December 25: George and I have matching pajamas now. I don’t think he finds it nearly as amusing as I do.
December 26: There was an accident a few miles ahead of us on the freeway. We were parked on section of the road for half an hour and we watched three firetrucks drive past. Addie howled along with each siren, and every time, someone in a car next to us would smile and roll down their car window so they could howl along with her.
December 27: The Pioneer Saloon is over 120 years old and dishing out old Fashioned in mason jars. The place is rumored to be haunted by either glamorous film star Carol Lombard or a prostitute killed in the women’s bathroom.
December 28: We spent half an hour inching across the blindingly bright neon lights of The Strip on our way from the Pinball Hall of Fame. Waunt pressed her face up against the window and a truck that drove past with an entire side lit up in an advertisement for call girls. She said that it reminded her of all the action movies set decades into the future.
“Awesome,” Dylan said. “We’ve already achieved dystopia.”
December 29: Due to the government shutdown, the bathrooms in the Valley of Fire were backed up and out of toilet paper. Trash mountains were heaped on top of every garbage can, but even that could not mar the beauty of the red and yellow stripes of the rocks. Stone the color of fire with the fluid rivulets of water.
December 30: We saw the worst of humanity this weekend. The history of atomic testing in the desert, the brutality of mobs throughout America, and the desperate crowd of people swarming every structure in the botanical garden of The Bellagio.
December 31: Every year at cosmic bowling, I somehow keep forgetting just how bad the free champagne they serve at midnight is. It is really, really bad.
much love,
hedgie
Monday, December 31, 2018
Monday, December 24, 2018
cloud of angry bees
December 17: We found out whose classroom we are sharing next semester. I have Mr. Patel’s room. Melissa picked that because she thinks he can learn a lot from watching me.
December 18: I sat next to Jen during the Mission Graduates Christmas party. I told Melissa I was worried about going deaf in that ear. She glanced around the table where everyone was on their third glass of sangria before the food even came out. “I guess I better get all the worker’s comp forms out,” she said.
December 19: Jaivon and Orlando were chasing each other around at recess and they ran into the bathroom. Orland told Jaivon to leave because he needed to pee. Jaivon left. That was the start of a rumor that quickly spread around the school that Jaivon raped Orlando in the bathroom. Merry Christmas.
December 20: Miss Maria decided that it was ugly sweater today. She had a sweater with a llama wearing a sweater. Miss Ana had one with a cat wrapped in working Christmas lights that said “Nope. Not Today.” Miss Connie borrowed my sweater that had the dog wearing a Christmas sweater and taped googly eyes on it.
December 21: Melissa looked out the window and saw a student precariously balanced on the banister of the second story staircase. She called for help on the walkie and stood by the hallway doors, looking up at him, not that there was much she would be able to do if he decided to jump. A few moments later, Mr. Powers opened the door behind the boy, wrapped an arm under his armpits, and tugged him back into the school. We tried not to think about what would have happened if Melissa hadn’t happened to look up when she did.
December 22: Nick’s dad wanted to play one of those old dance games where a little camera monitors your movement and recreates it with a bitmoji. Everyone said that they did not want to play, but he put it on anyway and trapped us all in the living room, watching him old white guy dance alone.
December 23: Nick, Christiana, and I made plans to make fudge with Oma, which Nick’s dad seemed weirdly bent on stopping. He decided to pull out his drone and was still telling us to play with it as we walked towards her house. He flew it just a few feet behind us and it buzzed like an approaching cloud of angry bees.
December 24: Within five minutes of arriving at the Cuffe house, George found the dog bed and was immovable for the rest of the night.
much love,
hedgie
December 18: I sat next to Jen during the Mission Graduates Christmas party. I told Melissa I was worried about going deaf in that ear. She glanced around the table where everyone was on their third glass of sangria before the food even came out. “I guess I better get all the worker’s comp forms out,” she said.
December 19: Jaivon and Orlando were chasing each other around at recess and they ran into the bathroom. Orland told Jaivon to leave because he needed to pee. Jaivon left. That was the start of a rumor that quickly spread around the school that Jaivon raped Orlando in the bathroom. Merry Christmas.
December 20: Miss Maria decided that it was ugly sweater today. She had a sweater with a llama wearing a sweater. Miss Ana had one with a cat wrapped in working Christmas lights that said “Nope. Not Today.” Miss Connie borrowed my sweater that had the dog wearing a Christmas sweater and taped googly eyes on it.
December 21: Melissa looked out the window and saw a student precariously balanced on the banister of the second story staircase. She called for help on the walkie and stood by the hallway doors, looking up at him, not that there was much she would be able to do if he decided to jump. A few moments later, Mr. Powers opened the door behind the boy, wrapped an arm under his armpits, and tugged him back into the school. We tried not to think about what would have happened if Melissa hadn’t happened to look up when she did.
December 22: Nick’s dad wanted to play one of those old dance games where a little camera monitors your movement and recreates it with a bitmoji. Everyone said that they did not want to play, but he put it on anyway and trapped us all in the living room, watching him old white guy dance alone.
December 23: Nick, Christiana, and I made plans to make fudge with Oma, which Nick’s dad seemed weirdly bent on stopping. He decided to pull out his drone and was still telling us to play with it as we walked towards her house. He flew it just a few feet behind us and it buzzed like an approaching cloud of angry bees.
December 24: Within five minutes of arriving at the Cuffe house, George found the dog bed and was immovable for the rest of the night.
much love,
hedgie
Sunday, December 16, 2018
hot dog day
December 9: Stow Lake notes:
Sound of man-made waterfall
Green benches dedicated in loving memory
Rock ledge around perimeter of water (except this spot)
Rocky dirt with a coke bottle lodged into it, murky green water
Yellowing leaves
On verge of being able to see breath fog up
Full of rented paddle boats during warmer months
Black and white ducks with the red eyes
Island of two trees and bushes
On a narrow corner across the street from the Japanese tea garden
Pagoda (Chinese Pavilion) with red pillars and green tile roof (to left of the island of trees)
Bushes of tiny white and purple flowers, dotted with lilies
December 10: Abel stepped out into the hallway and came to an abrupt stop. He wafted the air to his nose with a cupped hand like a sommelier over a glass of fine, red wine. A smile broke out across his face. “It’s hot dog day!“
December 11: Paolo has set upon the job of ruining Santa for everyone in his class. He told them that he asked his mom for a Drop Cam for Christmas so he can set it up and prove to them all that their parents are the ones setting presents under the tree.
December 12: The knitting elective was already shorter than most of our classes. Now it keeps getting days cut for holiday parties. If I want my kids to be able to finish their bunnies before the end of the term, I have to spend about two hours knitting their projects for a week.
December 13: Abel asked me if I had any plain paper so he could make the origami Christmas tree that was in his book. When I told him I didn’t, he went into my learning centers box and took six of my printed mystery math coloring sheets and immediately cut them up.
December 14: Her stomach filled with static.
December 15: Our Christmas tree this year is slightly shorter than I am, but just as skinny. Nick spent the rest of the trip holding it by the trunk with one hand like he was holding a scepter.
December 16: Addie has been drinking from the Christmas tree stand despite he full bowl of water in the kitchen. We keep fin dinging little droplets of water all over the wood floor from where it dribbled out of the sides of her mouth.
much love,
hedgie
Sound of man-made waterfall
Green benches dedicated in loving memory
Rock ledge around perimeter of water (except this spot)
Rocky dirt with a coke bottle lodged into it, murky green water
Yellowing leaves
On verge of being able to see breath fog up
Full of rented paddle boats during warmer months
Black and white ducks with the red eyes
Island of two trees and bushes
On a narrow corner across the street from the Japanese tea garden
Pagoda (Chinese Pavilion) with red pillars and green tile roof (to left of the island of trees)
Bushes of tiny white and purple flowers, dotted with lilies
December 10: Abel stepped out into the hallway and came to an abrupt stop. He wafted the air to his nose with a cupped hand like a sommelier over a glass of fine, red wine. A smile broke out across his face. “It’s hot dog day!“
December 11: Paolo has set upon the job of ruining Santa for everyone in his class. He told them that he asked his mom for a Drop Cam for Christmas so he can set it up and prove to them all that their parents are the ones setting presents under the tree.
December 12: The knitting elective was already shorter than most of our classes. Now it keeps getting days cut for holiday parties. If I want my kids to be able to finish their bunnies before the end of the term, I have to spend about two hours knitting their projects for a week.
December 13: Abel asked me if I had any plain paper so he could make the origami Christmas tree that was in his book. When I told him I didn’t, he went into my learning centers box and took six of my printed mystery math coloring sheets and immediately cut them up.
December 14: Her stomach filled with static.
December 15: Our Christmas tree this year is slightly shorter than I am, but just as skinny. Nick spent the rest of the trip holding it by the trunk with one hand like he was holding a scepter.
December 16: Addie has been drinking from the Christmas tree stand despite he full bowl of water in the kitchen. We keep fin dinging little droplets of water all over the wood floor from where it dribbled out of the sides of her mouth.
much love,
hedgie
Saturday, December 8, 2018
don't get murdered, okay
December 1: It was the weather that always made her think of Thanksgiving and standing outside of her childhood home for the first time in months. It was blindingly bright, but a chill had recently permeated the air, like the seasons were at war with each other and the weather couldn’t decide which side to be on.
December 2: The two glass blowing instructors kept assuring us that we were perfectly safe and they wouldn’t burn us, but it’s hard not to want to back away from them when they walk directly towards you with a long, metal pole that is a bright orange from being dipped in molten glass.
December 3: A convict escaped from the hospital near the school this morning. Then when program closed, Miss Melissa told me that there had been a mugging on the street that I walk home down. “Don’t get murdered, okay?”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
December 4: Knitting club has proven to be very frustrating. They have the process down when I am sitting next to them. I will watch them do ten stitches perfectly in a row, but right when I move to help out another student, they forget everything and scream that they need help before I can even sit back down.
December 5: Nick found a German Shepherd wandering the streets on his run home. He took the dog to the ACC instead of our apartment, which I feel is grounds for divorce.
December 6: Jen’s class wrote letters to Santa. We spent the morning trying to decipher what they wrote. We got stumped one one child who informed Santa that she had “been ben this year”. It took about half an hour to realize that she meant to write about how good they were, they were “bien”.
December 7: His family was its own self-contained unit that she had never been able to fit in to. The situation was like a shelf from IKEA. No matter how hard she tried to follow directions, there was always a screw or a plastic washer leftover. She was like that screw that would be put in a junk drawer somewhere and forgotten about. Not thrown away, but also not quite wanted.
December 8: In the circus tent, she flew high up in the air on two ropes and lit up by a dozen spotlights. Darkened exact replicas of herself were projected onto the walls, swinging and dancing in perfect sync.
much love,
hedgie
December 2: The two glass blowing instructors kept assuring us that we were perfectly safe and they wouldn’t burn us, but it’s hard not to want to back away from them when they walk directly towards you with a long, metal pole that is a bright orange from being dipped in molten glass.
December 3: A convict escaped from the hospital near the school this morning. Then when program closed, Miss Melissa told me that there had been a mugging on the street that I walk home down. “Don’t get murdered, okay?”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
December 4: Knitting club has proven to be very frustrating. They have the process down when I am sitting next to them. I will watch them do ten stitches perfectly in a row, but right when I move to help out another student, they forget everything and scream that they need help before I can even sit back down.
December 5: Nick found a German Shepherd wandering the streets on his run home. He took the dog to the ACC instead of our apartment, which I feel is grounds for divorce.
December 6: Jen’s class wrote letters to Santa. We spent the morning trying to decipher what they wrote. We got stumped one one child who informed Santa that she had “been ben this year”. It took about half an hour to realize that she meant to write about how good they were, they were “bien”.
December 7: His family was its own self-contained unit that she had never been able to fit in to. The situation was like a shelf from IKEA. No matter how hard she tried to follow directions, there was always a screw or a plastic washer leftover. She was like that screw that would be put in a junk drawer somewhere and forgotten about. Not thrown away, but also not quite wanted.
December 8: In the circus tent, she flew high up in the air on two ropes and lit up by a dozen spotlights. Darkened exact replicas of herself were projected onto the walls, swinging and dancing in perfect sync.
much love,
hedgie
Friday, November 30, 2018
buster
November 24: I finally met Max’s little one, Conrad. He gurgles in a way that makes him sound like he is purring all the time. He kept spitting out his pacifier and shoving my fingers into his mouth so that he could bite me with the two tiny and sharp teeth growing out of his lower jaw.
November 25: We picked up Wiggins and he immediately fell asleep in his dog bed in the back seat. When he woke up, dad wet over his responsibilities in the household, which include chasing Nora so much that she loses five pounds within the next two weeks.
November 26: For some reason, they decided to paint the hallways today instead of over Thanksgiving break, when the school was empty for an entire week. They forgot to put up signs warning people of the wet paint, and all day, we found students trying to wash light blue paint off their uniforms and out of their hair.
November 27: Buster is gone. While I am glad that I got to see her again, it doesn’t feel like I got to say a real goodbye. She wasn’t acting like herself for long at Thanksgiving and I wish that I had known that the summer Oregon trip was the last time I would really be with her.
November 28: It is, of course, the day I managed to have entirely indoor plans that the storm decided to take a break. It was damp, but rain-free the entire day.
November 29: Joanna informed me that if she asked to go to the bathroom today, I would need to excuse her immediately. She started her period last night. She’s ten. She even opened up her backpack to show me where she had stashed two week’s worth of pads. Janessa, also ten, shook her head slowly and said, “She’s growing up so fast.”
November 30: We got the results back from our Beacon Initiative evaluation. We did not score highly in “engagement” because we don’t utilize many interdependent skills in our lessons. The tool guide suggested that I establish a class treasurer. Problem solved.
much love,
hedgie
November 25: We picked up Wiggins and he immediately fell asleep in his dog bed in the back seat. When he woke up, dad wet over his responsibilities in the household, which include chasing Nora so much that she loses five pounds within the next two weeks.
November 26: For some reason, they decided to paint the hallways today instead of over Thanksgiving break, when the school was empty for an entire week. They forgot to put up signs warning people of the wet paint, and all day, we found students trying to wash light blue paint off their uniforms and out of their hair.
November 27: Buster is gone. While I am glad that I got to see her again, it doesn’t feel like I got to say a real goodbye. She wasn’t acting like herself for long at Thanksgiving and I wish that I had known that the summer Oregon trip was the last time I would really be with her.
November 28: It is, of course, the day I managed to have entirely indoor plans that the storm decided to take a break. It was damp, but rain-free the entire day.
November 29: Joanna informed me that if she asked to go to the bathroom today, I would need to excuse her immediately. She started her period last night. She’s ten. She even opened up her backpack to show me where she had stashed two week’s worth of pads. Janessa, also ten, shook her head slowly and said, “She’s growing up so fast.”
November 30: We got the results back from our Beacon Initiative evaluation. We did not score highly in “engagement” because we don’t utilize many interdependent skills in our lessons. The tool guide suggested that I establish a class treasurer. Problem solved.
much love,
hedgie
Friday, November 23, 2018
two types of alcoholic slushies
November 17: We had dinner at The Local Peasant, which had not one, but two types of alcoholic slushies. I drank both. I’ve never been happier.
November 18: The cabin sits on a series cinderblock stilts about a foot above the ground. Addie has been crawling under it all day. She can move pretty fast even when she was hunched over to fit. It was terrifying, watching her scramble towards me like a gigantic spider.
November 19: The Inn of the Seventh Ray is rumored to be Aimee Semple McPherson’s summer hideout. The creek that ran by the patio was completely dried out and they brought out portable heaters for everyone sitting outside. One was turned on too high and was quickly turned into a flamethrower.
November 20: The new Google site is the airplane hangar where The Spruce Goose was built. They were instructed to leave the original architecture alone, so the Google construction starts about five feet away from the walls. There was set of stairs blocked off from the main floor with a sign that describes them as historic stairs. They sit in the dark and lead to nowhere.
November 21: Heidi and Kate threw a surprise anniversary/Nick’s 30th birthday party for us. Heidi printed and laminated even more photos of us. How can she do these so fast?
November 22: Buster isn’t doing too well. She has an aggressive stomach cancer and there isn’t much anyone can do about it. She has spent the last week pooping nothing but blood. She constantly shivers and when I pet her, I can feel her tiny bones through her fur.
November 23: Dad had been desperately trying to find a new cold case to solve now that The Golden State Killer has been caught. He recruited Austin to help over text.
“Do you want to help me solve a crime?”
“Sure.”
“What skills will you be able to bring to our team?”
“I can pole vault.”
much love,
hedgie
November 18: The cabin sits on a series cinderblock stilts about a foot above the ground. Addie has been crawling under it all day. She can move pretty fast even when she was hunched over to fit. It was terrifying, watching her scramble towards me like a gigantic spider.
November 19: The Inn of the Seventh Ray is rumored to be Aimee Semple McPherson’s summer hideout. The creek that ran by the patio was completely dried out and they brought out portable heaters for everyone sitting outside. One was turned on too high and was quickly turned into a flamethrower.
November 20: The new Google site is the airplane hangar where The Spruce Goose was built. They were instructed to leave the original architecture alone, so the Google construction starts about five feet away from the walls. There was set of stairs blocked off from the main floor with a sign that describes them as historic stairs. They sit in the dark and lead to nowhere.
November 21: Heidi and Kate threw a surprise anniversary/Nick’s 30th birthday party for us. Heidi printed and laminated even more photos of us. How can she do these so fast?
November 22: Buster isn’t doing too well. She has an aggressive stomach cancer and there isn’t much anyone can do about it. She has spent the last week pooping nothing but blood. She constantly shivers and when I pet her, I can feel her tiny bones through her fur.
November 23: Dad had been desperately trying to find a new cold case to solve now that The Golden State Killer has been caught. He recruited Austin to help over text.
“Do you want to help me solve a crime?”
“Sure.”
“What skills will you be able to bring to our team?”
“I can pole vault.”
much love,
hedgie
Friday, November 16, 2018
equivalent of smoking two cigarettes
November 9: A nearby town is on fire, and it has sent plumes of ash into the sky. It is tinging everything with a red brown glow, making it look like golden hour before lunch time.
November 10: Nick sheared George and even trimmed his bangs. But he cut the bangs unevenly, so that it looks like he did them diagonally. It make George look like an emo kid.
November 11: Today, I hit 53,756 words for my novel. It is now officially the longest thing I have ever written.
November 12: Somewhere in Richmond, there is a beer waiting for me, courtesy of Ryan.
Armistice Brewing Company
November 13: The air quality is still at code red, so we had indoor recess all day again. It looks like it will continue this way all week. The kids are quickly becoming agitated and sickly. Yet, I still see hoards of people smoking as if they aren’t getting enough of that already.
November 14: We are teaching the Kindness Course again in program. I wanted to center my lessons around bullying because I knew my kids were having a lot of problems with that. The issue was that I was having a lot of trouble finding activities about bullying that they couldn’t bully each other during. They proved me right. We made poster about putting a stop to bullying. We decorated cutouts of our hands, signed it, and taped it on. They took the paper hands, folded down all the fingers but the middle one, and flipped each other off.
November 15: Due to the air quality, being outside for an hour is the equivalent of smoking two cigarettes. But the school districts are holding off on canceling school because they are afraid of losing government funding next year. Melissa joked about taking pictures of our kids all holding cigarettes with the caption “they might as well be”. When it was announced that school would be cancelled on Friday, Melissa wrote it on a piece of paper and slid it to me, knowing that saying it out loud in front of the children would spark pandemonium.
November 16: The school felt almost haunted all week. The front yard, normally filled with screaming children, was quiet and empty. The front gate screeched opened and slammed shut with a heavy thud. Everything was grey and obscured by smoke.
much love,
hedgie
November 10: Nick sheared George and even trimmed his bangs. But he cut the bangs unevenly, so that it looks like he did them diagonally. It make George look like an emo kid.
November 11: Today, I hit 53,756 words for my novel. It is now officially the longest thing I have ever written.
November 12: Somewhere in Richmond, there is a beer waiting for me, courtesy of Ryan.
Armistice Brewing Company
November 13: The air quality is still at code red, so we had indoor recess all day again. It looks like it will continue this way all week. The kids are quickly becoming agitated and sickly. Yet, I still see hoards of people smoking as if they aren’t getting enough of that already.
November 14: We are teaching the Kindness Course again in program. I wanted to center my lessons around bullying because I knew my kids were having a lot of problems with that. The issue was that I was having a lot of trouble finding activities about bullying that they couldn’t bully each other during. They proved me right. We made poster about putting a stop to bullying. We decorated cutouts of our hands, signed it, and taped it on. They took the paper hands, folded down all the fingers but the middle one, and flipped each other off.
November 15: Due to the air quality, being outside for an hour is the equivalent of smoking two cigarettes. But the school districts are holding off on canceling school because they are afraid of losing government funding next year. Melissa joked about taking pictures of our kids all holding cigarettes with the caption “they might as well be”. When it was announced that school would be cancelled on Friday, Melissa wrote it on a piece of paper and slid it to me, knowing that saying it out loud in front of the children would spark pandemonium.
November 16: The school felt almost haunted all week. The front yard, normally filled with screaming children, was quiet and empty. The front gate screeched opened and slammed shut with a heavy thud. Everything was grey and obscured by smoke.
much love,
hedgie
Thursday, November 8, 2018
we're awful
November 1: The streets are littered with unwrapped pieces of candy. It makes it hard to walk Addie because she lunges for every piece she finds and she has yet to make the connection between eating things out of the gutter and her getting bouts of diarrhea.
November 2: Our counselor has been dividing her time between two offices. She is in San Francisco two days a week and in the East Bay the rest of the time. She’s going to be switching to the East Bay full time and we have to decide what we want to do now. I know it would be really difficult to add a commute to therapy, but I’m really hesitant to leave something I know is working and gambling on something else we know nothing about. It’s like going to a restaurant with your favorite meal and then ordering something else just to see what the rest of their food is like.
November 3: I’m already a few hundred words behind on NaNoWriMo. In order to catch up, I need to write over 2,200 words today. It doesn’t help that Nick keeps coming into the room to show me things, like the onion we got in our Hello Fresh box this week that he thinks is huge.
November 4: I lay down on the couch, the muscles in my legs and back still twitching from walking home from lunch. It was like they were all still pumped up from being outside and were whispering excitedly to each other.
November 5:
November 7: Janessa looked at me curiously at recess today. “Miss. Heather, do you want to have kids someday?”
“Yes, I do.”
She looked very confused by my answer. “Why?” She asked. “We’re awful.”
November 8: I labeled a dozen ziplock bags for each of my knitting class students so that they would have a place to store their projects when class ended. They had been with the kids for about five minutes before Briana opened hers up and spit in it.
much love,
hedgie
November 2: Our counselor has been dividing her time between two offices. She is in San Francisco two days a week and in the East Bay the rest of the time. She’s going to be switching to the East Bay full time and we have to decide what we want to do now. I know it would be really difficult to add a commute to therapy, but I’m really hesitant to leave something I know is working and gambling on something else we know nothing about. It’s like going to a restaurant with your favorite meal and then ordering something else just to see what the rest of their food is like.
November 3: I’m already a few hundred words behind on NaNoWriMo. In order to catch up, I need to write over 2,200 words today. It doesn’t help that Nick keeps coming into the room to show me things, like the onion we got in our Hello Fresh box this week that he thinks is huge.
November 4: I lay down on the couch, the muscles in my legs and back still twitching from walking home from lunch. It was like they were all still pumped up from being outside and were whispering excitedly to each other.
November 5:
Ana poked unhappily at her salad with her fork after finishing her the first, disappointing bite. “It tastes like grass,” she said, making a face. “That’s because it is grass,” Jen said. “What did you expect?”
Or
She didn’t like the way he talked about how good things were when she was on Zoloft. He would point out how they rarely fought and how they had sex all the time. They were happier than they had been for a long time. He didn’t give her any credit for how hard she worked to get there. It was like he was telling her that all his favorite things about her was the medication.
November 6: Nick and I cast our votes after work. Now, I get to spend the rest of the night anxiously refreshing my webpage to watch the seats of the House and Senate get filled.November 7: Janessa looked at me curiously at recess today. “Miss. Heather, do you want to have kids someday?”
“Yes, I do.”
She looked very confused by my answer. “Why?” She asked. “We’re awful.”
November 8: I labeled a dozen ziplock bags for each of my knitting class students so that they would have a place to store their projects when class ended. They had been with the kids for about five minutes before Briana opened hers up and spit in it.
much love,
hedgie
Wednesday, October 31, 2018
turning ourselves in
October 24: One third of my students have not had their registration fee paid for yet. I handed out reminders to the parents as they picked up their kids. One mom got upset with me and said that she had never paid for this program in the six years her son had been going here and she’s not going to do it now. Then she stole my pen.
October 25: Two boys stopped Melissa in the hallway and asked if she had seen Mr. Woods, the school principal.
“I haven’t,” Melissa answered. “What do you need?”
“We did something bad and we’re turning ourselves in.”
October 26: There were twice as many kids for today’s slime party as there were for the last one, but we were only warned half an hour ahead of time. Half the classes did not come down on time and we were still being sent kids after the school day had already finished and we had run out of glue.
October 27: They had a tradition for Valentine’s Day where they went to the same chocolate shop and built each other a collection of chocolates in a heart-shaped box. His was filled with mostly dark chocolate and fudges. Hers was milk chocolate mixed with caramels and nuts.
October 28: The apple orchard handed out these rods with a claw-like wire cage at one end that could yank and catch the apples in the limbs above our heads. But they were large and clumsy. Grabbing for one apple would usually send two more tumbling down after it.
October 29: Over the weekend, he added a second lock to the front door. This one locked only from the outside. He didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t afford someone to spend all day with him, but he also couldn’t risk him getting out again. He wondered if Irving even noticed he was locked in from the rest of the world.
October 30: “Ms. Heather, what are you going to be for Halloween?”
“Rosie the Riveter.”
She game me a doubtful look.
“What?” I asked.
“But you need muscles to be her.”
October 31: The Halloween party sent out numerous reminders that this was not a sex party. They did have a spanking room, but it was repetitive. The most exciting part of the night was when a woman in a French maid outfit entered with dozens of forks and a chocolate cake.
Greg had been edging towards the door until that moment. “I was ready to leave, but then they brought in the cake and I have to know where this goes.”
much love,
hedgie
October 25: Two boys stopped Melissa in the hallway and asked if she had seen Mr. Woods, the school principal.
“I haven’t,” Melissa answered. “What do you need?”
“We did something bad and we’re turning ourselves in.”
October 26: There were twice as many kids for today’s slime party as there were for the last one, but we were only warned half an hour ahead of time. Half the classes did not come down on time and we were still being sent kids after the school day had already finished and we had run out of glue.
October 27: They had a tradition for Valentine’s Day where they went to the same chocolate shop and built each other a collection of chocolates in a heart-shaped box. His was filled with mostly dark chocolate and fudges. Hers was milk chocolate mixed with caramels and nuts.
October 28: The apple orchard handed out these rods with a claw-like wire cage at one end that could yank and catch the apples in the limbs above our heads. But they were large and clumsy. Grabbing for one apple would usually send two more tumbling down after it.
October 29: Over the weekend, he added a second lock to the front door. This one locked only from the outside. He didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t afford someone to spend all day with him, but he also couldn’t risk him getting out again. He wondered if Irving even noticed he was locked in from the rest of the world.
October 30: “Ms. Heather, what are you going to be for Halloween?”
“Rosie the Riveter.”
She game me a doubtful look.
“What?” I asked.
“But you need muscles to be her.”
October 31: The Halloween party sent out numerous reminders that this was not a sex party. They did have a spanking room, but it was repetitive. The most exciting part of the night was when a woman in a French maid outfit entered with dozens of forks and a chocolate cake.
Greg had been edging towards the door until that moment. “I was ready to leave, but then they brought in the cake and I have to know where this goes.”
much love,
hedgie
Tuesday, October 23, 2018
go for arson
October 16: Acie was in a rebellious mood and was doing every little act of defiance that he could think of. Unfortunately, one of them was breaking my “don’t run down the stairs” policy. He ended up tripping on the fourth step and rammed head-first into a wall. He sat on the floor crying and David helped prop him up.
I sat next to him and asked him what the president’s name was.
He closed his eyes and groaned. “Don’t make me say it.”
October 17: Susan Orlean paused in the middle of promoting her new book, The Library Book, to give the audience advice on how to get away with committing a felony. “If you want to commit a crime, here’s a tip, go for arson.”
October 18: When teachers request support in their classrooms, they refer to the children that need assistance by their initials. It has made me biased against certain letters of the alphabet. These names tend to contain E’s, D’s, and J’s more than any other letter. This morning, we had two calls just three seconds apart.
“Female J.J. is throwing rulers in Rm 203.”
“Male J.J. just eloped from the classroom.”
October 19: Two men from the Safe Streets program came to teach my class about the street systems that have been designed to keep them safe. They asked my class for examples that they already knew about. They were expecting answers like slower speed limits around the school or crosswalks. Instead, my kids told them about the fences to keep shooters out and the locking front gate so that people can’t come in to try to kidnap them.
The two men stared at them in silence for a few seconds before saying, “Oh. You guys got dark fast.”
October 20: Heidi spent the week in Yosemite National Park with no cell phone service. Despite this, she somehow managed to prepare a present for us in the park. It was a Travel Stamp notebook where you add special stamps for every national park you visit. She somehow already printed a stuck in one of our wedding photos for the Joshua Tree National Park square.
October 21: She was on all fours on the ground, screaming with all the force of a power washer.
October 22: Serenity decides to quit soccer forever roughly every ten minutes. She stomps off the course and does her best to force around what she can find. She kicks at the trunk of trees, throws leaves into the court, and sulks on the bench while shoving everyone’s water bottles and sweaters to the ground.
October 23: The front office flooded with students suddenly requesting to replace school ID cards that they had lost months before. Their parents were terrified and demanded that they have something with name nam and photo on them at all times.
much love,
hedgie
I sat next to him and asked him what the president’s name was.
He closed his eyes and groaned. “Don’t make me say it.”
October 17: Susan Orlean paused in the middle of promoting her new book, The Library Book, to give the audience advice on how to get away with committing a felony. “If you want to commit a crime, here’s a tip, go for arson.”
October 18: When teachers request support in their classrooms, they refer to the children that need assistance by their initials. It has made me biased against certain letters of the alphabet. These names tend to contain E’s, D’s, and J’s more than any other letter. This morning, we had two calls just three seconds apart.
“Female J.J. is throwing rulers in Rm 203.”
“Male J.J. just eloped from the classroom.”
October 19: Two men from the Safe Streets program came to teach my class about the street systems that have been designed to keep them safe. They asked my class for examples that they already knew about. They were expecting answers like slower speed limits around the school or crosswalks. Instead, my kids told them about the fences to keep shooters out and the locking front gate so that people can’t come in to try to kidnap them.
The two men stared at them in silence for a few seconds before saying, “Oh. You guys got dark fast.”
October 20: Heidi spent the week in Yosemite National Park with no cell phone service. Despite this, she somehow managed to prepare a present for us in the park. It was a Travel Stamp notebook where you add special stamps for every national park you visit. She somehow already printed a stuck in one of our wedding photos for the Joshua Tree National Park square.
October 21: She was on all fours on the ground, screaming with all the force of a power washer.
October 22: Serenity decides to quit soccer forever roughly every ten minutes. She stomps off the course and does her best to force around what she can find. She kicks at the trunk of trees, throws leaves into the court, and sulks on the bench while shoving everyone’s water bottles and sweaters to the ground.
October 23: The front office flooded with students suddenly requesting to replace school ID cards that they had lost months before. Their parents were terrified and demanded that they have something with name nam and photo on them at all times.
much love,
hedgie
Monday, October 15, 2018
joke's on you, i don't have a man
October 8: Melissa is trying to get me out of the Beacon Bridge meetings. They plan to hold them for two hours every week during program, which means I would have to take a day off from work just to sit around with people doing a vision board to lead us to the decision that our team building events should feel welcoming.
October 9: Addie had a teeth cleaning today, which means the vet put her under some anesthetic. She is still feeling the effects. She keeps standing up only to walk a few steps forward and staring at the wall for five minutes straight, looking very confused and worried.
October 10: At the end of the day, it suddenly got colder than anyone was prepared for. Maria was contemplating turning on the laminator just to warm up her ha
October 11: Last night, Ana and Melissa had to stay with one of my students until 7:15. Apparently no one in her family noticed she was missing. Her mother wasn’t answering her phone when they called her repeatedly. Eventually, they got ahold of her grandmother. Over an hour and a half late, the first thing the mother did was chide her daughter for bothering the grandmother.
October 12: The entire school gathered into the cafeteria for the Fiesta Latina showcase. Three classes performed songs from “Coco”. During one to them, a single boy spent the whole time doing the worm. In one of the fifth grade songs, the married dance teachers awkwardly inserted themselves by having the class suddenly split in half on the stage and they did a dance solo.
October 13: A ring of running water circles the two sushi chefs. The water contained little wooden boats that were tethered together by three plastic rings connected from one boat’s rudder to the next one’s bow. The chefs were able to fit two or three plates of sushi on each boat as they floated by the customers.
October 14: The lists for traditional anniversary gifts confuse me a bit. There’s the part where they suddenly stop listing every year and only go for the big numbers that end in five or zero, but there’s also the gifts I can’t possibly imagine how they came to be part of the tradition. Why is the sixth either candy or iron? Who decided fourteen years would be animal items? Coral?
October 15: Jai’von was convinced he knew how to get control over Miss Maria. “Are you sure you want to know?” He asked.
“Try me,” said Maria, barely looking up from her phone.
“If you don’t give me a snack, I’m going to tell your man.”
Maria pointed a finger at him and laughed. “Joke’s on you, I don’t have a man. I’m so alone!”
much love,
hedgie
October 9: Addie had a teeth cleaning today, which means the vet put her under some anesthetic. She is still feeling the effects. She keeps standing up only to walk a few steps forward and staring at the wall for five minutes straight, looking very confused and worried.
October 10: At the end of the day, it suddenly got colder than anyone was prepared for. Maria was contemplating turning on the laminator just to warm up her ha
October 11: Last night, Ana and Melissa had to stay with one of my students until 7:15. Apparently no one in her family noticed she was missing. Her mother wasn’t answering her phone when they called her repeatedly. Eventually, they got ahold of her grandmother. Over an hour and a half late, the first thing the mother did was chide her daughter for bothering the grandmother.
October 12: The entire school gathered into the cafeteria for the Fiesta Latina showcase. Three classes performed songs from “Coco”. During one to them, a single boy spent the whole time doing the worm. In one of the fifth grade songs, the married dance teachers awkwardly inserted themselves by having the class suddenly split in half on the stage and they did a dance solo.
October 13: A ring of running water circles the two sushi chefs. The water contained little wooden boats that were tethered together by three plastic rings connected from one boat’s rudder to the next one’s bow. The chefs were able to fit two or three plates of sushi on each boat as they floated by the customers.
October 14: The lists for traditional anniversary gifts confuse me a bit. There’s the part where they suddenly stop listing every year and only go for the big numbers that end in five or zero, but there’s also the gifts I can’t possibly imagine how they came to be part of the tradition. Why is the sixth either candy or iron? Who decided fourteen years would be animal items? Coral?
October 15: Jai’von was convinced he knew how to get control over Miss Maria. “Are you sure you want to know?” He asked.
“Try me,” said Maria, barely looking up from her phone.
“If you don’t give me a snack, I’m going to tell your man.”
Maria pointed a finger at him and laughed. “Joke’s on you, I don’t have a man. I’m so alone!”
much love,
hedgie
Sunday, October 7, 2018
should i stop them?
October 1: Abel found his ideal reading spot at recess. It was in the middle of the soccer court while a game was happening. He looked so happy and relaxed sitting there amid the screaming chaos with his little pile of books.
October 2: I gave my kids a riddle to solve during journal time today. It went: What can you see once in a minutes, twice in a moment, and never in a thousand years? Eight of them guessed that it was a cookie.
October 3: When I locked the classroom door at pickup time, I used to tell my kids “let’s roll”. I can no longer do this because they have decided to take me literally and actually get on the floor to roll down the hallway.
October 4: The new Reading Partners lady looked concerned as soon as she walked through the door. “There are kids banging their heads against the side of the building. Should I stop them?”
October 5: When she gripped the chair in front of her, she could feel it rumble with the vibrations of the Garbage concert. The bass line thudded heavy through her body, manipulating the beat of her heart. The smell alternated between clouds of maple syrup vape and farts.
October 6: The man running the karaoke machine behind the counter at Dino’s fumbles with dozens of knobs on his table to make the drunken crooners sound as good as possible. He sang backup to my song, harmonizing with me perfectly even though we had never met before. The guy who came up after spit out lyrics to a rap song faster than my eyes could read them on the teleprompter.
October 7: In The Luxor, the elevator runs sideways due to the building’s pyramid shape and makes riders feel tipsy before they even have a chance to drink. There is a fake city stacked in the middle of the casino floor, which looks impressive when looking up, but they failed to decorate the tops of the stained roofs you look down on when you go to the hotel rooms.
much love,
hedgie
October 2: I gave my kids a riddle to solve during journal time today. It went: What can you see once in a minutes, twice in a moment, and never in a thousand years? Eight of them guessed that it was a cookie.
October 3: When I locked the classroom door at pickup time, I used to tell my kids “let’s roll”. I can no longer do this because they have decided to take me literally and actually get on the floor to roll down the hallway.
October 4: The new Reading Partners lady looked concerned as soon as she walked through the door. “There are kids banging their heads against the side of the building. Should I stop them?”
October 5: When she gripped the chair in front of her, she could feel it rumble with the vibrations of the Garbage concert. The bass line thudded heavy through her body, manipulating the beat of her heart. The smell alternated between clouds of maple syrup vape and farts.
October 6: The man running the karaoke machine behind the counter at Dino’s fumbles with dozens of knobs on his table to make the drunken crooners sound as good as possible. He sang backup to my song, harmonizing with me perfectly even though we had never met before. The guy who came up after spit out lyrics to a rap song faster than my eyes could read them on the teleprompter.
October 7: In The Luxor, the elevator runs sideways due to the building’s pyramid shape and makes riders feel tipsy before they even have a chance to drink. There is a fake city stacked in the middle of the casino floor, which looks impressive when looking up, but they failed to decorate the tops of the stained roofs you look down on when you go to the hotel rooms.
much love,
hedgie
Sunday, September 30, 2018
i have some milk for you
September 24: The late pick up kids were playing pretend grocery. Celeste bought an assortment of plastic foods, which Valerye rung up at the fake cash register. Valerye handed Celeste her change in pretend coins. Celeste stared at a phony penny intensely. “Hello, Mr. Lincoln,” she said to the coin. “I haven’t seen you since you were assassinated.”
September 25: Everyone’s cellphones beeped to alert us to Bill Cosby’s sentence as a convicted sex offender. I saw a book on our shelf that was written by Bill Cosby and titled “My Big Lie”, a book about how lying is always bad. Jen took it fro me to snapchat the irony.
September 26: Today, a student in the kinder class whose name I don’t know approached me in the playground. “Ms. Heather, I have some milk for you,” he said. Then he proceeded to pull two cartons of milk out of his pants pocket. How he managed to fit those in there is a mystery.
September 27: Ana has been receiving and typing up the forms turned in for our after school program. Today, she found one where the parents got confused at the race question. They checked “other” and wrote in “purple”.
September 28: Every single child complained at the slime party.
“It’s too hard. Look,” they said. Then they threw their ball of slime onto the cafeteria table and watched it bounce.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll take it,” I said.
Every time, they pulled their slime back protectively. “No,” they said. “I’ll keep it.”
September 29: Our new neighbor keeps a chair in her bay window. It’s where she likes to read. Today, she let us know that Addie spends all day sitting in our window vigilantly watching her read and barking every time she moves.
September 30: Cheddar can be a verb. It is a part of the cheese making process where you cut up cheese curds while they are still warm and fermenting. You salt the sections and stack them like Jenga pieces over and over again until everything is mixed up.
much love,
hedgie
September 25: Everyone’s cellphones beeped to alert us to Bill Cosby’s sentence as a convicted sex offender. I saw a book on our shelf that was written by Bill Cosby and titled “My Big Lie”, a book about how lying is always bad. Jen took it fro me to snapchat the irony.
September 26: Today, a student in the kinder class whose name I don’t know approached me in the playground. “Ms. Heather, I have some milk for you,” he said. Then he proceeded to pull two cartons of milk out of his pants pocket. How he managed to fit those in there is a mystery.
September 27: Ana has been receiving and typing up the forms turned in for our after school program. Today, she found one where the parents got confused at the race question. They checked “other” and wrote in “purple”.
September 28: Every single child complained at the slime party.
“It’s too hard. Look,” they said. Then they threw their ball of slime onto the cafeteria table and watched it bounce.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll take it,” I said.
Every time, they pulled their slime back protectively. “No,” they said. “I’ll keep it.”
September 29: Our new neighbor keeps a chair in her bay window. It’s where she likes to read. Today, she let us know that Addie spends all day sitting in our window vigilantly watching her read and barking every time she moves.
September 30: Cheddar can be a verb. It is a part of the cheese making process where you cut up cheese curds while they are still warm and fermenting. You salt the sections and stack them like Jenga pieces over and over again until everything is mixed up.
much love,
hedgie
Sunday, September 23, 2018
i can read the monkey's mind
September 17: Mr. Wood’s came had a black eye from trying to calm down a child who was throwing around everything in the class he could pick up. That child has a two-day suspension, which is the first suspension I have ever heard of taking place at this school. Not even the kid who repeatedly pulled the fire alarm got suspended. He wrote one anonymous apology letter.
September 18: “This is our blubber glove so we can experience what it feels like for whales to be in cold water.”
“What’s in it?”
“Crisco. It’s used for baking as a butter substitute.”
“Can I eat it?”
“Please don’t.”
“But I love butter.”
“You would eat just butter?”
“I can eat a whole stick. I like to put it on chocolate.”
September 19: By the time my kids came down for supper, there weren’t enough hot dogs for them to have seconds. They took it very, very personally.
September 20: I taught my Endangered Species class about the Black Crested Macaques that figured out how to take selfies. After they got over the whole bright pink butt thing, they got surprisingly into the court case that followed. “How can PETA know what the monkey is thinking? Are they just like ‘I can read the monkey’s mind and they want to sue you and you and you?’”
September 21: Addie is not able to sense earthquakes before they happen, but apparently she can predict when George is about to have a bout of diarrhea. At three in the morning, she started pacing the room and whining until Nick took them out. Which is double strange because George shows no symptoms of anything bad about to happen until it is already too late.
September 22: Nick decided that today we would have a tea parade. He brewed a mug for all five teas that he brought home from Singapore. He even chose themed mugs so that we could tell which was which. The Unicorn green tea was in a green mug. The detox tea was in my teacher mug because being a teacher means I need to detox. The Singapore Breakfast was in a red mug because it matched the red tin. The white tea was in a white box. And the Royal Tea was in an Elvis mug because that is the closest thing we had to royalty.
September 23: I have 22 fourth graders stuffed into a room that is set up for 15 second graders. They can’t all sit in their chairs without moving the table farther away from each other and they can’t all fit on the rainbow rug at the same time because the cabinets are positioned right at the edges and there is no space for overflow.
much love,
hedgie
September 18: “This is our blubber glove so we can experience what it feels like for whales to be in cold water.”
“What’s in it?”
“Crisco. It’s used for baking as a butter substitute.”
“Can I eat it?”
“Please don’t.”
“But I love butter.”
“You would eat just butter?”
“I can eat a whole stick. I like to put it on chocolate.”
September 19: By the time my kids came down for supper, there weren’t enough hot dogs for them to have seconds. They took it very, very personally.
September 20: I taught my Endangered Species class about the Black Crested Macaques that figured out how to take selfies. After they got over the whole bright pink butt thing, they got surprisingly into the court case that followed. “How can PETA know what the monkey is thinking? Are they just like ‘I can read the monkey’s mind and they want to sue you and you and you?’”
September 21: Addie is not able to sense earthquakes before they happen, but apparently she can predict when George is about to have a bout of diarrhea. At three in the morning, she started pacing the room and whining until Nick took them out. Which is double strange because George shows no symptoms of anything bad about to happen until it is already too late.
September 22: Nick decided that today we would have a tea parade. He brewed a mug for all five teas that he brought home from Singapore. He even chose themed mugs so that we could tell which was which. The Unicorn green tea was in a green mug. The detox tea was in my teacher mug because being a teacher means I need to detox. The Singapore Breakfast was in a red mug because it matched the red tin. The white tea was in a white box. And the Royal Tea was in an Elvis mug because that is the closest thing we had to royalty.
September 23: I have 22 fourth graders stuffed into a room that is set up for 15 second graders. They can’t all sit in their chairs without moving the table farther away from each other and they can’t all fit on the rainbow rug at the same time because the cabinets are positioned right at the edges and there is no space for overflow.
much love,
hedgie
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