Not much to say, i don't think, but i'll say hello nonetheless. there has been things to say throughout the week, but they've all been forgotten by now. it was a good week, the best yet, so far, i think. i felt almost confident as a teacher, and i was enjoying my kids, and enjoying bethlehem, and just generally happy with things. i found out that one of my students is from peru, he just moved to the US recently. and another one of students is kenyan. this diversity excited me.

it's a busy weekend with lots of visitors. dusty disanto is stopping by and rata is home and jamin might be visiting so we're excited.

that's all. see you.

it's yom kippur, the day of atonement, and i have off school. i like to make jokes about the supposed large jewish population at my school, with it being 75% puerto rican and all. but i shouldnt make too many jokes, because it turns out erica works with a puerto rican who is a messianic jew. they exist after all.

i'm at the library. it was a nice slow start to my day. the boy next to me (a middle schooler, no doubt, who has off today but who is not celebrating yom kippur) is playing violent video games and a little while ago his cell phone went off. his ringtone was the song "down with the sickness" and it played very loudly, starting out with the growling "ooo-ahahahah!" it made all of us jump, including him, and he raced and struggled to get it out of the pocket of his jeans and silence it.

below are several of the posts i've been wanting to write over the course of the last month. i wrote them down recently so that i wouldnt forget them.

autumn arrived with the rain i mentioned a few posts down. it's frigid and damp and while i enjoy it, it's getting to be a little dreary.

i cant stop listening to the new sigur ros and erica's getting a little tired of it.

another middle schooler just sat down next to me, and she's updating her xanga, which makes me feel really really stupid doing this.

school's been a little rough this week, because the other day as we were walking in from a fire drill, i got hit with a rock right in between the eyes. it hit my glasses and cut my nose, and i was bleeding when i went back into class. what made it even worse was that my class laughed at me. i didn't see who did it, but the vice principal started working on it and a little boy admitted to it.

it turns out it is one of the boys i like in my homeroom. i think it was an accident, but his story of how it happened was a bit weak. he apologized to me and got suspended for three days for endangerment. i have 30 days to press charges against him for assault with a dangerous object.

i didn't even give that a thought - pressing charges. mostly because i like the kid, i guess, and i sincerely believe it was an accident. but several teachers are trying to tell me that i should have him arrested in order to teach him a lesson and solidify my reputation as a "hard-ass who won't put up with any shit."

it's a tough call, i guess. and i've already been thinking about it a lot lately. there's a balance between showing grace and discipline. both are necessary and we can see both of them in our own lives. i don't know how it's supposed to work, to be perfectly honest.

there's more i want to say but i have one minute left and i'm going to get kicked off and i want to post this. sorry for the abrupt ending. i hope you are well. i really do miss you.

Teaching middle schoolers is a most humbling experience, as it forces the teacher to constantly ask himself, "Was I like this? Was I this weird? This bad? This out of control?" And the answer is most often, without hesitation, and loud and resounding, "Yes. You were."

I am still convinced that Mrs. Rineer hated me for no reason. And while I think I was being truthful when my one and only defense was: "It wasn't me! I wasn't the one talking! I swear!" I am now forced to wonder when that is the response I hear most often in the classroom, and it is never truthful.

I was hyper. Boy, was I hyper.

And there was always drama on the back of the sports busses.

And there were always ridiculous little romances popping up - and with only 10 girls in the class to choose from!

And there was the time, at Spruce Lake, when Mr. Yothers overheard the boys' cabin talking dirty, embarassing us all to no end, filling us with heavy guilt.

There were antics and mischief, indeed. There was the total lack of self-control and self-awareness I see everyday. It was me.

And then there were the Mann sisters at Sunday school every Sunday morning, patient and calm, dedicated and thick-skinned. Every Sunday they came and attempted to teach - or at least keep under control - a pastor's kid who was most likely worse than the worst behavior problems they encountered throughout the week at public school. How they did it, I'll never know, but perhaps it was a slow, clam prayer they prayed at the close of every Sunday school class, the one they said under their breath as I walked out the door:

"Lord, make him a middle school teacher someday, and give him students as bad as he is now."

It was answered. And while the Mann sisters have been extremely supportive of me over the past months, I have a feeling they smile and laugh each time they are together, each of them having a slight sense of sinister satisfaction.

the autumn rain arrived last night, slow and steady, showing no intent of leaving. it brought down the first of the yellow leaves that had previously been weakened, and it begain to weaken the green leaves who were not yet ready to go, those holding on to the remaining bits and pieces of summer, rays of sunshine, the scent of backyard grills.
the autumn rain arrived last night, the front corner of the newspaper showing a gray raincloud for friday, saturday, and sunday. weekend plans have been foiled and everyone is staying in, including the squirrels holed up in their treehouses, forced to take a break from their busy nut-collecting schedule.
with no gutter on the building, the rain comes off the roof and slams the fire escape and cement landing. the loud noise drifts through our cracked bedroom window (where on the sill a small puddle is forming) and creates a background for all indoor activities, sometimes comforting and and other times depressing.
and perhaps that is exactly what this is - a tension between comfort and depression. the relaxation that comes with rainy days and slow start saturdays and the antsiness that comes with being locked indoors, having a list of to-do's with no will power to do them.

we took the kids last night, volunteer babysitters, an imaginary mom and dad for just a few hours. after soccer practice and doing our best to ignore the pleas to visit the ice cream truck, we drove our new SUV over the mountain, mom and dad up front, sister and brother in their car seats, one big temporary and happy family. as we came down the mountin, we drove due west towards the sunset.

two-year-old logan pointed straight and ahead and said, "Taylor! Look!"

five-year-old taylor said, "Yes, Logan. Isn't it beautiful? That's called the sunset." She sounded more like a mother than a big sister. "See all the yellow and orange and pink and blue? It's the sunset!" logan sat still, listening intently, continuing to gaze at the sight. "It's when the moon comes up and the sun goes down." her explanation complete, both continued to stare silently with a sense of wonder on their faces.

we, imaginary mom and dad, sat silently too, with smiles on our faces and that sense of wonder placed back in our hearts.

it's 3:45 and here i am in wesley's room at the combovers headquarters.

i was hoping this recording session would last not past 3:00, but here it is 3:45 and we have little to show for it.

it has been a somewhat disappointing time, partly because i got my hopes too high, and partly because i was expecting to do more of the making music and less of the twidling of knobs. but i'm thankful to be involved no matter what the form.

kyle's songs are pretty amazing, his voice is stark and awkward but beautiful and honest, his guitar is somewhat sloppy yet lush and warm. the kid's got soul. we finished just about all the songs with him along with a few other parts, but when we went back to add the drum tracks, things got a little ugly.

perhaps there are 2 morals to the story. one, recording with a 4-track will never be easy, and two, never try to convince yourself that a click track is unnecessary. we thought we could do it, but poor shoe just can't hold on to kyle's wavering tempos.

and so, after about 8 hours of trying to do this, we probably have to start all over.

it's a disappointing day. but i do promise once these songs are on tape, you'll enjoy them very much. jared will play it all day in his record store and the copies will fly off the shelves. perhaps i am exaggerating, but this IS probably the most mature music and songwriting i've ever been involved with.