A Renaissance of Dancing

Last week, I finally went dancing again. It's a bit sad that this blog is called "Adventures of a Jitterbug" when I have hardly gone dancing at all since I moved here. My first New Year's Resolution was to dance more, but illness had kept me from getting out. So last Wednesday, I finally made it out to the free MIT dance, and man, was it wonderful.

I was already pretty tired when I got there, emotionally and physically, so I wasn't sure how long I would stay. I had debated going at all, but a few friends insisted that it would be good for me. The place was totally packed when I got there, a fact that really surprised me. I had been to the MIT dance before, and though those times were few, it had never really been very crowded. But tonight it was and as soon as I stepped into the room I felt immensely better. The music, the people, the atmosphere in general-it was like visiting an old friend, someone I hadn't seen in a while. Just hearing the music made me happy! I got out on the floor and was surprised by how easily all the steps came back to me. It was like riding a bike; my long winter of non-dancing is, hopefully, over. So I danced about 6 songs or so before becoming overwhelmingly tired, and since I still had to drive back to Concord, I called it quits. But I am so happy that I went; I hope to go back to MIT and to check out the other weekly dances around the Boston area. I have also registered for the Boston Tea Party, and awesome event I attended last year. I'm trying to get "back in shape" for the event, so here's to dancing at least once a week between now and then!

In Memoriam

On Monday night, around 9:30, my mom called to tell me that Chris, our dog of 12 years, had been put down. This was the final blow in a whirlwind 36 hours, which started Sunday afternoon when my father told me that little Chris hadn't been doing so well, and was being taken to the vet on Monday. "You might want to prepare for the worst," he told me. I was shocked. When I had been home for Christmas only a month ago, he had been fine. A little old and grumpy, but seemingly perfectly healthy. As I prepared for class on Monday, I tried to "prepare for the worst" but simply could not do it. How could my little trooper dog die?

For those of you who didn't know my little Chris, he was truly a trooper. When I was in sixth or seventh grade, my mom ran him completely over with the minivan- I'm talking the wheel going completely over his tiny Westie body- and, after a surgery that split him open from chin to groin, he was fine. As in, alive and totally back to normal. That almost isn't right, for a dog that small to live an accident like that. But my Chris was special. Then, my freshman year of college, my brother left out about half a pound of Valentine's Day chocolate, which Chris of course got into. Everyone knows that chocolate is like poison for dogs, and since Chris was only about 15 pounds at the time, half a pound was enough to put him under. But, yet again, he pulled through, after spending the night vomiting and pooping all over my brother's bedroom. After that night, he was perfectly fine. Last year, he had a cyst on his eye that had to be removed, but he tolerated it with infinite patience and calm. He was fine after that too.

I guess that it is because of all these incidents that I truly believed this little West Highland White Terrier could never die. He was so spunky, full of life and energy; he was always so happy to see one of us he never really seemed to get any older. But alas, he was old-12 years-when the life expectancy for a Westie is only 11. Last week he started having trouble breathing, and when he was taken to the vet on Monday, they told my dad that he had fluid in and around his lungs and heart. Once the fluid was drained, they saw that he had a cancer on his heart, and the only real option was to put him down.

I have to keep telling myself that at least he is no longer in pain. He was the greatest dog a girl could have. He loved to run around the house, bark at deer and squirrels, look outside from the top of the chair next to the window, and cuddle with my mom. I loved to hold him, walk him, scratch him behind his ears (I will always secretly maintain that he liked my scratching the best of anyone in the family). He was the cutest, kindest, most loving dog I've ever witnessed, and he will be greatly missed.

Here's to my widdle Cwissy. <3

On Ski Team

So I haven't really written much about my interesting position as one of the assistant coaches for the ski team. And it is indeed interesting. For those of you who don't know me very well, let me say this: I know nothing about skiing. Absolutely nothing. I've never skied a day in my life. I do, however, have a fair amount of knowledge on dryland, since I spent about 95% of the past 12 years doing it. Apparently ski teams do a fair amount of it as well, before the snow "flies" (a skiing term I happened to pick up; it just means "when it snows"). So, at the end of last semester, I found myself instructing kids on how to do lunges, sit ups, burpees, wall sits, all those awesome things I was hoping never to do again after last February. But hey, they pay me extra for it, so I wasn't complaining.

I'm not exactly complaining now, but hell, skiing is a cold, cold sport. Why anyone would get really into skiing is beyond me. As I mentioned above, I don't know anything about skiing, and so when this semester started, and the team started going to the slopes to practice, I had no idea what my role was to be. I soon found out that it was to be fetching lift tickets, holding an enormous drill (the cause of so much grief in my fire alarm incident) and standing at the bottom of the slope being cold. Being really, really bloody cold. I've had to invest in a new, real winter jacket (a lovely pink parka from L.L.Bean), new mittens (who knew you could pay $40 for mittens?!), and I've had to borrow a pair of actual waterproof boots from one of the captains (thank god her sister is a size 8!).

I have to say that, despite to bitter, terrible cold, I'm enjoying my time hanging out with the ski team. I don't really like to call myself a coach since I don't do anything except the bitch work, but I think the kids enjoy having me around. I joke with them, I make fun of my own ignorance of their sport, I yell at them when I have to. It's been a good way for me to get to know some students I would not otherwise have met, and I'm always grateful for the opportunity to meet new people and expand my knowledge of CA. And learning about skiing isn't so bad either, though I don't think I'll be trying it anytime soon. Too delicate, too expensive, too much gear. Give me a hot indoor pool and brute human strength anytime.

Now, for my one exciting ski story so far, other than the fire alarm, of course:

At the race this past Friday, I was standing at the bottom of the slope, per usual, taking down kids' times. The whole race area is fenced in, with a wide portion at the bottom for the kids to stop before gliding out through a small lane into the spectators. I was standing right at the end of this lane, since that's where the time board was, talking to the girl captain, when a girl from Worcester Academy decided that she wasn't going to stop and gently glide, but ski full force right into us. Now, she was going fast, and luckily realized that she was about to smash into us at the last second. She swerved enough to smash just one ski into myself and my kid, knocking herself and my captain down. The end of her ski hit my shin fairly hard, and my whole leg reverberated from the blow. It was quite crazy, and people were swarming all around trying to make sure we were ok. Luckily, only my shin and my kid's hand had been hit, and the skier, of course, was fine. I now have a big bruise for all my trouble, though I know it could have been much, much worse.

So much for overcoming my fears of skiing; now I'm equally afraid of the skiers themselves!!! There are only three more weeks in the season, so hopefully everything ends smoothly. But I think next year I'll try to stick to something I'm more familiar with.

On Snow Days and MLK

This past week proved to be an interesting one. Despite the holiday on Monday, CA was scheduled to have school, with a day-long celebration on MLK on Tuesday. The forecast for Sunday night was heavy snow, and the campus was buzzing with the hope of a snow day. The sky did indeed look heavy and threatening, but as a teacher, I knew better than to think we'd get the next day off.

I was wrong, however, and when I woke up at 6:30 for my morning workout, I saw that school had happily been canceled. And rightly so, I thought as I looked out my window. Snow was pouring from the sky, and the last thing I wanted to do at that moment was go outside. At 10:00, as I made my way over to the gym, the precipitation had morphed into a nasty freezing rain. There was about a foot of snow on the ground, and whatever had been snowed early that morning was covered in black ice. Very safe. At lunch, we joked that God and MLK had conspired to get us out of school that day, since almost no one else had to work. Perhaps that was the case, but whatever it was, weather or God, I was grateful for the day off. I had been a good girl Sunday night and prepared for class and gotten all my weekend grading done, so I was able to truly do nothing that day. It was glorious!

The next day was fairly fun too. At CA, MLK day is celebrated on Tuesday with a day full of speakers, workshops, and an art show. As a fledgling member of the Community and Equity Team (basically the school's diversity office), I was able to help put together the day's festivities. There were a ton of workshops lead by students and faculty alike, each with some kind of diverse theme. Hip hop, global warming, sexual orientation; everything was discussed. The speaker, Byron Rushing, kicked things off with a powerful talk reminding us that MLK truly believed in equality and non-violence. He did a really good job of reminding us that we were celebrating a man and a movement, and that most people forgot that on MLK day. After the day of workshops, the whole school gathered in the auditorium to watch the entirety of the "I Have A Dream" speech, which I had never seen, and which was also very moving. It was a good day and I think it was good for the kids to really think about those kinds of issues, as opposed to just having the day off to goof around, though they did get Monday off thanks to the snow. All in all, it was a good day, and I am proud to have had a small part in making it happen.

Sex Toys, Anyone?

In the interest of writing more, and more about my life in general, not just teaching, here is a post about sex toys.

Well, sorta.

A few weeks ago, a friend decided, rather on a whim, that she wanted to have one of those sex toy parties. You know, like a tupperware party, except with sex toys, where the lady comes and shows you all the different types and colors and stuff. Well, this past weekend was the "passion party." (Actually, the company is called Passion Parties, which I find hilarious) I was intensely curious about this, since, despite my Oberlin education, I was woefully ignorant when it came to sex toys. I was also very curious about the kind of person who made a living selling them. So I arrived at the house a little past five where five females gathered in the living room basement anxiously waiting for the Sex Toy Lady. I didn't know a few of the other very well, which made things a bit awkward, but I think the awkwardness of the situation helped us get over it. If that makes sense. Around six, the Sex Toy Lady arrived, and I was instantly struck by how normal she looked. Almost a bit nerdy, even! Not at all the dominatrix I was imagining. She made small talk as she calmly laid out the contents of her normal-looking duffel bag: DVDs, books, and a number of silk bags, varying in size. Excitement mounted. Then all of a sudden we were smelling lotion, rubbing lube on our fingers, passing around vibrators. It was rather overwhelming, especially when we got to the dildos. They all have so many functions! So many settings of vibration! So many shades of pink!

In the end, I have to say that it was a fun and pretty educational experience. I learned that most sex toys have some kind of animal shape because in Japan, where most are designed, there's some kind of law against making things that look like penises. And that KY jelly has some ingredient in it that's nicknamed "caustic soda." And that sex toys are really, really expensive.

Evaluations

When I was in college, I gave little thought to the evaluations I filled out at the end of every semester. This was mostly because I loved just about every single one of my classes, and if I didn't love it, the reason was because of my own inadequacy in the subject, not that of the teacher. So I usually wrote in silly comments or simple one word answers, not fully understanding that evaluations are given out for more reason than to just take up class time.

Being on the other side, I now understand.

I recently read the evaluations my students filled out for me at the end of last semester. It was an interesting, humbling, and sometimes exciting experience. The first rule of reading evaluations about your own performance is this: DO NOT take them personally. The evaluations are there to help guide and better the performance, not tear it down. This rule, however, was extremely difficult to follow, especially since this was the first time I had had true criticism of my performance (my previous experience being limited to "Ploy, don't breathe off your turns," or "You need to kick faster," or "Keep your head down when you're coming into the wall!"). The thing that got me on the first one I read was the answer to the question, "Would you take another class with this teacher," and the answer plainly being "No." No. No?! It was a bit crushing. I mean, I know I'm not the greatest out there, but I know I've improved since September and I think I'm fun and cool and... alas, I could hear rule #1 being shattered to bits.

Nevertheless, I persevered and read on, making my way slowly through the stack of papers. Once I truly accepted the fact that my students were trying to help me, I was able to keep most of my sanity while I read statements such as "She doesn't really explain things clearly," or "She's not very thorough in her explanations of things and often has to go back to clarify." I was aware that I often didn't explain things as well as I should, but I didn't know it was so...habitual. Reading the evals helped me realize that I really did need to spend more time thoroughly looking over my lesson plans and providing good, clear examples of all the grammar. It was so helpful that I became annoyed at the students who had only written simple, one-word answers, something that I did on evaluations. I now know that teachers truly value what students write, and now I know how to make myself a better teacher because of the feedback from my kids.

Now, not all the evaluations were things I needed to work on. A few lovely comments include:
"Ploy is a very, very good teacher for a Wilcox Fellow, and I think that she is extremely helpful both in and out of class."
To the question, "What do you like most about this course?" the answer, simply: Ploy
To the same question: "Ploy's happy and whimsical attitude"

I can't be getting it all wrong, can I? :)

A False Alarm

So, I figured that it would be in keeping with my new year's resolution to write a post about the exciting events of yesterday.

The ski team had just come back from our first day on the slopes (oh yeah, did I mention that I'm an assistant coach of the ski team? yeah.), and everyone was getting their skis out of the busses, milling around. I was holding an enormous drill, used to drill the gates back into place when they get knocked over. Since I was freezing from standing out on the slopes, my fingers and toes numb, and since the drill weighed about 5 pounds, I was getting tired of holding it. I asked John, the head coach, what I should do with it. "Oh, just put it up with all the other ski stuff," he said. I wandered over to the Maintenance Barn, in whose attic all the ski stuff was stored. As I opened the door, I realized I didn't actually know how to get up there. I flagged down one of the captains, a senior girl with whom I had hit it off. "How do I get up to where all the stuff is stored?" I asked. She hefted her skis onto one shoulder, and told me to follow her. We walked through a small door into a completely dark stairwell. It was pitch black; I couldn't see a thing. "Hey, where's the light switch?" I asked. "It's somewhere on the right," my companion replied.

"I can't find it!"
"It's on the right! I know it's on the right, just turn on the light!"

I groped around in the dark until my numb fingers felt a box. Assuming that this was the light switch, I pulled down.

It was not the light switch.

It was the fire alarm.

Needless to say, the stairwell erupted with flashing lights and the blare of the alarm. I couldn't believe it; I'd actually pulled the fire alarm!! I ran out of the barn with the senior girl, laughing hysterically as the entire team ran over to see what had happened. Once everyone had, the whole team was laughing and talking, asking what I had done. The phrase "Ploy did it!" rippled quickly through the group, and I realized that the entire school would know what had happened within half an hour.

It was then that the embarrassment sunk in. The fire truck appeared, the firefighters told that it had been an accident, and everyone dispersed. I made my way slowly home, dreading dinner. Sure enough, the moment I walked in the door, a student in my house ran up to me, "Ploy, is it true you pulled the fire alarm?!" and then ran back to her friends, laughing. The dean of students and the head of operations came over the poke some fun at me too, and my skin got a bit thicker. Of course, there was nothing I could do but laugh it off, and honestly, it is funny as hell.

So, last night, I made sure that no one at CA will forget me anytime soon. ;)

A Fresh Start

Well, here we are, in 2010. It's been a long time since I've posted, and there's so much to relate that there's almost nothing to be said. The first semester ended in a flurry of activity; there were only nine teaching days between the end of Thanksgiving break and the start of exams. Everyone was hard pressed to finish the material and do sufficient review, and everyone, students and faculty alike looked forward anxiously to the end of the semester.

I made it, though I was rather stressed about it. I didn't get as far as I wanted in either of my classes, but I think now that it was rather inevitable, given my lack of experience. Exam week, though much more stressful for the students, allowed me to truly relax for the first time all semester. I probably shouldn't have relaxed as much as I did, though, since I found about five mistakes on my exams. Oops. Jamie told me not to worry about it, but I couldn't help kicking myself for it.

The day after my exam, I headed home to Cincinnati for Christmas. It was really, really nice to be home, and it now seems as if Cincinnati will always be home to me. I visited Ariel in Columbus, hung out with my best friend Katie every day before Christmas, and ate a ton of wonderful food cooked by my wonderful mother. Christmas itself was small, but really nice. We went to a family friend's house for dinner on Christmas Eve, then spent all of Christmas Day in our pajamas watching movies. I spent the days after Christmas finishing up grading and comments, and on the 29th I came back to Boston.

I spent New Year's at Chris' apartment, where we, along with his housemates Scott and Bryne, threw a big party. (I say "we" because they all include me as one of their housemates, since I spend most of my weekends at their apartment.) Bryne and I spent all day on New Year's Eve cooking and baking and cleaning the house, which was really fun; we made roasted cashews, sour cream drop cookies, butter cookies, Funfetti cupcakes and English muffins, orange rolls and scones for a New Year's Day brunch. The spread was pretty amazing. The party turned out to be a big success, with lots of people dropping by and bringing various munchies or bottles of alcohol. I got to catch up with some kids from Oberlin's swim team who live in the area, and meet some friends of a friend, which was also fun. We hung out, ate, drank and counted down, then ran up to the fort to see the fireworks burst over the skyline.

So now it is 2010 and who knows what a new year will bring? I am excited for the second semester, and excited to find out what my fate will be once this school year ends. So here's to a new year and new opportunities!

2010!

Happy New Year everyone!

One of my resolutions: to post in this blog more often. :)