Not a Surprise...

NAWC suggested I come out of semi-retirement to write about my experience with the Cleveland Metropolitan School District. I was too lazy originally, but then news broke that CMSD recently received a D on the state report card and that it will be demoted to academic watch status, and I decided it was time to write something since commenters on Cleveland.com are probably going crazy over those lazy teachers and monster students. Those people have very little idea as to what exactly goes on in Cleveland schools. I spent a year there and I can barely wrap my head around it.

Last summer I enrolled in a program offered by a local college for people with college degrees who want to become teachers, having explored other careers. Its focus is urban education. All of us were placed in urban schools for student teaching; I found myself at a relatively well-regarded high school on the west side. Unlike undergraduate education majors, I was with my students the first day of school and didn't leave them until the end of April. Student teaching at this school was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. I've never worked harder or cared more about anything. We never had enough books, so 60-70% of class was wasted reading aloud every day. We had one copier in the teacher's workroom, one printer and two computers. It took us nearly 9 weeks to finish Angela's Ashes. My kids were annoying, needy, mean, racist, homophobic and smelled like teenagers. And they were also compassionate, funny, alert, observant, opinionated and proud. Basically, I fell in love with them.

My heart could handle the lack of school resources for my kids - I was made aware of such conditions before the school year began. What my heart couldn't handle was the dim 10th grade girl whose lice was so fat and healthy I could see them scurrying around her scalp from six feet away. Or the boy so emotionally troubled that he intentionally burnt his skin on the radiator in my classroom for kicks. He later dropped out. My heart constricted every time one of my bright girls turned in a paper so badly written as to border on illiterate. I could barely handle the student who partied with his dad all night long and came into school jittery, with huge dark circles under his eyes. Even when I tried to distance myself from my ingrained middle-class values and aesthetic, I still saw that so many of my students were not going to have the best lives, they were not going to college, they were not getting out of their neighborhoods.

I saw the same situations, most more dire, when I subbed at various schools in the district after student teaching ended. God, next time someone calls a Cleveland teacher unprofessional, tell them to check out John Marshall High School (not the school at which I taught) and then ask them where else are professionals with masters degrees treated to such a work environment. Despite everything, and I'm leaving a lot out, I wanted to work in Cleveland. As did almost all of my peers in the program who had similar experiences. We all wanted to work in the Cleveland Metropolitan School District.

What we got was a summer of bullshit. Cleveland's student population is so transient and mobile that administrators never know exactly how many students each school will have, which possibly translates into not knowing how many teachers will be needed. This is a valid excuse, but only to a certain extent. We were told by our program administrators that CMSD usually doesn't hire until the middle of August. One of our mentor teachers told us she didn't get her job until the Friday before school started. A teacher at my high school found out she got her job the day before school started. Presently, I have known about my job for three weeks, and I am so scared about everything even though I've had such a long time to prepare. But at least I have had time to prepare, which is more than I can say for the poor souls who are thrown into a classroom with absolutely no preparation. No syllabus, no lesson plans, no peace of mind.

I mentioned my job. I finally got one after months of searching this fair region of ours, even if it's only a long-term sub position that will last the first semester. I felt I had to take it after a summer of hearing nothing from CMSD. It is with a very affluent suburb where I'm sure to put all of my hard-earned urban education experience to work. Hah. A week after signing my contract, CMSD called and offered an interview with a special school in Cleveland - the school I wanted above all. I was too much of a dork to screw over the suburban school, so I politely declined the interview. That position, the one I was supposed to interview for, has still not been filled. School starts next week. This particular school has known about this vacancy for at least six or seven weeks. To the best of my knowledge, only three people out of 19 from my program have been hired by Cleveland to teach.

I'm not saying we should have been guaranteed jobs or anything like that, I'm just saying that we specialize in urban education and most of us took other jobs because CMSD never called. If newly-minted teachers who desperately want jobs are too afraid to wait for Cleveland, how many veteran teachers from other districts would be willing to quit their jobs to work in Cleveland if they wouldn't even be interviewed until the end of August? And, this will probably sound bitchy, but what caliber of teacher is still unemployed at the end of August? The most vulnerable students in the are are most likely getting inexperienced teachers or those that other districts have passed over.

The whole process deserves an F.

Weekends

Taking a breath. Good grief. I sat down the other day and tallied the amount of time that has gone by since I'd last hung out with my most favoritist of friends. The number was much larger than I expected. It's just that every weekend for the last millenia has been filled with prior commitments, sickness or NAWC's friends. I had to settle for a weeknight dinner with Kara and KC at Luxe the other night because the next 5 weeks are already planned for us and do not include them. This isn't to say that I'm not having fun; I am. This past weekend NAWC and I went to his parents' house on Kelley's Island to have a little family reunion as his brother and his family were in from Connecticut for a wedding.

I was excited to see his sister-in-law B because I thought she would say hi to NAWC for an obligatory hello before turning to me and squealing about the wedding, at which time we would enter another world full of hydrangeas, almond candies, angels' wings, taffeta and insane crash diets. I almost brought the "New Year's Eve Wedding" binder I had to kick underneath the bed when NAWC told me a wedding this NYE probably wouldn't happen. Sadly, B played it cool. All "hey, these are my kids, no we can't leave them alone to talk about your wedding because that's a year away and they are only 2." Whatevs....So I pretending that every fiber of my being wasn't crying salty tears and trying not to scream "I'm getting married!" when she finally turns to me and says, "I've been trying not to ask you since you just got engaged and are probably sick of talking about it, but how is the wedding planning going?"

B had no idea what she was in for...I snapped into action, flipped the lights and busted out the PowerPoint.


And a good time was had by all.

What they don't tell you....

Is that planning a wedding when you're engaged isn't nearly as much fun as planning one when you're just wishing you were engaged and hiding wedding magazines underneath couches and secretly hating everyone who is engaged.

The paper flowers I loved so much for my fake wedding? Way too much work for my real wedding.


And the cool, deconstructed, perfect venue I've had in my head? That loft downtown with exposed brick and huge windows? Yeah, probably not.

It also seems like I have to give up my little dream of wearing a nice little knee or tea length dress down the aisle (NAWC's job basically means we have to go the church route) due to a troubling situation that exposed itself during a trip to a bridal shop: Mainly, my hips. Seems like they aren't small. Or even medium. The adorable, light, 1950's style gown I tried on looked horrendous, like they'd have to widen door frames everywhere for me to get through.

And widening door frames is not in the budget.

And then we mopped the floors and ate chinese...

The night that changed my life forever started out ordinarily enough, as such nights are wont to do. My friends Michelle and Sal were in from San Fransisco for Thanksgiving and we arranged to meet at Prosperity for only a drink or two - I had work the next morning. We walked in and I immediately noticed an old high school friend, Emily, whom I had been seeing lately around Tremont. She was sitting with two boys. I recognized one of them from the hazy Common Grounds nights of high school. In fact, I had seen his MySpace page the year before and spent a good half hour checking it out before deciding we should probably be dating. I IM'ed a mutual friend who informed me that NAWC was indeed awesome and that we would totally get along, but that he had a girlfriend. I decided to ignore this fact that night at Prosperity, and, despite being there with visiting friends and not being too close with Emily, I sat us down at their table. Turns out, NAWC and his girlfriend had broken up months earlier. And though he and Emily were casually dating, he stayed after she left so that we could continue our conversation on Lost and music and whatever else came out of my mouth in an effort to keep him sitting across from me. Looking back on it, all I really remember is his beard and the way his eyes laughed with his whole body. We left each other with a simple good bye, but with promises to look each other up on MySpace.

Another random encounter at Prosperity the night before Thanskgiving led to me asking him out - to discuss Lost, strictly - which led to an actual planned meeting at Prosperity. What was supposed to be a quick after-work drink on a Monday night turned into a four hour talk marathon. I was hooked, immediately calling all my friends to see what they thought of the fact that he merely hugged me after that first date and didn't kiss me or propose or ask to move in.

Before our first date, I had dinner with two friends. We were discussing NAWC and how our mutual friend had told me NAWC was interested when my sister Kelly called to ask about this boy - our mutual friend is the little brother of one her friends. I told her that I was really interested in this boy and excited that he liked me. My then-pregnant sister said, "Well, don't get too serious about him or anything. I'm going to need a babysitter."

Well, sorry Kelly, I let it get serious: After a walk in Lincoln Park tonight he proposed.

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Plain and simple happiness...

The thing about dating my boyfriend is that you can text him the following: I am going to marry you. And his reply will be: Yes, you will.


I'm not sure how someone like me ended up with someone like NAWC (my family has apparently pointed out how he's SO NICE and I'm SO MEAN many a time) but I am eternally grateful that we did end up together. I know this blog is either devoid of new posts or full of puke-inducing posts, but holy crap all I want to write about is how much I love my boyfriend.

Don't worry- I'm still too fat, manic depressive and underwhelmed with life in general. In other words, I'm stilll Snog.


Just a sort of blissfully happy Snog.

First weekend as roommates, first hangover as roommates, first fight as roommates

So...NAWC's roommate moved out almost a month early without much warning and I, oh, just happened to be available. So I abandoned my senile mother who referred to my brother Daniel (Uncle Danny) as "Dad" to my nephew, not once but twice this weekend, and quickly moved in with NAWC over the weekend. Mostly it's been awesome because I'm home.

I went for a walk last night, practically skipping through the streets as I passed Southside and its patio, and Edison's where I first crushed on Tremont, and then Lincoln Park with its street lamps crisscrossing the park, illuminating tree branches in a way that reminds me of 2 am walks around Ohio U. so many years ago. I know this neighborhood has its fair share of problems, crime, abandoned buildings, whatever, but to me it's just home. I chose it when I was 22 and I still want to be here. I was going to say enamored, but that's not true. Like I said, I'm well aware of Tremont's little and not so little secrets, but whenever I get off 71 at 14th or think about the 5 minute car ride from downtown to here, I'm reminded anew of how much I truly love this neighborhood. I love recognizing friends and randoms who make me feel safe. I love seeing the kids I've subbed for at Tremont or Scranton playing in their yards and the look of amazement on their faces when they see me out in the wild, walking to a bar. Every time I ride my bike to the West Side Market or walk to the Tap House or just feel part of a real live neighborhood instead of a stupid horrible development, I fall in love with Tremont all over again.

The first time I came here, I was single with a tiny (adorable) apartment, ready for my early 20s to take off...Now I'm an old, wizened 25-going-on-26-year-old and am ready for my late 20s to start. Even if it means I'm starting them off living with but not engaged to NAWC.

But I will end this blog with: And then I popped his blackhead. Because I like to keep the peace with the roomie.

Top 10 Moments with NAWC

10. The time I dug my finger in his ear on the Kelley's Island ferry and came up with a delicate yellow wax formation that shone in the sun.

9. Floor bed.

8. His 26th birthday party when we had our first kiss in the rain outside, away from everyone else and how he held my hand tightly for the rest of the night, in front of everyone.

7. Drinking with his brother and sister-in-law and family friends in Philly.

6. Watching the first season of "Everwood" with him.

5. Dancing with him in my kitchen before Vicky's Christmas party the night after I embarrassed myself with a bad text in the very beginning of our relationship.

4. Every time he asks "Dog Holly or Person Holly?" when I say I miss Holly.

3. The night he caught my mouse and disposed of it.

2. The day of Christopher's wedding when we realized he forgot his dress shoes. On the turnpike. More than halfway there.

1. The time we watched tv all night, horsed around, farted in front of each other and in the middle when he turned to me with the widest grin and said, "You're my best friend."

Meh.

Sorry. I'm too fat, unemployed, depressed, sunburned and a couple others things to write about the funny things in my life. Like how I subbed for an art teacher at a primary school the other day and had to take a kindergartner out of a trash can by his ankles. No, no. This and other stories will just have to wait for me to recover from being me. Seems like the only thing that's looking up is the number on the scale.

Hrumph.

I Subbed for an Art Teacher at an Elementary School Today

I won't get into specifics to protect my employment status, but I think it's safe to say that my high school kids who told me I'd be a good primary school teacher will never know how wrong they were. Behold, an email from NAWC:

"You have no idea the joy on my face when I considered you pulling a kindergardener out of a garbage can. Despite the massive stress it caused you, it is one of the only ways my already-cute girlfriend could get cuter. No, seriously, I would pay wheelbarrows full of money for video of that day.

And when we have babies, I will take over when they start jumping on tables and crawling into garbage cans. You have paid your dues."

Right on, except the kid was thrown into the garbage can by a surprisingly sturdy peer, he didn't crawl in himself.

Driving Loved Ones Crazy

How cute was I last month when I said I'd be posting more? I'm such a lazy asshole. Well, I shouldn't say that...I'm a lazy asshole when it comes to this blog, school, working, working out and being normal. I'm totally on the ball when it comes to eating bad food, playing Snood and being crazy. I'm in deep with the crazy. And by crazy I mean planning my wedding.

No, I'm not engaged.

NAWC and I decided long ago to get engaged before we move in together. I'm moving in June 15. So while I may not yet have a ring, a proposal looms. This, dear ones, is very exciting. To me. To everyone else it's getting really really really annoying. Like, really annoying. Because it's hard to be happy for your friend who's planning her wedding when she's not engaged.

I'm much too embarrassed to go into details, but even a cursory glance into my internet history the last few weeks would make an ovary roll its eyes. See, even now, when I'm writing about how I know how annoying I've been, I'm really thinking about color schemes and cool centerpieces. NAWC is going to break up with me before he has time to propose.