Let's be literate

Hello, morons.

Today's word of the day is:


GRANOLA (n., adj. - not the breakfast food): a hippie or a person who lives an organic or environmentally conscious lifestyle, characterized by practices such as growing their own food, making their own clothes, creating their own art, raising their own animals, doing their own drugs, etc.

Example:


ME (after waking up for school): I want to go back to sleep.
MOM: Well, it's Monday morning.
ME: So?
MOM: Get the fuck to school.
ME: Ok, ok, let me just make my granola. WHERE'S THE FUCKING MILK??


Shit, that's wrong.


Ok, another example:


ME: Man, I'm starved.
STRANGER: I have a bit of my lunch left. Would you like some?
ME: No, don't worry about it. I'll pick something up on the way home.
STRANGER: Here, I've got a granola bar. Go ahead, take it.
ME: Gee, mister, thanks!!!

Shit, I have to practice this particular one a little more. Either that, or I'm just really hungry. Anyway, you get the idea. 

You can thank my friends for this word of the day. They used this word to describe the faculty associate of one of the modules in our department, and how they simply could not stand the idea of being in her module because she is such a 'granola.' I honestly do not know how someone being a granola could affect the way they teach you, but whatever.


I tried to act disinterested and nonchalant, because to tell the truth, I have the biggest crush on her (none of my said friends know this). I don't normally find teachers or professors attractive, but when I first saw her, holy shit, I dropped my books and in my head ran the words THAT IS NOT A FUCKING TEACHER, THAT IS NOT A FUCKING TEACHER, THAT IS NOT A FUCKING TEACHER.


I was really tempted to switch modules and join all the other granolas, even though I myself am not a granola. I didn't care - I would shear sheep, raise chickens, eat raw snowpeas, drink hemp milk and become an anarchist for her. 


Unfortunately, it would take more than the desire to shear sheep to get into her module. It would take making the application deadline on time, and seeing as semester had already started, I was about 4 months late. Also, she is a professor in her late forties/early fifties, so even if I did get into her module, it wouldn't change the fact that I am a student 30 years younger than she is.


It probably wasn't meant to be, oh well.


I know this is going to sound cheesy, but sometimes, she walks into our classroom and it's the highlight of my day.

What do you do with a B.A. in English?

So I taught my first full day of high school today. It was quite possibly the scariest thing I have ever put myself through and I never want to do it again.


Until I teach again tomorrow, that is.

Biggest eye-opener of the day: 
Talking to a grade 12 student about college and thinking, "Wow, this kid's mature for his age" before remembering that this kid isn't that much younger than me. 

Interesting observation:
Seeing a dumpster jumper hop enthusiastically into a large garbage bin on school grounds. 

Coolest thing about today:
Having students recognize me in the hallways. I can't believe the memories they have. I barely remember faces I've only seen a couple times.  

Reality check of the day:
Finding out that the skunk smell around the school is the smell of people preparing cocaine by school grounds the night before. Oh the joys of living in this lovely suburban city. 

Strangest thing about today: 
Getting flirted with by male and female teachers in the copy room. I thought that kind of stuff only happened in movies.

I have a feeling that becoming a teacher is all about discovering every single day that your students are smarter than you are.


I think I'm OK with that.

But I always swore to them I'd love this world before it implodes

So today, being the dedicated student teacher that I am, I walk into my assigned French 8 class five minutes before the bell rings and drop my stuff on the desk.


I'm super pumped and ready for le français. I drape my long beige coat behind the chair and set my big woman purse at its base. I drink a few long swigs from my water bottle and set it on the desk as I roll my shoulders and crack my neck. I take out my multiple file folder, undo its elastic, and pull out my agenda, my moleskin notebook and my pen and lay them all out like utensils at the Queen's dinner. I practice the rolling of my r's and sing Charlotte Diamond's "Je suis une pizza" in my head as a warm-up. I adjust my feet in my size 6 black and white Oxford shoes, smooth down my plaid dress and roll up the sleeves of my button up navy sweater. I feel like a total professional, like I can take on the world and all its money and run with it.


Then a kid in the class comes up to me and asks, "Are you a new student?"


And I swear, my face goes:

When he finally finds out, he apologizes. But all I can think of for the rest of the day is the fact that him mistaking me for a 13 year old probably means that I technically have the physique to pass for a 13 year old.


And that is unbearably depressing to me.


Especially because I was totally eyeing this girl on the skytrain the other day who was also eyeing me. It was a really cute situation actually. You know those times when you catch someone watching you, and you know that person knows, and you know that they know that you know, and you're thinking that if you guys weren't in a public place you'd totally be pulling them into a broom closet somewhere?


That happened to me another time when I was at Little Sister's on Davie Street. I'm not sure if the other person was a woman or a man and I frankly didn't really care. I was stumbling over my words and the other person kept accidentally dropping things. It was one of those moments when you're attracted to that person and you know that person is attracted to you and you know that they know that you're attracted to them, but you can't do shit because your parents are waiting for you outside. 


Anyway, now I'm beginning to think that maybe the girl on the skytrain was only eyeing me because she was wondering why the hell a 13 year old would seem so enamoured with her.


Goddamn my life.


As class went on though, and conjugations of the verb "être" flooded my brain, I tried to see the bright side of this pathetic situation. Sure, I may have looked 13 for the past 13 years, but you know what that means?


I will pretty much live forever. Or at least, age at the rate of turtles. As long as I never take up smoking or drugs or drinking or plastic surgery, I won't ever have to worry about spending a million dollars on the entire Olay Age Defying Makeup collection. So suck on that.


And to tell the truth, I honestly don't believe the girl on the skytrain thought I was 13. She seemed way too content to be standing next to me. I think that deserves an epic hand smack.

Courtesy of Wambach and Pinoe. Bro life for life.

The adolescents make us human

My entire module has passed around a cold that I haven't gotten yet. I am either super immune or they are all making out with one another during lunch break and I never got invited.