Reclaiming my time

Vacation pace is different than classroom pace

I sometime felt the need to justify my summer sloth, but mostly I believe teachers deserve their summers. Sure, it’s a full-time adult job with stresses and tasks and deadlines like everyone; I’m not even hardest worker in my house. But teaching sixth grade takes a unique physical and emotional toll, with the added stress of effectively being on stage all day, to say nothing of the 25 people looking to you for direction and help and control and fun and maybe even KNOWLEDGE, with the perpetual overtone that your every decision is affecting kids’ lives and futures. Also summer is fun. And kids need the time off! I say every job gets a month or two to relax and think, How can I do it better next time? Luckily my profession has that, and I am appreciative.

We were fortunate to get a week away with each sister and family this summer, and we deferred to the kids’ paces which was sllllow. It took some adjusting after a school year that feels break-neck even when it’s dragging. Neither of our sisters is big on advance planning, so we lived moment-to-moment, which was fun. It’s a summer indulgence, of course, because a classroom requires structure. At least mine does, and the shape of class is tightly scripted with the dialogue more improvised. Sort of like a Christopher Guest movie, except the funny comes in unexpected place.

During the year, I plan chunks as small as 5 minutes, squeezing as much as I can out of the allotted time. But summer is not about sticking to an agenda you make the day before. One set of nieces wanted the beach at 12, the others closer to 7. I let the planning part of my brain hibernate over the summer, and it made me much more sufferable. But those days have wound down to zero, and I shift my attention the day, the week, the month, the year. I’ve started prepping at home, and prep is just another word for plan. It’s all I do.

So I clocked some good hammock time, but now it’s time to reset my mind to classroom pace.. Thank you, summer, you were lovely. I’ll see you in 10 months.

The Week in Dog Poo

The dogs are pooing plenty: Ginger is Mosi Ta-two-poo almost on every walk, and Winnie is reliably good for 1-2. The bigger issue has been the indoor peeing. Winnie was house-trained when we got her six years ago, but we sure took care of that. She seems to be settling into a more predictable indoor peeing pattern, enough to merit a vigorous campaign of pee pads. I feel like I’m channeling Minority Report, determining where the pre-crime of peeing will take place, defending the hardwood. Ginger felt left out, so she’s been adding a couple poos right off the pad. Which is additionally maddening when she actively refuses to walk and poo outside. Luckily, these dogs seem to completely change every couple weeks, so stay tuned.

The Urban Blah

Back in 2009-11 I collaborated with the brilliant Lovisa to make a webcomic that failed to become syndicated across the globe. I am pro-recycling.

My Back Pages

I HATED George W. Bush, and I took the 2004 election very personally. A week later, I started a blog called “George Bush Is My Friend” imagining the President as a free-wheeling, racist, foul-mouthed, good ol’ boy writing me taunting emails. From “Attacking defeatists by protecting da fetus,” March 1, 2006. Lightly edited because he was a potty-mouth.

From: Prexy43 [Bush]

To: LiberalJerkwad [Tobin]

Subject: why you all h8 me?

So I just flew in from Afghanistan and boy are my arms outdated for modern warfare! I wish Mr. Cheney wouldn’t make me talk about catching Osama all the time. We should be figuring out how to spin kidney failure into a US strategy because we all know that’s how he’s gonna snuff it.

Times are tough, man — everybody hates me! And it sucks because I’ve always been the popular kid. My mom’s servants baked the best cupcakes for class, I was head cheerleader, Skull and Bones made me Grand Wizard, Texas voters wanted me carnally, and I “won” two Presidential elections, once even capturing a narrow majority of a narrow majority of eligible voters. It’s always been, “They luvya, Dubya.” Now I’m down to a 34% approval rating. I wanted to unite this country, but not against MY Christian ass!

He proceeds to outline a plan to get back into America’s good graces, in a sad preview of what has become a familiar strategy.

4. ROOT OUT CORRUPTION. It seems like every day you read about a new scandal, abuse of power, or flouting of all ethics. And it’s time to put a stop to this — we have to shut down the newspapers and websites reporting these stories. Government corruption is as American as baseball, apple pie, and creationism. The post-9/11 obedience from the media has clearly worn off, so we need to send a clear message on corruption: shhhhhh.

Mr. Rove said if I even do three of the four, I can triple that 34% approval rating. That’s over 100%, which would mean even the unborn would love me, and that makes sense given how much more concerned I am with protecting minority fetuses than minorities themselves. I mean, if you want to be considered important, why call yourselves a “minority”? That’s self-defeatism right there.

I’m having Ashcroft over for pizza and Lost tonight. I think it’s about the pregnant chick who isn’t pregnant any more, but creating life is still hot, so I’m totally down until the kid starts school. Then he’s your problem, pinko.