Sticks of Fire: a Tampa blog

According the Trib, Hillsborough County’s School Board is ready to drop from its calender all religious holidays next year, except Christmas. Because the Lord’s birthday just happens to coincide with Winter Break. Nice how that works out. Oh well, no more Good Friday, Rosh Hashanah or Fair Day.

Fair enough.

The end of the article hits you with news that our board might also change

“its meetings from evenings to daytime starting in April, hearing public comments earlier in those meetings, and giving some speakers more time. The proposal comes after a meeting last week at which irate teachers waited nearly four hours to speak about schedule changes and were given two minutes each.”

(emphases and link added)

Yes, imagine how thrilled teachers will be when they hear that meetings will soon take place when they’re… wait for it… want it… own it… that’s right - teaching!

Fan-f*cking-tastic, Elia. You guys rock.

***cross-posted Out in Left Field***

Had my pre-operation appointment yesterday because Dr. Berger is going away for the next three weeks. Turned out to be two hours long.

Learned a lot.

For instance,

- Most women want breasts that don’t fall into our armpits when we lie down. It’s a simple dream, really. Sadly enough, when we give birth and nurse until nipples are sore, that simple dream becomes a pipe dream. A good plastic surgeon will tell you, the choice is clear. Rely on maximum strength undergarments - which is fine until the inevitable unveiling occurs - or fix them permanently. Turns out, even smaller breasts naturally fall to the side when the lady lies down. Who knew? (Note: “breasts” not “mosquito bites” or “implant-enhanced ta-tas” - both of which are perky no matter the position. Even upside down. Don’t ask.) Dr. Berger just wants to prepare me for reality. That’s why I love him.

- Set aside a few hours for the pre-op. I did not, ran out of time, and must go back to take the dreaded “before” pictures. If you wanna help me pay for the procedure, I’ll let you see all the pictures when we’re done. Oh who am I kidding? They’ll be on my site before the year is out.

- The night before surgery involves lots of scrubbing with special cleansers, multiple enemas, and a mandatory sleeping pill. Anyone wanna crash at my place?

- Liquid diet, mandatory the final 24 hours before surgery, does not include pints of Guinness. I asked.

- Morning of surgery, I’m allowed to shower and shave for the last time - for about a week. After two days, you will be able to smell me for miles. Anyone wanna crash at my place?

- Also the morning of, I must take a Valium before my mother drives me to the hospital. I fought this tooth and nail, but doc won’t budge. I’m not like his typical patients, I tried to explain, who need pharmaceutical intervention every day of the week just to get through incredibly stressful manicures and golf outings. Tough as nails, I am. Still. Gotta take it, he says. So I’ll pop my pills, get wasted, and no doubt call to confess my undying love. Don’t pick up. For your own good. And mine.

- No strenuous activity *of any kind* for six weeks after surgery.

Less than a month to go.

And no, you may not crash at my place.

***cross-posted at Out in Left Field***

I attended the Hillsborough County School Board meeting last night ready to raise hell about next year’s proposed schedule change. Or at least watch some other people do so. Went something like this…

One of the organizers (read: instigators. big fan!) told me 75 teachers would be there. Showed up and counted maybe 24. Tops. A few from Freedom and King amidst 20 from Armwood alone.

“Wow. Great turnout,” I told one of them.

Another Armwood educator said their spokesman was slated to speak toward the end of the meeting and would I like to see a copy of the speech?

Sure.

She handed me a three-page dissertation, but I read through it.

“Who’s reading this diatribe?” I asked, looking to tell Homeboy to cut it down to one page or run the risk of losing his audience.

Teachers. They love to hear themselves talk.

“He’s over there,” someone said and pointed him out.

My jaw hit the floor. Angry Armwood from the Holocaust Museum was our spokesman?

Good God. We’re f*cked.

“Umm… okay,” I said, “I’m going to sit in the back and kind of spread out. Write all this down.”

“So many teachers are afraid to be here. Afraid they’ll lose their jobs,” someone said.

“I’m not afraid,” I said. “I just don’t want to be associated with Looney Tunes. Thanks though.”

I took a seat in the back of the room and listened to the proceedings with giddy anticipation. Several areas of the speech were in all CAPS. Couldn’t wait for Angry Armwood to lose it in front of television cameras, the school board and a comatose audience. This was going to be great. All I needed was some popcorn and a beverage.

After two hours, one of the board members said the time had finally come for audience comments. Angry Armwood stood up. Here we go! This was it! Got my pen, paper, and cell phone camera. Action!

Said cell phone began vibrating in my hand.

“Hello?” I whispered. “Mom? You okay? The boys okay?”

“Yeah, honey, but I’m getting tired. Your dad called and needs more medicine. I’m sorry but I need you to come home.”

“Are you f*cking kidding me?”

Haven’t had a buzz kill this bad since that time in college we couldn’t find the cow pasture.

***cross-posted at Out in Left Field***

How do we break out of our current social experience to bring others in?

I’m asking.

Received this nastygram regarding such an important issue (*eyes rolling*):

To: CatherineDu.Robinson@outinleftfield.com
From: Sbushhart@aol.com

I find your blog both offensive and naive, the same qualities found in
Debra LeFave. To indicate that you contemplated advice provided to you by
several co-workers, and then decided that you would disregard their advice on a
moral issue that effects you and the students you teach and influence seems
to be contradictory to someone who is educated with children’s care in mind.
This has been of great concern to parents even more so lately, and yet seems
to be of lesser concern to teachers and staff. You may attend as many
classes on ethics as is mandated, but your being void of a natural instinct
to recognize the difference between right and wrong (only a little leg and
bra? what is your line that you will not cross over?) makes me question
whether you chose the right field. You are right about one thing in your
blog. Had you not had a picture to view that you are more than a recent
graduate, I would have confused your psychological thumbing your nose as
coming from a child.

Which is worse? That this creep CC’d one of my superiors or that he/she compared me to someone who committed crimes against a child.

Take your pick.

There are already lots of comments chiming in on the post at Out in Left Field.

Last week I received an email from Co-worker Acquaintance, expressing concern over the picture on my blog. Homeboy thought I might get into trouble because OH MY GOD my leg is showing. And a bit of bra.

I thanked him for his concern. Seriously. Love the love.

He wrote back: “I hope you’re not angry. That was the hardest email I’ve had to write. Since you write about politics and have criticized the superintendent in the pages of The Tampa Tribune, you need to be careful.”

“I appreciate your concern,” I said, “and I’ll seriously think about it.”

Next day, I related the story to Co-Worker Close Friend.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” she said. “The other day, a teacher approached me and said that *several* teachers here at Superior High School are upset about your picture. They think it reflects badly on Superior High in general and wanted to give me a heads up in case the complaint goes down the pike.”

I sat there, stunned.

“Goes down the pike?” I said. “That sounds like a threat.”

“I know,” she said.

“Are these concerned teachers going to report me?”

“Look,” Co-Worker Close Friend said, “I think they need to mind their own business. However, I told you weeks ago that picture of you in a silk robe could lead to trouble.”

“It’s cotton,” I said. “I don’t wear silk.”

“Anyway,” she continued, “I’ll support you no matter what. I just thought you should know what’s being said.”

I don’t mind if someone expresses concern. Co-Worker Close Friend and Co-Worker Acquaintance are excellent examples. Several loved ones wish I’d either hide behind a book or not post a picture at all due to massive amounts of hate mail I receive. Crazies and all.

I listen. Contemplate. In the end, though, I post my smiling mug to show I stand behind what I believe. Lends just a tad of credibility. Wouldn’t be as effective if I posted anonymously. Plus, how could I tell my students and, more importantly, my own children to get up, stand up, if I hid behind an alias? It’s important to practice what I preach. And let the chips fall where they may.

I have never advocated anything immoral or illegal. I could take a camera to school and photograph several teachers who wear less than I do without a single repercussion.

And to hell with anyone who thinks my picture reflects badly on Superior High. There are several pictures on the Hillsborough County Sheriff’s website that show mug shots of current teachers who have been arrested for drunk driving, drug possession, and domestic battery. Last time I checked, a little leg never hurt anyone.

Besides, what I write and do reflects on me alone. No one else. And I happen to think it reflects nicely.

I’ll change my picture when I’m damn good and ready. Not a moment before. Put that in your pipe.

And suck it.

***cross-posted at Out in Left Field***

Best Place to Get a Mammogram: Lifetime Cancer Screening at Moffitt

A few years ago, I had this to report:

When women hit thirty-five, doctors recommend more fiber in our diets. They also recommend a baseline mammogram with which to compare old boobs someday. Many
women complain that a mammogram is painful because breasts are smashed like pancakes for not-so-flattering pictures. Me? I like the rough stuff.

Could do without a technician groping the girls and saying, “Sorry, but I have to move them up to where they USED to be, you know, before gravity took over.”

Moffitt also throws in a breast exam. For no extra charge, another tech will demonstrate how to play with yourself and feel for lumps all at the same time. A multi-tasker’s dream! After an hour of going to first base with two middle-aged women, I also learned how to make unattractive poses in the mirror while looking for “irregularities”. So hot.

Unfortunately, it’s easier to get a table at Armani’s on Valentine’s Day than to get into Moffitt anytime soon. Since Dr. Berger needs my mammogram but quick (surgery must commence on March 12, 2007) I had to settle for Carrollwood Radiology.

What a disappointment.

No groping, no titorials, no love. Just a couple of squashed breasts and I was out the door in less than ten minutes.

Admittedly, I was only in for pre-surgery cancer screening. Dr. Berger needs to make sure all is well before he rearranges the not-quite-ready-for-prime-time-players. However, for all your breast cancer awareness needs, I must recommend Moffit above all the rest.

They know their boobies.

***cross-posted at Out in Left Field***

If you are about to medicate your children - beware. I’m all for better living through chemistry, but perhaps your darling angel should try self-control first. Here’s why:

Children are a pain in the ass, especially when they won’t sit still. Such children do best with parents who stay on top of them, demand discipline and provide consistent boundaries in which proper behavior is expected. If you choose to take the easy way out and dope ‘em up instead, there is a very good chance your kids will come to depend on medication and never acquire the skills necessary to rope it in without pharmaceutical intervention.

Fast forward to high school and said medicine begins to bother them. Side effects include droopy dinkidoos, weight gain, and acne - which combine to make teenage years even more challenging and heart breaking. Plus Druggies get made fun of for exhibiting zombie-like characteristics. So they quit cold turkey.

I watch your children try to make it through a typical class period. These Walking Life Lessons can’t concentrate, so instead they:

- fashion silver gum wrappers into grills.
- twitch and stretch and move at least one part of their bodies every ten seconds.
- talk to imaginary friends or themselves or their classmates. Often inappropriately. Almost always despite the fact I’ve asked them to be quiet.
- put pens into their bracelets and aim them like Spiderman at kids who are trying to concentrate.
- disrupt the class. Every day. Without fail.

This is not high school behavior. So I call home, conference with the kid, move them to different desks - doesn’t matter. They take themselves with them wherever they go. So I write referrals, conduct behavior analyses and eventually remove them from a traditional classroom setting.

They’ve never been taught to sit still and pay attention and when meds wear off, we’ve got a certain population that cannot function properly.

Once again, parents, do your job. And if popping pills is the only solution, be prepared for trouble later on. Or lifetime addiction. Whichever you’d prefer.

***cross-posted at Out in Left Field***