The American Short-Haired Felagund (and Other Life[tm] Updates)
Those of you who have met me in Real Lifetm and remember when my hair was down to my bum--it is no longer. It was so dry and damaged that it was actually losing length; it had shortened from bum-length to reaching the small of my back without any effort from me. The ends were so split that, whenever I'd brush it, my hair would break off. Ugh. Since it was going to shorten itself anyway, then my mom cut it past the point where it was damaged, which was 5 inches (13 cm). I've been avoiding this for months now but finally agreed to it yesterday. So my hair certainly isn't short, but it's short for me. It reaches the middle of my back now. I'm hoping it grows back fast! It feels wrong to have hair this short.
The basement situation is progressing. Mike the Builder and Mike His Helper came last Friday and tore out most of the carpet. Bobby has been working diligently down there to get the carpet off of the steps, bleach-mop the floors to hopefully hold off the worst of mold and mildew, and remove wet, damaged items. Tonight, he cleaned out the storage room at the back. He said it was disgusting.
Saturday night, when we came home from Jamie's wedding, the house smelled like a moldy pond. It was nasty. The floors are dry; now it is a matter of getting wet stuff out of the basement and assessing the damage. When we walk into the house now, the smell isn't so bad and clears out as soon as we get the back door open and the whole house fan going. The insurance claims adjuster comes tomorrow at 6 AM to do her thing. All of the wet carpet and other stuff is piled at the top of the driveway. It looks very Hillbilly. If the couch is damaged, perhaps that can go in the front yard. (My idea to put Hermes on blocks in the yard was already rejected, and Bobby sold him about a month ago.) Whenever we park in the driveway, we can smell all the nasty, wet carpet. The Mikes are supposed to be bringing a dumpster tomorrow so that we can start clearing stuff out.
Since we are going to Charlottesville this weekend for the Heritage Harvest Festival, I had no choice but to do some laundry so--new experience for me!--I got to wash it old-school in the bathtub, since the washer and dryer were among the casualties during the flood. It was kind of fun to stomp around on the clothes: fun in a novel way, not fun in a I'd-like-to-wash-my-clothes-like-this-from-now-on! kind of way. It's amazing how dirty stuff is! That fact is normally secreted away in the washing machine. I hope I got all the soap out. If not, I guess I'll have to stomp on them some more tomorrow.
Umm. What else? I wrote my first Individualized Education Plan (IEP) today. w00t. Per federal law, IEPs are required annually for all students who receive special-education services. Every student in our school has an IEP, so this will be a regular chore for me. I have to write general summaries for my homeroom students, and reading and writing goals for all of my students. As luck would have it, the student I had for my very first IEP is a student who has not come once to my class. I interviewed the other teachers, but they didn't give me very much information. And writing reading/writing goals for a student I've only met once and seen in passing a few times? Ha. Haha. Well, it's done now. Tomorrow, then, is my very first IEP meeting. (I did attend part of an IEP meeting for a student when I was student teaching, but I think I have to stay for the whole thing tomorrow, since I'm the student's homeroom teacher. Meh.)
The freshmen actually weren't holy terrors today. Ms. Karen has requested that a behavior counselor sit with us during their class, so the three of us managed to keep the seven or so of them more or less under control. Yikes. Friday was horrible; Ms. Karen was out, so Bobby sat with me, and we had outright defiance from a student and had to call a behavior counselor to take him from class. Ms. Karen and I feel, though, that we can't complain about the freshmen because all of our other classes are so wonderful. So we don't. But today gave us a glimmer of hope that even they may become less nightmarish over time. The thing is that I like them all individually; it's just the synergy of seven or eight hyper teenage boys with behavior problems can get a little interesting at times! It's like firing seven or eight bullets inside a metal chamber and watching them ricochet off the walls and each other. Tomorrow, we're going to try reading a longer story, so I'm eager to see how that goes.
This post was originally posted on Dreamwidth and, using my Felagundish Elf magic, crossposted to LiveJournal. You can comment here or there!
http://dawn-felagund.dreamwidth.org/279694.html
The basement situation is progressing. Mike the Builder and Mike His Helper came last Friday and tore out most of the carpet. Bobby has been working diligently down there to get the carpet off of the steps, bleach-mop the floors to hopefully hold off the worst of mold and mildew, and remove wet, damaged items. Tonight, he cleaned out the storage room at the back. He said it was disgusting.
Saturday night, when we came home from Jamie's wedding, the house smelled like a moldy pond. It was nasty. The floors are dry; now it is a matter of getting wet stuff out of the basement and assessing the damage. When we walk into the house now, the smell isn't so bad and clears out as soon as we get the back door open and the whole house fan going. The insurance claims adjuster comes tomorrow at 6 AM to do her thing. All of the wet carpet and other stuff is piled at the top of the driveway. It looks very Hillbilly. If the couch is damaged, perhaps that can go in the front yard. (My idea to put Hermes on blocks in the yard was already rejected, and Bobby sold him about a month ago.) Whenever we park in the driveway, we can smell all the nasty, wet carpet. The Mikes are supposed to be bringing a dumpster tomorrow so that we can start clearing stuff out.
Since we are going to Charlottesville this weekend for the Heritage Harvest Festival, I had no choice but to do some laundry so--new experience for me!--I got to wash it old-school in the bathtub, since the washer and dryer were among the casualties during the flood. It was kind of fun to stomp around on the clothes: fun in a novel way, not fun in a I'd-like-to-wash-my-clothes-like-this-from-now-on! kind of way. It's amazing how dirty stuff is! That fact is normally secreted away in the washing machine. I hope I got all the soap out. If not, I guess I'll have to stomp on them some more tomorrow.
Umm. What else? I wrote my first Individualized Education Plan (IEP) today. w00t. Per federal law, IEPs are required annually for all students who receive special-education services. Every student in our school has an IEP, so this will be a regular chore for me. I have to write general summaries for my homeroom students, and reading and writing goals for all of my students. As luck would have it, the student I had for my very first IEP is a student who has not come once to my class. I interviewed the other teachers, but they didn't give me very much information. And writing reading/writing goals for a student I've only met once and seen in passing a few times? Ha. Haha. Well, it's done now. Tomorrow, then, is my very first IEP meeting. (I did attend part of an IEP meeting for a student when I was student teaching, but I think I have to stay for the whole thing tomorrow, since I'm the student's homeroom teacher. Meh.)
The freshmen actually weren't holy terrors today. Ms. Karen has requested that a behavior counselor sit with us during their class, so the three of us managed to keep the seven or so of them more or less under control. Yikes. Friday was horrible; Ms. Karen was out, so Bobby sat with me, and we had outright defiance from a student and had to call a behavior counselor to take him from class. Ms. Karen and I feel, though, that we can't complain about the freshmen because all of our other classes are so wonderful. So we don't. But today gave us a glimmer of hope that even they may become less nightmarish over time. The thing is that I like them all individually; it's just the synergy of seven or eight hyper teenage boys with behavior problems can get a little interesting at times! It's like firing seven or eight bullets inside a metal chamber and watching them ricochet off the walls and each other. Tomorrow, we're going to try reading a longer story, so I'm eager to see how that goes.
This post was originally posted on Dreamwidth and, using my Felagundish Elf magic, crossposted to LiveJournal. You can comment here or there!
http://dawn-felagund.dreamwidth.org/279694.html