Unremarkable

In two weeks I'm going to have no memory of this class...

That was the thought I had as I checked out and got in my car and left school on Monday. 

Spanish I. The students had a list of assignments to complete, all in Google Classroom. I rattled off what they needed to do, double checked that the assignment was indeed posted in Google Classroom, took roll, and then settled in for the periods. 

It was before Halloween, so they had a sugar skull assignment as well. There were markers and glitter and glue near me. Some students (after completing the online stuff) came up and got materials they needed. They carefully applied glitter to their papers. No mess. (Well, I'm sure some glitter escaped containment, but not to any extent that I needed to worry about.) 

I bring along stuff to do for days like this. I read blogs. I keep an eye out for students doing stupid things, but these kiddos mostly just took care of what they needed to take care of. 

As I left, I realized that nothing terribly interesting happened all day. 

These classes don't generally make the blog, but it was the kind of week where there were a bunch of unremarkable classes. It's a great thing for me, but it's terrible for blog content. 

And, if I come across this post in the years to come, I will realize how true it was. I will have basically no memory of this class or this day. 

Election Day

It's election day. In an odd year. All that we have on the ballot is Proposition 50. You might have heard of it. 

Since we in California have mail in ballots, I voted ages ago. As soon as the ballot arrived in the mail. As there was only one thing on the ballot, I didn't have a lot of research to do. 

Pay attention to the redistricting going on. It started in Texas (I think). Now it's hit North Carolina among other places. This is cheating. We're only supposed to redistrict after a census. 2025 doesn't end in a zero. This was not a census year. 

But, it's all cheating. So much of what they're doing is illegal. Or even if it's just against norms, they're still not caring. They're doing it all, and no one is stopping them. 

Will this stop them? Probably not. But we must keep throwing sand in the wheels of oppression. It's not much, but it's something. 

This week I'll leave you with a video. American Fascism is disguised as MAGA Christianity. The site explains what the video is about, if you're in the mood. 

Moving Right Along

Where I'm at this week: 

It seems like every week I bemoan my lack of progress, but a funny thing happened when I started to put this post together. In the file of my yarny images, the last three weeks' pics were lined up, and I could really see how much the sweater had grown. 

I thought, wouldn't it be cool if I could reproduce that here on the blog? So, I looked up HTML, and I played around with it, and, well, I couldn't get it to work. I mean, I probably could, if I wanted to sink more time into figuring it out. Which, I don't. 

I could probably turn it into a video. Maybe next week? 

Anyway, progress has been made. And I even wound in the ends. Moving right along...

Sweater Tracking:

• Starting the Sweater
• Getting to the Back
• Missed Deadline
• Distractions from Knitting
• A Month Late
• Inching Along
• Tracking the Growth
• Weekly Sweater Update

The Swap

I arrived to school on Friday, and the co-teacher began by asking if I wouldn't mind... 

Eighth grade math. They were to have a test the following week, but both the general ed and the special ed teacher had been out the previous class (for a meeting for the whole math department), and things hadn't gone so well with that sub. Although, as soon as she asked it, I remembered her asking me the same thing the last time I covered the class, last school year. 

Ms. W asked if we could swap. She'd teach Ms. S's classes (the classes that weren't co-taught but were doing the exact same thing as the co-taught ones), and I'd cover her classes. (One period of learning center, and one period of success.) 

I've always been rather flexible with work. I've had days where I came in expecting to sub for one teacher but was switched to another class for reasons. The previous week the secretary had emailed me asking if I was willing to swap gigs. Sometimes it turns out I'm covering one teacher for half a day and another teacher for the other half. My job is to fill in for absent teachers, and I'm perfectly okay with going where they need me to fill in. 

And besides, this was a way easier day than the one I'd been expecting. 

Although, it meant I didn't have a "home base" at all. Four different rooms. (Well, three, but I was also asked to cover an extra period that day.) 

But that's a minor issue when I can go where I'll do the most good that day. It's way better to have the teacher who knows the material and is familiar with the test making sure the kiddos are ready rather than insisting on following the classes I was assigned for the day. 

It's one reason why I enjoy subbing. The variety. 

One Small Detail

Wednesday. Seventh period success, eighth grade. 

Success is about teaching the kiddos study skills. There's some social/emotional stuff as well. (I've talked about covering this type of class before.) 

The class was across the way and a couple doors down from the art class. There were some familiar faces. And I knew what I was in for. But the teacher, while small, is mighty, so I wasn't anticipating any issues... 

They had an assignment online. I had them log in. They found the assignment, only the assignment didn't contain any assignment. 

That is, the assignment existed, but the teacher had forgotten to attach the slides that the students needed to do the assignment. 

It was a good-sized class. Full. And these sorts of students don't take to waiting too well. Let's just say they came in loud and not having something to focus on meant that instead of settling down, they got louder. 

I don't like to bother teachers when they're out, but this was a time when I was glad the teacher had left her cell phone number. I texted her... 

Before I went to text her, I had told the kiddos to work on missing assignments. Were they? Of course not. They were treating the time like free time, with half the kiddos sitting on the floor, and others were roaming around, getting into mischief. Sigh. 

Eventually, we got me logged into her account, and I was able to upload the slides to the assignment. Whew? Well, not so fast. 

Usually, when we assign the kiddos something, we "make a copy for each student" so they can edit the files. They each do their work and submit. But (something I learned the hard way a couple years ago) you can't give each student a copy when you attach something to an assignment already assigned. You can only do this when the assignment is being created. 

But earlier in the week (or was it last week? it's all starting to run together) I covered a class where they made their own copies of an assignment and attached it. So, I went to talk the class through what they had to do. 

As I explained, I got a couple good questions, so those who were following along were able to get the assignment to work. But after I got them started, I got more questions... 

Some students were able to get this to work. Others needed me to walk them through it. Individually. Sigh. 

Eventually I got to every student who couldn't figure it out on their own. Or, at least the ones who were asking. So, hopefully, they were able to complete it. 

Technology. Makes some things easier, makes other things harder. 

At least I knew enough to take away the excuse that they were unable to do the work. 

Six Seven

Six is sharp, said quickly, intonation ascending. Seven is said more on a sigh, with the "sev" drawn out. While there is no wrong way to "six seven", there is a general consensus as to how it should sound. 

I first mentioned this whole thing two and half weeks ago. Since then, it's exploded. It wasn't even a week after that post that I first saw it on Inside Edition or some similar show. And, as I explained to my roommates, they didn't even scratch the surface. 

The problem is middle schoolers are so impressionable, and they will mimic and repeat ad infinitum anything that catches their ears. (They will sing commercial jingles. I have a particular memory of the "five dollar footlong" ad being repeated by one seventh grader years ago. He would not stop, just sang it over and over and over again.) 

Every. Day. Every. Hour. It's pretty constant now. 

As far as fads go, this one is fairly harmless. Just irritating. Because at this point it's ubiquitous. If I'm around middle schoolers, I'm going to hear it. (I hear it with high schoolers too, but not to the same degree.) 

So, now it's become don't-set-them-off. I was calling for kiddos to return their computers, and I deliberately counted down. Although, calling, "eight, seven, six..." had the same effect. Just uttering "seven" with regards to something will do it. (No one is saying "six" for any reason anymore.) 

The last couple days I've started singing "5309" at them. (If you know, you know.) They don't hear me, but I like it. 

It's just a matter of getting through. Because, something that exploded this hard this fast? It's going to die just as quickly. 

Right? It's going to die? Soon? 

Please tell me it's going to die soon. 

I'm so done with this. 

Let Them Eat Ballroom*

*Phrase borrowed from ‪@ecmclaughlin.bsky.social‬

The federal government has been shut down almost a month now. They couldn't get a funding bill passed. This one is personal to me, because at issue is subsidies for health insurance. Without them, my insurance premiums will double next year. Yeah, double. I got notification this week. 

There are others whose premiums will go up way more than mine. And mine is not insignificant. 

Inflation is ridiculous right now. Groceries have gotten way expensive. As has everything else. All while the current regime is kidnapping people and sending them to concentration camps. And sending troops into peaceful cities because the cities oppose the dictator. 

They have money to do that, but they don't, apparently, have money to fund SNAP. So, as of November 1st, those who need those benefits to eat won't. 

People are going to starve. Because the regime wants to give billionaires tax breaks. 

But they have money to tear down the White House. 

Make it make sense. 

(It makes sense. They want poor people to die. I don't know what that gains them, though. If there are no poor people, who do they have to do their grunt work?)

Weekly Sweater Update

I once again had a week where I felt like I didn't get much knitting accomplished. Here's where the sweater is now:

If you see all the strands of yarn hanging off, those are from knots I found in the ball of yarn. I cut them out, and I'll wind in those ends eventually. The ends on the side of the work are where the first ball of yarn ran out and I joined a second. So, things are coming along. 

It feels like I haven't done much, but last week I was here: 

I gained a couple inches, anyway. 

Sweater Tracking:

• Starting the Sweater
• Getting to the Back
• Missed Deadline
• Distractions from Knitting
• A Month Late
• Inching Along
• Tracking the Growth

Keeping Up with the Cool Boys

Friday. Sixth period seventh grade science. 

They had an assignment on geology. It was done in stations. That is, the class had three different activities to complete with a third of the class doing each activity. I timed them, having them move on to the next activity after 15-20 minutes had elapsed. (I was familiar with the assignment as it was the last thing I did with seventh grade science class last year as I finished up my 30 days.) 

Because Ms. W said it didn't matter who was in which group, I asked for volunteers to start the rock measuring station. (There were rocks that they were to "observe". They had to draw them, use a ruler to measure them, weigh them, and roll them.) Of course, the boys who volunteered... 

Yeah, so it didn't go well. The boys played around. They should have been measuring rocks. They were making jokes. (Not that you can't joke and work, but seventh graders. They can do one or the other, not both.) They were running. They were mock fighting. You know, the usual. 

I reminded them they had limited time. And when the timer went off, I told them it was time to move on to station two. 

But no. They weren't finished... 

Yeah, they weren't finished. Not shocked. But that was their fault for wasting time. 

I stood over them and shooed them back to their seats. Time. Was. Up. 

Hugo wasn't happy. Hugo had been trying to work, but the other boys... It's hard to work in that kind of chaos. I was sorry, but time was up. I told Hugo that he had to go back to his seat. He burst into tears.

Hugo pulled it together and went back to his seat. As did the other boys. I got a new group to the observing rocks station (a much calmer group), and we moved on. 

What I had forgotten was that Hugo had a one-to-one aide. Before going on his lunch break, he told me that if something went wrong, I was to send Hugo to his case carrier. Which I didn't do, because forgot. (There was lots going on. I am not shocked I forgot.) 

When the aide returned from his lunch, he asked how things had gone. And I told him. 

The aide proceeded to take the rest of the period to get reports from the other students as to what went down. Sigh. Apparently, Hugo's meltdown was a level 1, which was good, as Hugo has been known to lash out when he gets upset... 

I guess I dodged a bullet. 

Of course I let Ms. W know what went down. Her response was that Hugo "wants to work with the 'cool boys' but does not actually handle the chaos very well". 

Those are the "cool boys"? Yikes. Seventh graders really have terrible taste. 

Feels Like January

It rained on Tuesday. 

Things had been cooling off for the last couple weeks. And the weather reports had warned us of rain. I had put an umbrella in my car the night before, and I was not shocked to wake up to water falling from the sky. 

Rainy days are an absolute mess at school. There's no real protection from the rain when the kiddos are changing classes or at lunch. And things flood. 

But we muddle through. Sopping wet. At least I had high school, so they weren't deliberately jumping in puddles. 

Some were disappointed that the rain let up in the afternoon. They were hoping practice would be cancelled. But, considering how hard it had rained, I pointed out that the fields were probably unsafe to practice on. 

We don't usually get rain this time of year. Rain is more a December, January kind of thing. Usually this time of year it's pretty warm and the Santa Anas blow through. We worry about wildfires. 

The next day it hadn't quite warmed up. Things were still damp. 

As the class was getting ready to exit, one of the students, complaining of the cold, commented, "It feels like January". 

I mean, it wasn't quite that cold, but I understood what she meant. 

The weather is a bit off. But not really in a bad way. I had to put my blanket on my bed and dig out my long pants. SoCal winter is coming.

One AM

I went to bed last Sunday night figuring I wasn't working Monday. I hadn't managed to pick up an assignment. (I had just missed a couple. Sigh.) 

I had worked myself into looking forward to a day off. I went to bed a bit late. But I was totally asleep when the alert on my phone woke me with a job for Monday. I grabbed it without looking at it too closely. It was one AM. 

I was covering a special ed teacher who co-taught with three different teachers. Not a bad gig. (Block schedule, so I only had three classes.) 

The first block I had integrated math 1 (think: algebra 1). It turned out the general ed teacher was also out. After a bit of a scramble (as the general ed teacher had assumed Mr. R would be there), another teacher got the lesson loaded to Google Classroom, and we were good to go. 

The class... 

The other sub was competent. She took roll while I got the class going on what they needed to work on. The kiddos were very laid back which was fine. But, they were not following certain rules, like having their cell phones put away and like actually doing their assignment. Sigh. 

But things came to a head when three students "returned" from somewhere. We had been keeping track of who was allowed out of class, and the three of them hadn't been allowed out of class. (How we missed them leaving, I have no idea.) 

The other sub asked the kiddos their names. And one of them lied to her about it. That's when we learned that this girl was not enrolled in the class. Deep sigh. 

She was incensed that the other sub called security on her. She claimed that she had only just been taken out of the class... (Which poses a couple questions: If she knew she was in a different class, why would she go to her old one? When the other sub called roll, why did she not say anything when her name was not called? Why was she roaming campus, anyway?) 

The student acted like the aggrieved party, but security agreed with us. Because, seriously? Doubling down when you're in the wrong? 

When Mr. R responded to my email about the day, he commented that the class was very immature. Yeah, we caught that. 

The rest of my day was uneventful as the general ed teachers were there and taught their lessons. 

I don't really mind the one AM calls. It gives me time to go back to sleep before I have to go to work. 

Speak Now

I've lost some blog followers. I see their blogs, but they no longer come and visit me. And I know why. But it still stings, you know?

People want to be "non political". But we are in that moment. You know the one? Where silence is siding with the oppressor. 

My blog is not about politics. And if I wanted to read blogs about politics, I could find many where I could do so. If you wanted to read about politics, you wouldn't be here. I write about my knitting on Mondays and my job Wednesday through Friday. 

But I can't not say something. We are in that moment. This past weekend was the second No Kings protest, and it appears that lots of people turned out. Good. 

Things are bad. They're getting worse. 

And I hear people talking about not letting a difference in politics ruin relationships. 

But, you see, if you're siding with the oppressor, we have a fundamental difference in core values. If none of what they have done thus far bothers you, I have to question what sort of person you are. Concentration camps are okay? Masked kidnapping is okay? Bombing innocent fishermen is okay? Sending troops into cities is okay? 

Make no mistake, they're all criminals. The regime. And even though the media seems to be sane-washing him, he's making less and less sense. Those around him are doing the harm they want because they know how to make him believe them. He's a puppet for those with brains in their heads and cruelty in their hearts. 

This week I was reminded of the poem "First They Came". The poem resonates as the man who wrote it lived it. He didn't care about the people they came for first. He was all in with that regime. Until he was the one targeted. 

And, make no mistake, they will come for you, too. If you aren't white, male, and rich, they don't care about you. They will use you to further their ends (and keep power) until they no longer need you. 

So, I resist now. And I speak. 

We are not alone. More of us are disgusted by this than support it. 

Too many people don't realize how bad things truly are. They turn blind eyes to it. It hasn't touched them yet. It will.

So, while I am sad for those that no longer visit, I have to understand that they're supporting things that I vehemently oppose. Which makes me happy that you're still here. We agree. And we can fight together. 

Tracking the Growth

I actually made some progress this week. That's what happens when I'm no longer having to lesson plan and grade. And my subbing gigs aren't too taxing. 

In case you'd like to see the progress. October 6th:

October 13th: 

October 20th: 

So, progress. I'm hoping this week will be like last and I can knit more during the week rather than just on the weekend. We'll see. 

How are your projects coming along?

Sweater Tracking:

• Starting the Sweater
• Getting to the Back
• Missed Deadline
• Distractions from Knitting
• A Month Late
• Inching Along

Spitting Image

Friday had been a minimum day (end of the first quarter). Ms. S and I checked out at the same time, and we were outside, chatting. (Ms. S is another sub who I see around all the time and I've worked with her before.) 

We both had a last period prep, so school wasn't quite over. Students were standing outside waiting for rides. (Some students get out early.) We were comparing notes on various assignments. It turned out that the next week we'd be subbing for two co-teachers. 

As we were talking, a mother walked past us. She looked so familiar to me. She nodded as she passed, but we didn't say anything to her, just continuing our conversation. 

A few minutes later, the woman passed by again, going the other way. This time she had a student in tow. A girl I recognized as she had been in the class I covered that day. 

Ms. S: "No wonder she looked so familiar..." 

I didn't realize until that moment that Ms. S recognized her too. I commented that the girl had been in my class. 

Why did she look so familiar? Her daughter looks just like her. 

No Return

Wednesday. Eighth grade English, seventh period. 

When I left the art class, I didn't say "goodbye" to them. I said, "see you around". I explained that while I might be leaving the art class, I was still a district sub, and I would most definitely see them in other classes. I wasn't surprised to see many familiar faces in Ms. R's classes, but some of them were surprised to see me. 

The day had gone fairly well as Ms. R is one of the strict ones and her lesson plan specifically stated that they were to work independently and quietly. (They were reading chapter ten of Lord of the Flies, and then they had questions to go along with it.) 

But this class contained Oscar and Calvin. 

I have mentioned Oscar on this blog before. Calvin was another student who couldn't sit still. He had been another of the students whose name I knew from repeated use. 

The assignment was finishable, but I doubt either boy finished it. They were out of their seats way too frequently. 

I was once again over by the boys, urging them to get to work. 

Calvin: "When will you return to the art class?"

I explained that I wasn't going to. I had been the interim teacher until they hired Ms. D, but now that Ms. D was there, she'd be there going forward. She's an actual art teacher where I was just filling in. 

Did Calvin even hear me? I kind of doubt it. He was on to another topic almost immediately. 

They did not like me much when I was their teacher. But now? Now they miss me. Apparently (Although, not very much as since I've left I've covered two classes that some of them have and I've been on campus two or three other times in the two weeks since I left the art class.) 

In Trouble

Monday. Fifth period AP English (twelfth grade, literature). 

All the classes had assignments on paper that had to be turned in at the end of the period. Ms. A noted that otherwise she couldn't be sure the students weren't "consulting" ChatGPT at home. (I had a period of freshman English and a period of junior English before the seniors.) 

I had to remind the class the assignment was due at the end of the period as it took them some time to get working. But they all finished and turned in their work before the end of the period. 

As usual, I left a very detailed note for Ms. A. Her initial response: 

I am not surprised by ANY of what you noted. Those baseball boys in the corner. Aye! Aye! Aye! 

She was referencing a comment I made about some eleventh grade boys having long conversations that didn't touch on any of the essay they were supposed to be writing. But then I got a follow up email on Wednesday: 

Hello! Quick question: Did my AP 12 students have computers with them on Monday? I am reading their assignments and they sound too good? Also, upon opening one of the Chromebooks today, a student noticed they were on chatgpt asking a Death of a Salesman question.

Oops. Because, yeah, some of them did have computers. I didn't think much of it at the time. It is something I totally should have caught as they had to go and get computers (they were not out). 

I encountered something similar last school year while on the long term for the eleventh grade English class (those students now in the twelfth grade). Some of their answers were too good. I didn't believe some of them had done their work without ChatGPT assistance. 

So, yeah, I should have clocked that. 

I admitted my lapse. Ms. A wasn't upset with me. But she wasn't happy with her seniors...

Uh oh. They were in trouble...

Trigger Warning

I can't watch or read anything about the Holocaust. (I have mentioned this before.) No Schindler's List. No Night. I can absolutely not handle the Holocaust Museum. And when images taken from that time flash on my screen, I have to look away. 

Depictions of the suffering of others is painful to me. It's a migraine trigger. It makes me sick to my stomach. My mind disassociates. And these feelings can linger long after I've been exposed to the words/images. 

(It doesn't have to be the Holocaust, either. Years ago I was covering a world history class, and they were watching Hotel Rwanda. I actively avoided paying attention to the movie, but I was still sick for the two days we had to watch it.) 

Which means that I'm a terrible witness to the atrocities that are going on today, perpetuated by ICE. (This is one of the reasons why this whole thing makes me so livid.) Every news report that comes out by someone who was detained by them, every report of what someone witnessed being perpetuated upon those ICE detains threatens my equilibrium. 

Because, make no mistake, ICE is committing atrocities. Today. 

(What's going on in Gaza: same.) 

I will never forget the people who are not appalled by what is happening. Anyone who is okay with this is dead to me. Those who are standing by, or worse, who are actively helping this along have lost my trust entirely. Forever. 

ICE and their minions deserve to be tried for crimes against humanity. And found guilty. 

There have been some terrible stories coming out. That raid in Chicago. Every story guts me. Every. Story. And they're getting worse. 

I don't know what to do about it. I can't be a witness. It'll destroy me. But I can't stand by and let this happen. What can we do? 

Seriously. That's a question. If anyone has an answer, I'm here. 

Inching Along

Again, I didn't do a whole lot of knitting this week:

Maybe six or seven rows... 

(Yeah, I could have resisted, but they're getting to me.) 

I don't have any good excuses. I guess I was just tired this past week. Hopefully I'll get a bit more oomph so I can get this front done sooner rather than later. (I'd like to set a deadline of Halloween, but I expect that to do as well as my last deadline.) 

It's straight knitting (following the cable patterns) for about 25 inches or so. Wish me luck...

Sweater Tracking:

• Starting the Sweater
• Getting to the Back
• Missed Deadline
• Distractions from Knitting
• A Month Late

Six or Seven

Do you remember making jokes about 69 when you were a kid? (Or maybe you still do...?) 

So, I was mystified when the kiddos started laughing anytime I referred to 67. 67?!?

I was afraid to ask, but eventually I worked up the nerve. "Hey, what is this 6 or 7 thing all about?"

I did that a couple weeks ago, in the art class. And now that I know, I hear it everywhere. Seriously. Every. Where. All the kiddos refer to it. I hear it multiple times a day. 

And because I'm a giving person, I thought you all might like to know about the current meme. (Because if I have to know...) 

That's what started it. But what the kiddos are responding to...

So, yeah. If you're around any teens, say, "6 or 7". And watch their eyes light up. It's just so weird. 

The Snitch

Wednesday. Eighth grade science. In a classroom directly across from that art class I just left. 

Several of the students had been in the art class. And many students in the art class had to say hello when they passed by me. It's funny how they hate me when I'm there, but they miss me when I'm gone. Sigh. 

The kiddos had plenty of work, but of course several of them didn't make good use of their time. Typical middle school stuff. 

Jorge was seated directly in front of me, and all period he was doing as little as possible. The usual stuff. But when he picked up his Chromebook by the screen...

I remember as a kid being instructed to hold library books a certain way as to not damage them. These kiddos handle Chromebooks as if they're cheap and indestructible. I gasped, and then I warned Jorge to be careful with the computer. If the computer breaks due to his handling of it... 

"You would snitch on me?" 

I attempted to explain that as the adult in the room it was my responsibility to look after the materials in the classroom, and making sure he had a consequence for mishandling the materials was part of my job. But he wasn't listening. 

Jorge howled about me being a snitch. Sigh. 

Eighth graders... 

He did not, in fact, damage the Chromebook. So, I did not have to leave his name for damaging classroom materials. 

The Mystery Assignment

Now that I'm entirely free of that vacant art class (as it's no longer vacant), I went back to working at the whims of the subbing app. On Monday, I caught a job at a school I hadn't been to since the previous school year. 

I've been subbing a long time. When a name appears in the subbing app, I generally have a pretty good idea of who it is and what they teach. But for Monday, I had not ever heard of Ms. V before. It gave her subject as English, and I wracked my brains for which English teacher might have retired after last school year. I came up with nothing. 

And, it turns out I was right, as Ms. V didn't teach English. She taught success...

(I do not know why success isn't a class they can list in the subbing app. But I had run into this issue before.) 

Success is a class basically about becoming a better student. On this day their lesson was on Cornell notes, as in teaching them a better way to take notes in class.

(In the class they talk about grades. They give them time to work on homework, with assistance. They teach them how to use a planner and encourage them to organize their backpacks.) 

In the past, success has been code for "terrible class". The students that they encourage to take it are the students who need it, and the students who need it are the kinds of students who act up in class. 

But this year, due to a change in how the students are scheduled, most of the middle school is taking it. 

It turned out that I knew many of the students. About a third of them had been in the seventh grade science class I began the year with last school year. Which was good and bad. 

Bad, because the students I had issues with before I still had issues with. Good, because I already knew who many of the kiddos were. 

And now that I've been to this school, I now have the current teacher list. Which may or may not help me in determining future assignments. 

It's not like I would have turned down the assignment knowing what I know now. They weren't horrible. 

They were eighth graders. And it was kind of cool to see how many of them had grown since I had seen them last. 

It's the Guns

Why does the U.S. continue to have mass shootings while the rest of the industrialized world does not? Because the gun manufacturers are more concerned with making a profit. They like money more than they care about people dying. 

The world is (figuratively) on fire, and there's so many things I can be ranting about today, but the guns are what's on my mind. Why? I couldn't tell you specifically. 

I guess I was thinking about greed. The gun manufacturers created the NRA. They use it to lobby politicians. The politicians like the money flowing from the NRA, so when another mass shooting makes the news, they offer "thoughts and prayers", but then do nothing about restricting the guns. 

Make no mistake, the Second Amendment stuff, the "guns don't kill people...", the discussion of "rights" and "protection", the drumming up fear of someone attacking you, all of this is just a way for the gun manufacturers to keep making money. Because really, it would be very simple to restrict the guns. Restrictions are popular. People wouldn't mind registering their weapons or getting a license or being trained, etc. But this would cost the gun manufacturers money. 

So, they muddy the waters. They give all sorts of excuses as to why "you" won't want these restrictions. Really, they don't. 

And so, they pay off politicians so they won't enact legislation. And we the people are stuck with unfettered access to guns, guns that fall into the hands of people who have no business with guns. People who are going to use them for nefarious purposes. People who choose violence against whoever they happen to want to lash out against. 

What's the saying? Love of money is the root of all evil. I think it goes something like that. 

What would it take for those in power to finally limit access to guns? I don't know. Because, if anyone knew, they would have done this decades ago. 

A Month Late

So, it's been a minute since I talked about eldest nephew's Christmas sweater. Because I hadn't touched it in a while. The only knitting I'd been doing had been on Saturdays when I went out, and when I got the sweater to within a half inch of binding off, I couldn't very well take it with me. But last week I managed to finish off the back and start the front, so progress has been made.

The back is done:

It's drop sleeves, and the collar is knit on after, so it's just one big rectangle. 

Then the front, thus far: 

So, not much there, yet, but it's begun. 

My goal was to get the back completed by the end of August. I finished it by the end of September. Ah well. 

Now that I'm not distracted by lesson planning and grading (as I'm back to day-to-day subbing), I will have some more head space to get back to this sweater. Will I finish it in time for Christmas? I don't like my chances. 

But, progress.

Sweater Tracking:

• Starting the Sweater
• Getting to the Back
• Missed Deadline
• Distractions from Knitting

One Last Time

Friday. I was back in the art class one last time.

When Ms. D was hired, she already had plans for certain days. They asked me to sub those days, and I said yes. Last Friday was the last of these days. 

And, I had been dreading it. Seventh period had been an issue for a while (as I mentioned), but after Monday's crazy (when I had them for less than a half hour), I knew they were now on sub behavior with me. Deep sigh. 

The assignment had them cutting paper (it was a 3D landscape thing). I knew this was going to be a mess. So, I had a strategy for how I was going to get them to clean up after. 

The school (it might be the whole district) has a new cell phone policy this year. No phones during class time. They even got the classes these nifty boxes: 

The kiddos (are supposed to) put their phones in the box at the beginning of the period and retrieve them at the end. And it has a lock on it. 

(I caught a girl on her phone during class time. The first consequence is just to lose the phone for the rest of the period, but the second consequence is that the phone goes to the main office. I've been keeping careful track of first offenses...) 

I usually don't bother to remove the key from the lock. No one has tried to retrieve their phones before time. But on this day... 

So, clean up time. I explained what needed to happen. And I informed them that no one would get their phones back until it was done. 

It got done. 

There was a mess. Play time for middle schoolers means mess. Thrown paper. Spilled water. Pencils on the floor. Flowers everywhere. (There's a plumeria outside the classroom that has blooms. On their worst days, they get obsessed with bringing in flowers.) It wasn't supposed to be a play day, but they weren't cooperating. 

The mess was picked up, so they got their phones. (They would have gotten their phones back, of course. I just made sure to leave them enough time to get the room picked up.) 

And that was goodbye. Phew. 

Earlier that day, a bunch of new assignments popped up on the subbing app. One of them, for the following Friday, was for Ms. D. I didn't get it. Mostly because I didn't click on the button that said "book". 

Beware the Cobra Chickens on Campus

"Oh, the ducks are back..."

It was Wednesday, my first day out of that middle school art class, and I had caught a BEST class (which is an acronym, but I don't know what it stands for). Basically, it's a small, self-contained class for students who have issues. Special ed, but for emotional rather than developmental problems. 

The instructional assistant's remark got me to turn around and see the "ducks". Only these were not ducks. No, these were cobra chickens... 

This is a t-shirt. (And I found another, too.)

...otherwise known as Canadian geese. 

A couple weeks back, while driving to campus, I had noticed a flock of these beasts on the practice soccer field. I have no idea when they showed up and decided to make the school their home, but apparently it now is. Sigh. 

The geese were eating grass. There were at least a dozen of them, all full grown. We kind of watched them in between the work the kiddos were to do. (They were doing a review of The Crucible which they were to have a test on, and then they were learning about herbivores, carnivores, and omnivores.) 

I did explain to the IA that they were geese not ducks, but she insisted on continuing to call them ducks. Oh well. I'm now calling them cobra chickens anyway, so... 

It used to be that we'd have seagulls all over the place. At the end of lunch, you'd always have to be careful to not get pooped on as the seagulls took off. (Kiddos leave trash with food. The seagulls knew where to get fed.) But, as of late, we don't have as many seagulls (although I'm not out in the lunch area at lunchtime, so I might just not see them). After the Covid shutdowns, the seagulls kind of drifted off. 

But now, Canadian geese. Yikes. 

At one point, one of the maintenance guys came driving through on his cart, and then security came by on her golf cart, and they ended up chasing the cobra chickens. I enjoyed that display way too much. 

Reprieve, Sort Of

Monday. Fifth period. 

I was back as a sub in the middle school art class. The kiddos had a shading assignment. Things were going as well as could be expected when a weird alert sound came over the clock/PA system. 

"Lock down..." was announced. 

Uh oh. 

I took the blocker out of door one, and I went to latch door two. (Door two doesn't close all the way. I have to lift it just a bit to get the lock to catch. It's not a big deal now that I know the trick.) 

The kiddos expressed concern. 

Me? I've been through a few of these before. I explained that there was nothing to worry about and that we'd learn what was going on soon enough. 

Since the long term, I still had access to the school emails, so got informed like all the other teachers of what was going on. There was a police issue at an apartment complex not too far from the school, so to keep everyone safe, they put us on lockdown. 

The kiddos had enough work to do. And it was still the middle of fifth period, so no biggie. 

Then, it was the end of fifth period. I asked the class if they liked their seventh period. Many did not. I said, "Good news, you don't have to go." 

And it was good news. For me. I had been dreading seventh period. And now, I didn't have to see them. For a while...

With about a half hour of the day left, the lockdown was lifted. Yay?

Fifth period left. Seventh period arrived. All wound up. 

We had maybe twenty minutes of class. Which was about all I could take of them. 

"Did the teacher quit?" they asked. 

(Why she'd quit after one day...) 

We didn't do much of anything in seventh period. And then the day was over. Whew. 

A Rebuttal

About a week and a half ago, one of my fellow bloggers, someone I've been following for years, published a post that took me aback. It was about the assassination murder of that personage who had the ear of our dictator tyrant so much so that he treated the whole thing as a state event, ordering flags to be flown at half staff. 

Deep sigh.

I wanted to scream. How could this blogger not see who that guy actually was? Talking about how he was "honest, factual, open and helpful". How "[h]e was a warrior for Christ". And that "[t]here will be many people who...celebrate his life and salvation". Uh...

It's rude to go onto someone else's blog and scream at them. Right? So, rather than make a rude remark in the comments, I thought I'd go off on my tirade here. 

Because, seriously? The white supremacy, misogyny, and celebration of violence is okay? Holy, even? The N*zi stuff didn't bother them? This is who they think is a "good man"? That's terribly frightening. And it kind of explains where we got where we are today. Too many people are okay with the authoritarianism and the violence against immigrants so long as it's wrapped up in the Bible. 

I mean, slave holders were "good Christians" too, right? They went to church and read their Bibles and worshiped God and all. The fact that they owned other human beings (with all the implicit violence that entails) was fine? 

I read somewhere online that this man said many things that sounded good to the scary Christians, and even though he said the awful stuff out loud, too, the scary Christians somehow didn't hear the awful stuff. Which is just flabbergasting to me. 

So, let me bring the receipts. Why am I horrified at the acclaim this man had? Why am I railing against a man who was brutally murdered in public? Why am I upset over a blog post talking about this guy as if he was a good and holy man? 

Because of things he actually said and advocated for. 

Link: What the Public Memory Revealed

• “Black America is poorer, more murderous, more dangerous” than when Black people were living under Jim Crow.
• “The pride and trans movements have always been about grooming kids.”
• He espoused the racist Great Replacement Theory, which argues that white Americans are being systematically replaced by multiculturalism and by brown and Black immigrants.
• He said, “There’s a war on white people in this country."
• He contended that Black people commit more crime than white people and that the blame lies in a Black culture that accepts that Black men “impregnate women and they don’t stay around”
• 17 percent of his episodes contained an unsubstantiated or false claim (from a 2023 article)
• Mimikama collected 135 quotes: 67 verified, 68 are still unchecked. Together, they reveal how language is systematically used as a weapon against facts, minorities, and democracy. (From a German website. Google translated it for me.) 

I'd rather not look any further. If you do a cursory search of stuff he said, you're sure to turn up some more awful things. 

This is why I'm so upset. Because I've been aware of what he said, what he advocated for, for a while. And it all horrified me. Then, people who I thought were good and decent people are now talking about him as if he was such an honorable man. No. No he wasn't. 

It's scary how quickly we devolved into fascism. It's scary how now a person who in normal times would have been reviled by the mainstream is suddenly seen as some sort of truth-telling good person. I don't recognize this country any more.

Well Travelled

Last week, Alana spotted the "design choice" I made. Perhaps this week (with another pattern repeat added) it'll be a little easier to see. 

That kind of double yellow band, where it's yellow, then not, then yellow again, is where I started a new ball of yarn. And didn't look for the color where I left off to make a seamless transition. 

Well, I did look, but for some reason I couldn't find the yellow (even though, clearly, it was right there). And I gave up. 

I kind of like the break in the color sequence, so I'm keeping it. 

A week ago I mailed the previous version in the different colorway to my sister-in-law for her birthday. Which is tomorrow. Plenty of time to get there, right? 

Well, plenty of time if it went right there. Unfortunately, the package made a little detour. On Friday, this is where the tracking said it was: 

Hawaii. The package was in Hawaii. 

Hawaii?!?

That's not even on the way. Unless we're going the long way round the world. (I live in California. Sister-in-law lives in Ohio.) 

I just... I had to double check to make sure I didn't do something stupid like put the wrong address on the label. According to my records, no, I used the correct address with the correct zip code. Sigh. 

So, her gift will be late. Sigh. But it did make for a funny text in explanation. 

*shakes head* I guess my knits are better travelled than me. Sigh. 

Continuing Alarm

Friday. Second period. 

It was as if I had never left. (To them, I hadn't.) I greeted the class at the door, reminding them that their phones needed to be deposited in the box designated for them.

Ariel had a problem. She showed me her phone. It was broken. 

An alarm was set. But Ariel couldn't stop it as her touch screen wasn't responding to touch. The switch was switched to silent. And when the "snooze" was up and the phone alarmed, one could hit the power button to stop the alarm. But it was going to alarm every nine or so minutes. 

Ariel gave me her phone with the warning that I'd need to hit the power button every time the phone alarmed. (At no point did she even attempt to keep her phone.)

And so, every nine or so minutes, when the alarm alarmed, I would hit the button to stop the sound and set it to snooze again. 

Why did she bother bringing her phone to school? I mean, she couldn't do anything with it as the touch screen didn't work. Why bring the thing at all? 

Of course, I did not ask this question. When she was explaining the situation, I was in the process of getting class started, and it did not occur to me. When she collected her phone at the end of class, I was busy with end of class stuff. It was only later that I wondered. 

I hope she gets her phone fixed. It's silly to have a phone that one can't use. 

Too Late

I finished my long-term in the middle school art class on Wednesday. On Friday, I was right back there to cover for Ms. D as she had plans (that she made before she was hired). Because block schedule, it was the same group I said "goodbye, but not" to on Wednesday. 

Eighth period. It was the passing period, so I was standing outside, greeting students. 

Aiden took a spot next to me. 

"Could you give me some assignments I can complete over the weekend to pull up my grade?" 

Aiden is one of those students whose names I now know due to repeated usage. That his grade isn't where he wants it isn't a surprise. But grading the class is no longer my job. 

"That would be up to Ms. D now..."

I explained that he could complete his missing work, but there was no guarantee that Ms. D would accept it. 

The previous day I had gotten an email from a parent about a different student. Similar situation. I forwarded the email to Ms. D. She replied to me, asking if the student had been a behavior issue or had been goofing off in class. 

I can safely say that any student whose grade is still in F territory is a student who's been goofing off. I gave them ample time in class to complete assignments. I warned them that if their grades were low, that they could make up the work. 

Many of them did make up their work. Many of them claimed no name papers. 

Aiden was missing the project. He asked if he could turn it in. I said he could. (I could sneak it in while I was still in the room.) 

So, what did Aiden to all period? Did he complete the project that was 60% of his grade? Did he put together the big assignment that was due that day? Did he get anything done? 

Nope. Aiden did what Aiden's been doing the whole time--Aiden played around. 

I kinda want to be a fly on the wall when Aiden has this conversation with Ms. D. He's not making good choices. I think that's going to burn him. And it's no longer my problem. 

Unappreciated

Tuesday morning.

The only reason I saw the call before I got to school was because I stopped at McDonald's on the way. 

(Sometimes I pick up a little something on the way to work. Their app gives me points that I can get a freebie with every so often.) 

It was from the sub desk. "Since the new teacher is starting today..."

Um, what? Today?!? 

Usually, the afternoon before I get a heads up. (I've done this start-the-year-off-in-a-vacant-class before.) But this time, the day of? Really?

So, I was a bit cranky about the whole thing. 

Not to the new teacher. She's lovely. Ms. D was in the fashion design world, but got bored with it and decided she really wanted to teach. (She gave an intro presentation to the kiddos.) She's excited to have her own class, and I think she'll do an amazing job. 

But I'm really kinda ticked at the district. 

I kinda feel like I've been slapped across the face. Perhaps that's not fair. But it's how I feel. 

(Apparently the school only found out that morning, too.)

I mean, that's the gig. I'm in the class until the new teacher starts. And then I walk away. And I'm good with that. I was getting a little irritated the last week or so, very ready to relinquish control of the classes. 

It's just that some transition stuff, like with the gradebook and the keys and the computer I checked out, is being yanked back as if I'm some sort of undesirable rather than the person who kept those classes going. For a month. The first month of school. 

So, it's all over. Except it's not. Because Ms. D already had some plans in September before she got hired, so I get to sub for her next week. This should be interesting.