At my opening last Thursday, J snuck a few photos for me:
My affection for Instagram (apparently) goes far enough for me not to care that the effects bleach out all of the details of my work…
Thank you to those of you who were able to come to the show — it went very well, in spite of the heat!
instagram! I’ve been oohing and aahing about it for some time now, while simultaneously trying to maintain that I didn’t, I really didn’t, want an iPhone. Finally J just downloaded the thing. And you see.
I do want an iPhone.
This week I resigned from my position at Molalla High School and accepted another at Silverton High School. It is a hard thing to say goodbye.
One of the things that distinguished my time at Molalla were the many opportunities to engage in silliness. With students, fellow teachers, or all by myself in my classroom.
Like on Halloween, in my first year, when some cheerful young fellows from my Drawing class helped me recreate Kimmy’s cover.
Or the annual Battle of the Sexes competition and assembly, where we female teachers rocked it every year. Yep, I know this is an incredibly unflattering picture. Here you have “Walk Like and Egyptian.” Not pictured: the synchronized roller-skating routine to “Brand New Key,” the Joan Jett number, or the Ting Tings number. Oh, and there was that flash mob to “Safety Dance” during break this year…
The day I dressed as my good friend and former colleague, Mrs. Anderson (no relation) who was rawther pregnant at the time.
Last September’s laminating frenzy.
And this year’s final shenanigan, pledging to shave my head, for a very good cause (I had to get a new job, right? There’s no way I could top this next year).
To my colleagues, and the approximately 2100 students who shared class with me over the last five years, it was remarkable. Thank you.
I cut off my hair, and Sylvia went to the state competition for Poetry Out Loud. Pretty exciting.
Not as exciting as going to France, though. Which is what (what?) we are going to do, mid-Juneish. Yesterday J & I went down to Powell’s to get a guidebook, and I also picked up this for me and this for Sylvia.
J & I will have a few days in Paris alone, and then we’ll rendezvous (see? French.) in Toulouse with Kate (J’s mom) and Sylvia, and then drive down to Bezier, where we’ll spend the remaining two weeks sampling each of the twenty-two varieties of olives purported to be available there.
Now that is a vacation.
