The Intersection 

There's a hole...

Dear Joanna,

There is a hole where your passion used to be.
Art and Passion are rarities these days.
The linnoleum halls are colorless.
Expressionless.
Cartwheel-less.
A big hole.

Love,

Gayle

(signed behind my notebook)

1. Art Teacher + New History Teacher = True Love Always?
2. School to adopt uniforms?
3. The Student Handbook, followed to a tee, sans compassion
4. My end of the hall: A Tranquil Sea, with open ports.
5. Math Teacher = Brimming Full of Glee. No packets! Projects! (following your lead.) In love. Oiled her leaks and squeaks. A different person.
6. Me? Dancing on a wire with the new Big Cheese.
7. Drama? Fabulous. Krystal, Alex, Angela doing MacBeth. ("Double. Double. Toil and trouble. Fire burn and couldron bubble.")
8. I miss Joanna. I accidently walked into your room yesterday. The resident said, "these kids can't read" and went back to discussing France with the Art Teacher. Yes. He's going. ;)
9. New aide: Very Cool. Pam = Stefi. Pam = Stage Manager. Darth Vadar wants to yank her, understandably, and put her in science (huge class) but I'm a HOG when it comes to drama and I am not above grovelling. We are ready to throw ourselves at the feet of her supervisor and beg.
10. I avoid Jaba. NO idea what's up there.
11. They will have to pry my coffee cup from my COLD DEAD FINGERS.
12. New Rimmer is... well... fresh from his PhD, let's just say.
13. Biodiesel: just looking for oil. Almost there!

Trying to find my inner Pollyanna. You know how I am with change. Not good. Especially if the change means more restrictions in a restrictive world. I just want to make my own rules and help students make theirs. I know, I'm NOT a realist. But my ideals are real.

And another one begin's

Here I am ... on the cusp of what I'm sure will be another mind blowing week of work. I have a schedule of sorts that I have cobbled together with lots of "But that interupts Reading" OR "No, not during that time, we'll be out for PE" OR "Don't you think you should be here for more than the 3 hours you have down?". UGH. I owe pull out people a huge apology for never letting them take kids from my math room - perhaps that would right the karma in my pull-out life.
Week one wasn't really that bad - I actually feel a bit more organized and know I haven't missed any deadlines or duedates or anything, yet.
Ugh.
And off I go to trudge the new dance that is my life.

And so it goes...

Hey look! Remember summer? (sigh)

Dear Judy,
I miss you terribly.
Love,
Gayle

Whoa!
It's going. The wheels are turning; the year has started. I feel winded. No, exhausted at the end of the day. Day two, that is. Holy Cow. (And if you know me, you know that "Holy Cow" is stronger than the mighty F-word in my speak.) That is all I have room to say; my brain is too full of dancing fingers and desperate faces. I love my job. (really)

(:I miss you, too, Joanna, but math does not affect my job as much as principalship. :)

Hello Fall

Tomorrow...
I'm letting go of this
Golden strand pinched tightly
Between my thumb and finger.
"Look, Over There!"
Woops.
There goes Summer,
Up, up and away.
Here comes
Tomorrow...

2005-06

My New Principal...

Today

And I walked into that building... Why was it? What made me think our computers would be ready the week before school starts? What made me think I'd get some time alone? Why did I think I wouldn't argue with Matt? Oh, and there was Judy, standing like a spector, even dressed all in white... She said, "All will be well." Will "all" really be well? As in a deep hole with water at the bottom? ("What's that, Lassie? Timmy's in the well?") He told me I can't drink coffee in my room. I told him that we're going to have an interesting year...

And, I know I'm a music snob beyond proportions, but I entered Mr. Matt's office and he was blasting Journey. I thought it was just a song on the radio and openly MOCKED him. He used the sign [kiss-fist] to show me how much he loved his Journey CD. Swear to God. "Open Arms" was scratching on... and Oh, Lord help me.

Help.

The Last Thursday of Summer...

I wrote this yesterday. And now I'm dressed, ready to go in and volunteer a day before the craziness hits. I read this again. And Now, this Now, the brownies are gone, only a crumby skillet and a slight, delicious waft of chocolate upstairs. Stuck in the corners, caught in the house spiders' dusty webs. Now, I drink my coffee with damp hair and watch the dance across my hands grow golden and then fade to a normal brilliance... It's just the transition from gold to flimsy yellow that gets me.

It's my last Wednesday of summer.
Yesterday was my last Tuesday.
Again.
It's my last week to poke around the house,
Making Brownies and
Cherry Chicken Pies and
Freezer Jam
In my pajamas.
The spiders are getting
Very Fat and
The thick August breeze is warm,
But it bites,
Like a cloud of tiny yellow jackets,
Sleepy and afraid.
I'm already planning the Winter Play,
Homecoming Activities,
Banquets, Field-trips,
Graduation.
Again.
Tomorrow is my last Thursday...
And it cascades from there
Into a new Now,
A fresh year.
But now, Now, this Now,
Pajamas comfortably slung low on my hips,
And a blue, flour besmudged T-shirt,
Brownies cooling in the kitchen,
As the shadows of leaves
Dance across my hands
A short waltz with
Sunlight.

Summer, slipping away

This is Greg, our beloved Greg, fly fishing at Hebo Lake this last weekend. Sigh, summer. Sigh. Again.



Listening to The Other Side of Summer by Elvis Costello.

Schedule

So just real quickly ... We had a Lions meeting tonight (yes, we are purple and yellow vest wearing, full fledged Lions) and I volunteered to help set up for the fall brat fry on Friday, September 09 ...

"Who can help set up the tent and stuff?"
"What time do you need people?" I ask, being the volunteer oriented person I am : )
"Oh, about 9:00AM."
"Oh, I'll be available to help!" I respond, again, being the person who just can't muster the word NO
"Uh, Joanna, don't you have to WORK that day?" my mindful father asks
"OH yeah! Never mind ... I guess I really do have something happening OTHER THAN vacation" says a red-faced me as I look straight into the eyes of the recently retired superintendent who actually signed my new contract.

ACK. Why can't summer be like 9 months with 3 months of work?
Oh well, at least I won't smell like a brat that weekend!

: )