Why I Hate Tuesdays

I want to write a blog based on Mitch Albom's, Tuesdays With Morrie. (I'm sure I'd need some kind of permission to do so) But I could never call it "Tuesdays With Jess" because I hate Tuesdays. I'd need another day of the week. For the traditional workweek-scheduled employees out there, Saturday and Sunday are just in another category all their own. So I'm going to focus on Monday-Friday with Tuesday being the worst of them all.

Monday I can deal with. Monday's suck, there's no doubt about it. But I can get through them. It is what it is. As you drop your keys, forget your coffee on the counter or fail to make it across the train tracks before the gates lower, you can blame it all on Monday. It doesn't try and disguise itself and it makes no excuses. You are aware of its depressing aspects, there's no mystery and you simply suck it up and face the week ahead. Actually, it does you a favor. You can totally use it as an excuse for just about anything, "Must be a Monday!"

From the time I wake up in the morning on Wednesday, I consider the week to be half over, even if its not technically half over until noon-ish. You made it this far, you can certainly get through the rest! You made it up the mountain; the rest should be a breeze!

Thursdays...well, they're the new Friday. I like to call Thursdays, "pseudo-Fridays". It's the eve of the weekend. In anticipation of Friday, you can certainly handle just one more day after Thursday!

Then we come to Friday. In a nutshell, Fridays are fairly wonderful. Even with the whole day of work ahead of you, it's kinda like you might as well just be done already. Friday, schmi-day. The anticipation of the weekend and your time off definitely motivates you to get through the day with a smile. Think of how well you made it through the week! Congratulations, Friday is a breeze!

And then there's Tuesday. Pitiless, pathetic, terrible Tuesday. When you think about it, there's really no point to Tuesday at all. It's pointless, useless. You can't psych yourself up for anything when it comes to Tuesday. You're not half way to anything. It serves absolutely no purpose in the work week, really just serving as a reminder that it might as well still be Monday. So alas, this is why I hate Tuesdays!

How I became an athlete...with incredibly loose usage of the word "athlete"

Anyone who knows me knows I'm an actress and singer. My friends know that my acting and singing does NOT include dancing. My family knows that I have two left feet and I sound like an elephant when I go up and down stairs. And Vic, whom I share my life with, witnesses me on a near daily basis trip over my own feet, smack my hands against things (as if I didn't know just how long my arms extended) and walk into door frames. And I wonder why I have shoulder problems! My experience with sports and physical activities when I was little is limited. I danced from 4-9ish and my first dance recital didn't involve a whole lot of dancing. Rather, as the kids around me tap danced to "Oh, You Beautiful Doll", I was busy playing with the enormous, floppy hat-thing on my head that kept falling off. Once it finally succeeded and fell to the stage, my fixation did not end. I proceeded to step on it, stare at it and kick it around with my feet.

A few years later, my parents enrolled me in a youth league soccer program through the local temple. Apparently I was really good at defense because I got to just stand there. Ok, so I know on defense there's normally a lot more to do than just stand there. But that's what I did (and I once got a certificate stating I was excellent on defense...I think they were just trying to make me feel better.) I was scared of the ball and any person coming towards me. I was really good at getting out of the way. I'm sure I was responsible for any goal scored on us. Another funny memory from this experience was when it was a cold day and my mother didn't want me freezing out there so she made me put on a sweatshirt OVER my required uniform. She called me to the side, gave me the sweatshirt and told me to put it on. Well, this sweatshirt just happened to be the same color as the opposing team's! I explained to my mom that I shouldn't put it on, but you know moms...So, I put it on. Of course the refs blew the whistle and made me take it off. How embarrasing!

Eventually I quit dancing and I quit soccer. Obviously I was not cut out for either. I do have to say thought that I regret that my parents didn't push the athletic thing more (even though I wasn't too good). The benefits of participating in a team sport are vast. I know it would have halped me socially. Social situations for me were always a REAL good time. Note the sarcasm.

Many years later I discovered that although physically adept I wasn't, I did have a talent. That of course was singing. I pursued this for a long time and still occasionally do. So, many years passed where I didn't think I'd ever have any athletic ability. Then I met Vic.

Vic is an amazing athlete and coach. He is very accomplished. A couple of years ago, after a little bit of a health wake-up call, we both changed our eating habits. Although he was coaching sports throughout the year, he wasn't exercising as much as he needed to be. Neither of us was. He decided to start running. He said it was the only thing in the past that ever produced results. Well, the supporter I am, I decided to run with him, two left feet and all! Of course I was also had that competitive edge going for me too...despite not being skilled in sports, I still enjoyed the excitement of competition; watching it and also being a part of it (think karaoke contests and auditions for lead roles). I felt if he's going to run, then dammit I'm going to run too and I'm going to keep up with him to boot! So, we began running. Vic loves competition as well and loves challenging himself. He also hates being bored. He felt if he's going to run, then he needed to have some kind of goal to look forward to and stive for. He had always wantd to run a 5K and now he had a reason to train for one!

We began going to the track at the local HS. I never imagined that I'd be able to run (I always twisted my ankles with any attempt in the past) but figured I'd try! I had to start off slow and go very little distance. But I was determined. No longer idle would I be! At first I would run just half a lap and then walk the rest, then run half and walk the rest. Eventually I was able to run a whole lap without stopping. Little by little my endurance built and after starting running in July, three times a week, we ran our first 5K in September. I was impressed with the both of us. We finished the 5K and didn't die! We became obsessed with running 5Ks. They're a lot of fun. They usually have refreshments afterwards and award ceremonies; it's an event. Plus it felt good donating to various charitable causes. It definitely made the training much more fun knowing we had something to look forward to! We get excited buying new running shoes and we were actually getting recognized by other runners at races (we felt cool). L'il Jess even started running with us...and she's good! Soon enough, she'll be running her first 5K!

In November, I ran a 5K and ended up coming in first in my age group! I actually won an athletic award! I received my plaque with pride. It was rather exciting for this self-professed klutz who's always hurting herself simply by breathing!

So, I guess in some sense I can now consider myself an athlete...with a still very loose usage of the word!

I Love Airports

I love airports. No, Really. I love airports. I even get excited passing BY an airport. Even when I'm stuck in traffic on the Grand Central passing by LGA, I get a little twinge of excitement! Where's everybody going? What's everybody doing? And when is MY next trip going to be? But the best part is when I'm in the airport going on my very own journey. I love getting to he airport super early. I have no problem going to the Hudson Newsstand and picking up some silly magazine, stopping at the Starbucks for a decaf Mocha with soy milk or maybe a caramel apple cider sans the whip. I find my little place, a seat somewhere near my gate and just chill. It's really rather relaxing. I mean, there's nothing else I can or have to do at that very moment. It's almost like I'm forced to relax, which when I'm at home, is very difficult to do! I'm always finding something that has to get done. And although I'm surrounded by a multitude of complete strangers, I still feel like this is valuable "me" time.

I love watching all the people. I love secretly making fun of some of the people (in my inner voice of course, or at least low whispers with Vic.) I once saw a person waiting to board a plane who wore a spiked metal collar and other metal accoutrements all over his outfit and sneakers. I wished I had been around to see him walk through the metal detector. I still wondered how they could allow him on a plane at all. Other times, I watch women who are dressed to the nines. They have on spike-heeled boots that look like they were bought right off the runway (no pun intended) with uncomfortably-looking tight jeans, or sometimes they wear stilettos with skirts. I wonder how on earth they will be comfortable on the plane. I wonder why they'd actually opt to be uncomfortable on a plane ride. No one's really impressed with how well people are dressed on a plane, at least I'm not. This is of course different from men and women in business suits who are obviously flying right to a professional meeting without an opportunity to change. I see families dressed as though they're going out for an evening at the country club. the husband, (Biff) is wearing beige slacks, a Chaps sweater with a light blue, striped collared shirt underneath. The wife, (Muffy) pushing the double-wide stroller while carrying two oversized, designer bags is dressed in what appears to be a sun dress made for a morning jaunt on a yacht. The kids, well, they're miniature versions of Biff and Muffy.

I love looking at all the boards by each gate, reading all the different destinations, wondering if I'll ever go there. I wonder what each place is like-if I've never been. I imagine different trips I could take. I imagine what would happen if I just decided to get onto another plane to a completely different destination than my own ('cause sometimes I wonder if they really check those boarding passes carefully when when you're in the boarding line)

I'm intrigued when I hear people's names being announced over the intercom for final boarding. Why aren't they at the gate? Did they get held up in traffic? I always leave so much extra time to allow for traffic. Why didn't they? What happened to them?

I don't even mind waiting for my luggage once I've disembarked. Everyone rushes to the luggage belt as if their bags will spontaneously combust if they're not right there, leaning over the belt, "Is my bag first??" "Is that mine coming around the bend??" I know mine will come eventually. I just find a nice open area at the end of the belt and wait patiently, trying to contain the excitement about my trip.

I know not all trips to the airport can be this enjoyable or entertaining. I know not all people goign to the airport are going for pleasurable reasons. But for me, generally speaking, I love airports...Except of course when I'm there for my return flight back to reality!

Giving a shit about those who give a shit!

At what point did we as a society decide to take away all responsibility from our children? And at what point did parents decide to shed off their own responsibility in regards to said children? I'm so sick and tired of teachers being blamed for the deficiencies in our children's education. There is only so much a teacher can do. And let me tell you, we do A LOT! There comes a point though, when after our students leave school and go home, that they MUST use what has been given to them, and do something with it! We can provide the information, we can teach the skills, we can encourage. But our students are with us for such a short period of time comparatively. At what point will parents realize that THEY are the greatest influence in their children's lives? If a person decides to have a child, aren't they also making a choice to raise it? I feel as though so many people have children, and then just figure they'll raise themselves or just assume that the teachers will raise them. Teachers definitely parent. But part of that is just our nature.

I'd like to know at what point in history, a breakdown in parenting occurred. I'm pretty sure it's somewhere between the baby boomers and the gen-xers. What happened during that time that today's parents of school-age children let go of all responsibility and decided to play the blame game? By blame game, I mean parents who blame teachers and the educational system of failing their children. At what point will people begin to realize that it's not the educational system that is failing, but the students themselves! The government can pump as much money into the educational system as they like, but without parental involvement (and by involvement, I don't mean parents calling to complain, but parents willing to parent) our kids will continue to fail. If the skills and knowledge a child receives throughout the day in school is not carried through at home, there is only one, two or three people that can be blamed for that child's failure. The parents and the child him or herself. There are certainly some students out there who persevere despite their parents lack of encouragement, and God bless those kids! But statistically speaking, the more parental involvement and encouragement there is, the more successful a child can and will be.

I'm tired of parents blaming me for their child's lack of motivation. I'm tired of being blamed for not 'reaching out' to the kids more. I'm tired of being blamed, period. I work my tail off like so many other teachers I know. And I'm tired of being asked "What can YOU do to see that so and so passes?" Um, how bout so and so does their effing work and stops being a jack-ass!

Just yesterday I overheard a student telling a story about having killed a chicken. He told it with pride and laughter. When I reported this, I was told nothing could be done because there had never been a referral written on this student. When I explained I wasn't comfortable calling home because this student's father had been condescending, rude and threatening to the teachers in the past, I was basically told I had to call home anyway before anything could be done.

Another student who I also believe is a sociopath, gets kicked out of all of his classes on a near daily basis. Yet his teachers were told that we need to 'reach out' to this child and sit this student up front because that's what HE wants. I'm so glad that's what HE wants. (It's almost not worth mentioning and goes without saying that of course we've tried sitting him up front, and it hasn't helped. He loves having an audience.) But the biggest beef I have with this is that once again, the higher-ups are shedding THEIR responsibility, putting the onus on the already exasperated teachers and cowtowing to the student.

To finish, I will refer back to the title of this post. After we are done exhausting ourselves talking about these 'problem' children and irresponsible parents, what about the good ones? The ones with parents who give a shit? The ones whose parents teach their kids to give a shit? Well, they just get brushed aside. It's often implied that we should care more about the troubled kids than the ones who actually WANT their education. I feel terrible for these kids. Their time that they are entitled to is being taken away from them on a daily basis by these jerks. And yet we are encouraged to keep these jerks in class and do whatever it takes to make sure they are happy and comfortable. Just as they are entitled to fail, aren't my wonderful kids entitled to pass and entitled to uninterrupted class instruction? At what point will we get over the fact that assholes will almost always be assholes, there will always be assholes in society? At what point will we stop giving a shit about them and give a shit about those who actually give a shit?