A Christian to a Lion?
I’m off to be observed tomorrow. Two years of Graduate School in Education that resulted in a teaching credential, expertise in pedagogy ranging from Erickson to Piaget, two years for a Masters in English, from Walpole to Emerson, all to be judged in a 42 minute lesson. I either can or can’t, based on 42 minutes; tenure and career weigh in the balance.
Is this any way to judge a teacher? I’m ready to call it good and move on. I have a much better paying career waiting for me, but, I want to teach, so, I have to go through it. Do I have an appropriate aim? A valid Do Now? Is there a medial summary and a summative evaluation? Tomorrow will tell whether I can teach or not, 40 minutes to justify my existence, my continued presence on the payroll. Is this how we judge our teachers? Forty two minutes?
What about my student that won the Poet Laureate award? What about my student that won an essay contest? What about my student that connected topic sentences? What about them? What about that? As Allen Iverson would say, “We talking about practice?”
Forty two minutes. What about my ability to teach life as a former General Manager? As a Sales Rep? Does that count?
No. It’s all about forty minutes tomorrow. Hit it, or hit the road, the world of a teacher, untenured. Rock or walk. No child left behind, the Bush legacy.
I’ll rock it, then I might walk. I got a paycheck waiting, I don’t need this job. This job needs me.
Peace, and maybe, out for good.
Spike
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
On Socialism and Our President
Whoooo, I said the S word. I must be evil, some bleeding heart liberal with an axe to grind. Let the proletariat get the means of production and make a better world, Robin Hood and all that Jazz…not.
But, I do see an issue with the current state of affairs in America. I’m no Einstein, but I have come to the conclusion that the current system isn’t working, so I am not adverse to Obama making fundamental changes in government. Orwell warned of the dangers of totalitarianism and his take was that any vast disparity in class, be it caused by money, intelligence or power, created an opportunity for exploitation. We have been rapidly approaching a two class society in the last twenty years. This week the NY Times wrote about the recent concentration of wealth in the upper classes. I’ve always believed in Laissez Faire and the free market economy, but it appears the free market is a little too free.
So, what am I saying? Eat the rich? Not at all, but, I do think the current system of taxation is inequitable. When the middle class is paying 25-30 percent of their adjustable gross income in taxes and the upper class is able to shelter income and pay a much lower effective tax rate, the tax is regressive. It is neither fair nor moral. It needs to change.
That’s my rant for the week. Rock on.
Peace.
Spike
But, I do see an issue with the current state of affairs in America. I’m no Einstein, but I have come to the conclusion that the current system isn’t working, so I am not adverse to Obama making fundamental changes in government. Orwell warned of the dangers of totalitarianism and his take was that any vast disparity in class, be it caused by money, intelligence or power, created an opportunity for exploitation. We have been rapidly approaching a two class society in the last twenty years. This week the NY Times wrote about the recent concentration of wealth in the upper classes. I’ve always believed in Laissez Faire and the free market economy, but it appears the free market is a little too free.
So, what am I saying? Eat the rich? Not at all, but, I do think the current system of taxation is inequitable. When the middle class is paying 25-30 percent of their adjustable gross income in taxes and the upper class is able to shelter income and pay a much lower effective tax rate, the tax is regressive. It is neither fair nor moral. It needs to change.
That’s my rant for the week. Rock on.
Peace.
Spike
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Musings Regarding My Navel and Other Important Shit
Epiphany alert – yes, I know what the definition of epiphany is. To clarify, I will paste dictionary.com’s definition here: a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.
It is interesting that I assume that is the primary definition, yet it is listed as the third definition on the website, after a Christian festival and an appearance of a deity. It’s all good. I guess that after you see god, or a deity, you have a sudden, intuitive perception or insight into reality.
My epiphany was the realization that I can be a miserable fuck, and I am tight with a buck and “in London you’re a gonner.” I can’t substantiate the rumor about the English sense of humor, but I can tell you that I get fixated on dollars and lose sense. My misses and I make good coin, yet my house is a meat locker because I am paying close to $400 monthly in oil to heat it. Compound that with a $300 LIPA bill, electricity for the uninitiated, and that is $700 monthly for lights and heat. And, it’s prime location for dry aging beef. What is wrong with this picture?
Top pay in my milieu is around $115K per year. That’s in the top 10 percent of income in the country. Almost $11k monthly. After taxes, $8,000. Average home price is $380K. With ten percent down, your purchase price of the average home is $342K. At 6% interest, assuming you qualify, That is a mortgage payment of $1900 per month. Add taxes and insurance, $3000 monthly. Add day care for two kids, now it’s $4300, plus the aforementioned heat and electricity, $5000.
Two cars at $300 each, plus gas and insurance, $1000. Life insurance, phone, groceries = $750. Cars, gas, insurance, life, phone and groceries = $2050.
Take the $5K from two paragraphs ago, add the $2050, $7050. That leaves a negative cash flow without contributing to kids college funds, savings or retirement. Epiphany!
Or, better yet, I was stuffing my face with potato chips in the basement and one fell. My initial response was to let it go, but, Long Island, rats, mice, roaches and ants went through my head, so I picked it up.
Obama, Obama, wherefore art thou Obama?
Deny thy party and refuse your platform;
if thou wilt not, be but sworn my protector
and I’ll no longer be a Republican.
Life is expensive. I chose to live where I do for several reasons. I am not at the top of the food chain so my numbers are much more dire than the picture I painted. But, don’t cry for me Argentina. Just recognize a need for a paradigm shift in America. It’s time we stopped compensating those in power with ill gotten gains and wild bonuses. The money needs to be redistributed to the middle class. I’m not talking wild ass shit about the proletariat, though they need to get their share too, but, it’s out of balance. Let us all be able to own or afford a home, have health care, if working and earnest, and to eat meat once in a while…oh yeah, and heat our house.
Is that too much to ask?
It is interesting that I assume that is the primary definition, yet it is listed as the third definition on the website, after a Christian festival and an appearance of a deity. It’s all good. I guess that after you see god, or a deity, you have a sudden, intuitive perception or insight into reality.
My epiphany was the realization that I can be a miserable fuck, and I am tight with a buck and “in London you’re a gonner.” I can’t substantiate the rumor about the English sense of humor, but I can tell you that I get fixated on dollars and lose sense. My misses and I make good coin, yet my house is a meat locker because I am paying close to $400 monthly in oil to heat it. Compound that with a $300 LIPA bill, electricity for the uninitiated, and that is $700 monthly for lights and heat. And, it’s prime location for dry aging beef. What is wrong with this picture?
Top pay in my milieu is around $115K per year. That’s in the top 10 percent of income in the country. Almost $11k monthly. After taxes, $8,000. Average home price is $380K. With ten percent down, your purchase price of the average home is $342K. At 6% interest, assuming you qualify, That is a mortgage payment of $1900 per month. Add taxes and insurance, $3000 monthly. Add day care for two kids, now it’s $4300, plus the aforementioned heat and electricity, $5000.
Two cars at $300 each, plus gas and insurance, $1000. Life insurance, phone, groceries = $750. Cars, gas, insurance, life, phone and groceries = $2050.
Take the $5K from two paragraphs ago, add the $2050, $7050. That leaves a negative cash flow without contributing to kids college funds, savings or retirement. Epiphany!
Or, better yet, I was stuffing my face with potato chips in the basement and one fell. My initial response was to let it go, but, Long Island, rats, mice, roaches and ants went through my head, so I picked it up.
Obama, Obama, wherefore art thou Obama?
Deny thy party and refuse your platform;
if thou wilt not, be but sworn my protector
and I’ll no longer be a Republican.
Life is expensive. I chose to live where I do for several reasons. I am not at the top of the food chain so my numbers are much more dire than the picture I painted. But, don’t cry for me Argentina. Just recognize a need for a paradigm shift in America. It’s time we stopped compensating those in power with ill gotten gains and wild bonuses. The money needs to be redistributed to the middle class. I’m not talking wild ass shit about the proletariat, though they need to get their share too, but, it’s out of balance. Let us all be able to own or afford a home, have health care, if working and earnest, and to eat meat once in a while…oh yeah, and heat our house.
Is that too much to ask?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Self Interest
There are times when I feel that blogging is an onanistic pursuit, a written pounding of the pudendum if you will. I’ve been blogging for a while and the only evidence of my production is the less than prodigious progeny of an ill equipped producer of dreck.
Be that as it may, I will continue my Sisyphean efforts to push my rock up my hill, and hopefully those that devour my liver won’t choke on its toxicity or its girth, We’ll see.
It is a sad state of affairs when a New Yorker is looking forward to traveling to Spo-vegas, but that is an accurate description of my life. Pickling upstairs with a Long Rifle 22 in my hands, cigarette at the ready, beer in hand, hunting the ubiquitous Wile E. Coyote, Genius, from a balcony, sounds oddly inviting. Four big screens, a well stocked bar, grandma and grandpa at the ready, is also inviting. Maybe the west coast isn’t so bad?
I will go, I will drink, and I will shoot. I will smoke, I will talk smack and I will enjoy. I will forget this week with 150 essays, with endless proctoring assignments, with snow and difficult commutes. It will all be the past and I will have passed it, like a kidney stone that really makes your cock hurt, but is transient. The bleeding stops, I hear. After all, life is just a series of people kicking your dick, right?
Thanks for witnessing me polishing my proverbial sword, for watching me tickle my literary pickle, for witnessing me jerkin’ my ideological gherkin and, for watching me wrestle my bald headed philosophical bastard. I think my alliterative and metaphorical work is done.
Spike
Be that as it may, I will continue my Sisyphean efforts to push my rock up my hill, and hopefully those that devour my liver won’t choke on its toxicity or its girth, We’ll see.
It is a sad state of affairs when a New Yorker is looking forward to traveling to Spo-vegas, but that is an accurate description of my life. Pickling upstairs with a Long Rifle 22 in my hands, cigarette at the ready, beer in hand, hunting the ubiquitous Wile E. Coyote, Genius, from a balcony, sounds oddly inviting. Four big screens, a well stocked bar, grandma and grandpa at the ready, is also inviting. Maybe the west coast isn’t so bad?
I will go, I will drink, and I will shoot. I will smoke, I will talk smack and I will enjoy. I will forget this week with 150 essays, with endless proctoring assignments, with snow and difficult commutes. It will all be the past and I will have passed it, like a kidney stone that really makes your cock hurt, but is transient. The bleeding stops, I hear. After all, life is just a series of people kicking your dick, right?
Thanks for witnessing me polishing my proverbial sword, for watching me tickle my literary pickle, for witnessing me jerkin’ my ideological gherkin and, for watching me wrestle my bald headed philosophical bastard. I think my alliterative and metaphorical work is done.
Spike
Friday, January 23, 2009
Ready For The Weekend
I'm over, as much as I can be, the brother issue, for now. I know the subject can be a downer and I apologize if I have brought you down. It wasn't my intent. I just wanted to express what losing a close family member (redundant) is like, and to document my emotions. If you enjoy this subject, or commiserate with my feelings, be sure to tune in in 37 days when I go into my annual funk around his birthday.
In the meantime, I am funkified for other reasons; the sturm and drang of dealing with a new job, new school, new demographics and new material. It's not all bad - the kids are smart and respectful, the administration is supportive and the union is strong. However, dealing with all the changes is challenging and sometimes, okay, alot of times, I struggle to meet the challenge.
It can be dificult to swallow hearing a teacher/author whine about their situation in an economy that is sucking gas, an economy that is laying off good people, an economy where people don't have health care. I feel the same way.
So, let me tell you about the noises I hear upstairs. My son, having been put to bed is up, I hear his pitter patter on the ceiling - he is visiting his big sister.
I went up, tucked them both back in, rubbed backs, tickled heads and whispered assurances in their ears. Whose going to tuck me in, rub my back and whisper assurances in my ear? And, why do I need it?
I think we all need to be assured. Whether it is our spouse, our boss, our President, nod to Obama, we all need assurances that things are going to be okay. It is okay to sleep tight, it will be okay in the future, it is okay to invest in our country.
If it isn't, what are our options?
Spike
In the meantime, I am funkified for other reasons; the sturm and drang of dealing with a new job, new school, new demographics and new material. It's not all bad - the kids are smart and respectful, the administration is supportive and the union is strong. However, dealing with all the changes is challenging and sometimes, okay, alot of times, I struggle to meet the challenge.
It can be dificult to swallow hearing a teacher/author whine about their situation in an economy that is sucking gas, an economy that is laying off good people, an economy where people don't have health care. I feel the same way.
So, let me tell you about the noises I hear upstairs. My son, having been put to bed is up, I hear his pitter patter on the ceiling - he is visiting his big sister.
I went up, tucked them both back in, rubbed backs, tickled heads and whispered assurances in their ears. Whose going to tuck me in, rub my back and whisper assurances in my ear? And, why do I need it?
I think we all need to be assured. Whether it is our spouse, our boss, our President, nod to Obama, we all need assurances that things are going to be okay. It is okay to sleep tight, it will be okay in the future, it is okay to invest in our country.
If it isn't, what are our options?
Spike
Friday, January 16, 2009
This Week
This week is no different from any other. I lesson plan, I grade essays, I read.
This week is no different from any other. I miss Jon. I think about Jon. I look at pictures of Jon.
This week is no different from any other. I play with my kids, I tickle, I giggle, I laugh.
This week is no different from any other week. I weep, I laugh, I do it all.
This week is no different than any other week - I enjoy the journey.
This week is no different from any other. I miss Jon. I think about Jon. I look at pictures of Jon.
This week is no different from any other. I play with my kids, I tickle, I giggle, I laugh.
This week is no different from any other week. I weep, I laugh, I do it all.
This week is no different than any other week - I enjoy the journey.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Bruva's
Celebrating the Holidays is bittersweet for me - I get to watch my kids run around like fiends, open presents and eat a lot of fatty, salty delicious foods. It’s a great time! My kids have such a joy de vivre for the holiday that I can’t help but get sucked out of my typical downward spiral of darkness.
However, I miss Murph. The vacuous gap he left doesn’t necessarily suck me down, but I just realize how big of a part he played in my life. Knowing how much he would have contributed to the life of my kids makes me melancholy and sad that he isn’t here to torture them - and I know he would have.
He would have tortured them by tickling, playing, drawing, painting and running around with them like a madman. I know that if he is looking down on me, he would be encouraging me to do the same, and so, I try to. To tickle, to tease, to torture. And I do, but it is Daddy, not Uncle Jon, and it is different. They have a rich life, but it would have been so much richer.
At the Holidays I always realize what I have. I have a home, a lovely wife and beautiful children. I have a great job, a purpose and a life. I value these things because I know what I don’t have. I don’t have my bruva, MonJonMayoJayoPelayoDelayo, the Baby Eraser, Zach, EraserMan, aka Murph, and I really miss him!
Spike
However, I miss Murph. The vacuous gap he left doesn’t necessarily suck me down, but I just realize how big of a part he played in my life. Knowing how much he would have contributed to the life of my kids makes me melancholy and sad that he isn’t here to torture them - and I know he would have.
He would have tortured them by tickling, playing, drawing, painting and running around with them like a madman. I know that if he is looking down on me, he would be encouraging me to do the same, and so, I try to. To tickle, to tease, to torture. And I do, but it is Daddy, not Uncle Jon, and it is different. They have a rich life, but it would have been so much richer.
At the Holidays I always realize what I have. I have a home, a lovely wife and beautiful children. I have a great job, a purpose and a life. I value these things because I know what I don’t have. I don’t have my bruva, MonJonMayoJayoPelayoDelayo, the Baby Eraser, Zach, EraserMan, aka Murph, and I really miss him!
Spike
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