BREAKING NEWS--OFFICIALLY IN AT ASU!!!

Breaking news--I'm officially in at ASU!!! According to my ASU interactive website, I could start registering for classes last Friday. Or could have, if I submitted documentation of my measles immunizations with my application (not that they asked for it). Luckily, I have indeed been immunized against the measles. Hurray for not needlessly dying from a preventable disease! Now, all I need to know about is the big bucks, which is why I am officially authorizing you, in-law reading this, to open that official letter from ASU! Let's keep our fingers crossed for a little money.

So....(Twiddles Thumbs)

So...not much going on in my neck of the woods. Yours? Yeah, that's what you say, but I know the truth: riotous living and outrageous feats every day of the week. The big news here is that 7-11, that bastion of all that is good and American, is now carrying Hershey's kisses (with almonds!) and Ruffles potato chips (in strange flavors alleging to be salt and pepper and Texas BBQ). Things at school are pretty quiet. 3B learned about direct and indirect objects, something I had never learned about and had to have Paul explain to me. As it turns out, there is no reason to know about them unless someone walks up to you and asks what a direct or indirect object is. Umm, what else? Paul got a haircut. It was done by the mother of one of our most troubled students. She did a really good job. Also, her daughter did all the translating, giving warm English fuzzies all around.

Which is why I am spicing it up with excerpts from their last writing assignment. I have a set of three siblings in my class and, since the assignment was to write about their grandparents, I got three views of the same grandparents. They all agreed on two points. Their grandparents quarrel and Grandpa likes fruit. I don't know why, but I find it really, really funny that each of them think Grandpa's defining characteristic is liking fruit. Two mentioned Grandpa can only speak Taiwanese, not Mandarin. I'm not sure they (the kids) can speak Taiwanese. I suspect they can understand it, but I'm not sure if they can speak it. (Some elderly Taiwanese people only speak Taiwanese and Japanese because they were raised during the occupation and never learned to speak Mandarin after the Nationalists arrived. There was some newspaper article on how that generation is now isolated because kids these days don't speak Taiwanese.) Anyway, if you put together all of their essays, this is what you get.

Grandma:
Locks her bedroom door behind them when her grandchildren visit her in her room
Locks the door on her bathroom so Grandpa can't use it
Is kind to everyone but Grandpa
Quarrels with Grandpa

Grandpa:
Can't speak Chinese
Likes fruit
Buys said fruit at the market
Cuts it up and feeds it to his grandchildren

If you romantically fill in the blanks on Grandpa, you get an elderly man who shows his love for his grandchildren (with whom he can't easily communicate) by feeding them fruit. Grandma, on the other hand, is viewed by her grandchildren as a bit of a nut. They don't understand but accept her quarrels, but they are genuinely confused by her door locking. Grandpa is not the most mobile these days (he broke his leg in a fall) and has his own bathroom, so why would he want to use Grandma's? It would be great to hear Grandma's version of the story. Maybe Grandpa is always stealing her good soap.

BREAKING NEWS--UNOFFICIALLY IN AT ASU!!!

Hot off the virtual presses! I'm unofficially in at ASU! I just received a highly complimentary e-mail from the Graduate Director for the Chinese program. He said that my application had been forwarded to the College for approval of admission and that it was "almost certain" that I'll receive a funding offer. Hooray!

Running Up That Hill

Done: 2 monthly lessons plans
1 awkward phone call
1 awkward e-mail
1 box of stuff packed

To Do: Mail 1 iPod
Write 14 student progress reports
Watch 1 movie as mostly solemnly vowed to Paul on our very marriage
Grade 17 exercise books
Teach 4 classes

Let's see. It's 4:17 am Thurday. Yeah, I think I can make it by 7:30 pm Friday.

Story of My Life

Wow. Apparently, you all were only reading my blog for family trivia. Who knew? Sheesh. I should have been dishing this stuff out months ago. Obviously, we've used up most of the good stuff, but maybe we can dig some more goodies out of the vaults later. In the meantime, I thought I'd pass along the following story. It is a well-established fact (in life, if not here) that I can only remember Paul's birthday by adding one to Scott Calder's birthday (Sept. 21). This has always rankled the usually-unranklable Paul and I always felt a little bad about it, although if he'd gone to school with me since kindergarten, I'd remember his birthday still too. Seriously, I don't know about any of you, but the classrooms used to have all of the months of year posted and a list of all the birthdays that month. I think I could probably name the birthday of any of the kids I went through elementary with. Anyway though, today we were discussing what I want for my birthday (a new laptop) and how much (a lot--kind of, it's complicated)and Paul totally could not remember my birthday! (It's April 20, for those of you still needing to organize firework displays, parades, lavish spectacles, etc.) "There are too many birthdays with 2s in them," he said. I am not sure I will ever stop being amused. I know I'll never feel bad about having to add one to Scott Calder's birthday any more. Hee hee hee.

Know Thy Other Enemy

As promised, here is the random family facts about Paul's family. I can't vouch for their accuracy, but Paul says it's true.

Paul's brother, Nick, has no middle name.

His dad originally told family members that Spencer's name was David. (Spencer is Paul's youngest brother)

Paul had hernia surgery when he was 10 days old.

His mom received a promotion after one week as a teller.

Their family had a long-running "Guess Dad's Youthful Misadventure" contest.

Paul has a set of twins and a set of triplets among his cousins.

His dad was named after Danny Kaye, the singer/actor.

Their family had goldfish named Nephi and Sam.

Nick won a scariest pumpkin carving contest in high school.

His mom once wrote for the Daily Herald.

Spencer loved biting noses as a baby.

Paul's dad has a notoriously bad memory and is frequently accused of making memories up by other family members.

Nick hit his head and forgot it was Christmas one year.

His mom once prank-called her sister and pretended to be the Bay City Rollers.

Know Thy Enemy

Dear All,
I'm sufficiently bored, so I've decided to share random facts about my family.

My sister's nicknames are "small one" and "mouse."

My mother's driver's license lists her height as an inch shorter than she really is.

My dad used to call me "Thunderlizard" because I was so noisy--especially in kitchen getting breakfast on Saturday mornings.

My brother has a scar from when he hit his head on the very well-rounded corner of the TV stand and split it (his head) open.

I have a cousin exactly fifteen days older than I am.

We've had a virtual menegarie of pets over the years: 2 dogs, 6 cats (not including kittens), 2 rabbits, 3 hamsters, 8 gerbils, 1 rat (on loan), and loads of fish.

Speaking of fish, my dad once accidentally killed our pet fish the night before we were leaving on vacation.

I have two scars on the back of one of my knees from somehow kneeling on scissors in the second grade.

My dog is named after an emperor of the Holy Roman Empire.

All of the children in my family celebrate their birthdays within an eleven-day period (April 13-24).

My brother's last rabbit was called Frisky Kevin Eubanks (not originally by him, of course).

Tune it later for Random Family Facts, Round 2: The Muhlestein Family Edition

I've Tried, But There's These Fears I Can't Quell

So, I'm all stressing out about ASU. Why won't they respond to my polite e-mail about other offers and deadlines and how I need to know if I will have an answer before the 21st? At night, all I do is fret. Every morning, I wake up and I think who needs them? I don't even care anymore. Then night rolls around and I'm back to worrying. Why don't they want me, which is what I think even though I know that is not what this means. Oh sure, I've been accepted to Boulder, but what if I get there and they don't want go me? What if I only looked good on paper? What if in person I am horrifically unqualified? As you can see, I wasn't kidding about the obsession part. I wish I would get some news so I could sleep again.

Professionalism, Obedience, and Diligence Can Only Hurt You: A Cautionary Tale

Today's post comes courtesy of Paul, who theorized that our professionalism, obedience, and diligence at work were hurting both ourselves and the ILP program here.

Example #1: When we arrived, newsletters only consisted of the spelling words and the title of the grammar chapter. Now, the newsletters contain the spelling words, the page number of the book the word is used on, GEPT words, definitions, parts of speech, an example sentence using each word, grammar terminology, and any new vocabulary used in the grammar book.

Example #2: When we arrived, tests were almost exclusively spelling and if they failed, it was not good, but they just got yelled at to study. Now, there are separate grammar and spelling tests, two midterms, and a final. Failed tests result in no breaks, extra homework, and a re-take (up to 2 times).

Example #3: When we arrived, homework was checked by the teacher (and possibly corrected by them). Now, homework is checked by the teacher (daily), the head teacher (as time permits), and one of the secretaries (once a semester). Sentences with any mistakes must be corrected by the student and rewritten 2x. Excessive mistakes results in the whole assignment being rewritten. Homework is now graded on 100 point scale based on handwriting, completeness, complexity, grammar, and whether it fulfills the assignment or not. A score of less than 90 results in extra homework and a complete rewriting of the assignment.

Example #4: When we arrived, the teachers here were totally flakes who never followed through on anything and did pretty much whatever they wanted. Now, the teachers (us) are not flakes and actually implement our boss' commands.

End results? No subject lessons, not a lot of talking time, a significant decrease in the fun for the kids, and a program that resembles ILP in no way. Now our boss is complaining that the kids don't like learning English as much.

The greatest irony is what I told Paul just last night before the scoring of homework was announced and all that it entails: "I don't know why we even bother with spelling words and tests. My kids never study for the tests or try to learn the words. They don't even lie to me and say they studied." I had just found out that they have to memorize 25 words a week for their English classes in their Chinese schools. No 10 yr old is going to memorize 50 new words in a foreign language every week, so it's no wonder that they study the other words over ours. Those words have real grades and ranks and consequences attached to them. At worse, I can make them kind of miserable for 2 hours twice a week.

Jennifer and the Horrible, Awful, No Good, Very Bad Day

With respect, I haven't read Alexander and the Horrible, Awful, No Good, Very Bad Day in a very long time, having failed to pursuade my students to choose it yesterday. So this post might be not faithful in any way to the book. (Though it is definitely kin to Grover's Awful Day, which is being read this month in kindergarten. In short, it is rainy, his boot gets stuck in some gum, he's late to school, he can't get his picture to look the way he wants, he left his lunch at home, his replacement lunch is a sandwich he hates, etc. It ends with him crying and his teacher and friend making him feel better somehow.) Yesterday wasn't a very bad, awful day because of any big thing, rather it was one of the those horrible series of events where little things are continually going wrong just like Grover (and possibly Alexander, like I said I can't remember). I was late to work, I was ambushed by my boss and given a new and immediate work task when I really needed just 5 freakin' minutes to print and copy my worksheets for class, I got sniped at by a fellow teacher for not having the daily kindergarten plans written up for the next day (she sniped at me again today, this time for not having given them to her at the time that was most convenient for her. She is a "witch" about kindergarten, which she is always complaining about having to teach even though she only teaches 3 hors a week. Paul called her a word that rhymes with witch about this and when Paul says that, well you really are!) I was late to opening (for SPEs/kindergarten), the kids would either not talk or yell over each other at once, I realized at the beginning of my 3A class that I had failed to copy the awesome worksheets I made a full week in advance and had to run downstairs to do that (feeling judged by the secretaries the whole time), one of my kids was a constant heckler who I wound up having a lengthy chat in the hall with and who gave zero explanation for his behavior, my 4A are always lousy but extra so because two of the girls just flat out refused to speak and one had not done her homework all week. By this point, I was really grumpy because I had no patience left and we had too much to do for sulky temper tantrums. I did triumph in the end, though. Work was done and words were said. Anyway, on way home, Paul said some things and I took it to be a criticism of my teaching, and well that went the way it might be imagined. Eventually, things seemed sorted out and I went to bed.

Normally, this is where the horrible, awful, no good, very bad day would end. But this was a bonus, extended version day. At 8:30 in the blessed am (after having gone to bed at 3:00ish), I was woken up by the apparent sounds of bombs falling on our city. This was both frightening (it was incredibily loud) and terribly confusing as I live in a very unstrategic city. Who would waste their bombs on us? I got up and ran to the glass doors to see what was going on and there was a MASSIVE religious ceremony going on in the courtyard. The "bombs" were the tons of firecrackers they were setting off directly in front of our apartment ahead of a palaquin carrying a religious statue. It was a very surreal and lenghty (by my reckoning) ceremony, I feel a little bad feeling so put off by it since all religions have rites that seem whacktastic to outsiders. I'll write about it later. Anyway, I waited for it to end and went back to bed and the next thing I know, Paul is waking me up saying it's 1:00 pm. I'm supposed to be at work at 1:00 pm. I was supposed to be in even earlier today to take care of that immediate task my boss gave me. This did not a cheery Jennifer make and poor Paul took the full force of it. I can't find my glasses, I don't have anything to eat (nor the time) or take with me to eat, I grab my backpack only to discover a package of Sweet and Sour sauce has exploded all over it and the floor at some point in the night (probably after being stepped on), I hadn't e-mailed myself the daily SPE plans when I finished them because I was supposed to wake up at 11:30, and so on.

Eventually, I, like Grover, started to cry and poor Paul, still reeling from some very mean words (the meanest words ever, he would go on to describe them as), gingerly stepped up to the plate, hoping that perhaps this time, a hug would be a good response. And just like Grover, it was. Don't ever say you didn't learn anything from Sesame Street. We came up with a plan where I didn't need my backpack, had something to eat and time to eat it, made it to work before class actually started, and could still complete the task that needed to be done right away. And for the first time in 1 and 1/2 days, everything worked just the way it should have.

So my fur is back down and life is worth living for yet another day. Virtual ear rubs are still being accepted, though.

I Kind of Forgive My Roommates, Or I Hate My Roommates: Part 2

Well, I kind of forgave my roommates after a very embarassed and extremely hungover Ellie apologized for the previous night's events (which she could only vaguely remember) and vowed that Chris aka the strange man would never be associated with again, much less brought home. Apparently, they didn't mean to bring him home, but they couldn't ditch him and too wasted to form a decent plan to do so. She seemed sincere (and certainly miserable, what with the vomiting and hangover) and it turned out to be far from the most humiliating thing she had done that night. That would be yelling a very harsh Chinese vulgarity at a number of college students in a 7-11. Forgiving seemed like the kind thing to do. After all, not being able to go to the 7-11 is a pretty cruel punishment. Oh, and the best part of the whole mess is that they were drinking absinthe--which they had never tried and wound up hating. All that for stuff you didn't even like in the end.

I Hate My Stupid Roommates

I hate my stupid roommates. Normally, things are okay, but at 3:37 am this morning they came home with a strange man in tow. I suspect this is "Chris," some guy they met last week who also teaches English in Changhua. Yet, I kind of hope it is not, because they described him as "intense" and "weird." I'd feel better about their (not really sure which one he goes with, though we're suspecting the Belgian) judgment if, you know, they weren't completely drunk. (Ellie loudly wondered out loud if she had locked the door--literally seconds after doing so.)He swore like a sailor too, which was not endearing. Hold on, they're coming down the stairs. Ugh, is he going to sleep on the sofa?!! No, wait, she's apologizing and telling him good night and out he goes. Thank goodness. Maybe Li laid down the law. It wouldn't surprise me, she would not take that sort of thing well. At least I can finally take my shower--at 4:15 am! Stupid, stupid roommates. Maybe I'll listen to "Stupid Girls" before I take my shower. Morons.