12/12

Finals, housebreaking, Christmas shopping, crafting, card-making and mailing, being in love with something about Fred Savage's class, or perhaps F.S. himself, even after I spent a week fuming about my midterm, and now I want to be like him, when the whole semester I despised his ideology?? I know love belongs in schools, I know love is a cornerstone of a successful institution (if such a thing exists), but when the bizarre, self-righteous, jaded New Yorker started talking about his high schoolers ("babies" and "sweethearts") I almost cried. No joke. You do need to leave a place where loving the children is unimportant -- or worse, not allowed. We did a brief exercise -- something like, what principles does your ideal School operate on? Psychologies, long-term objectives, methods. This Fred, who lives and breathes cynicism, who gives his high schoolers Nietzche and us Gatto, loves his students. (The "babies," not us. And most definitely not me.) He's an EdD, has read everything in print (and to the chagrin of some, has formed a strong opinion on most of it), but the most important aspect of education, to him, is love. He is sometimes a jerk -- but, I've resolved, truly an inspiration. To me. And hopefully to all of those babies.

So, classes are almost over. Next term my classes are in town, which is good, but I'll miss the drive. Weird. It's like me-time that can't be cut into, and is sometimes increased due to traffic. It was time to think about the weirdness of Fred's class, time to eat a stale bagel and drink flat warm soda, time to mentally decorate my classroom, to plan my next PE lesson, to figure out the words to that revolting Missy Elliot song, to think. Just think. Or not think. I saw Bene the other week. He always says "take care of you." I'm no slouch at taking care of myself, but these drives were different -- like being forced, almost but not quite forced, to debate those things that I would always push aside if there was an undone crossword or laundry or wiggly puppy to see to (and there always is. Except during the drive.)

Brother Mart says I used up my "one last sentence" three sentences ago and must surrender the swively chair, so I surrender, and off I go to see about Gatto.

12/13

Supposed to pick up my dad from the airport soon.

Ooh! My NFL mug is ready and Santa has cash for me! Sorry, just weeding out the inbox. You know, sometimes I like watching QVC even though all they peddle is junk, and sometimes I like watching infomercials late at night even though things never work quite as well as they seem to on TV (though I do have a thighmaster I got when I was in high school, which still works, and a manual chopper which despite its flimsy-looking design has aided me in dozens upon dozens of salsa recipes and even kim chee dip endeavors because my parents refuse to purchase an electronic food processor and frankly if I had what a good one costs I wouldn't spend it on one either.) So I wonder, would I enjoy the contents of my spam if I actually ever bothered opening it? If so, my daily e-mail could keep me entertained for hours at a time.

I really have to dump Hotmail.

I'm supposed to be writing the Christmas letter. (It always ends up being a post-New Year's letter anyway, so I'm not feeling very pressured.) We're using a picture we took at California Adventure -- you know, the kind where the photographers descend upon you the second you open your park map. Well, my dad actually likes those pictures, and this one came out kind of okay, so we bought one and then I guess he took a picture of it and made a lot of copies and voila, xmas letter photo. We always buy the Splash Mountain picture, and this year he wanted to get the Screamin' (big roller coaster) picture which would have been kind of funny since right before the picture is taken, there's a series of minor hills and I'm kind of small so at the down parts, my whole body kind of floated right off the seat which made me laugh hysterically everytime, which made everyone riding with me laugh too, so I bet it would have been a cool picture if only it had come out. Oh well. Did you know there's a camera in Space Mountain, too? According to the machine, though, our photo was "lost in space."

E's B gave me a surprise ride to work today, and he made lunch (J.O. pasta with salmon shioyaki) which impressed all the "girls" at work who were eating the school lunch or something from the supermarket down the street. He kind of rocks, that Eugene's Brother. I got him a Christmas gift yesterday. More than anythign in the world he wants Vice City (it doesn't disturb people to play that kind of game?) ... we'll see. it's like this -- if he's been bad, he shouldn't get what he wants, so no VC. but if he's good, then why would he want such a vile form of entertainment? HA! Kingdom Hearts it is.

59/60. Thank god for bonus points.

So that's that.

Two more torture chambers and that'll really be that.

Grandma's xmas present to Bentley is obedience school. His present to her is a metal sign that says "Beware of Rottweiler." Santa's present to B is a cannister of Greenie bits, this veggie treat that he loves. He's nuts about vegetables (and vegetation.) I gave him an iceberg leaf today, and he chomped it before I could get my camera. Djali, on the other hand, refuses most vegetables and has grown fat and healthy almost solely on pellets and the occasional yogurt drop. The two seniors, TJ and Coco, have the most eclectic palates -- enjoying all manner of table scraps, bird entrails, all commercial brands of dog and cat food. But Shumai wins for slimiest menu -- earthworms, tubifex worms, brine shrimp, stunned guppies. Hopefully within a year he will graduate to newborn mice. Good source of calcium.

I got everyone presents from L'epicier. The thing about tea is it usually smells much better than it tastes. Usually it tastes like nothing. So if they don't enjoy brewing it, they can just leave the cannister open on a table or something. Much nicer than Glade.

That's Christmas shopping so far.

Back to the letter, which so far says "Hi!"