Yes, school is going well after the first two days. I have a confidence now that will never compare to the first year of teaching. I am comfortable, I have an idea of what I'm doing, and I'm staying on top of things for the most part. Having my own room also makes a world of difference. Having the same kids again isn't so bad. There have been some good changes in each of them. I think things will shape up pretty nicely.

And when I talk like this, I can't believe it. I can come home and not spend the evening crying. I can come home, say my day went well, and actually mean it. Is this the same person? The same profession? The same school? The same KIDS?!

Today I gave a little speech about respect, including the bit about being nice to people even if they're mean to you. Two out of three classes seemed to accept it. But the third class thought this was the most ridiculous idea ever. I tried my best to clarify, speaking even more loudly and passionately, trying to explain the gridlock we find ourselves in if everyone just returns violence with violence. But they just didn't seem to get it, just as I expected from some of them. They rolled their eyes and laughed it off. We'll keep working on them.

That was the same class who, after explaining my rule about saying thank you and the other life lessons I will be trying to teach this year, asked, "Aren't just supposed to be teaching math? Why are you trying to teach all this extra stuff?" I tried to take advantage of that question, explaining, but I got the same reaction.

One of the benefits of being a second year teacher is that you now have FORMER students who come to visit you. An eighth grader I taught last year stopped by after school today, told me about high school, football, setting goals for college, staying away from drugs, worrying about his friends, and so forth. It was so good to see him. He is a crazy kid, totally weird, one you can't help but love if you're not the one trying to teach him. It was good to see him and it was a reminder why I'm in this profession.

The first day of school was good. Thanks for asking.

The new Damien Jurado song, upon first listen, sounds really good. It can be found and downloaded here. Who's up for a field trip to Hoboken on Oct 8?

Hopefully they will be gracious enough to give me a second chance. Hopefully I will be gracious enough to give them a second chance.

So here we go. . . . .

Still at school, blogger's apparently unblocked, and the hugest grasshopper I have EVER seen is slowly crawling up my wall. I'm scared.

It was a long and somewhat exhausting day, one in which things were accomplished, though not enough. My stomach was queasy in the morning, my attitude/outlook/demeanor was poor, but all of this improved throughout the day, despite some less than desirable news.

Since last year I knew a few things were possible regarding this year's teaching position, some of which I really feared, but all of which I didn't think were very likely.

Well, they happened.

First, I will be teaching 8th grade this year. Not a bad thing necessarily, but the idea of starting from scratch again, learning a new curriculum, teaching new concepts, creating new tests, quizzes, worksheets, lesson, activities, and so on is one that is daunting to say the least. But that's not all. Second, I will be teaching, for the most part, the same sections of kids I taught last year. Yes. The same students. The same ones.

Yeah.

Surprisingly, my outlook somehow stayed positive throughout the day. And we'll take it a day at a time from here.

As I was closing out my summer with the annual lay-on-the-couch-close-my-eyes-to-sufjan's-13-14-15-from-michigan-combo, I was interrupted by my cell phone. It was Wes, and he told me he read a Psalm and was reminded of me, that it was my Psalm. I told him that I had already found my Psalm for the year, so we'd see if it matched up. He got cut off there, but called 15 minutes later and continued the conversation. The Psalm he wanted to share? It was 126.

On a related note, this morning I was at my parents' house briefly. My mom and dad were there, and so was Heather, Taylor, and Logan. I asked my dad if he ever experiences a desire to do something different with his life. He said, besides the occasional daydream, no. I asked why not, and he more or less said that this is what he feels called to and what he enjoys and he is content. We discussed a little bit the tendency my generation has to jump from one thing to the next, unsettled, uncommitted, etc, the reasons for this, and so on.

Six-year-old Taylor decided to join the conversation. She insightfully added, "Nate just started what he's doing and he doesn't like it!"

I was mostly stunned.

Is this really my last day of summer?

I expected this last week or so to go one of two ways. On one hand, the possibility of living it up was there...eating out, watching movies, celebrating with friends, so on and so forth, really making the most of my last week of freedom. On the other more likely hand, I was expecting to be in a deep state of depression and panic, balled up on the couch, not saying a word even to Erica, turning down all offers and avoiding all social interaction.

Really, it's been neither of those. It's been a casual, relaxed week, doing things here and there, not really realizing the impending doom. I'm going back to another year of school tomorrow like it's any other day, just another to-do on the calendar, not at all acknowledging the whirlwind my life will become, the complete 180 change of a schedule. It's really a state of naivete, I think.

But maybe, and hopefully, it's the turning of a new leaf. That Psalm I posted yesterday was one David Mauldin always brought up, but it really didn't hit me until I read it yesterday. Maybe, hopefully, after a year of sowing tears, I'll be reaping joy, a joy that's apparent to my students and coworkers, an outlook and way of going about things that will completely change the way I work and live and interact and function. Maybe this year, instead of survival mode where I keep begging the ocean to roll on while struggling to keep my head above water, I'll be able to enjoy the moment, be a little more innovative, invest in kids and coworkers a little bit more.

It's a lot to ask for, and it's probably wishful thinking--naivete, again--but what if? Wouldn't it be nice?

I guess it has become my prayer. So, if you're the praying type, and you think of me, you can pray for that, too. Thanks.

And with that: So long, summer! You've been good to me!

Ps.126

When the Lord brought back the captives to Zion
we were like men who dreamed.
Our mouths were filled with laughter,
our tongues with songs of joy.
Then it was said among the nations,
"The Lord has done great things for them."
The Lord has done great things for us,
and we are filled with joy.

Restore our fortunes, O Lord,
like streams in the Negev.
Those who sow in tears
will reap with songs of joy.
He who goes out weeping,
carrying seed to sow,
will return with songs of joy,
carrying sheaves with him.

Plan B, effective immediately:

Kyle, Wes, and I are moving to a deserted, depressing fishing town somewhere in Iceland and starting an autumnal-instrumental-post-jazz-drone-rock band called...

LO FI FO FUM.

As Erica left for work this morning...
Me: Have a good day. Stick it to the man!
Deadpan Erica: I always do.

You know what really impresses me? When secretaries remember and use your name. I just called Wilkes University about registration (more on that in a second), and all I had to say was "Yes, my name is Nate Shorb..." and not only was she very nice and helpful, she finished the conversation by saying, "Well, you take care, Nate." MAN these women are GOOD! When I was a secretary of sorts at Taylor's admissions office, I would ask people for their name about 5 times, and even then I wouldn't remember it.

Yes, if all goes through at the admissions and registrar's offices, I will be starting a grad class on September 6th. When I tell people I'm starting grad school, they "ooo" and "aah" like I'm a really smart and important person. I guess it does sound like a big deal. But I haven't really thought twice about it. First of all, a masters degree is something I have to do to get permanent teaching certification. Second, this seems to be kind of a joke of a program. So, to me it's just par for the course, I guess. Something to deal with and get through.

In other news, you really MUST go watch this video. It's the most incredible and hilarious thing I've seen in a while. The lo-fi-home-video-random-people-dancing seems to be the latest fad in the music video scene, but this one tops all. Thanks, Jamin.

Last night were Musikfest fireworks, and they were more intense than usual. There was even a fake grand finale, followed by a long, long pause, which caused everyone to clap and start to get up to leave, only to be followed by an even bigger grand finale, and it was amazing. As is typical of my impulsive firework behavior, I started yelling stupid things like, "OH LITTLE TOWN OF BETH!-LE!-HEM!"

And remember the other night when I said I was going for a walk? Yeah, well, walking by yourself at midnight isn't as therapeutic as I thought. As soon as I headed down Maple, I heard a gang of drunken young people following me, and I got really freaked out. I finally lost them but heard weird noises and mean barking dogs for the rest of the walk.

I guess I never said much about the family vacation. It was absolutely lovely. Camping in tents with 10 people has its interesting moments, especially when we (all 10 of us, ages 3-58) decide to go for a 9 mile hike up a 4,000+ foot mountain. I could go into detail, but there are much too many details to include. Other interesting moments included my brother leading our parents' minivan up a mountainous dirt road intended only for 4x4's, only to get so far and be forced to turn around. Teaching 3-year-old Logan how to pee on a tree was also a highlight. He did it with such prowess, further proving that he is truly a quintessential boy, loving mud, rocks, adventure, snakes, toads, karate, and so on. And my new mountain pie recipe was absolutely incredible: peanut butter, chocolate, marshmallow, and sliced bananas grilled in the fire. Mind-blowingly delicious.

I think I'm going to school this afternoon. I need to check out my new classroom. Maybe I'll hand in my resignation while I'm at it.

If one movie will be better than Little Miss Sunshine this year, it will be Half Nelson. I've been using the adjective "perfect" for Little Miss Sunshine, but by the looks of it, Half Nelson could very well be more deserving of the word. I can't wait.

And just when I was wondering how Paradise Now could have been nominated for any awards last year, I went and watched Tsotsi, and I'm wondering all the more what the fuss is about. It was a disappointment.

It's a beautiful day, and it's been a relaxing one, too. Erica and I have been taking it slow. We continued reading our Madeleine book under a tree at Rockland Park. We went for water ice at Basilio's. We've continued relaxing in our living room, her laying on the couch, me laying on the floor, listening to records and continuing to read.

What do I miss most about college? Simply being in the presence of friends. I miss having people wandering into my room and just sitting with me. It doesn't matter what I'm doing or what they're doing. No pressure to talk, to entertain, to amuse each other, but simply relaxing together, being in the same room. Erica and I had a taste of it with each other, but I was longing for someone else to just come and sit in the livingroom with us. Silence isn't an easy thing to master with friends, and it grows even more rare in the world of adulthood. This is one of the main reasons why I would still like to live in community with friends.

Even when I tell people to just stop by whenever they want--to hang out, to say hello, to relax, to drink a cup of coffee, to do their homework, to get away, whatever!--they either a) don't think I'm making a serious invite or b) think it's an awkward thing to do or c) forget.

When I first listened to Early Day Miners' Let Us Garlands Bring, I knew it was the perfect album. I'm not willing to say it's my favorite album, but it is definitely, without a doubt, the most soothing, comforting, relaxing album I own. Not even the Six Parts Seven can top it. So, that's what's been playing this afternoon, along with their one-sided LP from Burnt Toast. It makes for good afternoons, especially when the summer is coming to an end.

So, hurry. You've got 11 days to come over, lay on the floor, and listen to Early Day Miners with me. Of course, the offer stands even after school starts, but something about the closure of summer makes it all the more enjoyable.

The moon has been big, bright and full the past several nights. Tonight it shines through the window at the end of our hallway, lighting up and casting shadows on our floorboards. The other night I took my brother's kayak out to the middle of Heart Lake after dusk and saw the moon shining through the clouds just over the Adirondack mountains and reflecting on the water. (The nighttime clouds were lit up just like that beautiful shot in Danny Boyle's Millions.) The past several nights, that full moon has been a needed comfort, a reminder of God's presence and working in my life.

I'm down to the two week mark. How is it that there are only two weeks of my summer left? (It always happens, and we know it's going to happen, and yet it still surprises us, and we still insist on commenting to everyone about how quickly time flies.) And so, the panic attacks and mood swings have begun. I am trying to fight them off, but I can only do so much. I am unprepared for this year; sometimes I think it was a blessing to be hired at the last minute a year ago, because if I was hired earlier, I would have spent the whole summer panicking rather than preparing.

Today when driving on Hayes Street, one of the girls I taught last year was crossing the road with several other women. To say the very absolute least, I didn't have a very good relationship with this student, so I tried to hide from her in my car. Somehow, despite being in conversation with her friends, she saw me, even without really even looking at me. As she entered the door of an apartment, she turned and pointed at me with a big smile. I was stunned. I waved to her, the light turned green, and I continued on my way.

Tonight, Erica and I were reminded that our plans are not always God's plans. It's not always a pleasant reminder, especially when we don't understand why he wouldn't agree with or approve of our plans, or when he neglects to present anything better. Our plans seem to work so perfectly, God! What's YOUR bright idea?!

Maybe I'm just afraid he wants me to be a teacher for longer than I want to be a teacher. I'm content with putting in my three years and then moving on to a better (easiersafermorecomfortable) option. Erica's probably afraid of that, too. She can only handle my panic attacks for so long.

Teaching is a much bigger and more valuable opportunity than I often realize. Everyone's quick to tell me about the difference I'm making. I'm quick to laugh at them. But I guess there's some truth to it. (Not much, mind you, but some.)

Why did the girl who hated me so intensely turn, point, and smile?

How did Paul learn to be content in every circumstance?

And why does that big, full moon keep staring at me?

I think I'm going to go for a walk.

Here's a quick update. It's been a whirlwind 4 or 5 days and things aren't slowing up.

Thursday night our modem got fried in a beautiful lightning storm. I haven't had a chance to order a new one yet.

That happened while Erica and I were at a free screening of Little Miss Sunshine. The movie was incredible and hilarious and, unless something really impressive comes along, will probably be my #1 movie of 2006, Neville.

I don't remember what happened on Friday besides a reunion with my roommate, Kyle. It was good to see him.

Saturday was book club and a wedding.

Sunday was church, a tour of the mansion that's for sale in Coopersburg (who wants to move in with us and all of our friends?), and Punch-Drunk Love at film night.

Yesterday was a sweaty day in Philadelphia. We picked up Jamin, visited Erica's old roommates from college, went to Ikea, saw Rata's new apartment, and then made our way to First Unitarian Church to see A Silver Mount Zion. That's a story in itself.

We stood in line, sweating and panting, for quite a long time. Erica and Rata could have really cared less about this show, as it is a band they were completely unfamiliar with, and with the heat and all, they would have been content to go home. Well, when we reached the door we found out the show was sold out. Jamin and I were ready to go home, dejected, disappointed, ready to give up. But that's when Erica's competitive nature and Rata's sense of adventure kicked in. They made it their goal to get us into this show that they would probably, in the end, more or less hate. After about 20 minutes of trying (flirting and begging and sneaking), the guy agreed to let us into the sanctuary. We stood in the back for the first band, and then scored some up-close seats during the intermission. It was unbelievable, really. The show was very hot and uncomfortable, but pretty wonderful and beautiful. A Silver Mt Zion is an aquired taste that perhaps I'll discuss another time. Rata liked them, I think, and Erica liked them before they droned for much too long, and I mostly liked them, and Jamin loved them, and basically we all were just proud of ourselves (proud of Erica and Rata, really) for getting in.

Family vacation in the Adirondacks begins Thursday.

Take care.