Law of Gravity

I've been struggling with this post for days. It still might not make much sense... It was Thursday. I was covering the Mandarin class. No, not that one . Different school. Apparently Mandarin is a thing now. At least for this school district. That morning, I woke with a sore throat that went into full blown head cold for the holiday weekend. (If you noticed that I wasn't around the blogs, that was why.) It turned out to be not a bad day. Which is a good thing when one is starting to feel miserable. However, I was warned about sixth period. They were the "interesting" group. When the teacher told me this (Ms. L was there that morning as she was chaperoning a field trip to a local temple), I took a look at the seating chart (with pictures!), and I did recognize the students she warned me about. Jake was one. I did get to chide him on pretending to be Steven. When the other students overheard this, I informed them that Jake preferred to be called Steven. And I told Ms....

It's been a while since I was at the continuation high school. Not much there has changed. Graduation is fast approaching. To qualify for the graduation activities, including the graduation ceremony, the students have to have all of their credits posted by sometime this week. (The events of this post happened last week.) Sixth period. History. The conversation started with grad night. One girl had gotten her ticket for the festivities. (I'm not sure where they're going this year.) The other two girls in her group were discussing whether they needed to go to school that day. Somehow, this segued into how many credits they had. To graduate, they must have 220. One was 20 short. One was 14 short. And the third girl whispered to the others how many more she needed. They spent much of the period discussing how many credits they needed. Then they moved on to astrology (and whether the Aries was compatible with her Capricorn boyfriend--although they weren't certain he was a Ca...

Science class (biology). The teacher coached tennis sixth period. The lesson plan had me going out to the tennis courts sixth period to "supervise". I dislike covering sports, but from time to time I must. First, I have to find the class. The teacher usually gives me a vague idea of where to go, but these areas can be fairly large, so locating where the class usually meets can take a bit. (It's nicer when we can just meet in the teacher's classroom, but that's not always feasible.) Then, somehow, I must take roll. After that, ideally, they practice. The cross country team would go out for their run. Other teams may do something, but the last time I covered tennis (a while ago--not this school year), they pretty much goofed off for the hour. So, I was not looking forward to sixth period. Not at all. I got through the day. (Biology is a freshman course, so I had those usual issues.) Then it was lunch. I had a half hour to linger in the classroom and anticipate the t...

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements.  😉 The other day I was in the kitchen, and I felt something wet hit the back of my leg. I looked around for what could have caused it. But I could find no apparent cause. And then my mind went to a very strange place... What if you couldn't perceive the person who was looking after you?  I'll let you decide if this is a more mundane (because you can't see) or weird (because they exist on a different plane of existence) question...

Last Thursday I went full evil. It kind of just happened. I'm rather ashamed, but here I am, putting it on blast on my blog. First, I served papers on a sweet old lady. I have mentioned the deluge that happened in my bedroom. Yes, there is still a hole in my ceiling. Getting the neighbors to pay for the damage, well, isn't happening. We've had to take them to court. The sweet old lady is still the owner of record. (She's moved to an assisted living facility.) Her daughter, well, if her daughter had taken care of business, we wouldn't be going to court. Shortly thereafter, I called 911 on a black man. I don't know if you've been aware of all t he "Beckys" calling 911 on people of color who were minding their own business. It's a thing. However, this man was lying in the street, twitching. It was a busy street. Traffic... Well, it was 6-ish. And while he was in the crosswalk, he was far enough out in the street that he could have been hit. I don...

I had the same classes all last week. Seventh grade world history. Advanced. (Their teacher was the chaperone for the annual Washington, D.C. trip. So, out of town and hopefully having fun, but working, too.) The "advanced" means they were the good kids. While they were not 100% on task (they had computers--their assignment was online--so some played more games than did work), they were not doing the sorts of things that generally make for good blog posts. On Thursday, their acceptance letters to be in a leadership class next year were delivered to period four. So, with my trusty seating chart, I passed these letters out to all the kiddos. There were only about ten. Passing back papers is harder for me as I don't know the kiddos. Generally, I just call out names. They raise their hands. And then we meet half way. But, as I knew I had the class all week, I had made myself seating charts. It made roll go that much quicker. And it was useful in keeping track of who was who, ...

I had the same class all last week. Seventh grade world history. Advanced. Their teacher was on the annual field trip to Washington, D.C. I believe I've mentioned that subs have been in short supply this year. More often than not, I'm covering a different class on the teacher's prep period. Mr. F's prep period was fifth. Around third or fourth period, I'd get a call from the secretary telling me what class I was going to cover for that fifth period. Monday it was an English class I'd covered before. Easy group. Tuesday it was a very small special ed. class. On Wednesday, she called to tell me I'd be covering a math class. And I groaned. The teacher's morning was co-taught. The teacher's sixth period was pretty good, actually. But her period five... I wrote about them . Well, kind of. They're the ones that somehow managed to make a room smell of marijuana. As it turned out, the teacher was there to start off the class. (She had an IEP meeting that...

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements.  😉 What if "they" came for your best friend?

My bed is trying to kill me. — Elizabeth Arundel (@ZiziRho) May 15, 2019 No, not literally. Although, the concussion screams intent. It all started about three weeks ago, on April 30th. I sat on my bed to put on my shoes, something I do every morning. Thunk. The bed fell under me. In that moment, I wanted to figure out what had happened, but I didn't have time, not if I wanted to get to work on time. So, I finished putting on my shoes, and I was out the door. I didn't think too much about it, other than some generalized worry, until I got home. That's when I went about ascertaining what broke. The bed is what they call a Hollywood frame . It's just a simple rail. I've had this bed for about five years without a lick of trouble. It turned out that the wheel had snapped off. I was able to glue it back together and place it back on that leg. But that was a temporary fix. I searched online for a replacement wheel. No local retailers carried it, but it was available onl...

Sometimes, I really feel how long I've been subbing. Friday. I was covering the ASB class. They spent the period painting posters for an upcoming rally. Sarah walked in. She wasn't in fourth period, but she had gotten permission from her fourth period teacher to go to her ASB class. I recognized the teacher's name. She teaches AP statistics. The AP statistics test has already happened, so that class is done for the year, hence the reason why Sarah could leave class without missing anything. As the kiddos painted (and they got a lot done that period), they talked. Sarah is graduating, and she's going to attend ASU in the fall. Her twin brother is going somewhere back east. (He's the ASB president for the school and was also in this class.) I remembered where and when I had first encountered Sarah. It made the blog. It was summer school. Health class for students who hadn't taken health during the school year. She made that silly PowerPoint.  (You remember the o...

They were way too happy to see me. And that really makes me nervous. Friday. Sixth period. US history. This was the class that I had before spring break .  One of the students was saying how she had wished for a sub, and not just any sub but me in particular. But, she knew that Mr. B was on campus. And I was elsewhere.  But, the teacher I was covering had sixth period prep. And, as I may have mentioned before, this year it's been more likely than not that I pick up an extra period (and an extra period's pay) rather than getting the time off.  I have no idea why, but Mr. B had to leave early. So, guess who was asked to cover it? When students are that happy to see me, I wonder what it was that I let them get away with. Because why would students like  a sub? There's something wrong with this picture. However, this was the good class. They were generally silent. Of the whole day, they were the best behaved group. So, again, whatever did I let them get away with? I gave...

Middle schoolers, in general, are terrible liars. (There are some masters of deception, but mostly they just can't manage it.) Seventh grade math. Second period. I was taking roll via a seating chart. But because seating charts (especially in middle school classes where teachers are constantly moving kiddos) aren't always 100% accurate, I was calling out the names of those I was marking absent. "Jake is not here..." "He's here. He's sitting over there," a student let me know. But when I looked over at Jake, he claimed he was Steven. He was sitting in Steven's seat. "So, it's okay for me to mark Jake absent," I said. Usually that's enough to make the student give up the game. Not Jake. Nope, he was willing to be absent to be Steven. (Turns out that Steven was suspended, so he was marked absent anyway. And no, I didn't mark Jake absent. It seemed silly to do when I knew he was there.) Needless to say, Jake was a difficult stud...

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements.  😉 What if all adults needed to pass a class/test before they could be allowed to parent children?

I have one of these... ...and it generally lives on my side table. I drink water from it constantly. It has a lovely little straw that sticks out of the top... Naturally, from time to time I need to clean my mug. That's easy enough. But cleaning the straw is more of a challenge. How does one clean a straw like this? (Seriously, I'm asking. What do you all do that I'm missing?) Last week I had an idea. I took some 18-gauge wire I had on hand (for various other projects). I cut it longer than the straw length. And I coiled both ends... (Apologies. This was the best picture I could get of the ends. And, my wire technique needs practice--a lot of practice.) Then, I took some cotton yarn (kitchen cotton they call it, the kind that's perfect for washcloths), and I crocheted a row... ...that was a bit longer than the straw. (I did one row of chain, and then alternated single and double crochets until the end where I did about an inch's worth of single crochets.) A strand o...

According to my counter, this is my 2600th post. I was going to celebrate my 2500th, but didn't notice until after the fact. (That post went live on December 25th .) Video and TV production class. They produce a school-wide TV program that gets shown every couple months. They were working on segments for the next episode. There were three groups of four in the class. Before he left, their teacher warned them to get their segments done. Deadline was looming. Group one claimed the side room to film in. I found group two in an editing room doing nothing. Um... Group two explained they needed the side room to film in. There was a second spot (shown above) they could use, I pointed out. They explained they had already started filming in the side room, and for continuity they needed to continue there. This was very reasonable. (There were different props in the room as opposed to the spot pictured above.) I suggested they talk to group one and figure out a way to share it. This was somet...

Considering how long I've been subbing, I'm surprised I haven't had this issue before. I had called ahead a couple weeks prior for this assignment. "Mrs. Jones" at "school A". I've covered Cindy Jones' class several times, so I knew what I was in for. (Cindy Jones' room is pictured above.) It was a pretty good morning, and I managed to get there fairly early. I went to check in. "You're at [school B] today for [Rebecca Jones]." Erm. I was told "school A". A couple things were working in my favor. I was running early. And "school B" starts a half hour later than "school A". I got to "school B" easily and checked in. It was a bit of mentally changing gears. Cindy Jones teaches English. Rebecca Jones teaches intro to health careers. I blame the sub caller. She's new. As in, she's had the job for about a month. Mistakes happen. (I did actually get a chance to chide her for this. She ca...

Continuation high school. Science. Seventh period. Most of the students were playing Krunker , although as late in the period as it was, a couple of those students had completed the day's assignment and turned it in already. The principal came over the loudspeaker. "Students, when you're dismissed, please leave by the back gate. There is a swarm of bees at the front of the school..." He then rang the bell early (by about five minutes), dismissing everyone for the day. A swarm of bees?!? And how was I going to get to my car? I went to check out. The office was in crisis mode. They needed someone to deal with the bees. They needed to figure out how to direct students as several after school classes would be arriving shortly. (There are a few career-type classes that are held there via a county program, what used to be called ROP .) I was told the swarm was fairly contained to the walkway, so I'd be able to walk around it. I was a bit nervous, but I was also curious....

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements.  😉 What if creating a true artificial intelligence is impossible?

You may have noticed I once again did the A to Z Challenge last month. At this point, it's more a habit. And a game. Can I write blog posts as normal, but make it fit the letter of the day? I won't bore you with how this works. I've written about it before. The only difference this year was that I did not make a back up plan. I didn't need it before, so why bother this year? (Previous reflections posts: 2013 , 2014 , 2015 , 2016 , 2017 , 2018 .) In case you missed some (or all) of my April posts, here are some highlights: Hardest letter of the month: Yarn Boxes   Most obvious letter that I almost missed: Lanterns in Trees Most contentious (via the comments): Billions Repeated (oops, I used the same title last year): Zilch X cheat: X: Wanted Post with the most comments and views: Another Pair of Ugly Slippers My favorite post for April: Early Exit Denied My "hopping" was kind of hit or miss. I went through the master list starting after where I was (#61) and I ...

Math support and enrichment. It's an extra period of math for students who are struggling with math. They were studying transformations . They had a couple worksheets to complete. It was just a little simple graphing... Well, maybe it was not so simple for them (considering what class it was). But they had plenty of time, and I could help. If you've followed my blog for any length of time, you know that kiddos try to take the easy way out more often than not. "I'll give you three dollars to do the assignment for me." My first though was that I'd gotten a raise. It used to be that they offered a dollar for that sort of thing. But I replied with my second thought: "Considering my expertise, my services are worth at least twenty dollars." Naturally, he balked. Which was exactly the reaction I was going for. Sort of. Then someone mentioned gas money (as in $20 is gas money), and the conversation shifted to what kind of car I drive. (They asked. My answer...

It was one of the severe special ed classes. Lunch time. While the kiddos were at lunch, their instructional aides were out supervising. But the aides get a lunch, too, so there's a bit of a juggle. They have to find time for their lunch (usually during class time) while making sure the class is manned. As the teacher, my lunch is when the kiddos go to lunch. However, there was Jason. Jason was non verbal and confined to a wheelchair. He was fed through a tube by his one-on-one aide a couple times that day. He could not be left alone. Jason's one-on-one took her lunch before the actual lunch so she could be back while the other aides were out supervising lunch. But, because of time constraints, there was a small gap of about five minutes (normally, but this was a block schedule day, so the gap was more like ten) where Jason didn't have supervision. On a normal day, the teacher took over for that time. If it was normally the teacher's job, then on this day it was mine. I...

Today's post is NSFW. Apologies. I try to keep things PG around here, but I really want to tell you about this...  "That's not what that means." It was a rather weird Monday where I ended up covering four different classes. Fourth period it was a US history class. They were supposed to be perusing a chapter on the Cold War. (It was next door to the class I covered the week before spring break .) But if they were on task, this wouldn't be a very interesting post. One girl explained to another the definition of the term "cockblocker". Or, at least, she thought  it was the definition. It was a rather literal interpretation, involving smacking/slapping a certain part of the male anatomy. That's where I chimed in. I jump into student conversations when misinformation is being perpetuated. "That's what it says on Urban Dictionary . I took a screenshot. Want to see?" she replied. I did not. "Well, then Urban Dictionary is wrong."  I ...