Layers

I spent an hour on the phone with the district's technical support to see if they could trace which computer sent the porn print job to my computer lab's printer. They couldn't track it...

Unfortunately, this really great student, who I think probably did it yet denies it, but does so with creepy calmness. My adminstrator banned him from the computer for the rest of the school year, which means that he is going to be completely outcasted from the class and pushed into a 1982 textbook.

Not sure what to think about all of this.

Teenage boys. It might just be harder to grow up a boy than a girl. For instance, imagine, if you will, that you are exploring your sexuality as the son of ridiculously sheltering parents who don't even understand the concept of privacy. Then imagine that there is so much you can't talk about, in terms of becoming a man - all those hormones! You're even sheltered from spending free time with other boys your age.

Is it really surprising that in his geekhood and incredible suppression you would surpass all school proxies and print over twenty pictures of pornography in full 8.5X11 color.

Best part, I caught him. Too bad simply turning off a computer and printer doesn't cancel print jobs.

I decided that taking today off from work was the best choice for me. It was two years ago when friends, students, and I were in the thick of harm and violence. I noticed yesterday that I started to become extremely short and easily frustrated by my students. Let me tell you, it takes an incredible amount of inactivity to make me tense. That's right. I do my best when trying to reign things in and keeping a good flow going, but when there's nothing happening - well - that's when I get frustrated. Yesterday was normal. Totally normal, so I knew it didn't make sense that I was reacting to my students with such hostile tones and looks. They were confused, and so was I.

It comes down to that it's hard to be far away from anyone who understands anything about not only March 21st or the year that followed.

I'm warmed to read others' blogs about how they are working towards better things with the students I miss so terribly much. And I know that this place is better for me, and I can feel a totally different me since I can be an effective educator despite the fact that I'm teaching in a much larger school, with larger stereotypical problems of an urban school. This year has been a year of shedding triggers and pain. I'm finding there's been some callousing, but that's okay with me.

An incredible thing happened today. NPR ran a story on one of my students. They showcased him in a true light. They captured him spot on. It's so funny that on this day two years ago, a media nightmare was born. Ironic how today I'm involved in a story that breeds opportunity for my gem kiddo as opposed to more emotional pain from lies, morbid images, chaos, and money-making schemes and stories.

I've decided that I'm going to make a concerted effort to grow into myself. I've left something I know, something sour, something I loved, and I'm fine. Fine is boring. Let's try something rejuvenating out. How about another date, guitar lessons, Scout's puppy kindergarten classes, or the Bahamas for the hell of it.

Done.

So the friends didn't let the email message suffice. My phone was kidnapped by Michael, which then avalanched into this:

"Hello. This is Susan, Aimless's assistant. I'm afraid that there was an oversight with her schedule. She is due to have dinner with Mayor Dixon, so we'll need to reschedule your date."

At least he won't miss the email message and be left, sitting alone in a sketchy jazz club that would probably be cool with someone I knew. This should help me avoid any bad dating karma. Hopefully.

I just cancelled the date. Of course I did it the really pathetic way, which is through email.

I'm an incredibly awkward person to date. I'm supposed to go on a date tomorrow night. Awesome, right? So while I'm talking to this guy on the phone, I'm throwing these really blunt, unmagical statements his way. He's hearing things from me like, if I'm not enjoying myself or interested, I'm going to be straightforward with you and tell you - I expect the same. I don't care for drama. What are your expectations of me? Don't pretend you're perfect. I'm straightforward with people, so please be prepared for that. Why am I saying these things? (insert the obvious)

And yes, in my ideal world I'd be going on a date with someone I just bumped into at the coffee shop. Except I'm just awkward enough (theme for tonight's posts) to completely avoid that person rather than having a little carefree fun and flirting. This all results in giving match.com a try, and it's yielded some good experiences. Maybe I'm just an inverted person? Cute, fun, giggly, making eyes whatever comes after you make sense to me.

Anyway, I get it. Relax. Stop over-analyzing.

Still not sure if I'm going to go through with the date tomorrow night. The phone conversation was disjointed, but that's probably normal. We're going to a jazz club that is nameless in a potentially sketchy part of town. He also sent me a link to you tube of him streaking in one of his messages. What the hell? Crapola. He's an architect.

Last Saturday went from wonderful to disgusting too quickly for comfort, literally. I had a slew of friends over for dinner and drinks on Saturday night.

We made barbecue tofu, wild salad, and cinnamon sweet potato fries. All of this from scratch, straight down to the barbecue sauce. While we all cooked it together, ate together, sang ridiculous songs together, drank together, sighed in pleasure at all of its greatness together, we also were poisoned together - by the grub.

Not cool.

Some fared better than others, as it appears the more alcohol one consumed the more it combated the plague. I woke up Sunday, felt great. Left-overs are the devil. Didn't even know that the food was tainted until I awoke Monday morning and talked to some friends on the way to work. I abandoned my classroom quickly as I realized the conditions were unstable.

Who hosts a dinner party and then poisons all the guests?