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This is a continuation of my journal from my 2001-2002 school year.  Please read the previous posts to give this entry context.  I apologize that the posts are coming in bigger chunks.  I’ve been very busy with other writing-related activities—a book signing and panel in February for my murder mysteries, as well as a push to finish the sixth book for the series.  My literary novel also made the first cut in Amazon’s Breakthrough Novel Contest, moving from the initial 7,000 entries to a field of 1,000. J 

Monday, March 4

Last night I had a bad dream about school. Standard fare: I am up in time for school, but I simply can not get myself going until suddenly it is 8:15.  I know I am okay, though, because of my first period prep.  Still I can’t manage to get to school on time.  Not only that, but in the dream, I’ve been having this problem chronically. 

When I do get to school, my class had been displaced into a small trailer that it shares with another class with no dividers between them.  My class can’t even fit into its section.

I haven’t deciphered the message from my subconscious. 

Tuesday

Raymond told me that his dog ate his homework.

“Did you read the cartoon by the pencil sharpener?” I asked him.

The Bizarro cartoon shows a dog bent over the hood of a car with a toolbox nearby.  He’s saying to his dog buddy, “When you’ve eaten as much homework as I have, you LEARN a few things.”

Raymond nodded.

“What’s the name of your dog?” I asked to test his truthfulness.

“Skittles.”

His excuse prompted some “cute” responses.

“How about my goldfish jumped out its bowl and flopped all over my paper?” Lupe asked.

The class was off.  My dog peed on it.  A snake . . . . 

Wednesday

Elizabeth wore black lipstick.  With her lean, hungry build, she looked very goth.

It was a busy day.  I brought in a treat for a comadre’s, birthday.  Our department chair went out of her way to say how lucky the department was to have me.  After school we had a faculty meeting, blissfully short. Kim, our department chair in training, stayed behind to walk me to the car and to tell me how wonderful I am and how much I have to offer the new teachers. 

With all this buttering up, I intuit that I’m about to be cooked.

This must have something to do with the restructuring and how “they” plan to have a freshmen “academy,” and how “they” want team leaders within departments.  I smell an imminent nomination to be the freshmen whip. 

It all goes in the mix as I arrange to visit Aptos High this coming Tuesday.  

Thursday, March 7^th 

While the students were “acting out” Act I, scene v of Romeo and Juliet, Amanda took to rolling around on the floor of the classroom, grabbing her side and saying her stomach hurt.

“Do you want to go to the nurse?”

“No.”

Did I mention she’s a drama queen? 

Friday – March 8th

I sent home with Roberto a list of the tutorial services our school provides.  I asked him to get it signed by his mother. 

Roberto’s mom called a few days ago and left a message for me.  She’s concerned, as she should be, about Roberto’s progress, or rather, lack of it.  I returned her call.  She works at the Social Security Office and was off for lunch.  I left a lengthy message with times to reach me at school, but I haven’t heard back.