Favorite Book Character Day

February is reading month at my school. We celebrate on Friday by coming to school dressed as our favorite characters.

Practicality aside, here are some of my ideas:

• Nikki from Jan Brett's The Mitten. I love that he wants white mittens, loses one and finds it. The mitten grows and grows and grows to accommodate a mole, rabbit, hedgehog, badger, fox, owl, and bear. The mouse who perches on the bear's nose makes the bear sneeze, so we don't knw if more could have fit.
• Mrs. Piggle Wiggle. Oh man! Next year I am going to Goodwill for a wig and dress! A kind school librarian introduces her to me when I was in 4th grade and struggling in all kinds of ways.
  
• Paddington the Bear. I already give lots of hard stares. A duffle coat, yellow hat, and battered suitcase full of marmalade sandwiches are all I'd need.
• The miller's daughter in Rumplestiltskin. Any excuse to bring the fiber arts into the picture. Yes, she used a wheel and actually spun straw into gold. I could bring a spindle and some gold Angelina......
• Mrs. Weasley from Harry Potter. Yep, more knitting. I'd really prefer to go as Hagrid, though. The Harry Potter stuff needs a little more time to cool off before I take it up.
• I'd dearly love to be Nanny from the Eloise books, but the shoes would kill me.
• I'd happily be La grenouille a grande bouche, but I don't have a frog costume. A green turtleneck and outrageous lipstick sufficed for a school reading, but is not enough for all day.
• Le Petit Nicholas. I'd carry a bag of marbles, blacken an eye, and wear shorts and a blazer. Except it's winter.
• I am not up for an Asterix costume this year... nor do I look like Tintin. Many of our fairy tales are originally French, though. Too bad Disney has co-opted all of them.....
• Happily, I have a Halloween costume I can use. I am thinking of others for future occasions.
• Twitter pals to the rescue! Annie Modesitt suggested Miss Clavell from Madeline. I am scheming how to get a white dress and cape by Friday. I just don't have sewing time this week.
  

I really DO like my job!

Wow, from my last post, one would not suspect how deeply satisfying my job is.

I now have a lunch buddy. My classroom teachers are open and generous with praise for me. I see in others some things that make great educators. I am learning how to be a better instructor.

Yes, I still struggle with balance in the lunch room. Some days it makes me crazy. Other days, it's the Boiler Master/ Former-Bouncer who encourages me to crack the whip. He's pretty frustrated there by the amount of trash left on the floors and the general lack of respect he sees for authority. I must say, I can see his point. He's older than I am and his dad was a cop. I don't think they wasted much time when the old man told them to do something.

For all the stuff that stands out and makes for funny stories, there are some really neat kids who are super bright and totally get what's going on. I love reading their stories and hearing their answers to questions. Sometimes it's just nice to look into little faces adn see bright eyes.

Yes, the French language is pretty much giving me a swirly. If it were a person, I would sit down and tell it exactly some of the things that bug me. My daughter today wanted to call our female cat a "chatte gentille". Gramatically it's all correct, but socially it just isn't. Turns out the French language has a bias towards the male grammatical gender. Even if your cat is a girl, you call it a boy. Roll your eyes and call it dumb. I certainly have. But now, I bend my head and murmur "as you wish". Does this mean I am growing wiser or just too tired to fight?

Another Day at the Office

The words of a veteran teacher ring in my ears. "In my years of teaching, I've seen it all. I just chalk it up to another day at the office." After 7 days at an elementary school, I must say it's one crazy office.

The best source of stories is the lunch room. My current schedule has me in the lunch room for 55 minutes. One gentleman wears earplugs while he is in there. I never thought I'd be grateful for my tinnitis and time in a noisy pool, but it serves me well. I am still learning when to yell at them to be quiet and they are still learning that I mean business. There is some kind of system with red tickets, but I haven't been let in on the secret.

After I reported to senior staff that one kid was giving another the finger, he told me the kid was "special." Special? Like how? Like Sunday School where we are all special in God's eyes? Special like I should handle him with kid gloves? Special like Special Ed? I think we call that EBD now. Thanks for the special insight you gave me. It really helped.

Right now I am so new I haven't made any friends. I eat lunch by myself in the teachers lounge. People pop in to heat up their food, but they scurry out. I don't know how they manage to consume whatever it was before it was the plate of crumbs that I see during my lunch. Seriously! Maybe it's because I am American and I want this gig to continue next year that I feel obliged to work while they are paying me. Last time I checked, there is not a "pause cafe" on my schedule.

It's not the plates of crumbs that make me sad, it's the inappropriate comments I dream up that would be such fun to share with others. The high school lounge was a hoot. Without anyone to talk to, lines like "Florence, I can only check one gender box. That you are in kindergarten and using the boy's bathroom concerns me. Oh, sorry. The head teacher just told me you really ARE a boy. The school called home and confirmed that your name really is Florence and you really are a boy. Maybe you want to consider changing your nickname from Flo to Lorence or Larry or something."

The awful line that is swirling in my head now is "Maybe you should ask the government to get you a new family. The one you're with now isn't doing anything for you." Is it too much for us to ask that you send us a kid who knows how to hold a pencil or knows the names of letters? Colors and days of the week I can teach. It really helps if we can use letters, though.

Does it sound like I don't like my job? I hope not. I really enjoy it. There are parts that are very satisfying and I feel like I am making a difference. Other parts of my day I consider myself well-suited. It's just that there's no one to share it with and that makes it lonely. I have been there only seven days. I am sure to have even better stories as time advances.

Fache Fache Fache

OOOOOH je suis fache! J'ai ratte un entrevue hier pour un poste que je pensais je voulais. Je le voulais avant que j'entrais dans la chambre et vue huit personnes! Huit! Parmi eux etaient deux meres des etudiants a l'ecole.

Apres avoir repondre a dix questions, seulement une en francais, ils m'ont demande d'ecrire en francais. Il fais longtemps que je n'ai pas ecrit en francais. Ils m'ont pose une question pour montrer mes capabilites en francais. Malheureusement, j'ai repondu plutot a la question et ne montrait pas une bonne style.

En partant, j'ai rencontre une autre candidat. Nous avons echange quelques mots. Mon accent (qui est beau) est beacoup mieux que le sien. Cela ne servira a rien. Je n'ai que des gros mots dans ma tete!

Translation: I applied for a job and blew the written portion. I am disappointed in myself because I thought I wanted the job. On the other hand, they really asked a lot of a TA position and I thought it odd that 2 parents were part of an interviewing committee.

My kid's hair

We have rather lax hygiene standards in our house. Many Americans bathe every day. Some ascribe to cleanliness being akin to godliness. If that is you, call us a bunch of slightly dirty heathens, then. We tend to not smell, taking that as a late stage sign that a shower is overdue. La Croissant, not being so prone to stinkiness, needs a different reminder. We go by her hair. We aim for once a week, but sometimes forget.

School picture day meant we had to pay extra attention. La Croissant discovered that too much conditioner leaves your hair looking worse than before. After she discovered the happy medium, she was so pleased with her clean, fluffy hair. She began to stick out her lower jaw, bottom teeth showing, and make odd moaning sounds. When asked to repeat her message in English, she would only say "sweater".

Eventually, she explained that her hair was as soft and fluffy as alpaca fur and that she would like a sweater to match her hair. I have a fair number of fiber projects I am committed to at the moment, so I suggested maybe she could have a sweater as a Christmas present. That sounded OK to her, but she disliked the idea of no surprise. How the child thinks I could spin and knit a sweater in secret when I am away from the house during school is beyond me. Her mind, however, was off racing down other tangents.

I asked about colors, wondering what would suit her the best. Her father, M. Muffin, is a sucker for black suri because it looks like the family cat. Caramel colored suri makes me almost weep. Dark brown is rich like chocolate. I have lately fallen under the spell of light fawn; it's creamy with some caramel in it. Sort of like the foam on a latte. Mmmmmmm.

Finally she announced that maybe she could get some "washed fawn huacaya to match her hair" for Christmas. I asked where she would get this, thinking we know some alpaca farmers and a fiber store, she could use her allowance, and so on. She turned her eyes up to me and said simply "From Santa. Then you could spin and knit me a sweater. Maybe you could leave some yarn for Santa so Mrs. Claus could knit something for him." I think it's time to introduce her to men who are involved in the fiber arts. I know one. No, two. My weird uncle used to knit.

So that's why I have wanted to cry.......!

Today is my day to tackle the house and Mount Washmore. After cleaning the kitchen, I thought I'd make myself a little cup of tea and write down a few project ideas that were floating around in my head. I had been keeping them on my PDA, but I liked the idea of moving them around physically. Maybe I would match equipment to projects so the looms would be best used. I could make little piles by priority and then truly know that whatever I was working on was the right project for the time.

Here's what happened.

And that, my friends, is not all. Oh, no. That's just where I ran out of index cards! There are also 2 skeins of commerical yarn begging to be used. Worse, only 1 has a card here. I won't mention the socks that need just a few more rows to finish, the frogged gloves from handspun. Oh. I guess I just mentioned them. Is this whining or a serious reality check? I am hoping for the latter.

I am overwhelmed by opportunities. I have started working at a fabulous yarn shop, and am very excited. I fear, though, that the owner has a secret plan to keep all our money by stocking such irresistable stuff that we wind up paying her to work there. "Employee discount" is just another word for "enabler," my friends.

I met some awesome alpaca ranchers who are psyched about fiber and hand products. Darn, I really hate working with alpaca. It's so scratchy- not! We are all new at this, so fiber trading seems to be how we are going. They give me fiber, I make yarn and keep some fiber. I can do what I wish with my fiber: sell, trade, make stuff, make more stuff to sell. I fear the overwhelmed by fiber situation. The stuff on the table isn't even all of it. That was just the accessible stuff that was nagging my brain!

Let's look at some of that stuff closer, shall we?

First, we have the knit for my loved ones projects: M. Muffin needs a hat to match his scarf. La Croissant has worn holes in her socks, and was promised a Dragon Sweater. I felt up to the challenge of knitting (a) careless homespun (b) in unknown quantities (c) with crazy gauge differences (c) a top-down formula-instead-of-pattern sweater. That's why it's for her. She is a loyal guinea pig. Cooler weather means it's time to think about Christmas. I have a new loom and thought maybe dishtowels. Now I am thinking the Christmas Truce (Don't make me shop for you- I have no resources to even create for you!). I am wanting some fibery love for myself and we all need warm feet this year. I am thinking wet-felted slippers because knitting means buying yarn and then knitting it.

Then there is the whole alpaca explosion. Think of all the cool stuff I could make from alpaca. handspun, millspin, or commercial? Holy Crimp! Lots to explore there.

What about that new to me loom I was jumping up and down about? Oh yeah. I have a twill towel on there. Very cool, but a little too fine to see progress. Also, setting it up means no dining room table. A stand would be good. Or a fibery hidey-hole.

Don't I owe those people from Shepherd's Harvest something? Who? Oh, the people who gave me a big ole bag of wool and started me down the path of hand-prepared fibers. Yep, it's October and they are open for farm tours. I need to finish up some stuff for them to (1) repay their kindness (2) use up the stuff I spun for that project (3) clear the loom for other projects.

On top of that, I was hoping to kiss up to Syne Mitchell enough that I could get published in her very cool WeaveZine. Blame that flaming desire on CraftSanity's Jennifer Ackerman Heywood. her podcast is so very inspiring. After listening to all these cool people, I want to join their ranks. I want to be cool enough for her to interview ME! I have ideas galore of stuff I would like to design and share. Being published is the kind of stuff I go crazy for. But publishing means finished product. Sometimes with revisions. Weaving project means not portable. That means using house time productively.

Did I mention my burning desire to teach fiber arts? I have opportunities through fiber demonstrations on weekends. The Weavers Guild is formalizing their teacher training, and Borealis seems pretty cool about throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what sticks.

The voices in my head lately have been the guy from South Park with a mechanical voice. I am hearing a lot of robotic "Holy Crap!" It makes me laugh and summarizes the situation perfectly. What are your voices saying?

OK, so I looked at the pictures and the post. Two different things, apparently. The photo was meant to capture that I have a lot of cool fiber to process. There is more cool stuff hiding, but this was just waht was most accessible (i.e. on the table and desk and needs a proper home). I have stuff in all stages from dirty, off the beast to washed and greasy to dyed locks and roving.

Then there's stuff to spin- again, lovely roving waiting for sweater inspiration to strike and that alpaca waiting to become useful. Don't forget the glorious colored stuff from my class at Shepherd's Harvest! (Lovely hand-dyed stuff and techniques for spinning color)

Knitting takes up a fair amount of projects, as does weaving. I think we mentioned that both looms are occupied and I really want new projects on them.

What in the name of sanity are those books doing on my table?! Do I think I am ready to take on a fine gauge madly cabled hooded sweater? Apparently I thought I was. Excuse me while I pull myself aside for a little "chat" about priorities.

Ouch. I am back. OK, so no more fibery books are to come into the house for a while. Also, my surfing time needs to be sharply curtailed. I have a love/hate relationship with all the lovely designers out there who generously share their work. It just adds to the madness, but isn't there some line form Hamlet about sweet insanity? Must resist urge to look up eloquent quotes.

The cherry on my sundae of spiralling away from goals is we are hosting friends for dinner tonight. I had lofty housekeeping goals. Seriously, I did. I also thought I would be returning to the basement to make progress in creating my fibery hidey-hole. I think we will have to save that for a subsequent update. Now I need to work on clearing off the table so we can eat there!

Fiber on the hoof!

Oh yeah. It was the state Alpaca Open Farm tour this weekend. We went "like a family" on Saturday and I demonstrated spinning on Sunday.

I got some kids introduced to fiber arts and the wonder of cardboard weaving. i got some adults to touch a wheel and possibly make friends with their "heritage wheels" that came over from the old country, but now sit unused. I got some awesome people to make lovely yarn. I almost cried, it was so beautiful.

Because it was an alpaca event, wool was kind of contraband. I snuck in some handwarmers I made from greasy wool. I was thrilled with them because I took fiber straigh off the sheep and made something I can wear. Not just hand spun, hand knit, but hand processed! I love them, but yes, they are scratchy. Alpaca is soft and fluffy. It does not stay in nice ropes like wool; it just comes apart. Somehow, this didn't stop my amazing spinners.

I learned that non-spinning spectators should be warned that if they make suggestions to the new spinner that I will invite them to sit down and show me their mad fiber skillz. Yeah, I thought so. Chicken. Seriously, there is a lot to put together when you are taking on a wheel. There are fingers, fiber, feet, and a wheel. That's a lot to put together. It really doesn't matter if the wheel starts going the other direction. The spinner will figure out something's wrong. We need to be quiet so the fingers can feel when to move. So the yarn snapped? Big deal. We just start again. It's OK to start the wheel with your hand. It's also OK to stop the wheel to catch your breath. Best of all, it's OK to take home your awesome soft alpaca yarn and say you like spinning.

I am soooooooo getting business cards so these people can stay in touch with me. What's better than the joy of spinning? Passing it on so someone else's eyes can light up as the fingers learn to make yarn. That is heady stuff.