practically speaking

last Thursday, a lady from student services at the school came to our class to brief us on what to expect for our practice teaching placements (practicums). much of it was usual stuff like police clearance to work in a vulnerable sector, checking with school administrators about parking situations, dress code, what to do if you get an associate teacher (the mentor) who foists all of his or her workload on to you from the get go, etc.

we were also warned about online issues. Facebook users were encouraged to set their profiles to private because students will inevitably look you up wherever they can (students who google me up will be in for a rude/pleasant surprise. i will probably have to lock down this blog for a brief period of time). instances of cyber-bullying have occured, among other things. we are also not to give out personal email addresses because some students will try to contact you out of adoration, or malice, depending on what sort of teacher you are. in her own words, "i remember falling in love with a student teacher when i was fifteen," so that made me feel icky for the rest of the day. so now, in addition to learning how to plan lessons, units, curricula and deal with the office politics and social situations that occur in school, i must also train myself to deflect misguided hormone missiles teenage puppy-love. i should get some bowling shirts.

i think it's envy

since i've started attending OISE, i've picked up the very sketchy habit of surreptitiously checking people for wedding rings. this is because i got tired of being surprised when someone in class casually referred to his wife or her husband when sharing with the class. also to see if the ladies are single, naturally.

in undergrad, most people are coming directly out of high school with a handful of very obviously career-folk coming back to school for extra learning or qualification. in graduate school, the demographic is very diverse. fresh out of undergrad students are a minority in teachers college. a good block of my peers are moving on to teaching from other careers they've decided to leave behind, or are recently immigrated to Canada and are seeking qualifications for continuing their careers here.

a good number of people at school are about-to-be-married, married, raising children, sending their children through post-secondary studies etc. there is an eye-opening amount of experience congregated here. sometimes i wonder what i'm actually bringing to the table.

peace by piece of muffin

of all the courses i'm taking, physics is the one that scares me most. the workload seems to be building up momentum, without me having to actually hand anything in yet. all the preparation for those big assignments are like the shadows that loom ominously as a sign of impending danger. every physics class, while fun and engaging and thoroughly edifying, is another chance to freak out about the future and the possibility of failure. my expectations for myself as a teacher are high, but i clearly have not fully considered the steps necessary to achieving such lofty heights.

as i ate my lunch and did some reading, suddenly very motivated to do course readings and take notes and prepare for future assignments (thank you motivational fear), my mind wandered. my mind wandered to the animals in the courtyard in which i sat (Munk building, pointed out to me by Catherine) and so i watched them.

i watched a squirrel nibble on berries in the bush along the building wall. i watched it climb into a tree and confront the incumbent squirrel; they stared at each other for the longest time before parting ways to different branches of the tree. i watched the sparrows flit about, dipping their heads below the grassline to pick up unseen food. i watched them chirp and chatter to each other.

i had a muffin; it had nuts.

i couldn't finish the muffin, so i disassembled bits of the stump and casually scattered little bits around the bench (the 'bench' was actually a long cement block and i sit there to eat on sunny days). first at quite some distance away; then a little closer and closer and closer. one sparrow saw the first offering and swooped in for a bite. more arrived to feast, never fighting, but noone waiting in line.

i tried to get some to land on the bench next to me so i could see them more closely; it was too early in the relationship for that. they did not mind hopping close along the ground though. at one point, i had about 4 birds within 14 cm of my foot. i stopped seeding the ground with muffin crumbs for awhile, but about a dozen birds remained in the vicinity, hopping around, occasionally peering at me with inquiring gazes.

22 [...] "For this reason I say to you, do not worry about your life, as to what you will eat; nor for your body, as to what you will put on.
23 "For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing.
24 "Consider the [sparrows], for they neither sow nor reap; they have no storeroom nor barn, and yet God feeds them; how much more valuable you are than the birds! [...]
29 "[Do] not seek what you will eat and what you will drink, and do not keep worrying.
30 "For all these things the nations of the world eagerly seek; but your Father knows that you need these things.
31 "But seek His kingdom, and these things will be added to you." - Luke 12

and so i was reminded.

squeam

hidden due to disturbing content.

this morning, i got to church early for service. on the footpath leading from the parking lot ot the church office there lay a dead mouse. and it wasn't just a mouse who had a very good night and died of a heart attack. this mouse would've been cute (as mice tend to be) had it not been for the unfortunate decapitation. now decapitation creeps me out the usual amount, but only if it is clean, insofar as getting your cappa detated is ever clean. the head was not cut off, it was torn off. about a third of the mouse's back skin was shorn from the musculature. if its head was on proper, it would have been face down in a pool of its own blood. i did not take a picture.

anyway. since it was early, i felt it was necessary to dispose of the body prior to kids arriving. now i generally love fuzzy animals, so seeing a dead mouse is no fun. seeing anything dead is no fun. seeing a dead fuzzy something that's showing inside bits is the least fun of all. i saw a dead raccoon behind the church office 'garage' once; it was slightly disemboweled and totally rigor mortised. i ran away like a freaked-out leperchaun.

it took me 3 minutes of staring at it to commit to cleaning it up. i went into the kitchen to search for possibly helpful supplies, preferrably things that would prevent me from making direct contact with the body. i found some work gloves that Art normally uses to mess around with the fire pits. i found a ziploc sandwich bag that looked big enough to hold and seal the corpse. i went back outside to grab a small branch so that i would not have to make contact with the gloves.

i put the gloves on and flipped the sandwich bag inside-out over my left hand. stick in hand, i stood over the poor little thing and spent 6 minutes screwing up the courage to proceed. i formed a pocket with the bag on my hand and positioned it behind the mouse, spreading my fingers wide so that i wouldn't actually have to even feel the body. i lifted the rear of the mouse with the stick and shifted it halfway into the bag. the front stuck to the sidewalk a bit because the blood had congealed. at this point i noticed that the head was still intact and had its eyes been open it would've been looking at me. fully committed, i torqued the body fully into the bag and quickly flipped it to hold the mouse on the inside. then i dropped the bag and silently squealed and skipped away (like a freaked-out leperchaun).

after i had composed myself, i picked up the bag, sealed it and dropped it into the dumpster. the stick i chucked away. back at the sidewalk, i pulled up the hose and sprayed away as much of the blood that i could. there were two patches: one was the original point of attack and the other was the final resting spot of the body. and that was how i started my day.

Procelain Philosophy 6: Sharing Pains

i'm not very good at sharing about myself; it usually takes an inordinate amount of effort for me to come up with an anecdote from my day. most of the time, the anecdotes i do have are about others and not myself.

much of it has to do with a guardedness that seemed to have appeared around the time of puberty that never exactly came down. if i remember correctly, prior to grade 7 i could unequivocally tell you exactly how i felt about a situation (sad, happy, mad) simply by the expression on my face. then one day i decided not to be such a crybaby and subconsciously took up partial stoicism. it certainly helps in shrugging off potential situations and issues before they can pick up momentum. apparently it is rather noticeable too, which i, ironically, did not notice until some people mentioned it.

another significant reason i can think of as to why i have difficulty talking about what went on in my day has to do with all the talking to myself that i do. when i'm not saying anything outloud, i am likely discussing something with myself, adopting various viewpoints and working out the reasons behind everything. by the time there is opportunity to talk to someone about a situation, i've already talked about it to death with myself. if i were to say it outloud, it would feel like i was repeating myself, and i don't like repeating myself because it seems inefficient.

perhaps my standards for what constitutes a good story to tell are too high. i know i dismiss certain events from my immediate memory for not being interesting enough to illicit a laugh (or emotional response in general; or lively discussion in the comments). i do consider myself to be a rather boring person.

so, the plan for this year (and on) is to spend more time outside my shell, take more risks and be more vulnerable to both good and bad things. letting bad things roll off my back and onto the floor is great and all, but if i don't learn to deal properly with the little bads, i won't be able to deal with the big bads that aren't as rotund when they inevitably rear their ugly heads.