Why can't I say no to anyone??? What in the world possess me to believe that I can actually do it all and still have the time for myself and my loved ones? Sorry that this post begins with a rant, but I'm upset that I missed Wright Night and am now posting late all because I have WAY too much on my plate. I guess the Fall prompt is working well because I always fall for a request. I speak a good game at saying, "I'm going to say no this time", but yeah right. When it comes time to actually say, "No", what do I say?? You guessed it, "Sure, I can. No problem." I know I'm not the only one with this affliction. In fact, it seems to be a common problem among women. Why is that? What makes us think that we not only can but are supposed to do it all?

Okay, so off the rant. On another note, I am absolutely ecstatic about cooler weather. I really, really want my longer recess time. Right now, the kids are actually getting into line before we even blow the whistle! Soon though, they will be begging to stay out a little bit longer (and we teachers will be too!) I love those days! Nothing better than taking class outdoors in the wonderful fall afternoons!

Falling into Fall Semester

I fell. Right on my face. That’s what the past two months have felt like—a continuous rising and falling action. New mothers often claim to better appreciate their own mothers after they’ve had babies; they now understand their mothers’ pain/struggle/sacrifice, etc. Well, I’m not a new mother, but I am a new teacher. Sure enough, I now see teachers (the good, the bad, and the ugly) in a whole new light. I now understand the pain/struggle/sacrifice, etc. that effective teaching demands. I now appreciate and respect teachers in a way I never had before.

Since I referenced good, bad, and ugly teachers, let’s discuss bad teachers for a moment. You know who I’m talking about: the scowling, I’m-only-here-because-I’m-getting-a-paycheck teachers. I realize that the line between good and bad teachers isn’t so clear-cut. Excellent, good-intentioned teachers have the potential to easily cross the boundary into “bad teacher” territory. It happens, I think, after they’ve dedicated time (an excessive amount of time), energy, blood, sweat, and tears into lesson-planning, only to have snotty little I’m-too-cool-for-anything-you-say-or-do students scoff at their brilliant intentions. Yap, I have some of “those” students, and I now understand why some teachers retreat to the “dark” side. Bad students could push good teachers to be bad teachers. Of course, most of us won’t allow the snotty snots to have that control. I won’t. (Deep sigh.) I won’t.

While I’ve had some not-so-pleasant instances since the beginning of fall semester, I’ve also had some rewarding experiences. There have been times when both teacher and students dropped their shields and weapons and crossed lines into “no man’s land”: times when we relinquished formalities and learned and gleaned and laughed; times when my lecture engrossed twenty-five attentive minds; times when an essay provoked hearty debates; times when a freewrite brought us (the girls, at least) to tears (yes this happened—another story for another post); times when I thought: maybe I do have what it takes to be a good teacher.

I continue to walk this thin line between the good, bad, and—just to make it complete—ugly. Teaching—effective teaching—is hard work. It takes time, dedication, patience, sacrifice, and coffee (or Coke, depending on the mood). I continue to stumble and fall, but I’ll continue (hopefully!) to rise and strive.

FALL...ing

Fall... Oh my. This is gonna be good. I can write about fall-related stuff all the livelong day. It's my favorite season...and why shouldn't it be? Between GEORGIA FOOTBALL and my birthday, it's the greatest evah. And then there's the whole start-of-a-new-school-year excitement and cooler weather and piles of leaves and brisk autumn mornings and the promise of Gingerbread Latte season right around the corner. And my birthday. And GEORGIA FOOTBALL season...I heart fall.

Quick story:

There was this one time...at band camp...

No seriously, I have those, but I'll save them for another time.

I was the drum major of my high school band during my sophomore and junior years. What's a drum major you ask? I was the person who conducted the band during the halftime show. And I wasn't any old drum major. I was The Big Bopper (according to the DA at the time). I was awesome. For real, I rocked their faces off. For my debut as the drum major, I was lucky enough to have a shortened version of our halftime show because the school happened to be celebrating the 50th anniversary of the first graduating class with some ceremony recognizing those graduates still around during the halftime show. I was nervous for sure. Who wouldn't be, standing 5 feet in the air on a 3x3 (ish) square platform/podium on the 50 yard line of the football field? But I was awesome and survived the halftime show. We ended with the long-standing tradition of playing the fight song as the band marched off the field and squished onto the sidelines. I heaved a huge sigh of relief because the biggest part of my job was over. As I stepped down from the podium, I remember very little. There was a boot heel. And a step. And air. And the sound of velcro ripping on my cummerbund. And the ground. Yeah. I fell. On the 50 yard line. From a 5 foot high podium. Flat on my face. In front of a home crowd. Talk about embarrassing. Thank God I wasn't hurt. Bruised ego? Absolutely. I curled into a ball (Remember the tornado drill exercise in school where you're on your knees, hunched over, with your hands on your head? Yeah, like that.) on the sidelines and spewed profanity. How embarrassing. But I jumped up quickly and made my way toward the end zone and the stands. What a legend. The Big Bopper (the name came later) FELL off the podium. I had a guy hold my hand and help me on and off the podium for 2 years after that.

Falling...I'm pretty good at that stuff apparently. I still have a darker spot that looks like a bruise on my right knee from tripping on the sidewalk downtown one day. I fell straight down, just on that knee, while walking back to my car one afternoon after a very enjoyable happy hour with colleagues. Seriously? Who trips on a sidewalk?? And this wasn't one of those uneven ones famous for cropping up in downtown Savannah. It was just a plain old ordinary sidewalk. UGH. Again, seriously?

Falling in love is one that I'll leave alone for now. Is it because it's cliche? Maybe.

Or maybe it's because I have road rash. Just sayin'

Falling Down from Exhaustion

I apologize in advance for my totally disconnected thoughts, but I wanted to participate in Write Night even though I'm about to fall asleep. This is my last semester of classes (hopefully) before Comps, and I am still trying to figure out how to balance nine hours. (I don't know how other people do it. And I'm single.) I think that I have my one face-to-face class figured out, and I'm finally on a working schedule for my independent study. (Donna, I have finished Milkweed and am halfway through Maus.) That only leaves the Spanish class. The one that I have to pass with a B to graduate. I was excited because I thought that I was on schedule to get all my work done. Then I realized that there were audio boards and discussion questions on GOML that I had failed to complete. Add to that the pressure of being out for training Thursday and knowing I have a presentation next week. Oh, and a 5k and something we like to call Donna's baby shower. Crazy me, I also signed up to use the computer lab for three days next week because I didn't want to wait until the end of the nine weeks to publish.

No matter how busy that I am, I carve out time to run. I have become accustomed to waiting until after 8 to take Lorelai out for our run. Tonight there was a nice little breeze that added a little resistance. But I'll take that over humidity any day.

I love fall. Being a girl, I love getting to wear scarves and Uggs, although I would wear them in 90 degree heat, too. Fall reminds me of when I was a cheer coach in Douglas and the Friday nights that I spent with 20 teenage girls, many of which are now married and having children. For some reason that is always what I associate with fall.

Falling/Stumbling

Well, this big belly out front has me completely off balance, so now I hold on to the rail when I walk up stairs, and I stumble on a regular basis. I probably look like an old woman when I walk, more like an old woman weeble since I wobble too.

On a completely unrelated side note, Rebecca, there's a fireman on Wipeout tonight, and the female host said she'd always wanted to be carried by a firefighter, so she was. Maybe that's the next line you can use, perhaps in D.C. at the fire station across from the hotel? Just an idea . . .

Okay, back to clumsy. Yep, that's me: clumsy. But I'm not sure what else to say about it.

Maybe I'll try to remember some spectacular falls:

• falling on the sidewalk on Georgia Avenue while leaving the Honors House
• wiping out on the snow in such a spectacular fashion that my skis ended up very far apart, one stuck upright in the snow, and my face stuck down in the snow--Wes wasn't sure I survived that one (but it wasn't a great as his own snowboard wipeouts on that trip, earning him the nickname Uncle Snowplow)
• falling down the front steps of Nevins Hall in the rain wearing flip flops, a fall that led to knee surgery because I reinjured the knee I hurt climbing a volcano in Greece
• not really a fall, but I did run into a pole and give myself a concussion when arguing with Wes about who was going into Baskin Robins to get us some ice cream--of course, no one got ice cream after that injury

Hmm, there haven't been as many falls as I thought, but I am clumsy, especially now, and a bit whiny. Remember that old cheer: "My feet are aching, my pants too tight, my hips are shaking from left to right . . ." Um, I'm not sure how that leads into a cheer for any team, but I have this vague memory that it does. Let me see what a Google search turns up . . .

I found a few references to the cheer, but not as many as I thought, and the words are slightly different than I remember. Anyway, that's kind of how I feel: my feet are aching, my back is aching, my belly is too tight, I'm uncomfortable in most positions, whine, whine, whine. I'm ready for October 13 to get here or for the boys to arrive early. I'd like to hit thirty-five weeks and for the boys to hit six pounds each, but at that point, I'd love for them to get impatient and come on.

Sorry, I didn't mean to turn my post into a whine, but that's where it went. Oh well . . .

I think I'm fallin' for you... or not.

So the first thing that came to my mind when I read the topic for tonight was that icky, sticky, oh-too-bubbly-sweet Colbie Caillat song "Fallin' for You."  I'm not gonna lie... when it comes on the radio, I sing along.  But it's still kinda lame.  : )  So, now I'm not only singing the song in my head, I'm thinking about relationships.  Double lame.  

I'm mostly content with being single.  Ok, maybe not completely.  But even still, I haven't really been spending too much time thinking about my singleness lately.  Until school started back last week.  (Yes, I know it's September.  No, it's not a typo.  Our school system has adopted a 160-school-day calendar.  Sweet!)  All of the sudden, all my teacher friends are pointing out single men, waggling their eyebrows at me, and whispering behind gradebooks and giggling like schoolgirls.  It's crazy.  Now, I'm gonna go ahead and be real honest.  The dating pool in Baxley is more like a dating puddle...  very shallow and kinda muddy.  I might just be single for a really long while.  There's just not much to work with here.  I only know a handful of single men, and despite others' attempts to provide some Holy Spirit "nudging," nothing's happened.  Of course I'm a woman.  And of course we tend to over-analyze everything.  So OF COURSE I've chalked up these failed attempts at matchmaking as A) "It's just not the right time," B) "They're just confirmed bachelors... totally set in their ways and not looking," and/or C) "I'm just not their type."  

Yesterday I was "babysitting" the library while our Media Specialist was out.  (Yes, I'm still subbing.  No, I'm not thrilled about it.  Yes, It's a blessing/foot-in-the-door/a job.  I know the drill.  And I really am thankful.  But year 2 of not teaching is making it a little bit harder to think positively.)  Anyway, I was shelving some books during a lull, and a book caught my eye.  I don't care what anyone says about 'not judging a book by it's cover.'  It's the book's cover that drew my attention.  Super shiny laminated book jacket... hot pink and lime green!  Yes, please!  I stopped to look at it.  You'll never guess.  Wait for it, wait for it... the NY Times Bestseller (Ha!) "He's Just Not That Into You."  Oh the irony.  I pick it up, start to read, and am laughing hysterically.  It's a hoot!    

Soooo... these women who wrote in for this book (or the examples the authors created... whatever) are ridiculously crazy.  

You want to know if it's ok to call a guy because there was a blackout and during the insanity you forgot to exchange numbers?  Hello?!?!?!  He didn't ask for it.  You work for the same company.  He can look you up in the company database IF he wants to contact you.  He's just not that into you.

What do you mean he suddenly dropped off the face of the Earth two weeks ago and you haven't heard back from him?  Noooo... that does not mean his grandmother/aunt/godmother/sister died and he's distraught.  He's just not that into you.

So the guy you "love" is yelling at you and easily angered because he's in med school?  Ummm.... no, the "real guy" you fell in love with's not going to come back.  Yes, he's a prick.  Yes, I know you always wanted to marry a doctor.  Face it... he's just not that into you.

And so forth and so on.  Some of these women make me want to die.  They're totally ruining our name.  I mean, seriously?  Get a clue.  However... there are several of these scenarios that made me stop and think.  Holy cow.  I'm one of those crazy women... sometimes.  Yep, one of those.  Grrrr.  Lesson learned?  I am amazing, I deserve a great guy, and most importantly - if a guy's into me, he'll move heaven and earth to make it happen.  : ) 

As for that dating puddle?  I'm just gonna go ahead and throw it out there... they're just not that into me.  

Mother Nature: Sadistic ________.

Fall brings to mind all the incredibly cute fall fashion clothes that I can't wear. Mainly because Mother Nature hates South Georgia. I'm not sure what South Georgia did to eternally offend Ma. I've got a few ideas, but most of them come after she started punishing us. (Although if Ma knew her stuff, she would practice "behavior modification" and wouldn't punish unless it served an "academic purpose." I hate education classes.) Every fall I peruse the racks at my favorite stores: NY and Co., Khols, Belk's, which is better than Penny's, and even Target. I know, I'm a cheapskate, but I'm ok with that. However, all of these stores have cute sweaters, scarves, and hats all in autumn colors. My hair looks absolutely amazing with fall colors. Even the burnt orange compliments my auburn locks. Thanks to the swealtering heat that mock me I don't get to wear the cute clothes. And the boots! Such cute boots that I will never be able to wear. This isn't Ma's fault, it's dad's fault, or rather his mother's fault. My calves are so huge that I can't fit into ANY boots. Cowboy boots, hooker thigh boots, mid-calve boots, and knee high boots all mock me from their stands in the store. I would give anything to fit into a pair of boots that I could wear with a cute blue jean skirt or plain dress and shawl, like Reese Witherspoon in "Sweet Home Alabama," not in a old granny shawl. Well obviously not anything. The gym has been calling my name for a while and I a good at ignoring it. And anyone wearing a scarf during fall in South Georgia is just kidding herself. I bet by the time she gets home she is sweating so much she needs another shower.

Good thing about fall weather, my feet finally stop sweating in my flip-flops.

Fall - The Best Ever

Fall is absolutely the best time of year. As soon as I start feeling that crispness in the mornings, I know fall is on the way. My favorite memories of fall are of the fair. The fair always came to town at the beginning of October, and the air was just beginning to get cool at night. My best friend and I would get my mom to take us to the fair and leave us for hours. Oh how I loved this. We would walk around and around looking for boys. I found so many loves there. Funny how the scene changes as I grow older. I went a couple of years ago and was appalled at the nastiness of it all. Was it that nasty when I was there and I just didn’t notice or has it grown more disgusting? I’m not sure. Regardless, I associate my favorite fall memories to the fair.

Write Night September 2010

Hi folks,

It's the first Write Night of the new academic year. Here's the topic: Fall. You can write about fall weather, fall sports, falling down, falling in love, falling away from friends, or whatever you want. Happy writing!

Donna