Tuesdays in Toyland

I have often said that teaching is to me what eternal damnation is to mankind: An event to be avoided at all costs.

How is it then that I find myself enmeshed once again in the academics of teenagers? I'll tell you what it is. I'm a sucker. And not in the bad 'lets fleece her for all she's got' sucker way. Just the 'I like people and making their lives easier' sucker way. Some people call it a hero complex. That's probably what it is.

As it is, I am writing 'tween classes, whilst the adorable little monsters (with whom I spend regular time, since the social pool down here is quite small and we all end up going to everything together) plan and plot ways to ditch (which I don't mind, not really) or make my time otherwise miserable.

I had somebody 'talk vehemently' at me yesterday because I happened to mention "Dia de la mujer" which is Women's Day (which, incidentally, we never celebrate in the States, and I think we should). Said individual was male, and told me that I had no right to expect special things, because I wasn't a mom. I reminded said male of the harrowing experience I like to call La Paloma, and the crazy children that came along with it. He wouldn't relent, but we both knew I had made a good point. In my heart of hearts I carried the day, and bore no ill-will toward opinionated individuals. Also, I think he was messing with me.

So to return to my first paragraph. A little perspective never hurt anyone, and, thinking back upon the 'LP crucible', I think I can handle a group of teenagers.


I just finished reading Dune. I have two brothers who were raised on Isaac Asimov and other sci-fi writers, and, being the only girl, I fought my entire childhood against their collection of books and sci-fi parapheneila. Okay, that's not entirely true. I could tell you the entire history of Star Wars, the motives and thoughts of the characters. I am a Star Wars nerd. But I fought against Dune. Until last week. I opened it, and then I couldn't stop reading it. And now I'm hooked, and I blame my brothers, even though they are hundreds of miles away. Because I want more. Except I'm told that the post-Dune books are mediocre at best, and I don't know if I can in good conscience spend my life reading 800 pages of mediocre.

(I'm writing this whilst the kidlets are working on grammar. I'm half hoping they don't notice, but I think they do.)

I'm globosing after class. For those of you who do not live in Mexico, this is the wonderful weekly occurrance in which vendors come out of the woodwork to sell their wares (new and otherwise) and produce (which is cheap and delightful). There is a wonderful beverage that I love to get, and which I can only find on globos days, which is essentially limeade. But you don't understand. These guys have a special touch. Their lime-water is magical and refreshingly delicious. I look forward to it every week. Other places sell it, but I think there's something about the dust and the Mexican ranchero music and the smells of carne asada and churros wafting through the air that make this particular cup of limeade special.

I just gave David detention. He is the one who does all the brotherly things that my real brothers are too far away to do. Like change my flat tires, or lift heavy garafones of water, or give me hugs. He also throws things at me. Which gets him detention. Sorry David.