Today Sucks.

(via: http://www.sabrina.sg/files/20080901-Rejected.gif)

After months of applying and hearing nothing back, today I received this:

Dear Shop Girl,

Thank you for your resume and covering  letter in which you expressed interest in supply teaching opportunities with the Pretty City School Board. We review our supply needs on an ongoing basis and arrange interviews as required.

Due to the large number of applications we receive, we cannot guarantee if – or when – we will be able to offer an interview to you. It is unlikely that we will be in a position  to add to our supply list in the near future. However, we will retain your resume on file for a period of six months and will give it all due consideration should our needs change.

In the interim, I would like to encourage you to monitor our website regularly and apply directly to any permanent or long term occasional positions that are of interest to you.

Thank you for your interest in our board.

Sincerely,

Head Honcho Hiring Man

I am just beyond disappointed right now. Today sucks.

The Pink Glove Dance*

(via: http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xI_VEnvwTzw/SxlK26T0h7I/AAAAAAAAFlI/qSQhluXmyWQ/s400/14.jpg)

I love dancing.

There is just something about dance that speaks to me, and I’ve always wished that it had been something I had pursued as a child. I’m not a terribly fabulous dancer, but I’m no Elaine either. (How does she even do that with her foot?!?! LOVE.)

I have always, always loved watching dance–live or on TV. So You Think You Can Dance is preeeetty much my favorite thing ever in the summer, and I have even been known to tune into ballroom dance competitions when I can find them. And, of course, I heart le Youtube for all it’s dancing glory.

It’s through Youtube that I’ve discovered the Evolution of Dance, the miniture stud-man that is Archie, mob flash dancing, and most recently–the Pink Glove Dance.

I like things that warm my heart and maybe me want to get out of my chair and join in. This video was filmed in Oregon, and I can only hope that I someday get to work with people as cool as this:

LOVE.

P.s. Don’t you kinda just want to hug / marry the janitor after watching that? I heart him. Greatly.

Two Teachers– Too Far?

(via: http://www.babble.com/CS/blogs/strollerderby/2008/08/23-End%20of%20Month/teacher.jpg)

I actually first heard about this a while ago, but I wasn’t writing much at the time so I read it, ranted to the Hubster about how much it bothered me, then forgot about it.

Yesterday I found it again, and still felt the uncontrollable urge to rant and vent after seeing it (again) so I thought I’d share it with you and get your take on it.

I am a teacher. I love teaching. I like to think that this profession chose me instead of the other way around which makes me feel just a little less dismal about the whole there-are-absolutely-no-jobs-in-the-greater-Toronto-area bit. Because I mean really, what choice did I have in the matter? It picked me, and you can’t stop love.

Anyway.

Teaching is a wonderful, wonderful vocation. It certainly has its challenges and comes with an unbelievable amount of work and stress of every variety, but despite it all it sucks you in and makes you love it. Being a secondary teacher, I’m quite partial to working with teenagers as I’ve always found that you can give them more responsibilities, freedoms and challenges as they begin to shape themselves into the adults they will one day be. That’s not to say that elementary teachers don’t do this as well, we simply get to build on the foundations they’ve worked so hard to build. Having taught both streams, in many ways I believe that secondary teachers have a bit of an easier job. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still incredibly hard work, but as students get older we are able to treat them more and more like young adults and step out of the “parent-ish” role.

As fun as this can be, it’s also very dangerous territory. Being around teenagers all day can bring out your youthful, funny side and it can be easy to forget that these people are not your friends or peers. They are your students and should be treated and respected as such. My behaviour in the classroom with students is not the same as when I am out with my friends. There are boundaries.

And sometimes teachers forget.

A month or so I saw an article come up on my Twitter entitled “Two Teachers, One Chair”. I realize now that it’s a “play” on another video that I have absolutely no desire to watch, but I did watch this video. As I watched this poor quality, student-taped video of two teachers at a pep rally my jaw slowly dropped. I’ll admit, I might be a bit of a prude, but I think their behaviour is way over the line.

The video takes place at a school pep rally where, granted, spirits are high and teachers have an opportunity to “let loose” a bit to pump up their student body. Everyone gets caught up in a moment from time to time, but these two teachers seem to mistake the school gym for a strip club as a male teacher performs a graphic lap dance for a female staff member,who responds by throwing her head back and gyrating her hips on a chair. The students in the crowd begin cheering and laughing, but as it continues for nearly a minute the reactions change and you can even hear one student say, “Now that’s just wrong.”

**Note: It took me FOREVER to find the video again as it has been removed from nearly every site. I don’t know how long this one will remain up so watch it while you can!

Okay. Let’s be clear–I was a high school student once and I know that kids are exposed to things every day both at school and all over the internet. My issue is that this video wasn’t taped by a couple of kids who snuck into a bar and filmed their teachers behaving this way on their own time in a venue where it might be more appropriate, this was at a school. During school hours. In front of hundreds of students.

I mean, really? What does that even have to do with a pep rally? (I’m not even sure I want to know what the pep rally was for… haha) Ugh.

So, am I overreacting on this one, or were these teachers over the line? Because students are exposed to graphic sexual content online, on TV and in movies every day, should we stop trying to filter it out of schools? Why should a teacher’s professional behaviour even matter?

I mean really, who cares, right?

Shop Girl: The Musical*

(via: http://assets.oxygen.com/plogger/images/movie_lounge/june_movies/steel_6.jpg)

This may sound a bit morbid, but I’ve been thinking a lot about funerals lately.

A member of my extended family passed away last week and I’ll admit, it has dwelt on my thoughts quite a bit. I suppose I’ve been very fortunate in that I’ve had to attend only a few funerals in my lifetime. As the person who passed away last week had been very close with my family and actually married the Hubster and I five years ago, I really felt like we needed to be there. So, the Hubster and I braved traffic across the city to attend his memorial service.

It was a beautiful, albeit long, service. It opened with a celebration of his life, and I learned things I had never known (or ever expected to learn) about him. The speaker had us all laughing in stitches as she recounted adventures of his youth and I thought, “Now this is how a funeral should be.” She was followed by another close friend who told a story of a week-long kayaking adventure that was so unbelievable it too had the whole room laughing.

Now that kind of laughter may seem a little inappropriate to some, but instead of focusing the sadness of his death, it was a celebration of his life. And it felt good to laugh and remember the vibrant, energetic man that he was.

…then it became sad. The whole service lasted nearly two hours and by the end I was emotionally exhausted. It was a lot of listening once the laughter and stories stopped.

As I quietly sat I couldn’t help but think, “What if this was me?”

I know I wrote about this a long, long time ago, but it all came rushing back on Friday and I made a decision. There will be absolutely no crying at my funeral. Want to know why?

I want my funeral to be a musical.

Before you throw things at me and tell me I’m completely irreverent, hear me out.

I love music. I don’t just like it, I love it. I love it to the point that I often dream about what my life would be like if I lived in a musical (bows head in shame). I could totally be down with spontaneously breaking into song and dance about doing the dishes or singing while I dreamily stare out the window. Music fills my whole day. I listen to it when I wake up, when I do chores, when I’m at the gym, while I write my blog–basically if I am home, there is music coming from somewhere.

See? Music = love.

One of the most beautiful moments at the service we attended was a song performed by a very talented soloist. It was one of those “ah!” moments where you realize that you’ve been holding your breath throughout almost the entire song because it was that good and then all your breath comes out in a whoooooosh when it’s all over. The song itself is beautiful and haunting, and I’ve included a version by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir if you’d like to hear it. I think it’s one of my new favourites.

After she was finished singing I couldn’t help but wish that there had been more music throughout the service, and thus the idea of “Shop Girl: The Musical” was born. While the music selected was appropriate and beautiful, it was also sad. I made it through the entire service without crying until the third verse of the closing hymn. As I began singing I couldn’t help but reflect how we had sung the same song at my grandfather’s funeral nearly eight years ago and I was absolutely overcome with emotion.The lyrics to the verse are as follows:

When such a friend from us departs,
We hold forever in our hearts
A sweet and hallowed memory,
Bringing us nearer, Lord, to thee.

…and I bawled. We’re talking chest-heaving, unattractive, full water works crying. For one brief second it felt like losing my own grandfather all over again and without a word my mother gripped my hand, nodded, and I knew she was thinking the same things I was.

And I decided then and there– there will be no crying at my funeral.

I want the last moments my family and friends spend with “me” to be full of life and laughter. I hope that my siblings get up and tell all those stories that sometimes mortify me  / having us laughing so hard we can’t breathe. I hope the Hubster get us and tells stories about our adventures as the Hubster & Wifester (as I’ve decided that I’m going first. ha). I hope the focus is not on my death, but rather on the life that I lived.

…and I hope it’s all done in song, because really, music is… me. :)

The Mix Tape*

(via: http://gobacktobed.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/tape.jpg)

So, I’ve been thinking.

Volunteering in a high school means that I am around teenagers. A lot. I see them head bopping on the front steps with their boom boxes like it’s 1989 (no, really. I kid you not), loitering against lockers in herds so big you can barely walk past them, and I see them.

You know, those dreamy-eyed, hand-holding, puppy-lovish teenage couples that stroll down the hallway– completely oblivious of the world around them. The ones who trace each others fingers on table tops, who dress to match each other and pass each other notes between periods because, like seriously, seventy minutes is like, way to long to be apart.

Totally.

Sound familiar? (yeeeeah… that was totally me, too. *sigh*)

Every time I see a young couple giggling down the hallway it takes me back to my own high school days and my own great high school romance. We were the unlikely couple–he was a big shot on the basketball team, I was the drama girl. He was the popular funny guy that everyone loved, I was the new girl. He was tall, I was not. Get the picture? haha

I met him shortly before I transferred to the school, and hooooo boy. I liked him immediately but, in typical high school fashion, it took us nearly 5 months to begin dating. We communicated the way all teenagers did–through our best friends, through letters and through romantic music mixes.

I first learned the magic of the mix tape through my older sister who had several boyfriends as I grew up. These boys liked to make her tapes to express their feelings because really, who actually talks about that stuff?

Seriously.

Long before the days of iTunes or downloading music making the perfect mix tape was an art. You had to watch the timing, rewind and fast forward manually, and, if you needed a song you didn’t have you waited patiently by the radio during the request shows for your song to come on so you could catch it! Pressing that record button at the right time was always so tricky, but the end result was always so worth it.

Why should I say “I Love You” when Celine Dion says it so much better?

By the time I was old enough to realize that my little brothers were the only boys that had cooties and start dating we had progressed to the Mixed CD. It was a much simpler process than it’s taped predecessor, and the half hour it took to burn a  CD seemed like nothing compared to the hours one spent perfecting the tape and writing the songs on the back of the cassette case.

It was the perfect way to talk to your boy toy… N’SYNC and the Backstreet Boys always knew how to say what I was feeling. Have a crush? Make a mixed CD. Get in a fight? Make a mixed CD.  Ready to tell that special someone how you feel? Billy Joel and Elvis Presley would be happy to tell them for you!

*sigh* Now that was love. Pouring your heart into the *perfect* CD that would say exactly what you “couldn’t”.

Anyway.

As I was watching these giggly couples make their way down the hall and reflected on my own high school experience I got to thinking: how on earth do these kids communicate now? I’m not even sure that this generation knows what a cassette tape is, and CDs are quickly and quietly disappearing. Are Romantic Mixes a thing of the past? Are these young couples actually talking to each other and using their own *gasp* words?!?! Actually communicating their feelings instead of letting someone else sing it for them?!

What is the world coming to?

What’s next–the Romance Mix Playlist? Pish posh. I think I’ll stick with tapes.

And yes, the Hubster was the recipient of several love cds when we started dating. Ha.