I Feel Fall

It seems summer comes and goes a bit faster every year. Yesterday I woke up early to make my way to the yoga studio for my weekly reception gig. I tossed on a sarong and some flip flops and left the house, only to be greeted by crisp fall air as I opened the door and stepped into the sun. This first breath of fall is always accompanied by a feeling of dread. I love the fall, but there is always the knowledge that it is about to lead into a cold, long winter. Every winter spent in Montreal makes Vancouver look a lot better.

The last few weeks have been hectic. Today I'm enjoying my first day off since Thelma's wedding. As I have trouble tolerating my position at Brother, I'm desperately seeking a way out- which seems to have led me to substitution work at a school for learning disabled kids. They've taken me on for French and English work, so I've actually gotten quite a few days from them already. If I can find another two or three schools to substitute for, it should become a full time job.


I walked into my classroom on my first day and analyzed the room. On the far wall, large windows looked out onto the playground and the basketball court. The left side was lined end to end with computers, available for use once the kids finished their work. On one wall was a blackboard, and the other was lined with the very same Houghton Mifflin Mathematics books that I remember using in grade six. I checked the publication date; 1980. With all the school board reforms, it seems they are still clinging to the set of now dilapidated books. The large windows were a great distraction to me throughout the day, as students filed by on their way to gym class. The classes are small, usually no more than twelve kids but the work is difficult. It takes a lot of patience, both with the kids and the school itself. Not having been there long, it's hard for me to really get a feel for how their system works, but apart from the small class sizes, it doesn't seem terribly different from a normal school. I wonder about the method. If students are incapable of learning in the conventional classroom, wouldn't it make sense to try other approaches? Perhaps less lectures and more hands on learning? With so many of the students describing themselves as stupid and using a missed pill as an excuse for bad behavior, I wonder what kind of titles are assigned to these kids away from the school and if being here was made to feel like a punishment for bad behavior.

Both my brothers having grown up with learning disabilities, the situation is not entirely foreign to me. But I can't say I ever remember my brothers describing themselves as stupid. I wondered how they ever got anything done in one classroom that I worked in. The chorus of 'I can'ts' was so loud that even I had trouble believing these kids were capable. If the message that you've been fed for so long is that you can't do it, how will you ever get it done? The experience made me wonder how specialized schools such as this one should exist. If even five of the twelve students in your class believe themselves incapable because of their difficulties, will this attitude not catch on with the other kids?

So many thoughts, so tired though. With substitution work, Brother and the yoga studio, I haven't had a day off in nearly a month. So tired!! Time for bed, more later!

Tantrums

I'm afraid I may be allergic to corporate life. My eyes are again swollen for no apparent reason and I blame sitting in front of a computer all day under florescent lights. Years ago I used to pride myself on being able to effectively handle any type of customer, however difficult. Talk them down from their high horse and get them to realize how ridiculous they sounded carrying on about this or that. A year and a half out of customer service and I've lost not only my patience, but also my words in such cases. I sit there, valid arguments forming in my head, but they just won't roll off my tongue. I just can't get past the fact that these people are calling me for help, but yell at me when they don't like the answer I give, the questions I ask or the speed at which my computer operates. I just don't care. I find it baffling that some people have nothing better to do then call up customer service and yell and scream and carry on. All I can think is how spoiled we are. I feel like screaming, "Don't you think there are more serious problems in the world worth yelling about than whether or not your fax machine is working?" Maybe if these people would yell just as loud about things that really matter our world would be a better place. I listen to the other agents, swearing and making a stink with the customer on hold, about how stupid the caller is and I think it's not the stupid questions that bug me. The very fact that technical support exists, at least on the level at which I work, is not because people are not smart enough to understand what they've bought, it's because they're too lazy to try. Too lazy to open the book and follow the basic instructions. Dependant on other people to solve their problems for them, rather than taking a moment to think about the situation. Did I check to see if it were plugged in? Did I turn it on? Is there paper in it? Instead they pick up the phone, dial the 1-800 number on the box and yell about the poor quality of the product, scream about the stupidity of all the companies employees and carry on like a two year old having a tantrum over a side of brussel sprouts. I've become much more adept at dealing with children having tantrums, I realize. Often times all it takes is a cocking of the head, a glance in their direction or a certain tone when calling their name. Their outbursts are also more acceptable, understandable and rarely show the same disrespect as you get from adults. I've intensified my search for a teaching job and will hopefully find something permanent for September. I just haven't the energy to commute to the West Island five days a week, leaving the house at 7am and if I head to yoga after, arriving home only at 9pm. I haven't the energy for the job because it isn't even in the direction of where I'm headed and I hate that this is all I have on my mind on a beautiful Saturday morning. Other than my work and the subsequent swollen eye, I feel fantastic. I feel super healthy thanks to my yoga classes this week and I am happy to see that the hole in Fred's belly is very close to closing. Last Sunday marked our five year anniversary, which is pretty amazing given all that we've gone through together. And the fact that previously I wouldn't have last four months before running away screaming, terrified that I was teetering on the edge of a committed relationship. I have friends in town for the next couple weeks, preparing for Thelma's wedding in Ottawa. I haven't seen Thelma in two year, so it'll be great to hang out and get some Bloody Caesars in us. Hopefully we have the good sense to stop before a Caesar induced hang-over!

Les yeux grand ouverts

Thank you to everyone reading this page regularly, I've just noticed that my page has reached ten thousand hits, which excites me. Secondly, I've decided to begin doing some of my posts in French- below you'll find the first one, with I'm sure, atrocious spelling. My apologies to the French language for the bastardization, it's been over ten years since I've written anything in French...

J'ai décidé que je devrais, de temps en temps, faire des postes en français. Jusqu'à maintenant j'en avais pas fait parce que j'ai tellement peur de faire des fautes d'orthographes. Mais finalement j'ai réalisé que je serais jamais plus comfortable si je ne prends pas quelques minutes pour écrire un petit mot en français. Désolé d'abord si vous trouvez mon texte plein d'erreurs. Ça fait quaizement dix ans que j'ai pas écrit plus de vingt mots en français.

Je ne peux pas dormir. Ma tête est plein d' idées et de pensés qui m'excitent en même temps qu'ils me font peur. Après trois semaines de retour au service à la clientèle, et c'est assez. Ça me tente pas. Ça m'intèrese pas. C'est pas un job bien difficile, mais c'est plate. Je me lève à six heures le matin pour me rendre tout au bout de l'île avec la mère de Freddy. Je passe la journée à lire mon livre à mon bureau, agacé des appèles qui dérange ma lecture. J'écoute les conversations banales de mes collègues et ça m'ennuie. Je pars le soir, trop fatiguées pour mettre sur papier toutes les idées que j'ai eu pendant la journées, toutes les situations qui m' ont inspiré. J'ai faites des demandes d'emplois pour quelques écoles cette semaine et j'espère d'entendre des bonnes nouvelles dans les prochaines jours. Imagine combien de temps j'aurais si je travaille seulement jusqu'à quatre heures! Si j'avais pas à passer deux heures en auto pour me rendre à un emplois qui vaut vraiment pas la peine. Je veux bientôt commencer à faire la révision des articles que j'ai l'intention de soumettre aux journals et aux magazines. Une étape à la fois, premièrement, il faut que je me couche. Il est trois heures et demi du matin et je travaille de bonne heure au studio de yoga. Bonsoir...