Man, I've Got to Get Out of this Ghetto

Number of tents in my living room: 0
Number of days that Binta has slept in her own bed: 1
Number of days she had spent sleeping in a tent on the floor in my living room: 129
In the Attic: I hate the apartment I live in

I already hated the place due to the excessive pounding footsteps from above, and the thick, rattling bass from a neighbor's surround sound system on high.

But now that the weather's warm, the windows are open and we're spending more time outdoors, I hate it more than I thought possible.

Our bottom-floor apartment has a back porch area, which opens up to the playground area. On selecting this unit, I noticed how ideal that would be. I could sit on the "porch," reading a book, while Binta climbed on the climbing aparatus.

I didn't know that parents basically let their kids run amok throughout the complex. As a matter of fact, I've only ever seen two other adults in the playground area supervising their kids, other than myself. I didn't anticipate being in the position of refereeing playground disputes. This is supposed to be my summer vacation away from that kind of thing!

Yesterday, I got to play the role of cranky old curmudgeon-lady, as a group of 10- to 12-year-olds was "wrestling" outside my living room window on the grass. As I stood in my kitchen, slicing a cantelope, I could see two girls with their arms and legs flailing and grabbing, open palms bitch-slapping, fists full of the other's hair, while the onlookers cheered and laughed.

I gave them a serious, "Hey, you guys are going to need to stop that!"
And their return look, that said, "God, the mean old lady has just ruined our fun."

I doubt that they stopped the "game," but at least I didn't have to look at it any more.

But maybe neglecting your kids is better than what our neighbors do. There is a family just 18 feet away from us who yells, screams, humiliates, and belittles their kids on an hourly basis. At about 10:00 AM, I can hear the first cries of some kid. It'll go like this: a high pitched wail / shriek, followed by loud crying, with an adult's voice yelling one of these selected comments:

• NO!
• You get your butt in here!
• Do you want the belt?

Followed by more crying.

All throughout the day, we get to witness the kids disobeying the adults or fighting with each other, getting reamed by the adults, shreiking and crying, and then returning to play. Rinse and repeat until about 9:00PM.

And Binta gets to see and hear all of this. The only way she wouldn't would be if I kept her indoors for the entire day. But even then, all of the sounds still seep through the open windows.

Is it any wonder, then, that last night as we packed to go to the park for a picnic and bike ride, that she threw a little fit about not wanting to ride in the car, then wanting to hold the fruit bowl on her lap, with a final throwing of my car keys on the ground?

I am now looking forward to September like never before.

So Close, Yet So Far Away

So does anyone out there even own a record player?

Do you have any suggestions for me for getting the contents from a record onto a tape or CD?

Ten years ago, this would have been a non-issue. Boy, times change quickly.

Oh, the Pandora's Box I've Opened Now

Binta: still sleeping at 9:02 AM!
Health status: Bronchitis (started on the first day of summer vacation)
In the Attic: Becoming an ebay member

For at least the past 5 years, I have been fascinated with ebay. Partly due to the ridiculous items that some people attempt to sell, and partly due to the wonderful finds available!

After first searching the site, and seeing the plethora of items that I really really didn't need, but could so easily convince myself otherwise, I made a conscious decision to refrain from getting an account of my own. This served as an effective safety catch for me, keeping me from any impulsive purchases. When Derek and I tracked down a favorite game from childhood, it was his account that we used. He also bought me an old favorite Wizard of Oz pop up book that I had as a kid. Larry, my stepdad, has since helped me purchase Braingames, which is a DVD of an HBO show from the 80's, another lost book, called Bruce's Loose Tooth, and a musical toy train that Derek used to have.

Are you noticing the pattern yet?

I find ebay to be the perfect site for me because of my need to re-connect with items from my childhood. I'm just a really nostalgic person. I'll have a vague memory pop in my head, and I'll head to ebay to see if I can find the item I remembered. I'll pine over the various pictures and item descriptions, while wishing that I had said item to caress in my hands. From time to time, I'll click the "Bid Now" button for fun, only to have the "Set up your account" page open. But, that's where it usually ends.

But one day, just a few weeks ago, it didn't end there. I completed the shockingly simple application, and now I have free reign to bid on whatever pleases me. Why did I do it? I don't know. I felt somewhat like an addict getting his fix as I officially bid on my first item: the item that opened this can of worms. What was this item that I desired to own so deeply?



Trivia Adventure.
The Fun and Fascinating Quiz Game for Kids.


Obviously, this is another item from my past. Just look at the jeans on that girl! This game has a special memory for me - I can recall one Christmas when Derek and I woke at about 6:00AM. The rule was to leave Mom and Dad alone until 9:00, so we killed about 3 hours by playing this game. I'm sure we played it on other occasions, but that's my only memory of it.

Well, I won the game and proceeded to bid on (and win) many other items, including a set of audio books for Binta (my one non-nostalgic purchase), the entire set of Houghton Mifflin readers used by my elementary school (major geek confession), and a Sesame Street record (I don't even OWN a record player, for the love of god!).

As I write this post, I'm dangerously close to winning an item that I don't even remember bidding on!

This was a bad idea. A very bad idea...

The "End of the School Year" Party

What I need to do today: pay my bills for the month
What I'll probably do instead: go get my hair cut
In the Attic: Thoughts and reflections the morning after The Party

If you're not a teacher, you're probably guessing that I'm referring to the kind of end of school party that teachers throw for their classes. Perhaps there would be some games, yearbook signing, and ice cream...

What about if I told you there was tequila, vociferous music, risque lap dances?

That's right. I'm not talking about my class party. I'm talking about the school staff variety. All across the country, during the month of June, teachers all over our nation are assembling at central locations to pour obscene amounts of alcohol down their throats, to dance wildly with each other, and to use mild amounts of profanity.

It was a great night! I had nice conversations with people that didn't involve school. I got to have an evening out without having to be a mommy. And I got to see the people I work with engage in some very deviant behaviors!

Staff parties coincide with a time of the year when the classroom is sprinkled with all sorts of bizarre student behaviors. Understandably, a teacher needs a little time out right now. For example, I had one student poke another student in the neck with a pencil. Yeah, good plan. Another student thought to come to school wearing a viking helmet and oversize sunglasses. Ri-i-i-ight. And I even had one student stare me down and completely refuse to return to his seat during a science lesson, just before he took his Fiskars to his assignment, crumpled it up, and threw it in the trash.

This is the time of year, that simply making a trip to the bathroom to pee is not a good use of my time. Instead, using every available minute to keep my head above the quickly-rising water level. Firing off one email after the next to detail the recalcitrant behaviors that the little holy terrors are inflicting on the classroom. Returning phone calls to parents to explain why their child, well-below grade level, might stand to benefit from summer school classes. And of course, finding a date to have guinea pigs (yes, guinea pigs) visit the classroom somewhere between field day, assemblies, library visits, spirit days, and *gasp!* end of the year assessments.

Teachers deserve hazard pay for the entire month of June.

Instead, we schedule an end-of-the-year party, gathering around coolers loaded with beer, hooting and cheering on the dance floor, counting down to June 16.

Because after the buses pull away, and the smell of diesel is just beginning to fade, we breathe one collective sigh of relief. And as we walk back through the empty halls, suddenly Alice Cooper's eloquent anthem begins playing over the PA system.

And you thought the kids were excited for the last day of school!