Thursday, February 27, 2003

I can tell that I'm going slightly crazy when I take off my gloves, cap, and unzip my coat because the balmy 32 degree temperatures outside is just too toasty. Woohoo, 32! It's like my age but colder!

Miki corrected me. It's not Mickie, Micky, Micki, but Miki. Parents can be so cruel. My name is Glenn because the EXTRA 'n' makes it sound better.

Tuesday, February 25, 2003

Fun confrontation yesterday. I have this great kid who has embraced the 'sullen, rude, hateful teenager' role so well he deserves an Oscar. His speech would definitely begin with "You don't like me! You REALLY don't like me!"

The entire period this angel disrupted the 8th period class. When I told him he couldn't get water (school rules), he screamed out that he hated me. Wonderful. I told him that I was ecstatic, now go ahead and sit down. He continued to disrupt the class, never opening his book, never doing any work. Finally, I turn back from the board and see him tweezing his eyebrows with a girl's makeup mirror. I tell him and the girl that if they're done with all the girl stuff, maybe they can do some math. "Girl stuff?!?! Girl Stuff!? I bet I've fucked more girls than you have this year, Mister! How many girls have you bagged this year?!"

Realistically, we know that both this boy and I have 'bagged' the same number of girls this year... zero. He has 'bagged' more girls in his dreams, certainly. I just sat there, flummoxed, too shocked to yell or laugh. I would never have done something like this at his age, even at full hormone insanity. Sometimes I just realize that my childhood, my upbringing, my entire value system were entirely different from what these kids have.

Monday, February 24, 2003

I had the pleasure last week of free lunch and conversation with a very nice guy named Matt. He did a Google search for NYC Teaching Fellows Math Immersion and my blog was up at the top of the list. Other bloggers apparently show up for ""freaky gay porn"" or ""a picture of jesus smoking a cigarette"." I show up on Google for math. He's been reading it for some time and wanted to ask me about the program, as he has just been chosen to join. He's nervous about it, especially after reading my blog, I guess. Who could think there is anything less than perfect about the program, especially after reading my site?

He's a wonderful guy, looking to help others, looking to change directions, looking for challenges. He's scared of the costs to himself, his girlfriend, his life. It was funny, because he'll be great. None of us are perfect in the program, we're all just people who were geeky enough to enjoy solving math puzzles in high school and college. We all had one or two good math teachers who made a difference, and we would probably put those people on our hero lists. We'd like to be heroes. Heroes leap into the tempest. Most of my friends in the program are in the same boat I am, barely keeping afloat in the currents of the department of education. It is still wonderful to watch all of us tearing apart a puzzle in our evening classes, as we still love math. I'm getting better every day as a teacher, even though I know I am far from perfect. Plus I'm drinking milk so I'll grow up to whup ass!

Matt had an interesting question, and it is something that I've pondered occasionally. I've had friends who have lost their jobs because of their blogs, alienated family, and been harassed by hate mail. What would happen if someone from my school or my Dad's side of the family found my site? Even though I removed it from the site rather quickly, Google still shows my site when you look for my name. I have serious doubts as to whether ANY of my students or relatives can turn on a computer, much less do a Google search, but they could get lucky.

What would happen to me? Some of my coworkers and administration are extremely homophobic, and my students' entire culture finds being gay worse than death. I think that all of my hard work could be invalidated just because of prejudice and fear. Most likely I would have to move to another school, just to avoid the stigma. I have no intention of stopping my writing. I'm not happy about being in the closet at work, but it would make work extremely hostile, and my kids don't have the necessary maturity or experience to handle it. I'll hope for the best, and prepare for the worst. Theoretically, it could be good, as it would give me a reason to move to a high school, which I would prefer anyway. Maybe I should leak the information?
So party cleanup was brief and fun. Drunken unWedding attendees swept up, cleaned up, and drank up. I didn't drink, miracle of miracles. Eight of us staggered back towards my place for a quick break before heading out to Williamsburg for an evening of dancing and partying. As we walked down my street, I warned some of the more inebriated revelers about some random dog poo in the path. They didn't need my advice, as they each unerringly swerved or staggered around it. This is one of those New York skills that comes with experience, I guess. Dog jobbers, homeless crazies, muggers- New Yorkers can avoid them autonomically. I'm just learning.

We went to the new bar Metropolitan, left fairly quickly. It was quite disappointing, as the snobby trustafundian level was through the roof. However, I enjoyed every rainy step along the route, as it gave me the opportunity to talk with Micky, Brin, Simon, and the other disorderlies. Went to Luxx, realized the peak of its popularity was some time ago, as some people my parents' age walked in the door. Not to be ageist, but I thought I was a little old for this club. Regardless, had fun, saw Mark, and went home. Of course, on my way home, my two graceful left feet stepped unerringly IN the dog poo.

Sunday, February 23, 2003

Nothing like an unWedding to make Martha hang her anal-retentive head in shame. Dan's wedding to Rooster was a wonderful event that astounded me. It managed to be lively while soothing, economical without being cheap, sweet yet funny, and classy yet casual. Dan is a god who basically thinks of everything. The Chinese New Year theme was perfect for the space, their Maoist jackets were quite swank, and the music mix needs to be sold for other occasions. There were quite a few toasts to Sparky, but little about Rooster. Numerically, Dan's guests outnumbered Stephen's 5 to 1. This shows Dan's godlike ability to network and connect with people, plus his family's propensity towards extensive proliferation. I enjoyed keeping the drinks flowing and watching the eddies of fascinating people swirl around the room.

I'd like to make my own toast to Stephen, post wedding. I had the amazing good fortune to have Sparky as a roommate, but more importantly, I also had the fortune of meeting Stephen. He has one of the best souls I have ever encountered. Generous and loving to a fault, a brilliant cook, a brilliant mind, and a person who finishes things. Plus he's a literate cracker from a southern state, just like me.

Dan is one of the most brilliant and talented people I have ever met. However, he would not have a chance to shine if he didn't have Stephen. Dan is like an idiot savant (sorry, Dan). He's like a Rainman with weddings, databases, and ultracool digs, but cleaning the bathroom or cooking anything beyond slicing cheese are a bit of a mystery to him. I saw their initial dating phase, I saw the rocky phase, I saw the forging of a bond I aspire to achieve myself some day. I love them both and wish them the best.