In two days, I have to turn in my grades for the first quarter of my first year teacher. Also, I will turn twenty-five. Scary on both counts.
This morning I was up at 8.30 and went into school for about an hour and a half. I checked reading notebooks and "organized" my library. I separated them into genres, super general ones though: fiction, science/reference, biography, autobiography, fairy/folk/tall tales. It looks better. Once I label them it will be nearly done. What I really need is some contraption to hold all of the books. They're still separated into two sections, one on each wall. Not enough space, or crates.
After that I tried to go shopping, but the weekend train construction made such delays that I just went home.
I watched "To Sir, With Love." It was very different in style and music from any kind of movie recently. Sidney Poitier was cool and everything, but I preferred the book. It was more emotional.
I finished grading the reports, and put what I believe is all the numbers into my grading software program. Wahoo! However, out of 89 students, 39 will get an F. Four more should get an F, but I didn't give them a potential failure notice last week, and we can't fail a student if we didn't fill that sheet out for them. So 43 out of 89 failed my class, just about 50%. Dang. Although actually, I kind of thought it would be more! Eight of them actually have a grade of 10% or less. Good lord. The lowest score we can give is 55, though, doesn't that seem like a gift? Anyway, ten kids will get a D, 18 will get a C, eleven B's, and one student scored an A-. That will have to be bumped down to an 89 though, because we're not allowed to give out level 4s. Holy cow, the politics!
Now I have the bubble sheets and comment sheets to attack. Ho hum. It's very possible that by the end of the year I will end up with carpal tunnel or something. Could be all the typing I do here, too.
There are two Halloween parties tonight. I don't particularly feel like going to either; I have no money or interest in a costume. I'm probably tired. Apparently I've gotten used to my little anti-social rut. But going to a party with a large number of strangers is hardly the place to reassert my social side; that's the time when I shut down. God, I suck.
Monday is my birthday. I've said before that it's going to be a seriously shitty birthday, and the closer it gets, the more shitty I know it will be. School all day, then professional development, straight to QC for boring classes and no dinner, home after 10pm. Blurgh.
I got a card from my grandma in Chicago today in the mail today. She enclosed a little note about her goings-on, and she also enclosed a note that my dad mailed to her in December 1979. The postmark is clear and everything. I was brand new then, and he was writing to her about me. This little gesture (she said that she'd been waiting for the right time to give it to me), as well as the note itself, teared me up but good.
I also got a nice assorted package from a friend at home. Stacey, thank you so much! I miss you guys. I could really use a low-key night hanging out with all of you.
I wish I had people around me for this Monday. Being alone on the East Coast is more lonely than I'd thought; I figured I'd be immune to homesickness or whatever. But I'm not. I quite miss my family people. Despite that, I'm not going home for the holidays (either one). Part of me wants to, but the rest of me remembers that I hate the holidays anyway. It becomes a battle for time; it's like I *owe* people time, and so my vacation is spent fulfilling that obligation, and there's no joy in it. I drive all over the place, just feeling tired and irritable and not "in the holiday spirit" at all. So I'd been wanting to be on my own for Thanksgiving/Christmas. Ten days on my own with nothing to do will certainly be a challenge. Perhaps I can see more of Manhattan, and go ice skating or something.