:00 to practice my grammar
See you
Alex
And from then on they were more than friends. They were lovers."
9.14.04
1st period.
(after playing VOCAB CIRCLE OF DEATH! -- which would have gone a little more smoothly if a certain student hadn't dropped his vocab word underneath the portable, aka trailer, where our class meets....)
Me: Okay, gang, do you feel more prepared for the vocab test tomorrow?
Class: Yes!
Me: Is that an activity we should do again?
Class: YES!
Me: And are you ready to learn now?
Class: YES!
Me: Good, because we're learning about APA reference style for your bibliographies.
Class: Wait -- no! Not ready to learn! Ready to sleep!
Jared: Ms. Backes, you tricked us! That was so cheap -- even for you!
9.13.04
Most jaw-dropping moment of the day:
My team-teacher, a NEW MEXICO HISTORY TEACHER, turns to me in the library during research time today and casually asks,
"So, who is this O'Keeffe person, anyway?"
WHAT??!!?
While I was busy cramming my bulging eyeballs back into my skull, he went on: I know she's a writer, but what does she write?
Me: (in utter shock and disbelief) Georgia O'Keeffe?? Um, she was an artist. She was THE artist.
Him: So.... she's from New Mexico?
Me: Well, she was from Wisconsin, actually, but she's the number one artist everyone associates with New Mexico. No other artist so famously captured this landscape.
Him: So.... she's a painter, or what?
Me: Um, yeah. A painter.
Him: So like, what does she paint?
Me: Um. Flowers, and skulls, and.... Okay. Let me find a book and show you her work. I can't explain Georgia O'Keeffe.
Him: I've always heard the name, but I never really knew who she was. So where does she live?
Me: ..... at Ghost Ranch? Up near Abiquiqu?
Him: Hmm.
Me: Also? She's dead.
Him: Oh, really?
Me: Um, yeah. She first came out here in the 20s, I think. Moved out here in the 30s or 40s. She lived to be pretty old, but I'm pretty sure she's been dead for at least 20 years.
Kid: Are you talking about Georgia O'Keeffe? I love her! I was just looking at a book of her paintings!
Me: Would you go grab it for me?
Kid: Sure! Here it is!
Me: (showing my team teacher) See, she painted skulls... crosses... flowers.... and the land.... She said, "New Mexico -- I loved it immediately. From then on, I was always on my way back."
Him: Hey, this painting really looks like New Mexico!
Me: [[staggering out of library and collapsing with the strain of how fucking bizarre my life is]]
6th period.
MB: (conferencing with students about progress reports) Ellery?
Ellery: (running back) I better have an A or B! Do I have an A or B?
MB: (calmly taking his progress report) Well, let's see....
Ellery: You'd better write A or B, or I'll shoot you!
MB: Ellery Jones, you did NOT just say that to me.
Ellery: Whoops! I was just kidding!
MB: That's the kind of thing that is NEVER okay to say!
Ellery: I was just kidding, Mrs. Backes! I'm going to teach you how to play Yu-Gi-Oh!
MB: Okay. Wait, WHAT?
1st period.
Anna: Ms. Backes?
MB: Yes?
Anna: Jenny says your brain never grows, but I say she's wrong.
MB: Well....
Jenny: I'm totally right, Anna!
MB: Think about it this way: if you were born with an adult-sized brain, wouldn't you have a freakishly large head, for a baby?
Anna and Jenny: ............ EWWWWW!!! That would be so gross!!
9.10.04
Picture Day!
2nd period.
-- Ms. Backes, I HATE picture day!
-- Me too.
-- Me too!
-- Everyone hates picture day. Suffer.
-- But Ms. Backes, what if my picture is UGLY?
-- Look, my 8th grade picture was so ugly, my mother refused to have it in her office. She just kept my 7th grade picture up for two years.
-- That's mean!
-- Well, I *was* pretty ugly.
-- Ms. Backes, that's nothing! In my kindergarten picture, I had horns!
9.9.04
last night.
Me: I'm working on a media bias analysis mini-unit for my Humanities block. Every Friday we "do current events," but all that involves is Larry standing in front of the room talking about what's going on.
Teacher Friend Camille: ....in the universe! Ha!
Me: Last week, I asked the kids to bring in articles and summarize them, and half of their summaries sounded like, "Rich Ford is having a huge sale next week!"
TFC: I know. I tell my students to bring in controversial articles, and they bring in "Woman, 26, Murdered."
Me: Um, Miss? I object. How do we REALLY know she was murdered?
TFC: Yeah, that wasn't murder! She was asking for it!
Me: It was a mercy killing!
TFC: She had no right being out after dark in that sweatsuit anyway.
Me & TFC:
Me: .... oh, god! I can't believe I tricked anyone into giving me a teaching license, much less a job. I'm so mentally ill.
TFC: Oh honey, the best ones are the most fucked up!
1st period.
TT: Who can tell me what Linguistics is?
Curtis: Ms. Backes can!
TT: Does anyone know what Linguistics is?
Jared: Oooh! I know! It's a kind of pasta sauce!
5th period.
Kurt: Ms. Backes, Cyndi keeps her money in her (whispers) B-R-A.
Cyndi: So? At least no one tries to steal it that way.
MB: Yeah, I do that too, when I go clubbing.
Every child:
Kurt: YOU go CLUBBING?
MB: Sure.
Cyndi: What clubs do you go to?
MB: Clubs in Albuquerque.
Cyndi: Which ones?
MB: Why, so you can meet me out this weekend?
Cyndi: Yeah!
MB: You're TWELVE.
Cyndi: So? I got into Isleta Casino once!
MB: Anyway.
Kurt: Oh, man, I can't believe you go clubbing! That's so cool!!
(later)
Cyndi: Ms. Backes, you should totally go goth!
MB: Do you think my students would be more likely to do their homework?
Cyndi: Mmmmm... probably not.
MB: Then no.
7th period.
Davey: Hey, Old School!
MB: Did you just call me Old School?
Davey: What? No! I meant the computer!
Charlotte: Ms. Backes, I can't get my thing to work.
MB: What's --
Davey: (calling across the room) Hey Ms Backes!
MB: One moment, please. (to Charlotte) Okay, what --
Jose: Ms. Backes?
MB: Hang on. (to Charlotte) Sorry, wh--
Annabelle: Ms. Backes!
MB: Please wait your turn. (to Charlotte) I'm sorry. So what's wrong with you?
Charlotte: (giggling) .....where do I even begin?
MB: Tell me about it!
9.08.04
before school.
You just know there's something wrong when you're sitting in a meeting with one of your colleagues and all you can think whenever he starts to speak is, "Please don't mention the aliens, Larry. Anything but the aliens."
Here's a conversation I have over and over:
Supportive friend: I'm so glad you're teaching!
Me: Thanks.
SF: Well, how's it going?
Me: Pretty well. It's a lot like working in a home for very small, very fast Alzheimer's patients. They get lost a lot.
SF: Well, that sounds fun! So how's that team teaching thing going? That sounded like it would be pretty interesting.
Me: It's going really well! You know, except for the fact that my team-teacher is a conspiracy-theorist who's devoted much of his life to learning the truth of what happened at Area 51 in Roswell, who believes that aliens came down and altered the DNA of early humans, who believes that the Bible is just a big cover-up for what happened to the city of Atlantis, who thinks that quality education is watching another educational video about trout fishing in the San Juan, and who looks like he just stepped off the set of "That 70's Show." And the principal keeps describing my working relationship with this man as a "shot-gun wedding." But other than that, great!
4th period.
Brad: Ms. Backes? I don't know how to draw an old person!
MB: Well, how is an old person different than a young person?
Brad: Wrinkles... and liver spots? What else.
MB: Okay, are old people usually tall?
Brad: No. Hunched over!
MB: Right. And are old people usually.....
Brad: Ugly?
MB: I was going to say big.
Brad: No, they're small! (to himself) Small, and ugly.
6th period.
Ellery: (holding up a Yu-Gi-Oh card) Ms. Backes, do you think this looks like you?
Troy: We think it looks just like you!
MB: Oh yeah, just like me! What with the tail and the horns and the claws and all.
9.07.04
6th period.
-- Two questions. One, someone raise a hand and tell me when your revision sheet is due?
-- Ooh! Pick me!
-- Yes?
-- Tomorrow!
-- That's right! Second question. Someone raise a hand and tell me what an acceptable excuse would be for not having your assignment finished and here tomorrow.
-- Um, your dog ate it?
-- Wrong!
-- Um, you couldn't get your locker open?
-- Wrong again!
-- Okay, what if you got really into your TV show and you totally just blanked it?
-- No! That's a terrible excuse!
-- I know! I know! Pick me!
-- Yes?
-- (triumphantly) There IS no excuse!!
-- Ding ding ding! We have a winner!
-- Oh! Oh! Ms Backes! Ms Backes!
-- ... yes?
-- Okay. But what if you, like, get KIDNAPPED? And, um, taken across the border??
-- Hmm. (long pause) Okay. IF you get kidnapped, and IF you can bring me reasonable proof of this fact, like a police report AND a video of the story on the news AND notes from both your parents and your kidnappers, then I guess I'll accept late work. Just this once, though.
--
--
-- Yes?
-- Seriously, you want our KIDNAPPERS to write us a note of excuse?
-- Seriously.
-- (whispering) Dude, you'd better just do your homework.
-- I just let you all get away with murder.
-- Ooh, really?
-- What? No! Obviously, if your murdered someone, you'd get an F!
-- Ms. Backes, how old are you?
-- Guess.
-- Um.... 35?
-- No...
-- 40?
-- 40! Do I look 40? Are you kidding me?
-- Oh. Um.... 29?
-- Nope.
-- 27? 25?
-- Younger.
-- Just tell us!
-- 24.
-- You're so young!
-- I know. You never thought someone so brilliant could be so young.
--
--
-- Not that you're bragging or anything, Ms. Backes.
-- Never.
7th period.
-- Someone raise your hand and tell me a good excuse for not having your homework finished tomorrow.
-- Um, your dog ate it?
-- You forgot?
-- WRONG!
-- Oooh! I know! There IS no good excuse!
-- That's right!
-- Ms Backes? What if your bus, like, crashes, and you are in a coma?
-- Okay. (long pause) Okay. IF your bus crashes and you go into a coma, and IF you bring back a signed note from your doctor along with witness testimony and polaroids of you lying in that hospital bed, then I'll accept late work. Oh, or if you're kidnapped and taken across the border, but only if you bring me police reports and letters from your kidnappers, the border patrol, and your parents.
-- WHAT???
--
--
-- (suspiciously) Ms. Backes, is that, like, just another way of saying that there's no excuse?
In case anyone has been questioning the influence of my conspiracy theory team teacher....
-- So let's pick an example most people know. The Lion King. What would the climax of the Lion King be?
-- Oooh, Ms. Backes, I know!
-- Yes?
-- Um, when Mufasa dies?
-- Well, that's pretty dramatic, but it's not the MOST dramatic....
-- I know! I know! When he has a baby!
-- Getting closer....
-- When Nala almost eats the little guy! Timon!
-- Again, though that was dramatic, and it was a turning point, it didn't answer the central question of the movie, which was: Will Simba overcome the shame and guilt he feels at his father's death to take his rightful place at the head of the pride? What part of the movie answered that question?
--
--
-- Oh! I know!
-- Yes?
-- When Mufasa dies!
--
--
-- Okay, here's a hint. The climax comes near the end of the story.
-- Um......... Scar?
-- What about Scar?
-- When they fight?
-- Yes! Right! The battle between Scar and Simba, when they battle for control of the pride. Remember? It's the MOST dramatic! They're fighting, and everything's in flames, and the flames are leaping higher, and the hyenas are licking their chops, waiting to move in, and the winner takes all! And then Scar falls into the pit and the hyenas eat him! SUCH drama! That's the climax! And remember, we talked about how the climax is the final turning point in the story, so after that scene it starts raining and there's food again and Simba's the king and everyone's happy. The end.
-- Ms Backes! Ms Backes!
-- What?
-- I figured it out, I figured it out!
-- Figured what out?
-- I figured out when it is?
-- When what is, the climax?
-- No, when the Lion King is?
-- What?
-- When it happens.
-- Uh... okay. When does it happen.
-- On December 21, 2012!
-- Okay.... why?
-- Because Mr. K said that that's when the world will end, and everything will be burning, and all the animals will talk to us and tell us how bad we are, and the machines will all turn and attack us!
-- (oh. my. god.) You know, I don't think Mr. K actually believes that, I think he was talking about what some people believe a Mayan calendar predicts.
-- No, he does! He said we'd better be nice to the animals, or they'll tell us how bad we are before they kill us!
-- Ms. Backes, did she say 2012? That's only 8 years away!
-- I'll be 28 then!
-- You're twelve.
-- Yeah, if the world's gonna end in 8 years, so why do we have to learn about plots or whatever?
-- Yeah, what we should be learning is how to fight machines!
-- Yeah!
Why is it that so many of the conversations I have with students leave me feeling like Ricky Ricardo? It's a combination of disbelief and desperation and, secretly, amusement. Oh, Lucy!
9.15.04
Middle Schoolers on Love:
from 7th Grade
"The next day Johnathon asked Lidia if she was ready to hold hands and she said yes. So they held hands during classes and between classes. At lunch Johnathon and Lidia hugged and went to hang out with their friends. Johnathon told his friends he was going to kiss Lidia, and Lidia told her friends she was going to kiss Johnathon. So at the end of the day they went to each other and kissed. They both blushed then kissed again. The next day every one started to hang out with Lidia and her friends. The end."
from Her First Love, but Not His.
"She was still happy though just because she was going out with him. Every second of the day she felt goodness flow through her body. Until after 7th period when he told her that he had lost interest in her and that he wanted to break up with her. She was so crushed she actually loved him more than anything in the world. After she kept trying to get him back even if it took to break him up with every one of his girlfriends...."
from I Made a Fool of myself
"There was this boy named Nick and he was a geek. He had fore friends and they were geeks too. Nick licked a girl name was Christina and she was a popular girl. One day he went up to her and said hi how are you doing and she said go away.... He licked Christina, but Nick still licked her. She picked the pop star because Nick was a loser.... His friends didn't lick him anymore."
from Alex Found Her Guy
"He saw her and walked towererd Alex and Taylor. He asked Taylor to the dance they had announced that morning. Of course she said yes!!! They ended up dating!!!"
from Love at First Fight
"After that Ashley apologized to Derrick (after he got out of OSS) and they were best friends through high school. Then Derrick proposed to her at their senior prom. They got married four years later after collage and had three kids together."
from A Hidden Love
"He kissed Josh smack dab on the lips, and then he shoved a piece of paper into his hand and ran off. Josh stood rooted to the spot unable to speak. He went outside, opened the piece of paper, and leaped into the air with joy. Once P.E. was over he ran to the library and checked out as many books as he could find on grammar for this is what the note had said:
Listen up, I love you
Meet me at my house at
5:00 to practice my grammar
See you
Alex
And from then on they were more than friends. They were lovers."
9.14.04
1st period.
(after playing VOCAB CIRCLE OF DEATH! -- which would have gone a little more smoothly if a certain student hadn't dropped his vocab word underneath the portable, aka trailer, where our class meets....)
Me: Okay, gang, do you feel more prepared for the vocab test tomorrow?
Class: Yes!
Me: Is that an activity we should do again?
Class: YES!
Me: And are you ready to learn now?
Class: YES!
Me: Good, because we're learning about APA reference style for your bibliographies.
Class: Wait -- no! Not ready to learn! Ready to sleep!
Jared: Ms. Backes, you tricked us! That was so cheap -- even for you!
9.13.04
Most jaw-dropping moment of the day:
My team-teacher, a NEW MEXICO HISTORY TEACHER, turns to me in the library during research time today and casually asks,
"So, who is this O'Keeffe person, anyway?"
WHAT??!!?
While I was busy cramming my bulging eyeballs back into my skull, he went on: I know she's a writer, but what does she write?
Me: (in utter shock and disbelief) Georgia O'Keeffe?? Um, she was an artist. She was THE artist.
Him: So.... she's from New Mexico?
Me: Well, she was from Wisconsin, actually, but she's the number one artist everyone associates with New Mexico. No other artist so famously captured this landscape.
Him: So.... she's a painter, or what?
Me: Um, yeah. A painter.
Him: So like, what does she paint?
Me: Um. Flowers, and skulls, and.... Okay. Let me find a book and show you her work. I can't explain Georgia O'Keeffe.
Him: I've always heard the name, but I never really knew who she was. So where does she live?
Me: ..... at Ghost Ranch? Up near Abiquiqu?
Him: Hmm.
Me: Also? She's dead.
Him: Oh, really?
Me: Um, yeah. She first came out here in the 20s, I think. Moved out here in the 30s or 40s. She lived to be pretty old, but I'm pretty sure she's been dead for at least 20 years.
Kid: Are you talking about Georgia O'Keeffe? I love her! I was just looking at a book of her paintings!
Me: Would you go grab it for me?
Kid: Sure! Here it is!
Me: (showing my team teacher) See, she painted skulls... crosses... flowers.... and the land.... She said, "New Mexico -- I loved it immediately. From then on, I was always on my way back."
Him: Hey, this painting really looks like New Mexico!
Me: [[staggering out of library and collapsing with the strain of how fucking bizarre my life is]]
6th period.
MB: (conferencing with students about progress reports) Ellery?
Ellery: (running back) I better have an A or B! Do I have an A or B?
MB: (calmly taking his progress report) Well, let's see....
Ellery: You'd better write A or B, or I'll shoot you!
MB: Ellery Jones, you did NOT just say that to me.
Ellery: Whoops! I was just kidding!
MB: That's the kind of thing that is NEVER okay to say!
Ellery: I was just kidding, Mrs. Backes! I'm going to teach you how to play Yu-Gi-Oh!
MB: Okay. Wait, WHAT?
1st period.
Anna: Ms. Backes?
MB: Yes?
Anna: Jenny says your brain never grows, but I say she's wrong.
MB: Well....
Jenny: I'm totally right, Anna!
MB: Think about it this way: if you were born with an adult-sized brain, wouldn't you have a freakishly large head, for a baby?
Anna and Jenny: ............ EWWWWW!!! That would be so gross!!
9.10.04
Picture Day!
2nd period.
-- Ms. Backes, I HATE picture day!
-- Me too.
-- Me too!
-- Everyone hates picture day. Suffer.
-- But Ms. Backes, what if my picture is UGLY?
-- Look, my 8th grade picture was so ugly, my mother refused to have it in her office. She just kept my 7th grade picture up for two years.
-- That's mean!
-- Well, I *was* pretty ugly.
-- Ms. Backes, that's nothing! In my kindergarten picture, I had horns!
9.9.04
last night.
Me: I'm working on a media bias analysis mini-unit for my Humanities block. Every Friday we "do current events," but all that involves is Larry standing in front of the room talking about what's going on.
Teacher Friend Camille: ....in the universe! Ha!
Me: Last week, I asked the kids to bring in articles and summarize them, and half of their summaries sounded like, "Rich Ford is having a huge sale next week!"
TFC: I know. I tell my students to bring in controversial articles, and they bring in "Woman, 26, Murdered."
Me: Um, Miss? I object. How do we REALLY know she was murdered?
TFC: Yeah, that wasn't murder! She was asking for it!
Me: It was a mercy killing!
TFC: She had no right being out after dark in that sweatsuit anyway.
Me & TFC:
Me: .... oh, god! I can't believe I tricked anyone into giving me a teaching license, much less a job. I'm so mentally ill.
TFC: Oh honey, the best ones are the most fucked up!
1st period.
TT: Who can tell me what Linguistics is?
Curtis: Ms. Backes can!
TT: Does anyone know what Linguistics is?
Jared: Oooh! I know! It's a kind of pasta sauce!
5th period.
Kurt: Ms. Backes, Cyndi keeps her money in her (whispers) B-R-A.
Cyndi: So? At least no one tries to steal it that way.
MB: Yeah, I do that too, when I go clubbing.
Every child:
Kurt: YOU go CLUBBING?
MB: Sure.
Cyndi: What clubs do you go to?
MB: Clubs in Albuquerque.
Cyndi: Which ones?
MB: Why, so you can meet me out this weekend?
Cyndi: Yeah!
MB: You're TWELVE.
Cyndi: So? I got into Isleta Casino once!
MB: Anyway.
Kurt: Oh, man, I can't believe you go clubbing! That's so cool!!
(later)
Cyndi: Ms. Backes, you should totally go goth!
MB: Do you think my students would be more likely to do their homework?
Cyndi: Mmmmm... probably not.
MB: Then no.
7th period.
Davey: Hey, Old School!
MB: Did you just call me Old School?
Davey: What? No! I meant the computer!
Charlotte: Ms. Backes, I can't get my thing to work.
MB: What's --
Davey: (calling across the room) Hey Ms Backes!
MB: One moment, please. (to Charlotte) Okay, what --
Jose: Ms. Backes?
MB: Hang on. (to Charlotte) Sorry, wh--
Annabelle: Ms. Backes!
MB: Please wait your turn. (to Charlotte) I'm sorry. So what's wrong with you?
Charlotte: (giggling) .....where do I even begin?
MB: Tell me about it!
9.08.04
before school.
You just know there's something wrong when you're sitting in a meeting with one of your colleagues and all you can think whenever he starts to speak is, "Please don't mention the aliens, Larry. Anything but the aliens."
Here's a conversation I have over and over:
Supportive friend: I'm so glad you're teaching!
Me: Thanks.
SF: Well, how's it going?
Me: Pretty well. It's a lot like working in a home for very small, very fast Alzheimer's patients. They get lost a lot.
SF: Well, that sounds fun! So how's that team teaching thing going? That sounded like it would be pretty interesting.
Me: It's going really well! You know, except for the fact that my team-teacher is a conspiracy-theorist who's devoted much of his life to learning the truth of what happened at Area 51 in Roswell, who believes that aliens came down and altered the DNA of early humans, who believes that the Bible is just a big cover-up for what happened to the city of Atlantis, who thinks that quality education is watching another educational video about trout fishing in the San Juan, and who looks like he just stepped off the set of "That 70's Show." And the principal keeps describing my working relationship with this man as a "shot-gun wedding." But other than that, great!
4th period.
Brad: Ms. Backes? I don't know how to draw an old person!
MB: Well, how is an old person different than a young person?
Brad: Wrinkles... and liver spots? What else.
MB: Okay, are old people usually tall?
Brad: No. Hunched over!
MB: Right. And are old people usually.....
Brad: Ugly?
MB: I was going to say big.
Brad: No, they're small! (to himself) Small, and ugly.
6th period.
Ellery: (holding up a Yu-Gi-Oh card) Ms. Backes, do you think this looks like you?
Troy: We think it looks just like you!
MB: Oh yeah, just like me! What with the tail and the horns and the claws and all.
9.07.04
6th period.
-- Two questions. One, someone raise a hand and tell me when your revision sheet is due?
-- Ooh! Pick me!
-- Yes?
-- Tomorrow!
-- That's right! Second question. Someone raise a hand and tell me what an acceptable excuse would be for not having your assignment finished and here tomorrow.
-- Um, your dog ate it?
-- Wrong!
-- Um, you couldn't get your locker open?
-- Wrong again!
-- Okay, what if you got really into your TV show and you totally just blanked it?
-- No! That's a terrible excuse!
-- I know! I know! Pick me!
-- Yes?
-- (triumphantly) There IS no excuse!!
-- Ding ding ding! We have a winner!
-- Oh! Oh! Ms Backes! Ms Backes!
-- ... yes?
-- Okay. But what if you, like, get KIDNAPPED? And, um, taken across the border??
-- Hmm. (long pause) Okay. IF you get kidnapped, and IF you can bring me reasonable proof of this fact, like a police report AND a video of the story on the news AND notes from both your parents and your kidnappers, then I guess I'll accept late work. Just this once, though.
--
--
-- Yes?
-- Seriously, you want our KIDNAPPERS to write us a note of excuse?
-- Seriously.
-- (whispering) Dude, you'd better just do your homework.
-- I just let you all get away with murder.
-- Ooh, really?
-- What? No! Obviously, if your murdered someone, you'd get an F!
-- Ms. Backes, how old are you?
-- Guess.
-- Um.... 35?
-- No...
-- 40?
-- 40! Do I look 40? Are you kidding me?
-- Oh. Um.... 29?
-- Nope.
-- 27? 25?
-- Younger.
-- Just tell us!
-- 24.
-- You're so young!
-- I know. You never thought someone so brilliant could be so young.
--
--
-- Not that you're bragging or anything, Ms. Backes.
-- Never.
7th period.
-- Someone raise your hand and tell me a good excuse for not having your homework finished tomorrow.
-- Um, your dog ate it?
-- You forgot?
-- WRONG!
-- Oooh! I know! There IS no good excuse!
-- That's right!
-- Ms Backes? What if your bus, like, crashes, and you are in a coma?
-- Okay. (long pause) Okay. IF your bus crashes and you go into a coma, and IF you bring back a signed note from your doctor along with witness testimony and polaroids of you lying in that hospital bed, then I'll accept late work. Oh, or if you're kidnapped and taken across the border, but only if you bring me police reports and letters from your kidnappers, the border patrol, and your parents.
-- WHAT???
--
--
-- (suspiciously) Ms. Backes, is that, like, just another way of saying that there's no excuse?
04 September 2004
8.30.04
5th period. Today I am wearing knee-high leather boots (under a long black skirt).
Charmagne: Cool boots, Ms. Backes!
Me: Thanks!
Raul: I have a pair just like them at home!
Everyone: WHAT??
Raul: Er... I mean, my MOM has a pair just like them!
7th period.
(study time)
MB: While Topher is taking attendance, you all might want to be studying for your spelling test.
Class: Spelling test? What? I didn't know we had a spelling test? What test? Spelling test! What?? What test?
MB: (going to the board and banging on the daily agenda, where it says "Take Spelling/Vocab Test") Test! You have a test! It has been on the board for days!
Summer: Um, Ms. Backes? Isn't [crotchety old head of department] Mr. Laney on the other side of that wall?
MB: Oh! You're right! (looking around slowly) I'm in way big trouble now!
(five minutes later, Laney's at the door. Summer gives me a knowing look)
MB: Can I help you, Mr. Laney?
COHD: This might be the strangest question you've heard all day....
MB: Oh, I seriously doubt that.
COHD: Are you certified TOESL?
MB: No.
COHD: Okay, just wondering.
MB: We thought you were going to yell at me for banging on your wall!
COHD: Banging on the wall? No, be my guest! It's good for my students. Keeps 'em frightened and guessing.
(spelling test)
MB: Number four. Multicultural. Mul-ti-cul-tu-ral.
Jose: Ooh! Ooh! Question!
MB: Yes?
Jose: Have you ever seen a shaggubullashell?
MB: Sorry, what?
Jose: Have you ever seen a shogguh-bulla-shell?
MB: WHAT?
Jose: Have you ever seen a shotgunbulletshell?
MB: (overly enunciating) A SHOT - GUN - BULLET - SHELL?
Jose: Yeah, have you ever seen one?
MB: NO!
Jose: They're huge! You definitely wouldn't want to get shot by one.
MB: I don't want to get shot by anything! Good heavens!
Jack: They ARE huge!
MB: ANYway! Back to spelling!
(Taking a "memory quiz," aka pre-writing for a short story)
MB: Number two. Who was your best friend or who were your best friends on the first day of seventh grade?
Arlene: The same as they are today!
MB: Okay, fine. Who are your best friends, right now, in your life?
Eddy: Oh! Question! Do past lives count?
MB: Um... no. For now, just write down your best friends from this life. The one you're living right now.
Josh: (whispering to Eddy) I was a snake. So I guess I had snake friends.
[...]
Summer: But what if we don't HAVE any friends?
MB: We all have friends. At least one. Your dog counts.
Davey: I don't have a dog!
MB: (seriously) Thomas Jefferson said, when everything else is said and done, I shall have one friend, deep inside of me.
Jack: Is it his liver??
8.31.04
7th period (of course) reading Gary Soto's "7th Grade"
MB: (reading) ...he had seen in a GQ magazine -- Who knows what that is?
Davey: Um, like a girly magazine?
MB: No... It's a magazine for guys, like the male equivalent of Cosmo or Seventeen. GQ stands for --
Rabbit: Girl Questions?
MB: Um, no. Gentleman's Quarterly.
Rabbit: (disappointed, to himself) Girl Questions is a better name....
9.01.04
(still reading Gary Soto's story "7th Grade")
4th period.
MB: So, why do you think the teacher would help Victor impress his crush?
-- Because he thinks the girl is cute?
-- Yeah, he wants to get with the girl!
MB: What?!? She's twelve!
-- So?
MB: The teacher is a grown-up, and Teresa is a 7th grader. That's just wrong!
-- There's a 20 year difference between my aunt and uncle!
-- Yeah, lots of times girls go for older men!
-- I have a question. How come it's okay for kids to have crushes on teachers, but it's not okay for teachers to have crushes on kids?
-- Yeah, like Arnold has a crush on you, Ms. Backes!
MB: Okay, back to the story!
6th period.
Danny: Uh oh, I forgot to serve lunch detention today.
Drew: With who?
Danny: Mr. C.
Drew: Uh oh! You're in trouble!
Danny: Ms. Backes, can I just stay here and hide out for a few days?
MB: No way! I don't harbor fugitives in this classroom. Personal policy.
Danny: Uh! You used to be cool!
7th period.
Jill: Ms. Backes, since you know French, can you answer a question for me?
MB: I wouldn't say I "know" French. I only know little snippets. But I'll try.
Jill: Okay, what does that song mean? That aloo-something song?
MB: Alouette?
Jill: Yeah, that one!
MB: Um.... a duck? I think it's about a duck.
Darlene: I like ducks!
MB: About killing a duck, maybe? "First we cut off the head, the head..." I'm not sure, though.
Summer: WHAT? It's about killing a duck?? We were singing that in kindergarten!!
Darlene: (whispering in disgust) You little duck killers.
MB: Number four....
Dawn: Wait! I'm not done!
Jose: Hold on!
Darlene: I'm not finished yet!
MB: Okay! Sorry!
MB:
Class:
Class: (tap tap tap)
Class: (Tappity tappity tappity tap tap!)
Class: (TAP TAP TAPPITY TAPPITY TAP TAP!!!)
MB: Alright, tappity tappers, number four: How did Victor try to impress Teresa?
Class:
Class: (tap...tap...tap...)
Class: (tap tap tap)
MB: Stop tapping!
Johnny: I have an idea! When everyone's finished, they should tap on their desks. That way, you'll know when to move on to the next question.
MB: That's a terrible idea!
Johnny: Okay, better idea: When we're finished, we can all bang our heads on the desks!
MB: Number six. Explain the ending of the story. What happened, and why.
Rabbit: Miss? You're very attractive.
MB: Thank you.
Darlene: Ooooh, Alia's getting mad!
Tessa: Ms. Backes, Alia's going to beat you up! She's jealous!
MB: (rolls eyes)
Rabbit: (to Alia) No, baby, I just wanna get an A.
Annabell: He's just sucking up!
MB: Well, I'm glad we've gotten that out in the open.
Tessa: Yeah, Rabbit, stop sucking up!
Rabbit: No! I mean, you are very attractive. Really!
MB:
Rabbit: ....so... do I get an A?
after school.
(grading papers while my team-teacher talks politics)
TT: I always tell kids we're just talking theories. Theories.
MB: Well, that's good. I'm probably too opinionated and angry to teach politics and history.
TT: I know, like in one school district they wanted me to teach Creationism! I refused!
MB: Huh.
TT: To tell the truth, I don't believe in creationism OR evolution! As far as I can tell, the only theory that really makes sense is that aliens came down and genetically altered the original homo sapiens.
MB: Um....
TT: It's in the Sumerian tablets, and in the Indian religious texts too! The aliens came and enslaved the homo erectus, and genetically altered the homo sapiens. Everyone in the persian schools learns about it. Ask any 15 year old Indian boy where the Caucasians come from -- he'll tell you they come from Mars!
9.02.04
4th period.
-- Don't forget that the rough draft of your story is due Tuesday.
-- Question? What's it about?
-- Seventh grade, remember?
-- Does it have to be about 7th grade?
-- Yes. Some aspect of your story must be about 7th grade.
-- Ooh! Question!
-- Yes?
-- Can my story be about BATMAN??
-- Seventh grade.
-- Oh.
--
--
-- .....Oh! Can my story be about BATMAN.... in SEVENTH GRADE??
9.03.04
Andrew: We chose to feature these restaurants in our brochure because we found information that said they were the three most popular.
MB: Why didn't you include the Frontier? Down by the University? It's an Albuquerque landmark!
Karl: Yeah, or that one pizza place!
Andrew: I'm sorry, I'm not FROM Albuquerque. I'm from a magical land of snow. And rain.
Karl: Alaska?
Andrew: Boston.
Mike: What's it like to live in Alaska?
Chelsey: It doesn't rain in Alaska!
Karl: Where's your sled dogs?
MB: Where in Boston are you from? I forgot.
Andrew: Well... Apparently now I'm from Alaska, according to a popular survey done by the Karl Corporation for Public Research.
TT: Who writes these standardized tests?
Jerred: Computers?
Missy: Robots?
Amber: Smart guys in little rooms?
Holly: Psychos?
Karl: I know! The president!
TT: (under his breath, to me) I read that the president has an IQ of 82.
MB: (quietly) Definitely not writing standardized tests. Or we'd really be in trouble!
TT: 82! Isn't that, like, retarded?
6th period.
-- Please don't forget that your rough drafts are due on Tuesday. TUESDAY. Rough drafts.
-- Miss? Question.
-- Yes?
-- You look exactly like my language arts teacher in 5th grade.
-- Well, we probably come from the same factory.
--
--
-- Bu-dum-bah!
--
--
--
-- (from the back, a lone voice) Oh, **I** get it!! HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!
Two moments so great they belong to a cheesy inspirational teaching movie:
Today's poem was "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." It takes about 8 minutes to read. After I finished reading it 7th period ("'till human voices wake us / and we drown"), there was a moment of ringing silence, and then the class spontaneously burst into applause.
Before school this morning, Ernest stopped me in the hall and said, "Can I talk to you after school?" I said, "Of course!" with no idea what was going on. After school, Ernest came up to me and whispered, "The story we're writing about 7th grade?"
"Yes?"
His voice got even quieter. "Can we write it about a homosexual couple that's afraid to express their love?"
My heart stopped, just for a moment. And then I said, "Of course you may."
5th period. Today I am wearing knee-high leather boots (under a long black skirt).
Charmagne: Cool boots, Ms. Backes!
Me: Thanks!
Raul: I have a pair just like them at home!
Everyone: WHAT??
Raul: Er... I mean, my MOM has a pair just like them!
7th period.
(study time)
MB: While Topher is taking attendance, you all might want to be studying for your spelling test.
Class: Spelling test? What? I didn't know we had a spelling test? What test? Spelling test! What?? What test?
MB: (going to the board and banging on the daily agenda, where it says "Take Spelling/Vocab Test") Test! You have a test! It has been on the board for days!
Summer: Um, Ms. Backes? Isn't [crotchety old head of department] Mr. Laney on the other side of that wall?
MB: Oh! You're right! (looking around slowly) I'm in way big trouble now!
(five minutes later, Laney's at the door. Summer gives me a knowing look)
MB: Can I help you, Mr. Laney?
COHD: This might be the strangest question you've heard all day....
MB: Oh, I seriously doubt that.
COHD: Are you certified TOESL?
MB: No.
COHD: Okay, just wondering.
MB: We thought you were going to yell at me for banging on your wall!
COHD: Banging on the wall? No, be my guest! It's good for my students. Keeps 'em frightened and guessing.
(spelling test)
MB: Number four. Multicultural. Mul-ti-cul-tu-ral.
Jose: Ooh! Ooh! Question!
MB: Yes?
Jose: Have you ever seen a shaggubullashell?
MB: Sorry, what?
Jose: Have you ever seen a shogguh-bulla-shell?
MB: WHAT?
Jose: Have you ever seen a shotgunbulletshell?
MB: (overly enunciating) A SHOT - GUN - BULLET - SHELL?
Jose: Yeah, have you ever seen one?
MB: NO!
Jose: They're huge! You definitely wouldn't want to get shot by one.
MB: I don't want to get shot by anything! Good heavens!
Jack: They ARE huge!
MB: ANYway! Back to spelling!
(Taking a "memory quiz," aka pre-writing for a short story)
MB: Number two. Who was your best friend or who were your best friends on the first day of seventh grade?
Arlene: The same as they are today!
MB: Okay, fine. Who are your best friends, right now, in your life?
Eddy: Oh! Question! Do past lives count?
MB: Um... no. For now, just write down your best friends from this life. The one you're living right now.
Josh: (whispering to Eddy) I was a snake. So I guess I had snake friends.
[...]
Summer: But what if we don't HAVE any friends?
MB: We all have friends. At least one. Your dog counts.
Davey: I don't have a dog!
MB: (seriously) Thomas Jefferson said, when everything else is said and done, I shall have one friend, deep inside of me.
Jack: Is it his liver??
8.31.04
7th period (of course) reading Gary Soto's "7th Grade"
MB: (reading) ...he had seen in a GQ magazine -- Who knows what that is?
Davey: Um, like a girly magazine?
MB: No... It's a magazine for guys, like the male equivalent of Cosmo or Seventeen. GQ stands for --
Rabbit: Girl Questions?
MB: Um, no. Gentleman's Quarterly.
Rabbit: (disappointed, to himself) Girl Questions is a better name....
9.01.04
(still reading Gary Soto's story "7th Grade")
4th period.
MB: So, why do you think the teacher would help Victor impress his crush?
-- Because he thinks the girl is cute?
-- Yeah, he wants to get with the girl!
MB: What?!? She's twelve!
-- So?
MB: The teacher is a grown-up, and Teresa is a 7th grader. That's just wrong!
-- There's a 20 year difference between my aunt and uncle!
-- Yeah, lots of times girls go for older men!
-- I have a question. How come it's okay for kids to have crushes on teachers, but it's not okay for teachers to have crushes on kids?
-- Yeah, like Arnold has a crush on you, Ms. Backes!
MB: Okay, back to the story!
6th period.
Danny: Uh oh, I forgot to serve lunch detention today.
Drew: With who?
Danny: Mr. C.
Drew: Uh oh! You're in trouble!
Danny: Ms. Backes, can I just stay here and hide out for a few days?
MB: No way! I don't harbor fugitives in this classroom. Personal policy.
Danny: Uh! You used to be cool!
7th period.
Jill: Ms. Backes, since you know French, can you answer a question for me?
MB: I wouldn't say I "know" French. I only know little snippets. But I'll try.
Jill: Okay, what does that song mean? That aloo-something song?
MB: Alouette?
Jill: Yeah, that one!
MB: Um.... a duck? I think it's about a duck.
Darlene: I like ducks!
MB: About killing a duck, maybe? "First we cut off the head, the head..." I'm not sure, though.
Summer: WHAT? It's about killing a duck?? We were singing that in kindergarten!!
Darlene: (whispering in disgust) You little duck killers.
MB: Number four....
Dawn: Wait! I'm not done!
Jose: Hold on!
Darlene: I'm not finished yet!
MB: Okay! Sorry!
MB:
Class:
Class: (tap tap tap)
Class: (Tappity tappity tappity tap tap!)
Class: (TAP TAP TAPPITY TAPPITY TAP TAP!!!)
MB: Alright, tappity tappers, number four: How did Victor try to impress Teresa?
Class:
Class: (tap...tap...tap...)
Class: (tap tap tap)
MB: Stop tapping!
Johnny: I have an idea! When everyone's finished, they should tap on their desks. That way, you'll know when to move on to the next question.
MB: That's a terrible idea!
Johnny: Okay, better idea: When we're finished, we can all bang our heads on the desks!
MB: Number six. Explain the ending of the story. What happened, and why.
Rabbit: Miss? You're very attractive.
MB: Thank you.
Darlene: Ooooh, Alia's getting mad!
Tessa: Ms. Backes, Alia's going to beat you up! She's jealous!
MB: (rolls eyes)
Rabbit: (to Alia) No, baby, I just wanna get an A.
Annabell: He's just sucking up!
MB: Well, I'm glad we've gotten that out in the open.
Tessa: Yeah, Rabbit, stop sucking up!
Rabbit: No! I mean, you are very attractive. Really!
MB:
Rabbit: ....so... do I get an A?
after school.
(grading papers while my team-teacher talks politics)
TT: I always tell kids we're just talking theories. Theories.
MB: Well, that's good. I'm probably too opinionated and angry to teach politics and history.
TT: I know, like in one school district they wanted me to teach Creationism! I refused!
MB: Huh.
TT: To tell the truth, I don't believe in creationism OR evolution! As far as I can tell, the only theory that really makes sense is that aliens came down and genetically altered the original homo sapiens.
MB: Um....
TT: It's in the Sumerian tablets, and in the Indian religious texts too! The aliens came and enslaved the homo erectus, and genetically altered the homo sapiens. Everyone in the persian schools learns about it. Ask any 15 year old Indian boy where the Caucasians come from -- he'll tell you they come from Mars!
9.02.04
4th period.
-- Don't forget that the rough draft of your story is due Tuesday.
-- Question? What's it about?
-- Seventh grade, remember?
-- Does it have to be about 7th grade?
-- Yes. Some aspect of your story must be about 7th grade.
-- Ooh! Question!
-- Yes?
-- Can my story be about BATMAN??
-- Seventh grade.
-- Oh.
--
--
-- .....Oh! Can my story be about BATMAN.... in SEVENTH GRADE??
9.03.04
Andrew: We chose to feature these restaurants in our brochure because we found information that said they were the three most popular.
MB: Why didn't you include the Frontier? Down by the University? It's an Albuquerque landmark!
Karl: Yeah, or that one pizza place!
Andrew: I'm sorry, I'm not FROM Albuquerque. I'm from a magical land of snow. And rain.
Karl: Alaska?
Andrew: Boston.
Mike: What's it like to live in Alaska?
Chelsey: It doesn't rain in Alaska!
Karl: Where's your sled dogs?
MB: Where in Boston are you from? I forgot.
Andrew: Well... Apparently now I'm from Alaska, according to a popular survey done by the Karl Corporation for Public Research.
TT: Who writes these standardized tests?
Jerred: Computers?
Missy: Robots?
Amber: Smart guys in little rooms?
Holly: Psychos?
Karl: I know! The president!
TT: (under his breath, to me) I read that the president has an IQ of 82.
MB: (quietly) Definitely not writing standardized tests. Or we'd really be in trouble!
TT: 82! Isn't that, like, retarded?
6th period.
-- Please don't forget that your rough drafts are due on Tuesday. TUESDAY. Rough drafts.
-- Miss? Question.
-- Yes?
-- You look exactly like my language arts teacher in 5th grade.
-- Well, we probably come from the same factory.
--
--
-- Bu-dum-bah!
--
--
--
-- (from the back, a lone voice) Oh, **I** get it!! HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!
Two moments so great they belong to a cheesy inspirational teaching movie:
Today's poem was "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." It takes about 8 minutes to read. After I finished reading it 7th period ("'till human voices wake us / and we drown"), there was a moment of ringing silence, and then the class spontaneously burst into applause.
Before school this morning, Ernest stopped me in the hall and said, "Can I talk to you after school?" I said, "Of course!" with no idea what was going on. After school, Ernest came up to me and whispered, "The story we're writing about 7th grade?"
"Yes?"
His voice got even quieter. "Can we write it about a homosexual couple that's afraid to express their love?"
My heart stopped, just for a moment. And then I said, "Of course you may."
28 August 2004
8.26.04
To get ready for our spelling/vocab test tomorrow, the students have paired up and:
1. Defined their word
2. Identified why it might be hard to spell
3. Come up with a trick to remember the spelling
4. Presented it to the rest of the class
4th period
Little girl: (valiently presenting the word assumption) You remember AS and then SUM and then P-before-T-shun.
Other kid: What? As... sum? I don't get it.
Rest of class: (looking at word) GIGGLE GIGGLE!
Little girl: (patiently) AS - SUM - P-before-T-shun.
Class: GIGGLE GIGGLE! Whisper Giggle!
Ms. Backes: Or you could just remember ASS - UMP.
Class: <> Ms. Backes!
Ms. Backes: Oh, right, like you weren't thinking it anyway.
Girl: But... it's a bad word.
Ms. Backes: Yes, and if the bad word helps you remember how to spell, then hallelujah.
Kid (holding a straightened-out paperclip): Ms. Backes, can I stick this in my ear?
7th period
I was checking to see that all the groups had put the definition of their words on the back of their poster, and picked up a poster for the word "assumption." I found:
assumption, n. The act of assing.
At which point I literally laughed out loud. I don't remember the last time I laughed at a child while she was in the classroom, but I couldn't help it.
***
The best thing about today: Choosing someone from each class to read our daily poem in Spanish. Today's poem was Neruda's "Puedo Escribir," and it was so fun to hear it read in pretty Spanish. Also, it gave some exposure to kids who don't seem to get star attention very often (maybe because their English isn't too good) and celebrate the diverse talents and knowledge of the students. Afterwards, I read it again in English, and said that it was -- in my opinion -- the best break-up poem ever written in the history of the universe. Unfortunately, today was a big break-up day, apparently, and I ended up with a kid who'd just been dumped in three different classes. Whoops!
The worst thing about today: Knowing that a bunch of kids are going to get Fs on their poems, because they just didn't do them. Argh. Also, I'm not allowed to accept late work! It's against department policy. But I WANT to accept late work. It's a pain in the ass to grade, but at least then kids always have the option to bring their grades up.... sigh.
***
8.27.04
1st period. I am sitting in the back of the room grading papers while my co-teacher runs a discussion of current events with the students.....
Team Teacher: Lots of good bands come to Albuquerque. Dave Matthews was just here, and the casinos bring in some good bands, big names, too. (Looking at me) Like...
Me: Journey! They were at Sandia Casino recently. That was pretty exciting, especially for --
Alexa: OLD people!
TT: Why is the unemployment rate in New Mexico so high?
Jesse: Because Bush is here!
me:
George: Because Bush is sending jobs overseas!
me:
TT: Um... that might be... a part... um....
TT: Here's a question. Why does everyone hate the U.S. right now?
Jesse: Oooh! I know this one! Because we go to war with EVERYONE! Japan, Iraq, Russia, China, Germany, France....
TT: Sometime I'll try to get a politician to come and speak to the class.
Mallory: You should get Larry Bird to come!
TT: No, he HATES to do that kind of thing. The only way I got him to come and speak at a banquet in Shiprock was by promising to take him trout fishing in the San Juan.
Mallory: Tell him you'll take him fishing again!
Alexa: I know. We'll ALL go fishing with Larry Bird!
Me: That sounds like a cheesy Disney movie. Larry Bird and a bus full of middle schoolers go fishing.
7th period
Jose: Ms. Backes, you look different without your glasses!
MB: Do I look more or less dorky?
Jose: Um....
MB: That was a trick question. No matter how you answer, you'll say I look dorky.
Jose: Oh. Oh! Then.... more!
MB: Thanks, Jose!
MB: A generalization is when you know one person and think that everyone who's similar to them is exactly the same. For example, you know me, and you know that I'm from Wisconsin. So you might think, "Ms. Backes is from Wisconsin, and she's brilliant, so everyone from Wisconsin must be brilliant."
Jose: Um, question? What if we don't think you're brilliant?
MB: What? Okay, get a load of this kid. First he tells me I'm ugly, now he tells me I'm stupid!
Jose: I didn't say ugly! I said dorky!
MB: Sorry. DORKY and stupid.
Class: You said what? What you talkin bout, Jose? You called Ms. Backes stupid?
Rabbit: Man, you're not ugly. If I didn't have a policy of not scamming on my teachers, I'd tell you you look HOT!
Tessa: You just did!
To get ready for our spelling/vocab test tomorrow, the students have paired up and:
1. Defined their word
2. Identified why it might be hard to spell
3. Come up with a trick to remember the spelling
4. Presented it to the rest of the class
4th period
Little girl: (valiently presenting the word assumption) You remember AS and then SUM and then P-before-T-shun.
Other kid: What? As... sum? I don't get it.
Rest of class: (looking at word) GIGGLE GIGGLE!
Little girl: (patiently) AS - SUM - P-before-T-shun.
Class: GIGGLE GIGGLE! Whisper Giggle!
Ms. Backes: Or you could just remember ASS - UMP.
Class: <> Ms. Backes!
Ms. Backes: Oh, right, like you weren't thinking it anyway.
Girl: But... it's a bad word.
Ms. Backes: Yes, and if the bad word helps you remember how to spell, then hallelujah.
Kid (holding a straightened-out paperclip): Ms. Backes, can I stick this in my ear?
7th period
I was checking to see that all the groups had put the definition of their words on the back of their poster, and picked up a poster for the word "assumption." I found:
assumption, n. The act of assing.
At which point I literally laughed out loud. I don't remember the last time I laughed at a child while she was in the classroom, but I couldn't help it.
***
The best thing about today: Choosing someone from each class to read our daily poem in Spanish. Today's poem was Neruda's "Puedo Escribir," and it was so fun to hear it read in pretty Spanish. Also, it gave some exposure to kids who don't seem to get star attention very often (maybe because their English isn't too good) and celebrate the diverse talents and knowledge of the students. Afterwards, I read it again in English, and said that it was -- in my opinion -- the best break-up poem ever written in the history of the universe. Unfortunately, today was a big break-up day, apparently, and I ended up with a kid who'd just been dumped in three different classes. Whoops!
The worst thing about today: Knowing that a bunch of kids are going to get Fs on their poems, because they just didn't do them. Argh. Also, I'm not allowed to accept late work! It's against department policy. But I WANT to accept late work. It's a pain in the ass to grade, but at least then kids always have the option to bring their grades up.... sigh.
***
8.27.04
1st period. I am sitting in the back of the room grading papers while my co-teacher runs a discussion of current events with the students.....
Team Teacher: Lots of good bands come to Albuquerque. Dave Matthews was just here, and the casinos bring in some good bands, big names, too. (Looking at me) Like...
Me: Journey! They were at Sandia Casino recently. That was pretty exciting, especially for --
Alexa: OLD people!
TT: Why is the unemployment rate in New Mexico so high?
Jesse: Because Bush is here!
me:
George: Because Bush is sending jobs overseas!
me:
TT: Um... that might be... a part... um....
TT: Here's a question. Why does everyone hate the U.S. right now?
Jesse: Oooh! I know this one! Because we go to war with EVERYONE! Japan, Iraq, Russia, China, Germany, France....
TT: Sometime I'll try to get a politician to come and speak to the class.
Mallory: You should get Larry Bird to come!
TT: No, he HATES to do that kind of thing. The only way I got him to come and speak at a banquet in Shiprock was by promising to take him trout fishing in the San Juan.
Mallory: Tell him you'll take him fishing again!
Alexa: I know. We'll ALL go fishing with Larry Bird!
Me: That sounds like a cheesy Disney movie. Larry Bird and a bus full of middle schoolers go fishing.
7th period
Jose: Ms. Backes, you look different without your glasses!
MB: Do I look more or less dorky?
Jose: Um....
MB: That was a trick question. No matter how you answer, you'll say I look dorky.
Jose: Oh. Oh! Then.... more!
MB: Thanks, Jose!
MB: A generalization is when you know one person and think that everyone who's similar to them is exactly the same. For example, you know me, and you know that I'm from Wisconsin. So you might think, "Ms. Backes is from Wisconsin, and she's brilliant, so everyone from Wisconsin must be brilliant."
Jose: Um, question? What if we don't think you're brilliant?
MB: What? Okay, get a load of this kid. First he tells me I'm ugly, now he tells me I'm stupid!
Jose: I didn't say ugly! I said dorky!
MB: Sorry. DORKY and stupid.
Class: You said what? What you talkin bout, Jose? You called Ms. Backes stupid?
Rabbit: Man, you're not ugly. If I didn't have a policy of not scamming on my teachers, I'd tell you you look HOT!
Tessa: You just did!
26 August 2004
Adventures in Middle School.... Again
Adventures in Middle School.
Again.
8.17.04
Crotchety old head of department: I wanted to ask you something...what was it?
Me: Perhaps it was, "Ms. Backes, how did you get to be so awesome?"
COHOD: What?
Me: Um, nothing.
COHOD: Awesome? No! I learned the hard way -- never marry awesome women! I married three of them. Marry someone who will stay home and cook for you!
Ms. Backes' Classroom Rules:
1. Shower every day.
2. Use deoderant. Reapply after PE.
3. Brush your teeth every morning.
(Justification: Smelly kids get fewer dates.)
4. No barfing in my room. If you must spew, spew onto the linoleum in the hallway or onto the concrete in the parking lot, but preferably the hallway, because I have to cross that concrete to get to my truck.
5. No bleeding.
6. No haters. There won't be no hatin' in this room.
***
8.17.04
Today I was telling my 7th period class about The Puppy (because for some reason everyone in that class has a weird nickname: Rabbit, The Turtle, Salad, Troy the Tiger, Umbrella -- I'm not making this up) and said, "HE's the one who gave me SOS (shiny object syndrome, aka ADD)! One day I was trying to teach, and he was in the back of the room STAPLING HIS PANTS TOGETHER! Ten minutes later, he just randomly fell out of his chair!"
The kids all laughed.
Ten minutes later, The Turtle fell out of his chair.
***
8.18.04
Today:
-- Used Nat Goldberg's poem "Remember This Place" to teach about using specific, vivid imagery in poetry. Such a great poem, especially for New Mexicans. My activity worked well too -- feel free to rip it off -- I read the poem and then gave the kids 2 minutes to write down every word, phrase, or line they remembered from the poem. Asked people to share what they remembered, and then led into a discussion of how Goldberg uses specific imagery to paint a picture of New Mexico.
-- Talked about LABELING. "If I had a four year old daughter and told her every day that she was ugly ---"
"Ms. Backes that's mean!"
"Right. So every day I tell her she's ugly, and then she's in middle school. She looks like Beyonce, but she looks in the mirror and what does she think?"
"She thinks she's ugly!"
"Because she believed the label I gave her. We've all been labeled in our lives; our job is to re-label ourselves in a positive way. Words are powerful. Label yourself carefully."
-- Talked about PREJUDICE. Writing the word "pre" on the board, "What does this mean?"
Blank stare.
"Okay, when does the PRE-game show happen?"
"Before the game!"
"It means before!"
"Exactly." Then on the board:
judice
judicial
judge
"What does prejudice mean?"
"Before judge. Judge before."
"Right. To judge someone before you know them, based on something like skin color or clothes."
-- Watched an inspirational video about Larry Bird. My team-teacher is friends with LB because his father coached Larry in college. TT told the class stories about playing HORSE with Larry Bird. Cool.
-- Got my very first note from a student: "Dear Ms. Backes, I think that you look like Drew Barrymore. From: Sheila"
***
8.19.04
-- Remember what we talked about yesterday. Specific, concrete details. Vivid imagery. Not a car, but a 1987 tomato red Renault Alliance that looks like a tractor drove into the passenger door. Not just a cat, but a sleek black cat curled up on the adobe wall in the sun. Don't just say "It smells nice," say "It smells like...."
-- Butterflies!
-- Um, okay. It smells like butterflies. But not just butterflies, a whole herd of yellow butterflies in the afternoon!
--
--
-- Hey, you can't smell butterflies!
***
8.23.04
my team taught Humanities block comes to my room for the first time:
-- (pointing up at a wall of poems) Those people are bad at cutting! Those poems are all crooked!
-- "Those people" would be ME.
-- Whoops! I was just kidding, Ms. Backes. You're great at cutting!
-- (pointing to the map on the wall) Why is there a frame around New Mexico?
-- Because that's where we live. In case you forget.
-- That's weird! Who forgets where they live?
-- She's right! Some people don't even know this is a state!
the principal comes into my room right before lunch and hands me a book called "how to differntiate instruction in mixed-ability classrooms"
when he leaves:
-- See, the principal just gave me homework!
-- That looks boring!
-- Ha! Teachers get a taste of their own medicine, finally!!
-- Okay, what?
-- It's a taste of your own medicine, get it, because you have to do homework for once.
-- For once. Let me explain something to you. You guys are just beginning 7th grade, which means that this will be your eighth year of school.
-- But I went to kindergarten, too!
-- Right. Kindergarten through 6th is seven years; this is your eighth.
-- Oh. Right.
-- Anyhow. You all have done seven years of homework. **I** went to school every single year between 1983 and 2002. That's nineteen years of homework. So believe me, I know what it's like.
-- Whoa. That's a lot of homework.
-- Did you save it all up and do it at the last minute?
-- What?
-- Did you wait 'til the last minute to do it all?
-- Oh, yeah, absolutely. I was rushing to finish coloring in the triangles when I was a senior in college.
-- Ms. Backes, you're weird.
(7th period)
-- Can I tell you something?
-- Yes, you may tell me anything. Already today I've been told I'm cool, creative, weird, and "bad at cutting," not that I'm bitter.
-- Well, I don't know about weird or whatever, and you're cool, but what I really wanted to tell you was that you look like Drew Barrymore.
-- ..... you know, I seem to get that a lot.
-- I would like the most responsible and least likely to be absent person in the class to raise your hand.
-- Oooh! Me!
-- Me!
-- Pick me, Ms. Backes!
-- Okay... Andrew.
-- What?
-- Are you the most responsible and least likely to be absent person?
-- No way, Ms. Backes! I'm horrible! I'm the least responsible of all!
-- This is the funnest class because we learn the least. I mean the most!
***
8.24.04
2nd period.
-- But seriously, you have to feel sorry for the kid who's digging in the trash can for his retainer at the end of lunchtime.
-- (blank looks of horror)
-- Don't you have those kids?
-- NO!
-- That's gross!!
-- Really. Hmm, well it was a requisite of my middle school lunches. You'd always have the kid who put his retainer on his lunch tray, then accidentally dumped the retainer from tray into the trash, then had to dive into the garbage to find his retainer. At LEAST once a week that happened.
-- (again, horror)
-- Ms. Backes, you're dirty!
7th period.
-- Ms. Backes! Ernest said he's gay!
-- Ernest, you're gay? Oh my god!
-- What did they say? Did they say gay?
-- Who's gay?
-- Who said gay?
-- Ernest! Ernest is gay!
-- Okay, STOP.
-- (nervous looks)
-- Let's talk about this. We're going to stop and talk about this, as a class. First of all, who can tell me what it means to be gay?
-- It means happy!
-- Yes, it can still mean that, though it's mostly lost that connotation, or meaning. What else?
-- (tentative) It means two guys, like, kissing?
-- Right. It means two men or two women who are in love with one another.
-- But I, like, love my grandma. Am I gay?
-- No, Darlene. We're talking about ROMANTIC love. A lot of people feel nervous or scared when they think about the idea of being gay, and they get silly or defensive. But fundamentally, what does it mean to be gay?
-- [blank looks all around]
-- It means you love someone. It's about love. And no matter what, love is a good thing. It makes the world a better place. So when two people are gay, all it means is that they love one another, and that's never a bad thing. Questions?
-- But, it's... like, weird. It's not normal.
-- Well, it's true that sometimes gay people aren't expecting to fall in love with someone of the same sex. But in this world, love is rare and precious, and lots of times people fall in love with people they didn't expect to love. Like Romeo and Juliet -- they didn't expect to fall in love with one another. But they did. No matter what, love is a surprise, and a gift. Other questions?
-- Yeah. Like, no one can ever really know what love is, because it's just a word.
-- That's true, Darlene. (picking up an eraser) This is an eraser, and when we talk about it, we have something concrete to point to, so that we all know what an eraser is. But when we talk about love, that's so abstract, no one can ever come up to you and say, "Now, THAT'S what love feels like," because no one ever knows 100% how you're feeling. Everyone feels things differently, and there are lots of different kinds of loves. The love I felt for my 7th grade boyfriend was different than the love I felt for my college boyfriend, and that's okay.
-- What happened to your 7th grade boyfriend?
-- Um, he grew up to be a crack dealer.
-- What??
-- (quickly) I hear he's better now, though. Anyway! The point is that in this classroom, we accept people no matter who or how they love, okay? Remember, this is a Hate Free Zone, and I don't want to hear you guys making jokes about being gay or whatever. Got it?
-- Got it!
-- Yep!
A few minutes later Ernest came up to me and said, "Ms. Backes, I love you." And Rabbit, a tough barrio-type kid who happens to carry pink purses and wear princess sweatshirts (think of a young, hispanic [pasquesi01]), said "Can I have a hug after class?"
Which totally made that conversation worth it, even though I'm sure that tomorrow I'll be hearing from pissed-off parents who hate queers.
***
8.25.04
Principal: How's it going?
Me: Good, but I think I'm getting sick.
Principal: Let me tell you, you'll get everything except maybe leprosy from these kids.
Me: !
Crotchety old head of department: How's it going?
Me: Okay. I think I'm getting sick.
COHOD: Take my word for it, this year you'll get everything from these kids except a venereal disease.
Me: !!!!
a few days ago...
-- Ms. Backes, what's your schedule?
-- Well, I teach Humanities first and second, and language arts 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th.
-- What about third?
-- That's when I hide under my desk and hope no one finds me.
and today....
-- (I walk into the library, looking for books on native american myths)
-- Ms. Backes! What are you doing?!?
-- (startled) What?
-- Shouldn't you be hiding under your desk right now??
We're writing autobiographical poems, and one kid ends every stanza with the line, "And I am Ellery W. Jones, the smartest boy in the world."
During my prep, the principal comes into the room:
-- That poem project you're doing is really good!
-- Thanks. It's a big project, but we've broken it up into small enough parts, I hope, that it's manageable.
-- You know, I've known Ellery Jones since he was in kindergarten, and I am really impressed by the quality of work you've inspired from him.
-- You mean, Ellery W. Jones, the smartest boy in the world?
--
-- That's how he ends all his stanzas. "And I am Ellery W. Jones, the smartest boy in the world."
-- You know, his parents used to think he was retarded.
-- Oh!
***
Thanks for the postcards, everyone! Especially Mom, Sally, and Gail, who sent them in bulk. You are awesome.
Again.
8.17.04
Crotchety old head of department: I wanted to ask you something...what was it?
Me: Perhaps it was, "Ms. Backes, how did you get to be so awesome?"
COHOD: What?
Me: Um, nothing.
COHOD: Awesome? No! I learned the hard way -- never marry awesome women! I married three of them. Marry someone who will stay home and cook for you!
Ms. Backes' Classroom Rules:
1. Shower every day.
2. Use deoderant. Reapply after PE.
3. Brush your teeth every morning.
(Justification: Smelly kids get fewer dates.)
4. No barfing in my room. If you must spew, spew onto the linoleum in the hallway or onto the concrete in the parking lot, but preferably the hallway, because I have to cross that concrete to get to my truck.
5. No bleeding.
6. No haters. There won't be no hatin' in this room.
***
8.17.04
Today I was telling my 7th period class about The Puppy (because for some reason everyone in that class has a weird nickname: Rabbit, The Turtle, Salad, Troy the Tiger, Umbrella -- I'm not making this up) and said, "HE's the one who gave me SOS (shiny object syndrome, aka ADD)! One day I was trying to teach, and he was in the back of the room STAPLING HIS PANTS TOGETHER! Ten minutes later, he just randomly fell out of his chair!"
The kids all laughed.
Ten minutes later, The Turtle fell out of his chair.
***
8.18.04
Today:
-- Used Nat Goldberg's poem "Remember This Place" to teach about using specific, vivid imagery in poetry. Such a great poem, especially for New Mexicans. My activity worked well too -- feel free to rip it off -- I read the poem and then gave the kids 2 minutes to write down every word, phrase, or line they remembered from the poem. Asked people to share what they remembered, and then led into a discussion of how Goldberg uses specific imagery to paint a picture of New Mexico.
-- Talked about LABELING. "If I had a four year old daughter and told her every day that she was ugly ---"
"Ms. Backes that's mean!"
"Right. So every day I tell her she's ugly, and then she's in middle school. She looks like Beyonce, but she looks in the mirror and what does she think?"
"She thinks she's ugly!"
"Because she believed the label I gave her. We've all been labeled in our lives; our job is to re-label ourselves in a positive way. Words are powerful. Label yourself carefully."
-- Talked about PREJUDICE. Writing the word "pre" on the board, "What does this mean?"
Blank stare.
"Okay, when does the PRE-game show happen?"
"Before the game!"
"It means before!"
"Exactly." Then on the board:
judice
judicial
judge
"What does prejudice mean?"
"Before judge. Judge before."
"Right. To judge someone before you know them, based on something like skin color or clothes."
-- Watched an inspirational video about Larry Bird. My team-teacher is friends with LB because his father coached Larry in college. TT told the class stories about playing HORSE with Larry Bird. Cool.
-- Got my very first note from a student: "Dear Ms. Backes, I think that you look like Drew Barrymore. From: Sheila"
***
8.19.04
-- Remember what we talked about yesterday. Specific, concrete details. Vivid imagery. Not a car, but a 1987 tomato red Renault Alliance that looks like a tractor drove into the passenger door. Not just a cat, but a sleek black cat curled up on the adobe wall in the sun. Don't just say "It smells nice," say "It smells like...."
-- Butterflies!
-- Um, okay. It smells like butterflies. But not just butterflies, a whole herd of yellow butterflies in the afternoon!
--
--
-- Hey, you can't smell butterflies!
***
8.23.04
my team taught Humanities block comes to my room for the first time:
-- (pointing up at a wall of poems) Those people are bad at cutting! Those poems are all crooked!
-- "Those people" would be ME.
-- Whoops! I was just kidding, Ms. Backes. You're great at cutting!
-- (pointing to the map on the wall) Why is there a frame around New Mexico?
-- Because that's where we live. In case you forget.
-- That's weird! Who forgets where they live?
-- She's right! Some people don't even know this is a state!
the principal comes into my room right before lunch and hands me a book called "how to differntiate instruction in mixed-ability classrooms"
when he leaves:
-- See, the principal just gave me homework!
-- That looks boring!
-- Ha! Teachers get a taste of their own medicine, finally!!
-- Okay, what?
-- It's a taste of your own medicine, get it, because you have to do homework for once.
-- For once. Let me explain something to you. You guys are just beginning 7th grade, which means that this will be your eighth year of school.
-- But I went to kindergarten, too!
-- Right. Kindergarten through 6th is seven years; this is your eighth.
-- Oh. Right.
-- Anyhow. You all have done seven years of homework. **I** went to school every single year between 1983 and 2002. That's nineteen years of homework. So believe me, I know what it's like.
-- Whoa. That's a lot of homework.
-- Did you save it all up and do it at the last minute?
-- What?
-- Did you wait 'til the last minute to do it all?
-- Oh, yeah, absolutely. I was rushing to finish coloring in the triangles when I was a senior in college.
-- Ms. Backes, you're weird.
(7th period)
-- Can I tell you something?
-- Yes, you may tell me anything. Already today I've been told I'm cool, creative, weird, and "bad at cutting," not that I'm bitter.
-- Well, I don't know about weird or whatever, and you're cool, but what I really wanted to tell you was that you look like Drew Barrymore.
-- ..... you know, I seem to get that a lot.
-- I would like the most responsible and least likely to be absent person in the class to raise your hand.
-- Oooh! Me!
-- Me!
-- Pick me, Ms. Backes!
-- Okay... Andrew.
-- What?
-- Are you the most responsible and least likely to be absent person?
-- No way, Ms. Backes! I'm horrible! I'm the least responsible of all!
-- This is the funnest class because we learn the least. I mean the most!
***
8.24.04
2nd period.
-- But seriously, you have to feel sorry for the kid who's digging in the trash can for his retainer at the end of lunchtime.
-- (blank looks of horror)
-- Don't you have those kids?
-- NO!
-- That's gross!!
-- Really. Hmm, well it was a requisite of my middle school lunches. You'd always have the kid who put his retainer on his lunch tray, then accidentally dumped the retainer from tray into the trash, then had to dive into the garbage to find his retainer. At LEAST once a week that happened.
-- (again, horror)
-- Ms. Backes, you're dirty!
7th period.
-- Ms. Backes! Ernest said he's gay!
-- Ernest, you're gay? Oh my god!
-- What did they say? Did they say gay?
-- Who's gay?
-- Who said gay?
-- Ernest! Ernest is gay!
-- Okay, STOP.
-- (nervous looks)
-- Let's talk about this. We're going to stop and talk about this, as a class. First of all, who can tell me what it means to be gay?
-- It means happy!
-- Yes, it can still mean that, though it's mostly lost that connotation, or meaning. What else?
-- (tentative) It means two guys, like, kissing?
-- Right. It means two men or two women who are in love with one another.
-- But I, like, love my grandma. Am I gay?
-- No, Darlene. We're talking about ROMANTIC love. A lot of people feel nervous or scared when they think about the idea of being gay, and they get silly or defensive. But fundamentally, what does it mean to be gay?
-- [blank looks all around]
-- It means you love someone. It's about love. And no matter what, love is a good thing. It makes the world a better place. So when two people are gay, all it means is that they love one another, and that's never a bad thing. Questions?
-- But, it's... like, weird. It's not normal.
-- Well, it's true that sometimes gay people aren't expecting to fall in love with someone of the same sex. But in this world, love is rare and precious, and lots of times people fall in love with people they didn't expect to love. Like Romeo and Juliet -- they didn't expect to fall in love with one another. But they did. No matter what, love is a surprise, and a gift. Other questions?
-- Yeah. Like, no one can ever really know what love is, because it's just a word.
-- That's true, Darlene. (picking up an eraser) This is an eraser, and when we talk about it, we have something concrete to point to, so that we all know what an eraser is. But when we talk about love, that's so abstract, no one can ever come up to you and say, "Now, THAT'S what love feels like," because no one ever knows 100% how you're feeling. Everyone feels things differently, and there are lots of different kinds of loves. The love I felt for my 7th grade boyfriend was different than the love I felt for my college boyfriend, and that's okay.
-- What happened to your 7th grade boyfriend?
-- Um, he grew up to be a crack dealer.
-- What??
-- (quickly) I hear he's better now, though. Anyway! The point is that in this classroom, we accept people no matter who or how they love, okay? Remember, this is a Hate Free Zone, and I don't want to hear you guys making jokes about being gay or whatever. Got it?
-- Got it!
-- Yep!
A few minutes later Ernest came up to me and said, "Ms. Backes, I love you." And Rabbit, a tough barrio-type kid who happens to carry pink purses and wear princess sweatshirts (think of a young, hispanic [pasquesi01]), said "Can I have a hug after class?"
Which totally made that conversation worth it, even though I'm sure that tomorrow I'll be hearing from pissed-off parents who hate queers.
***
8.25.04
Principal: How's it going?
Me: Good, but I think I'm getting sick.
Principal: Let me tell you, you'll get everything except maybe leprosy from these kids.
Me: !
Crotchety old head of department: How's it going?
Me: Okay. I think I'm getting sick.
COHOD: Take my word for it, this year you'll get everything from these kids except a venereal disease.
Me: !!!!
a few days ago...
-- Ms. Backes, what's your schedule?
-- Well, I teach Humanities first and second, and language arts 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th.
-- What about third?
-- That's when I hide under my desk and hope no one finds me.
and today....
-- (I walk into the library, looking for books on native american myths)
-- Ms. Backes! What are you doing?!?
-- (startled) What?
-- Shouldn't you be hiding under your desk right now??
We're writing autobiographical poems, and one kid ends every stanza with the line, "And I am Ellery W. Jones, the smartest boy in the world."
During my prep, the principal comes into the room:
-- That poem project you're doing is really good!
-- Thanks. It's a big project, but we've broken it up into small enough parts, I hope, that it's manageable.
-- You know, I've known Ellery Jones since he was in kindergarten, and I am really impressed by the quality of work you've inspired from him.
-- You mean, Ellery W. Jones, the smartest boy in the world?
--
-- That's how he ends all his stanzas. "And I am Ellery W. Jones, the smartest boy in the world."
-- You know, his parents used to think he was retarded.
-- Oh!
***
Thanks for the postcards, everyone! Especially Mom, Sally, and Gail, who sent them in bulk. You are awesome.
13 July 2004
What I Love, a list.
What I love:
Sprinklers outside my window making little rainbows in the late afternoon sun. Two dogs lying on my floor. Dar Williams, and her new book Amalee. Pat O'Neil & Gina Difino, who are going to visit me on their honeymoon. The pretty purple Sandias against the blue eastern sky. My wonderful, prolific, artistic friends. Long conversations with new people that just click. Sitting near the wide open doors at the Flying Star, overlooking the green patio, and gossiping about hot men. Jennie. Holding a little American Kestrel Falcon on the glove, especially when she pulls all the intestines out of her mouse and drapes them across my thumb. Also when she rips the mousie's head off and drops it on my feet. Doing geeky education work, behavioral theory and curriculum development. Watching the sun set over the West Mesa. Giggling with Grechen and TJ. Finding a good bar. The last two songs on the Lifehouse album Cam burned for me. Gregory McGuire's book Wicked (I highly recommend it). Holding a little Mexican freetail bat so TJ can drain the growth behind his eye with a hypodermic needle. Driving to work before the sun rises above the Sandias (haven't done that one in a while...). Heather Moore. Mangoritas. The amazing pictures my sister gave me for graduation. Reading new things my talented friends have written. Flashing white teeth in a laughing mouth. Joking about the triumverate of western thought (I'm the lower-left hand corner). Quiche. Taking a shower when the sun's directly overhead and rippling through the skylight. Showers with skylights, for that matter -- this is my second! Cassiopeia, smudgy last night over the mountains. Watching the trams creep up and down, shiny by day and night. Bartenders who put orange slices in my beer. Rainstorms in the desert. Lots of stuff.
Sprinklers outside my window making little rainbows in the late afternoon sun. Two dogs lying on my floor. Dar Williams, and her new book Amalee. Pat O'Neil & Gina Difino, who are going to visit me on their honeymoon. The pretty purple Sandias against the blue eastern sky. My wonderful, prolific, artistic friends. Long conversations with new people that just click. Sitting near the wide open doors at the Flying Star, overlooking the green patio, and gossiping about hot men. Jennie. Holding a little American Kestrel Falcon on the glove, especially when she pulls all the intestines out of her mouse and drapes them across my thumb. Also when she rips the mousie's head off and drops it on my feet. Doing geeky education work, behavioral theory and curriculum development. Watching the sun set over the West Mesa. Giggling with Grechen and TJ. Finding a good bar. The last two songs on the Lifehouse album Cam burned for me. Gregory McGuire's book Wicked (I highly recommend it). Holding a little Mexican freetail bat so TJ can drain the growth behind his eye with a hypodermic needle. Driving to work before the sun rises above the Sandias (haven't done that one in a while...). Heather Moore. Mangoritas. The amazing pictures my sister gave me for graduation. Reading new things my talented friends have written. Flashing white teeth in a laughing mouth. Joking about the triumverate of western thought (I'm the lower-left hand corner). Quiche. Taking a shower when the sun's directly overhead and rippling through the skylight. Showers with skylights, for that matter -- this is my second! Cassiopeia, smudgy last night over the mountains. Watching the trams creep up and down, shiny by day and night. Bartenders who put orange slices in my beer. Rainstorms in the desert. Lots of stuff.
29 June 2004
Morning Road
Winter still, the light comes long
after I rise
above sleeping streets, stoplights
blinking yellow, yellow,
yellow at the corner.
Quick mix muffins in the oven,
radio humming quiet news, and I
under skylight in the shower,
soaking in the early
dark, late stars.
Half-past five I’m on my stoop,
watching you drive the empty
street, ease into park before me.
I greet you with muffins, mountain
dew, music.
You, in red car and ironed shirt,
smile hello, too early
for words. On the highway,
the horizon is violet, flecked
with stars like first freckles
in summer. Now they fade,
soft with shadow, fields
emerge around us, morning geese
rise to flight, now black
against the rising sun. We drive
east. Together, the sun
our guide, and still
between us,
quiet.
Winter still, the light comes long
after I rise
above sleeping streets, stoplights
blinking yellow, yellow,
yellow at the corner.
Quick mix muffins in the oven,
radio humming quiet news, and I
under skylight in the shower,
soaking in the early
dark, late stars.
Half-past five I’m on my stoop,
watching you drive the empty
street, ease into park before me.
I greet you with muffins, mountain
dew, music.
You, in red car and ironed shirt,
smile hello, too early
for words. On the highway,
the horizon is violet, flecked
with stars like first freckles
in summer. Now they fade,
soft with shadow, fields
emerge around us, morning geese
rise to flight, now black
against the rising sun. We drive
east. Together, the sun
our guide, and still
between us,
quiet.
27 June 2004
Sunday afternoon, Albuquerque
A dream:
Torrential rain, the kind midwesterners take as fact now, the kind I brought back with me for a few days. Rain, driving rain, sheets of white rain. And then, stepping out into our backyard here: huge tropical flowers everywhere. Our desert garden become a jungle paradise. I walk through, transfixed, carefully touching petals like soft cheeks to assure myself they're real. My mother's here, and she tells me the names of these blossoms; in answer to my wonder, she says, "This is the nature of the desert: comes the rain, and then the flowers."
As if such beauty were a fact of life, a shrug of that's the way things go....
In any case, a good omen, I think. It occurred to me yesterday that my dreams are usually lovely. Such a gift. I am reminded of the summer of 2001, when Ali kept dreaming of disaster, of tornados and volcanos, while I dreamed of buzzing bees and fields of sunflowers.
This morning, a discussion:
-- If you had to choose, would you rather lose your hearing or your vision?
-- Well, that's so hard, because how could I go without hearing music, and the voices of the people I love?
-- Oh, what a revelation! The things worth hearing are music and human voices!
-- Come on, I'm serious.
-- Yeah, but everyone would say that.
-- Okay, to be specific: Shostakovitch's cello concerto, and the voice of Miss Ali Brown.
-- How sweet.
-- And vision? I'd regret most losing the rolling green hills of Iowa, the autumn sky over cornfields, the lakes.
-- I've never met anyone who loved Iowa like you do.
This morning Albuquerque seemed exotic and new, more like a place I'd visit on vacation than my home for the last ten months. The air this morning was crisp and shiny, and the red-tiled rooftops hummed in the sun. The long view down into the valley, the blue Sandias, the power-walkers trucking up the hills in bermuda shorts and visors. Slowly, slowly, it becomes home, and I know I will be sorry when I leave, but I will.
A dream:
Torrential rain, the kind midwesterners take as fact now, the kind I brought back with me for a few days. Rain, driving rain, sheets of white rain. And then, stepping out into our backyard here: huge tropical flowers everywhere. Our desert garden become a jungle paradise. I walk through, transfixed, carefully touching petals like soft cheeks to assure myself they're real. My mother's here, and she tells me the names of these blossoms; in answer to my wonder, she says, "This is the nature of the desert: comes the rain, and then the flowers."
As if such beauty were a fact of life, a shrug of that's the way things go....
In any case, a good omen, I think. It occurred to me yesterday that my dreams are usually lovely. Such a gift. I am reminded of the summer of 2001, when Ali kept dreaming of disaster, of tornados and volcanos, while I dreamed of buzzing bees and fields of sunflowers.
This morning, a discussion:
-- If you had to choose, would you rather lose your hearing or your vision?
-- Well, that's so hard, because how could I go without hearing music, and the voices of the people I love?
-- Oh, what a revelation! The things worth hearing are music and human voices!
-- Come on, I'm serious.
-- Yeah, but everyone would say that.
-- Okay, to be specific: Shostakovitch's cello concerto, and the voice of Miss Ali Brown.
-- How sweet.
-- And vision? I'd regret most losing the rolling green hills of Iowa, the autumn sky over cornfields, the lakes.
-- I've never met anyone who loved Iowa like you do.
This morning Albuquerque seemed exotic and new, more like a place I'd visit on vacation than my home for the last ten months. The air this morning was crisp and shiny, and the red-tiled rooftops hummed in the sun. The long view down into the valley, the blue Sandias, the power-walkers trucking up the hills in bermuda shorts and visors. Slowly, slowly, it becomes home, and I know I will be sorry when I leave, but I will.
20 June 2004
Sunday morning, Des Moines
Cam's in the shower, Adam's at the Y, and I'm waiting for someone to be clean and/or present enough to go get bagels with me. My last Iowa morning for a while...
Here, I slip so easily into the life that was mine: surrounded by friends but solitary still, directing the course of my days according to my own whims. Yesterday morning I drove down from Madison (and missed my favorite stretch of 151, between Platteville and Dickeyville, under construction!), had lunch with Jamie at the Depot, coffee with Adam at Saint's Rest, ran into Mark Baechtel and Jean Ketter and talked to them, went out to Rock Creek with Zeke and hiked down to the dam (heavy and full this year), and then moseyed through Newton on my way to Des Moines, where I sat in a ballpark with the good people of Des Moines and enjoyed the high drama of semi-pro baseball -- even though Cam didn't play much -- as the evening cooled and the lights came on.
This is my Iowa life. As it ever was.
And oh, how I hate to leave. Which is not to say that I'm not eager to get back to Albuquerque -- I am -- but simply that these people are too significant to me to be replaced, and this land too much a part of me to not feel like home.
Cam's in the shower, Adam's at the Y, and I'm waiting for someone to be clean and/or present enough to go get bagels with me. My last Iowa morning for a while...
Here, I slip so easily into the life that was mine: surrounded by friends but solitary still, directing the course of my days according to my own whims. Yesterday morning I drove down from Madison (and missed my favorite stretch of 151, between Platteville and Dickeyville, under construction!), had lunch with Jamie at the Depot, coffee with Adam at Saint's Rest, ran into Mark Baechtel and Jean Ketter and talked to them, went out to Rock Creek with Zeke and hiked down to the dam (heavy and full this year), and then moseyed through Newton on my way to Des Moines, where I sat in a ballpark with the good people of Des Moines and enjoyed the high drama of semi-pro baseball -- even though Cam didn't play much -- as the evening cooled and the lights came on.
This is my Iowa life. As it ever was.
And oh, how I hate to leave. Which is not to say that I'm not eager to get back to Albuquerque -- I am -- but simply that these people are too significant to me to be replaced, and this land too much a part of me to not feel like home.
08 June 2004
LATE Monday night
Though the low point of my day today involved a woman DRIVING INTO MY TRUCK as I was parked in the Triangle Grocery parking lot in Cedar Crest (notably talking to Cam -- how many people can say they've been auditory witness to an accident from 1200 miles away?), the evening more than compensated. The move uptown has taken my life in an overwhelmingly positive direction, and everything looks a little brighter on this side of May 10. Most evenings, I sit on the patio in our backyard and watch the sunset fall across the Sandias, the lights rise in the city below us, the lizards running across our "orchard" wall.
But. I'm coming home!! I plan to leave excruciatingly early Thursday morning (June 10), meet Tim in OK City for food and delightful conversation (how is it possible that I haven't seen him since graduation?), and then hit Des Moines for a few days to give birthday presents to Cam & Adam. Then maybe a stop in Peoria, and... Madison! For a glorious six days of swinging my legs against the pier, watching the sun set over Lake Mendota -- drinking beer on the Union Terrace, listening to music -- hiking out to Picnic Point -- wandering down State Street -- possibly hitting up the Angelic or Paul's Club or the Great Dane or (if Cindy has any say) the Main Tap -- writing at Steep & Brew -- driving along John Nolen toward the most perfect skyline in the world -- playing in the arboretum -- of course, bottomless cups of shitty coffee at Perkins -- oh! and pizza at Marias! So much, so much....
Most of all: the lakes. The ducks. The low green hills and steamy June nights of early summer in Wisconsin.
Strangely, perhaps, I am also looking forward to -- but no, that's not strong enough -- I'm craving the long twisting stretch of 151 between Grinnell and Oregon. I confess that much homesickness roots itself along those roads, which is I suppose appropriate, given my torn devotion to two midwestern hometowns. How many times did I drive that long, lovely route between 1997 and 2003? I know it all, every inch, every falling barn and striking bridge....
I had planned to drive right from Des Moines to Peoria, but... ah, I am longing for the drive up through Cedar Rapids and Dubuque, Anamosa and Dickeyville.... In any case, I'll drive it on my way back.
ANYhow, I'll have my cell the whole time, so find me! Take me out for drinks and darts! I can't wait to see you, everyone, my family.
Though the low point of my day today involved a woman DRIVING INTO MY TRUCK as I was parked in the Triangle Grocery parking lot in Cedar Crest (notably talking to Cam -- how many people can say they've been auditory witness to an accident from 1200 miles away?), the evening more than compensated. The move uptown has taken my life in an overwhelmingly positive direction, and everything looks a little brighter on this side of May 10. Most evenings, I sit on the patio in our backyard and watch the sunset fall across the Sandias, the lights rise in the city below us, the lizards running across our "orchard" wall.
But. I'm coming home!! I plan to leave excruciatingly early Thursday morning (June 10), meet Tim in OK City for food and delightful conversation (how is it possible that I haven't seen him since graduation?), and then hit Des Moines for a few days to give birthday presents to Cam & Adam. Then maybe a stop in Peoria, and... Madison! For a glorious six days of swinging my legs against the pier, watching the sun set over Lake Mendota -- drinking beer on the Union Terrace, listening to music -- hiking out to Picnic Point -- wandering down State Street -- possibly hitting up the Angelic or Paul's Club or the Great Dane or (if Cindy has any say) the Main Tap -- writing at Steep & Brew -- driving along John Nolen toward the most perfect skyline in the world -- playing in the arboretum -- of course, bottomless cups of shitty coffee at Perkins -- oh! and pizza at Marias! So much, so much....
Most of all: the lakes. The ducks. The low green hills and steamy June nights of early summer in Wisconsin.
Strangely, perhaps, I am also looking forward to -- but no, that's not strong enough -- I'm craving the long twisting stretch of 151 between Grinnell and Oregon. I confess that much homesickness roots itself along those roads, which is I suppose appropriate, given my torn devotion to two midwestern hometowns. How many times did I drive that long, lovely route between 1997 and 2003? I know it all, every inch, every falling barn and striking bridge....
I had planned to drive right from Des Moines to Peoria, but... ah, I am longing for the drive up through Cedar Rapids and Dubuque, Anamosa and Dickeyville.... In any case, I'll drive it on my way back.
ANYhow, I'll have my cell the whole time, so find me! Take me out for drinks and darts! I can't wait to see you, everyone, my family.
03 June 2004
Peter Mulvey!!
LATE Wednesday Night (take two)
Originally, I began this entry with a long and poetic metaphor about climbing in the foothills and staying so focused on avoiding the spines of cacti and putting one foot in front of the other on the red rocky trail and breathing that you lose the perspective of how high you've climbed, how far you've come, until you turn to see the city spread out beneath you, the Rio Grande twisting and flashing in the late sun, the secretive Mt Taylor holding the sunset -- and suddenly you realize that everything is magically, wonderfully, perfectly okay.
Believe me, it was much longer and lots prettier, but then my computer blipped out on me and all was lost.
So I shall simply cut to the story. The real story of tonight. But first, as Matt Pickett would say, let me back up.
1st.
Madison, Wisconsin. Spring of 1995
On the basis of a few songs on a mix tape by the Divine Heather James, I accompany her to a Dar Williams concert at the Pres House on campus. I know very little about Dar, and absolutely nothing about her opening act, a musician named Peter Mulvey. Peter Mulvey comes out on stage in a tee-shirt, ripped jeans, and beat-up converse all-stars (I love him already). He stands on the edge of that small stage and plays some driving acoustic folk/rock, singing about the LA riots and about falling out of love and about dreams. I am enchanted. Later, I go up to him, buy an album (Rapture), and shyly tell him I liked the show.
***
Interlude
Peter Mulvey's album Rapture features two versions of a cover of The Waterboys' song "Whole of the Moon." The second version, my favorite, was recorded in the subways of Boston. Mid-way through the song, you can hear people in the background, and Peter stops singing for a second to thank someone (presumably for dropping cash into his open guitar case). At the end of the song, you hear the train pulling away from the platform.
***
2nd.
Somerville, Massachusetts. Summer of 2000.
I am living in Somerville (aka Boston), and have a two-hour commute to work every day. This commute begins, every day, with a walk of just over a mile from my apartment to the Davis T (subway) station. Every day I walk to the T, go down several flights of stairs and escalators to the platform, and catch an inbound (red line) train to the Harvard Square T stop, where I get off the train, head above ground to Harvard Square, and catch a bus. I think of Peter Mulvey and his Boston-T-recorded song sometimes as I ride the train, wondering if he ever played in my station, the Davis stop. One morning -- a rainy, gross day -- after walking more than a mile through the driving rain, I get to the T station and happily hear that we have a musician today. Even though 70% of the "music" that happens in our T station follows the loosest definition of music, I'm happy. As I skip down the first staircase to the turnstiles, the music becomes more clear, and I can hear that it's actually quite lovely. On the escalator down to the platform, I finally place it, realize why it sounds so familiar -- holy shit, it's Peter Mulvey! I am so stunned and happy that I go up to him immediately and say, "Peter Mulvey!" He says yes? I say, "Hello -- I love you --" or something... he invites me to sit down next to him, and I do. He continues to strum on the guitar as we chat. I tell him that I saw him in Madison years ago, and that it's so great to see him here because I always think of him in these subways, playing "Whole of the Moon." We talk about Wisconsin (he's from Milwaukee) and Boston and opening for Dar. And then, tragedy of tragedies, my train arrives. I get up to leave, thank him, say goodbye. As I'm crossing the platform to step through the silver doors of the red line, Peter calls, "Hey Molly -- nice shoes!" I look down and realize -- we're both wearing converse all stars! I wave back to him as my train pulls away from the station.
***
Interlude.
Time goes by -- I leave Boston and go back to Grinnell -- and I tell the story of How I Met Peter Mulvey as one of the highlights of my summer in Boston. I even tell it on "Hot Dish (For Lunch!)," the radio show Sister Mary Hoeschen and I co-host on 88.9 KDIC FM senior year. After seeing him in the Davis T, I buy a copy of the album he'd been selling that day, The Trouble With Poets.
Later, my mother hears an interview with Peter Mulvey on NPR, an interview in which he's talking about his new album which was recorded entirely in the Davis T Stop. My mother promptly buys it on amazon.com and has it sent to my house in Iowa. I listen to it and happily remember my summer in Boston.
3rd.
Albuquerque, New Mexico. Earlier this week.
Monday morning, and I am driving home from work at 11 am because I have a terrible, debilitating migraine. Listening to Radio Free Santa Fe, I hear a song that I like, just as I am turning off Tramway onto San Rafael. I think to myself that I should remember who the singer is because maybe I should pick up an album of his. The DJ comes on and says, "that was Peter Mulvey from his new album..." -- and I think, ooh! a new album? I must get a copy! -- "...and Peter will be playing in Albuquerque on Wednesday night...." I catch my breath. What? WHAT?
By the time I get home, my migraine has me so confused and fucked up that I can't function. However, once I recover, I track down the place where Peter's playing and reserve a seat. The man calls me back to give me directions. The concert is part of a series called the "House Concerts" -- and suddenly I realize that it's actually in a house.
4th.
Albuquerque, in someone's HOUSE. Tonight.
Not knowing what to expect, I head down to the Old Town area shortly after work. The house is in a fancy gated community called "The Gardens." I have to buzz in to have the gate opened. I find the house without trouble and make my way up to the front door. Yep, it's just someone's house. A man greets me at the door and says, "Make yourself at home! There's a TON of food in the kitchen, and the fridge is stocked!" The house is nice, elegantly decorated -- and filled with about 40 folding chairs. I arrive about 20 minutes before the concert is to begin, and only 6 or 7 other people are there. I get myself a drink -- a diet pepsi, though the fridge is full of beer and wine coolers and juices -- and look around.
I spot him right away. He is talking to a tall man with silver hair who is animatedly talking about... well, something. I catch bits and pieces of the conversation -- something about corporate whores, I think, and Clear Channel. Ah. I try to summon the courage to go up to Peter Mulvey and tell him that I've met him twice before, once in Madison and once in Boston, but the tall man will not let him go. The tall man is swinging his wine cooler bottle around for emphasis. Peter sips at a diet pepsi. He catches my eye over the man's shoulder and smiles at me. Twice.
Eventually, I give up on the idea that I'll talk to him, and go take a seat. The room -- the house -- is filling up. I sit in the front row and pull out my journal, which is fairly new, and small enough to fit in my purse (I love that!). I write until the first set begins.
Peter sits on a high chair that looks like it's been pulled from the breakfast bar. He's just a few feet in front of me. Tonight it's just him and his guitar, playing to an audience of maybe 50 people in someone's living room. The first set goes well, and he plays songs from all three of the albums I have, as well as new songs and covers. I am purely, simply happy, and bask in the all's-well feeling I always get in the presence of great live music.
At the set break, Peter puts his guitar down, stands, and walks up to me. "Hi, we've met before, right? You look so familiar...." I stand, placing my journal on my chair, and say, "Yes, actually we have." [I am REELING. I am STUNNED. It is all I can do to act even remotely like a human being.] Peter says, "Not here, right?" I nod. "In Boston?" I say, "Yep. Well, actually we met at the Pres House in Madison, like a hundred years ago, and then we met again on the T in Boston a few years ago." Peter says, "I KNEW it!" Then he squints and says, "At the Pres House in Madison? Was that when I opened for Dar?" "Yeah." "Oh my gosh," he says, "that was... nine years ago!" I nod again. "Nine, a hundred... same difference." He smiles. "So how did you get from Boston to Albuquerque?" I tell him that I made a fairly arbitrary decision -- right about the time I first met him -- to move here when I grew up. He seems impressed, and we talk a little bit about Wisconsin, about Madison and Milwaukee. He tells me he has friends in Madison who are expecting their first baby. We talk about how I've now seen him in three of the four states I've lived in -- all but Iowa. "I play Iowa sometimes!" he says. I say, "Well I'll have to make sure I get to an Iowa concert!" Then he notices my journal. "Oh, I LOVE that kind! I have the same one! It opens flat, right?" "Yeah, that's why I chose it," I say. "They're great -- but so expensive! What's the point of spending that much on a journal when you just burn through it, right?" This is exactly what I thought when I bought this one. I smile.
Then a woman comes up with a CD for Peter to sign. He winks at me and turns to her to play the famous guy. She introduces herself and says, "I'm from Madison!" Peter says, "So is Molly! What's your name again?" "Karen," the woman says. Peter introduces us: "Karen, meet Molly. She's from Madison, too. Molly, Karen." Karen and I chat about Madison as Peter gets dragged away by some old ladies with sharpies who want him to sign their CDs. Karen HATES Albuquerque, and can't wait to go back to Madison. She moved here for a boy, and a job. Now she's "stuck" in graduate school. I say that I miss Madison, but that I'd miss the mountains if I left. Karen says condescendingly, "Well, New Mexico's a nice place. You have fun here." A few minutes later, the tall guy comes up to me and asks me if I'm a writer. He tells me that he's a producer for NPR, and asks me if I've ever heard this show where they ask random people on the street what the top headlines of their lives are. I say that I have, and then I have to tell him what I liked about it. He seems earnest, but just desperate for validation. I'm polite, but relieved when the lights blink for the second set.
The second set is even better than the first, with several Ireland-inspired songs. At the end of the set, the audience spontaneously gives Peter a standing ovation to make him come back and play an encore. He jokes, "Mom, I got a standing o at the concert tonight! Yeah, it was in someone's house.... so what's your point?"
Afterward, I head straight for the door -- it's getting late and I have to work tomorrow. Peter catches me as I'm leaving and says, "Hey, it was great to see you again! Thanks for coming!" And then he hugs me. [A voice in my head is jumping up and down yelling, "PETER MULVEY JUST HUGGED YOU!!!!!!!] I smile and say, "Yeah, it was great! Thanks!" He says, "Well, hopefully it won't be so many years before we meet again, huh?" I laugh and agree. A man passes us and says goodbye, and then Peter turns back to me. Recalling the vow I made to myself earlier in the evening -- I promised myself that if I got to talk to him, I'd keep in mind the fact that he's just a guy, just a person that could easily be a friend of mine, and talk to him no differently than I talk to my friends -- I say, "Hey, during the second set I was thinking about the first time I saw you play, nine years ago -- you were wearing ratty jeans and converse all-stars, and you seemed nervous. You've come so far since then, you're really doing wonderfully. Congratulations." "Thanks," he says, and then jokes, "yeah, I'm grown-up now -- my voice finally changed!" We laugh, and say goodbye again.
I practically fly out the door, wanting to scream. PETER MULVEY REMEMBERED ME! PETER MULVEY HUGGED ME! AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!
***
So that's the story for tonight. Keep an eye on the mailbox for invitations to our wedding later this summer.
***
The ABQ Famous Person List:
1. Bob Graham asked me if a lobo was a type of wolf. Later, he asked me to order him a milkshake.
2. His wife used to teach English in Newton, just like me! And she told me I was a good driver.
3. John Kerry gave me the thumbs up.
4. I met a bunch of other dem candidates -- as well as Governor Richardson -- at the after-debate party.
5. Natalie Goldberg led me through writing exercises in workshop. (!!!)
6. Lou Diamond Phillips likes my jacket.
7. PETER MULVEY HUGGED ME!
Originally, I began this entry with a long and poetic metaphor about climbing in the foothills and staying so focused on avoiding the spines of cacti and putting one foot in front of the other on the red rocky trail and breathing that you lose the perspective of how high you've climbed, how far you've come, until you turn to see the city spread out beneath you, the Rio Grande twisting and flashing in the late sun, the secretive Mt Taylor holding the sunset -- and suddenly you realize that everything is magically, wonderfully, perfectly okay.
Believe me, it was much longer and lots prettier, but then my computer blipped out on me and all was lost.
So I shall simply cut to the story. The real story of tonight. But first, as Matt Pickett would say, let me back up.
1st.
Madison, Wisconsin. Spring of 1995
On the basis of a few songs on a mix tape by the Divine Heather James, I accompany her to a Dar Williams concert at the Pres House on campus. I know very little about Dar, and absolutely nothing about her opening act, a musician named Peter Mulvey. Peter Mulvey comes out on stage in a tee-shirt, ripped jeans, and beat-up converse all-stars (I love him already). He stands on the edge of that small stage and plays some driving acoustic folk/rock, singing about the LA riots and about falling out of love and about dreams. I am enchanted. Later, I go up to him, buy an album (Rapture), and shyly tell him I liked the show.
***
Interlude
Peter Mulvey's album Rapture features two versions of a cover of The Waterboys' song "Whole of the Moon." The second version, my favorite, was recorded in the subways of Boston. Mid-way through the song, you can hear people in the background, and Peter stops singing for a second to thank someone (presumably for dropping cash into his open guitar case). At the end of the song, you hear the train pulling away from the platform.
***
2nd.
Somerville, Massachusetts. Summer of 2000.
I am living in Somerville (aka Boston), and have a two-hour commute to work every day. This commute begins, every day, with a walk of just over a mile from my apartment to the Davis T (subway) station. Every day I walk to the T, go down several flights of stairs and escalators to the platform, and catch an inbound (red line) train to the Harvard Square T stop, where I get off the train, head above ground to Harvard Square, and catch a bus. I think of Peter Mulvey and his Boston-T-recorded song sometimes as I ride the train, wondering if he ever played in my station, the Davis stop. One morning -- a rainy, gross day -- after walking more than a mile through the driving rain, I get to the T station and happily hear that we have a musician today. Even though 70% of the "music" that happens in our T station follows the loosest definition of music, I'm happy. As I skip down the first staircase to the turnstiles, the music becomes more clear, and I can hear that it's actually quite lovely. On the escalator down to the platform, I finally place it, realize why it sounds so familiar -- holy shit, it's Peter Mulvey! I am so stunned and happy that I go up to him immediately and say, "Peter Mulvey!" He says yes? I say, "Hello -- I love you --" or something... he invites me to sit down next to him, and I do. He continues to strum on the guitar as we chat. I tell him that I saw him in Madison years ago, and that it's so great to see him here because I always think of him in these subways, playing "Whole of the Moon." We talk about Wisconsin (he's from Milwaukee) and Boston and opening for Dar. And then, tragedy of tragedies, my train arrives. I get up to leave, thank him, say goodbye. As I'm crossing the platform to step through the silver doors of the red line, Peter calls, "Hey Molly -- nice shoes!" I look down and realize -- we're both wearing converse all stars! I wave back to him as my train pulls away from the station.
***
Interlude.
Time goes by -- I leave Boston and go back to Grinnell -- and I tell the story of How I Met Peter Mulvey as one of the highlights of my summer in Boston. I even tell it on "Hot Dish (For Lunch!)," the radio show Sister Mary Hoeschen and I co-host on 88.9 KDIC FM senior year. After seeing him in the Davis T, I buy a copy of the album he'd been selling that day, The Trouble With Poets.
Later, my mother hears an interview with Peter Mulvey on NPR, an interview in which he's talking about his new album which was recorded entirely in the Davis T Stop. My mother promptly buys it on amazon.com and has it sent to my house in Iowa. I listen to it and happily remember my summer in Boston.
3rd.
Albuquerque, New Mexico. Earlier this week.
Monday morning, and I am driving home from work at 11 am because I have a terrible, debilitating migraine. Listening to Radio Free Santa Fe, I hear a song that I like, just as I am turning off Tramway onto San Rafael. I think to myself that I should remember who the singer is because maybe I should pick up an album of his. The DJ comes on and says, "that was Peter Mulvey from his new album..." -- and I think, ooh! a new album? I must get a copy! -- "...and Peter will be playing in Albuquerque on Wednesday night...." I catch my breath. What? WHAT?
By the time I get home, my migraine has me so confused and fucked up that I can't function. However, once I recover, I track down the place where Peter's playing and reserve a seat. The man calls me back to give me directions. The concert is part of a series called the "House Concerts" -- and suddenly I realize that it's actually in a house.
4th.
Albuquerque, in someone's HOUSE. Tonight.
Not knowing what to expect, I head down to the Old Town area shortly after work. The house is in a fancy gated community called "The Gardens." I have to buzz in to have the gate opened. I find the house without trouble and make my way up to the front door. Yep, it's just someone's house. A man greets me at the door and says, "Make yourself at home! There's a TON of food in the kitchen, and the fridge is stocked!" The house is nice, elegantly decorated -- and filled with about 40 folding chairs. I arrive about 20 minutes before the concert is to begin, and only 6 or 7 other people are there. I get myself a drink -- a diet pepsi, though the fridge is full of beer and wine coolers and juices -- and look around.
I spot him right away. He is talking to a tall man with silver hair who is animatedly talking about... well, something. I catch bits and pieces of the conversation -- something about corporate whores, I think, and Clear Channel. Ah. I try to summon the courage to go up to Peter Mulvey and tell him that I've met him twice before, once in Madison and once in Boston, but the tall man will not let him go. The tall man is swinging his wine cooler bottle around for emphasis. Peter sips at a diet pepsi. He catches my eye over the man's shoulder and smiles at me. Twice.
Eventually, I give up on the idea that I'll talk to him, and go take a seat. The room -- the house -- is filling up. I sit in the front row and pull out my journal, which is fairly new, and small enough to fit in my purse (I love that!). I write until the first set begins.
Peter sits on a high chair that looks like it's been pulled from the breakfast bar. He's just a few feet in front of me. Tonight it's just him and his guitar, playing to an audience of maybe 50 people in someone's living room. The first set goes well, and he plays songs from all three of the albums I have, as well as new songs and covers. I am purely, simply happy, and bask in the all's-well feeling I always get in the presence of great live music.
At the set break, Peter puts his guitar down, stands, and walks up to me. "Hi, we've met before, right? You look so familiar...." I stand, placing my journal on my chair, and say, "Yes, actually we have." [I am REELING. I am STUNNED. It is all I can do to act even remotely like a human being.] Peter says, "Not here, right?" I nod. "In Boston?" I say, "Yep. Well, actually we met at the Pres House in Madison, like a hundred years ago, and then we met again on the T in Boston a few years ago." Peter says, "I KNEW it!" Then he squints and says, "At the Pres House in Madison? Was that when I opened for Dar?" "Yeah." "Oh my gosh," he says, "that was... nine years ago!" I nod again. "Nine, a hundred... same difference." He smiles. "So how did you get from Boston to Albuquerque?" I tell him that I made a fairly arbitrary decision -- right about the time I first met him -- to move here when I grew up. He seems impressed, and we talk a little bit about Wisconsin, about Madison and Milwaukee. He tells me he has friends in Madison who are expecting their first baby. We talk about how I've now seen him in three of the four states I've lived in -- all but Iowa. "I play Iowa sometimes!" he says. I say, "Well I'll have to make sure I get to an Iowa concert!" Then he notices my journal. "Oh, I LOVE that kind! I have the same one! It opens flat, right?" "Yeah, that's why I chose it," I say. "They're great -- but so expensive! What's the point of spending that much on a journal when you just burn through it, right?" This is exactly what I thought when I bought this one. I smile.
Then a woman comes up with a CD for Peter to sign. He winks at me and turns to her to play the famous guy. She introduces herself and says, "I'm from Madison!" Peter says, "So is Molly! What's your name again?" "Karen," the woman says. Peter introduces us: "Karen, meet Molly. She's from Madison, too. Molly, Karen." Karen and I chat about Madison as Peter gets dragged away by some old ladies with sharpies who want him to sign their CDs. Karen HATES Albuquerque, and can't wait to go back to Madison. She moved here for a boy, and a job. Now she's "stuck" in graduate school. I say that I miss Madison, but that I'd miss the mountains if I left. Karen says condescendingly, "Well, New Mexico's a nice place. You have fun here." A few minutes later, the tall guy comes up to me and asks me if I'm a writer. He tells me that he's a producer for NPR, and asks me if I've ever heard this show where they ask random people on the street what the top headlines of their lives are. I say that I have, and then I have to tell him what I liked about it. He seems earnest, but just desperate for validation. I'm polite, but relieved when the lights blink for the second set.
The second set is even better than the first, with several Ireland-inspired songs. At the end of the set, the audience spontaneously gives Peter a standing ovation to make him come back and play an encore. He jokes, "Mom, I got a standing o at the concert tonight! Yeah, it was in someone's house.... so what's your point?"
Afterward, I head straight for the door -- it's getting late and I have to work tomorrow. Peter catches me as I'm leaving and says, "Hey, it was great to see you again! Thanks for coming!" And then he hugs me. [A voice in my head is jumping up and down yelling, "PETER MULVEY JUST HUGGED YOU!!!!!!!] I smile and say, "Yeah, it was great! Thanks!" He says, "Well, hopefully it won't be so many years before we meet again, huh?" I laugh and agree. A man passes us and says goodbye, and then Peter turns back to me. Recalling the vow I made to myself earlier in the evening -- I promised myself that if I got to talk to him, I'd keep in mind the fact that he's just a guy, just a person that could easily be a friend of mine, and talk to him no differently than I talk to my friends -- I say, "Hey, during the second set I was thinking about the first time I saw you play, nine years ago -- you were wearing ratty jeans and converse all-stars, and you seemed nervous. You've come so far since then, you're really doing wonderfully. Congratulations." "Thanks," he says, and then jokes, "yeah, I'm grown-up now -- my voice finally changed!" We laugh, and say goodbye again.
I practically fly out the door, wanting to scream. PETER MULVEY REMEMBERED ME! PETER MULVEY HUGGED ME! AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!
***
So that's the story for tonight. Keep an eye on the mailbox for invitations to our wedding later this summer.
***
The ABQ Famous Person List:
1. Bob Graham asked me if a lobo was a type of wolf. Later, he asked me to order him a milkshake.
2. His wife used to teach English in Newton, just like me! And she told me I was a good driver.
3. John Kerry gave me the thumbs up.
4. I met a bunch of other dem candidates -- as well as Governor Richardson -- at the after-debate party.
5. Natalie Goldberg led me through writing exercises in workshop. (!!!)
6. Lou Diamond Phillips likes my jacket.
7. PETER MULVEY HUGGED ME!
09 May 2004
Saturday night in Albuquerque, and I'm feeling distinctively melancholy. I've been packing up the house since I got home from work tonight, and though I've packed up my things and moved twelve times now since high school, all this packing takes me back to last summer, when I was packing up my darling apartment on the corner of Main and 4th in Grinnell. The last time I packed, Cam came over and helped me wrap all my dishes in newspaper and fit them into (only) two boxes. Ali came over, found me on the floor of my bedroom surrounded by papers and books and other assorted garbage, and immediately began to throw things away for me. Jamie came and dragged me off to the pub on my last full night in Iowa. And Cam, Adam, Ali, and Jamie helped me pack up my truck (Ali could be a bricklayer, for her amazing skills at stuffing as much as possible into my tiny truck).
Some thoughts from leaving Grinnell:
10:30 pm Thursday night 14 August 2003 901 ½ Main G-nell
Just said goodbye to Cam, for a few months at least if he doesn’t make it back here in time to say goodbye tomorrow. I sent him off with part of my novel, a vanilla coke, some hugs, and a bunch of my furniture, including my papysan chair, the old brown fur couch, my bed, my desk, the stereo shelf, some rugs, some other shelves, the big wooden shelf I had all the dog food on... and he gave me a check for $100!! And the assurance that I mean just as much to him as he does to me... he said he’d never been so sad in his life, between me leaving and his grandmother dying and school starting... what a great guy. So lucky to have him in my life. He spent almost 2 hours tonight helping me pack up my kitchen stuff. And now I’m going to the pub so I don’t get too cry-y. I told him that after he left in June, I got all cry-y, and he said that he’d probably cry in the truck tonight on the way back to Des Moines. But we agreed that it takes a stronger person to let yourself feel those sad feelings than it does to suppress them....
2:40 am later
It’s nearly 3 and I’m not at all tired. The night is misty, humid, and warm, & I’m listening to Radiohead alone in my increasingly empty apartment. In the back of this legal pad are old notes from freshman year, the beginning of a letter to our prospie Anne, some Spanish, some notes back and forth between Tori and me. Tomorrow I will throw them away, but tonight they stand witness to the five years of my life I’ve spent in this amazing place. I can’t believe I’m leaving. I’m leaving tomorrow – tonight is my last night in Grinnell. It hurts me. The weight of all these years sits heavy on my chest like an asthma attack. All the nights here. All the deep, long talks with people I love like Jamie & Ali & Cam & Carrie & Kevin & Mary & Tim & Tori & everyone else... all the walks... how well I know all the streets, this sky, these stars... how I’ve seen this land safely through 5 autumns, five winters, 5 springs. This is the first autumn of my life – I mean, well... of the last 5 years, I guess, but when I say my life it doesn’t feel like an exaggeration — that I’m not coming back to Grinnell. It’s autumn and I’m leaving Grinnell & everything seems backward & upside down. When J & I were talking...Jamie said something [...] and I said, “See, and when you say that, I have this feeling —” I put my hand over my heart and Jamie nodded. “This heavy sense of love – and loss – and hope – and deep sadness ...” Jamie nodded again, knowing what I meant — and right now I’m feeling all that and more about Grinnell, and about Iowa, and all that I’ve done and been and learned and loved here. This place, this town and this college and these people — are my home just as much as Oregon and Madison are, but the difference is that the people who make Oregon and Madison home will always be there, whereas the same is not true for Grinnell. In three or five or ten years all my beloved Grinnell friends will be gone, and though I’ll be able to come home to these streets and trees and cornfields, I’ll never be able to come home to the same Grinnell that I’m leaving tomorrow.
A part of me doesn’t want to sleep at all, just wants to sit awake all night and see this town through one last night under my care, watch the sky ease into one more dawn before my loving vigil. I feel so lost already... and though I am excited about my move, I realize that I’m complicating, forever, my life so that I’ll never be able to feel like I’m home without feeling at least a little bit homeless or displaced again. In the desert I will miss the cornfields, and in the midwest I’ll miss the mountains. What was that Richard Jackson quote? "Just when we begin to trust in the moonlight we notice how many stars it erases – it is not easy."
2 police officers, strolling down the street, look up and see me sitting in my window, and wave. Radiohead is perfect for the quiet, sad, weird mood I’m in. As if anything could accurately describe what I am at this moment, on the eve of my farewell to Grinnell.
It's strange to be leaving this house, because though -- as my mother keeps reminding me -- it's not a particularly friendly or warm place, it's been my only home since I left Iowa. And it's true that this house has never felt like home in the same way that 1017 High Street or 901 1/2 Main Street did, nevertheless, this is the place where I first made my life in New Mexico. But then, we all know how terrible I am at saying goodbye....
I'll feel better this time tomorrow, when the bulk of my belongings are ensconced in Lisa's house, when I begin again to make a home for myself here among the cholla and the pinon, the epic skies and the many faces of the mountains.
I'm moving across town, the Madison equivalent of moving from a little house on, say, West Mifflin, to a big house out on Lake Kegonsa (the Grinnell equivalent of moving from High Street to Newton). It's a 25 minute drive from Vassar Dr to Del Ray, more if there's traffic. A completely different neighborhood, a different demographic, a different feel. Where I live now, the houses are all smushed together (I can hear every conversation my neighbors have when they're in their garage and I'm in my backyard, or when they're outside and I have my windows open -- though it's not as bad as our house in Boston, where you could practically reach out from our kitchen window and touch the next house over) and the neighborhood is full of grad students, twenty-somethings, and young families. In order to see the Sandias from my house, you have to leave the yard, walk down the block to the corner, and look east -- they're off in the distance.... Lisa's house -- my new home, for now -- has such a huge yard that it almost seems rural. The neighbors are far away (though you can hear the peacocks screaming a few houses down, no problem) and the mountains are close. You can't not see the mountains, from Lisa's. It's a beautiful, beautiful place, and I'll be very lucky to call it home for a while. But for now, for tonight -- the last night in my house on Vassar Drive -- I'm sad to be packing and leaving, and missing all the people who mean home.
"...But every once in a while I miss Iowa, even though I only lived there for a few years.”
“Was it hard to leave?”
She nods, still staring into the fire. “Yes, it was.... I remember giving all my furniture and plants away to my closest friends like each was a promise. Like my things could take my place in their lives. Like, here take this chair and think of me every time you sit in it.” She’s quiet a moment, thinking, but he doesn’t say anything, and after a breath she continues. “I guess a part of me thought that my stuff could watch over my friends, too. Here, take this lamp, that aloe plant, and you’ll be safer. You’ll be okay. And I thought —”
“What?”
“I thought, if I leave all my things with these people, it’s a commitment to see them again. I didn’t realize then how insignificant things were....”
Some thoughts from leaving Grinnell:
10:30 pm Thursday night 14 August 2003 901 ½ Main G-nell
Just said goodbye to Cam, for a few months at least if he doesn’t make it back here in time to say goodbye tomorrow. I sent him off with part of my novel, a vanilla coke, some hugs, and a bunch of my furniture, including my papysan chair, the old brown fur couch, my bed, my desk, the stereo shelf, some rugs, some other shelves, the big wooden shelf I had all the dog food on... and he gave me a check for $100!! And the assurance that I mean just as much to him as he does to me... he said he’d never been so sad in his life, between me leaving and his grandmother dying and school starting... what a great guy. So lucky to have him in my life. He spent almost 2 hours tonight helping me pack up my kitchen stuff. And now I’m going to the pub so I don’t get too cry-y. I told him that after he left in June, I got all cry-y, and he said that he’d probably cry in the truck tonight on the way back to Des Moines. But we agreed that it takes a stronger person to let yourself feel those sad feelings than it does to suppress them....
2:40 am later
It’s nearly 3 and I’m not at all tired. The night is misty, humid, and warm, & I’m listening to Radiohead alone in my increasingly empty apartment. In the back of this legal pad are old notes from freshman year, the beginning of a letter to our prospie Anne, some Spanish, some notes back and forth between Tori and me. Tomorrow I will throw them away, but tonight they stand witness to the five years of my life I’ve spent in this amazing place. I can’t believe I’m leaving. I’m leaving tomorrow – tonight is my last night in Grinnell. It hurts me. The weight of all these years sits heavy on my chest like an asthma attack. All the nights here. All the deep, long talks with people I love like Jamie & Ali & Cam & Carrie & Kevin & Mary & Tim & Tori & everyone else... all the walks... how well I know all the streets, this sky, these stars... how I’ve seen this land safely through 5 autumns, five winters, 5 springs. This is the first autumn of my life – I mean, well... of the last 5 years, I guess, but when I say my life it doesn’t feel like an exaggeration — that I’m not coming back to Grinnell. It’s autumn and I’m leaving Grinnell & everything seems backward & upside down. When J & I were talking...Jamie said something [...] and I said, “See, and when you say that, I have this feeling —” I put my hand over my heart and Jamie nodded. “This heavy sense of love – and loss – and hope – and deep sadness ...” Jamie nodded again, knowing what I meant — and right now I’m feeling all that and more about Grinnell, and about Iowa, and all that I’ve done and been and learned and loved here. This place, this town and this college and these people — are my home just as much as Oregon and Madison are, but the difference is that the people who make Oregon and Madison home will always be there, whereas the same is not true for Grinnell. In three or five or ten years all my beloved Grinnell friends will be gone, and though I’ll be able to come home to these streets and trees and cornfields, I’ll never be able to come home to the same Grinnell that I’m leaving tomorrow.
A part of me doesn’t want to sleep at all, just wants to sit awake all night and see this town through one last night under my care, watch the sky ease into one more dawn before my loving vigil. I feel so lost already... and though I am excited about my move, I realize that I’m complicating, forever, my life so that I’ll never be able to feel like I’m home without feeling at least a little bit homeless or displaced again. In the desert I will miss the cornfields, and in the midwest I’ll miss the mountains. What was that Richard Jackson quote? "Just when we begin to trust in the moonlight we notice how many stars it erases – it is not easy."
2 police officers, strolling down the street, look up and see me sitting in my window, and wave. Radiohead is perfect for the quiet, sad, weird mood I’m in. As if anything could accurately describe what I am at this moment, on the eve of my farewell to Grinnell.
It's strange to be leaving this house, because though -- as my mother keeps reminding me -- it's not a particularly friendly or warm place, it's been my only home since I left Iowa. And it's true that this house has never felt like home in the same way that 1017 High Street or 901 1/2 Main Street did, nevertheless, this is the place where I first made my life in New Mexico. But then, we all know how terrible I am at saying goodbye....
I'll feel better this time tomorrow, when the bulk of my belongings are ensconced in Lisa's house, when I begin again to make a home for myself here among the cholla and the pinon, the epic skies and the many faces of the mountains.
I'm moving across town, the Madison equivalent of moving from a little house on, say, West Mifflin, to a big house out on Lake Kegonsa (the Grinnell equivalent of moving from High Street to Newton). It's a 25 minute drive from Vassar Dr to Del Ray, more if there's traffic. A completely different neighborhood, a different demographic, a different feel. Where I live now, the houses are all smushed together (I can hear every conversation my neighbors have when they're in their garage and I'm in my backyard, or when they're outside and I have my windows open -- though it's not as bad as our house in Boston, where you could practically reach out from our kitchen window and touch the next house over) and the neighborhood is full of grad students, twenty-somethings, and young families. In order to see the Sandias from my house, you have to leave the yard, walk down the block to the corner, and look east -- they're off in the distance.... Lisa's house -- my new home, for now -- has such a huge yard that it almost seems rural. The neighbors are far away (though you can hear the peacocks screaming a few houses down, no problem) and the mountains are close. You can't not see the mountains, from Lisa's. It's a beautiful, beautiful place, and I'll be very lucky to call it home for a while. But for now, for tonight -- the last night in my house on Vassar Drive -- I'm sad to be packing and leaving, and missing all the people who mean home.
"...But every once in a while I miss Iowa, even though I only lived there for a few years.”
“Was it hard to leave?”
She nods, still staring into the fire. “Yes, it was.... I remember giving all my furniture and plants away to my closest friends like each was a promise. Like my things could take my place in their lives. Like, here take this chair and think of me every time you sit in it.” She’s quiet a moment, thinking, but he doesn’t say anything, and after a breath she continues. “I guess a part of me thought that my stuff could watch over my friends, too. Here, take this lamp, that aloe plant, and you’ll be safer. You’ll be okay. And I thought —”
“What?”
“I thought, if I leave all my things with these people, it’s a commitment to see them again. I didn’t realize then how insignificant things were....”
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