PHOTODORK » Uncategorized

Something New

Photodork — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 14:00:06 +0000

It might have seemed like Dylan and I’s trip to Eaton Grove was purely for photo purposes, but in actuality we went there with the goal of buying flowers to fill the large (as in 8 feet long and nearly 2 feet wide) planter that we’d built. I know, we think we’re pretty cool too. So far, I’ve refrained from photographing said flower box, just so it doesn’t get old later in the Summer when things really start blooming and I become obsessed with documenting it extensively. I figure that way I’ll have proof that I don’t always kill absolutely everything I plant.

One of the flowers we chose to plant were poppies and so far they’ve been kind of droopy, making me fretful and anxious which I usually save for later on in the growing process when I’ve neglected to water things for several days. Today, however, Dylan came upstairs and presented me with the shell of the poppy flower. One of them has hatched! Or whatever it is that flowers do between the time they shed their pods and bloom. I’m pretty excited about it, if you couldn’t tell by the fact that not only did I photograph said pod, but also devoted an entire post to it. Oh well…it’s not like you visit my site just for the stories, right?

I am ashamed.

Photodork — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 01:58:46 +0000

I didn’t even make it a whole two days before breaking my new resolution to blog daily. Well, small steps, I suppose. With only one day between my posts, it is already much better than the last 6 months or so.
I have been giving some thought to what I might possibly post about and have come up with a few categories of things I might be qualified to expound on. The list:
1) Baking/cooking – one of my hobbies is baking, particularly breads. I’ve just found out about a book entitled “Kneadlessly Simple” that I am intrigued to investigate. I also have a knack for collecting macaroni and cheese recipes, so I might do a mini-series about the different mac n’ cheese deliciousness I’ve discovered.
2) The life of a first year teacher – although I think that this might be tricky. To be honest, I am sometimes so sick of school and the business it entails by the time I get home at night that I may not want to spend any extra time occupied by it. However, I sometimes wish I could read the blog of someone else in my position and perhaps feel a bit more supported. So, we’ll see.
3) Photography – nothing technical, because that’s the part I hate. Rather, I’d like to post an occasional image of my own or perhaps one of my favorites by another photographer and talk about it. As an added bonus, this might give me more of an excuse to photograph.
4) Miscellaneous interests – like embroidery, sewing, meditation, etc. Learning how to do all of these things are some goals for the summer. I’d like to post about my progress occasionally, I think it would also help me to reflect on these activities and their place in my life.
That’s all I’ve really come up with for now. Although I’ll probably also post the random rant from time to time, as it seems to be a good outlet for the rage I sometimes innocently stumble into in my daily interactions with inept people, practices, businesses, etc. We’ll see if I’m back tomorrow.

Great Expectations

Photodork — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 00:55:03 +0000

I am guilty of sporadic posting. I admit it. Even if I chose not to admit it, Dylan recently ousted me from my cozy little niche of non-posting on his blog. The funny thing is, Dylan claims that a lack of things to say has never been the cause for the more thread-bare patches in his blog’s history, and yet it is the main reason for my silence. Or at least that’s what I thought, until today when Dylan’s blog made me think about it. I’ve always THOUGHT that the reason I sometimes don’t post is because I can think of nothing interesting to say, but then I realized how much I enjoy reading others’ blogs, even when they are just about the everyday, mundane sort of stuff that weaves together to comprise our lives.
In fact, there are two blogs that I check each day: my brother, Matt’s, and Dylan’s. When I don’t find the post I anticipate, I will impatiently check back several times throughout the day. In a way, these blogs serve as a replacement for getting a newspaper; they are my dose of literacy for the day. Which I’ve just realized makes it sound like I don’t read anything else, which isn’t true, but I don’t know how else to explain it. What I really enjoy about both of the blogs is that they provide me with insight into these two individual’s lives. And I live with Dylan, so it is amazing that he manages to write about things that I find revealing.
The topic of Dylan’s post today was about the process of blogging, and as he described it as just that, a process, I knew he had found my weak spot. I like processes. I like things that have an order and a rhythm and a method to them. If there is precision and planning involved, even better. And so, I’ve decided to accept the silent challenge of Dylan’s blog and begin the journey into daily posts. I think that only 4 people actually read this blog on any sort of a regular basis, but for you four people, here is your warning that I will be endeavoring to post much more frequently. Stay tuned.

Cashing in on the Perks

Photodork — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 15:51:26 +0000

Many misconceptions about the teaching profession exist: that we only work from 8-3, that only those who can’t do teach, that either elementary or high school teachers work harder than the other, that all teachers are big dorks that loved school. I don’t subscribe to many of these occupational myths, probably because I am a teacher and have the inside story. Let me clear up a few of these untruths before I hit on the main point of this post.
1) Teaching is an 8-3 job.
I arrive at school at 7:15 in the morning and I leave at 4:00. I get a 1/2 hour for lunch. I grade and prepare for my classes for at least an hour each night and usually 5 to 6 hours on the weekends. Part of this is because I am a new teacher, but part of this is because I strive to be a good teacher. I care about my job, I care about my students, and I like to be prepared. The 8-4 workday is the fattest lie of them all.
2) Those who can’t do, teach.
There may be some truth to the “those who can’t do teach”, but I believe that there are many of us out there who teach because we care. We want to make an impact on the world. If we couldn’t do it, we couldn’t teach it, trust me.
3) One level of teacher works harder than another.
There is a secret war fought between the elementary and high school teachers about who has the harder job. Elementary school teachers will tell you that they have to teach ALL the subjects and are stuck with the same kids ALL day, so there job is harder. High school teachers will point out that they have to figure out 8 different sets of kids and deal with different discipline hassles all day. They will also claim that their subject matter is more complex and that the kids don’t care like they did when they were in elementary school. Guess what? Both are right! Being a teacher is a tough job, period. And, I get the added bonus of teaching a “special” as some people like to refer to it. This translates a couple of different ways: either my job is easier because it’s not a real subject, or my job is easier because the kids are excited to be there. Wrong! Art is absolutely a real subject that requires problem-solving and knowledge and ability. The kids DON’T want to be there because they’re highschoolers and they don’t want to be in any class. There is nothing “special” about art, except that it is a rocking subject! (Pause here, while I climb down off my soap box.)
4) All teachers were big dorks that loved school.
This one is somewhat true, at least in my case. I was a big dork that loved school. Not all the time, mind you, but more than most. I love the Fall, I love buying school supplies. I like making schedules and learning things. But I can’t speak for all teachers. I know some that hated school and were troublemakers. They’ve gone into the profession to help kids that were like them in school. Point is? Myth busted!
Now, there are some definite perks in my profession; I’ll admit that even in the midst of my agony-filled first year. There is, of course, the grand prize, summer vacation. Although I have the sneaking suspicion that I will spend a decent chunk of mine revamping my lessons and trying to improve my materials for the following year. There is also that really good feeling you get when you actually reach one of your students. Whether this is on an academic level, or just in the sense that they realize you aren’t the enemy. Plus, I am guaranteed all the major holidays off, and usually a few days more.
So far, I’ve only encountered a few small advantages of my job. Christmas break was really the biggest whammy I’ve experienced. It was nice that I was automatically granted two weeks off. I didn’t have to request the time off in May, or wait behind a long line of co-workers for my shot at getting the holiday off. I’ve also had a couple of run-ins with the warm fuzzy feeling I described above in regards to the kids. To be honest though, these were really the highlights of my first semester. It was a bleak couple of months professionally.
Since I’ve returned from Christmas break though, a couple of awesome things have happened:
1) My classes are better.
I don’t know what’s happened. Some of my students were rearranged into a different hour. I swapped several kids with other teachers and got new students. In general, my class sizes shrunk. So far (and it’s only been a week, so I could be speaking waaaaaaay too soon) things are looking up in terms of discipline problems and classroom management.
2) Warm cookies.
My classroom is directly across the hall from the family and consumer sciences room. This was not the free food extravaganza that I imagined it to be when I discovered my room’s location. However, last week, the Catering I classes were making chocolate chip cookies. There are three Catering classes, and I got 3 fresh from the oven cookies. There isn’t much that is going to make a work day better than that.
3) SNOW DAYS!!!
These are like winning a small-scale lottery. Several days last semester found me hunched tensely over my steering wheel as I fought through bad weather conditions to arrive at school frazzled and already spent from my commute. But today, I woke up and drearily trudged to the bathroom only to hear Dylan announce that it had snowed overnight. Although I wasn’t very optimistic, there hadn’t been a snow day yet, Dylan got online to check for school cancellations (A side note here: Dylan is a fabulous husband that gets up in the morning with me, packs my lunch, mixes my breakfast cocktail of choco-milk and medicine, fluffs anything I ask him to in the dryer, and gathers all my belongings for me. He deserves an award for this, but usually just gets to feed the cats after I depart). Lo and behold! School was cancelled for the day due to severe weather conditions! It is my first SNOW DAY! It is by far one of the best perks of being a teacher: a small, unexpected reprieve from the daily grind that is paid. I am still basking in the glow from my stolen day of freedom, although I have stopped bellowing “Woohoo!” every few minutes and spontaneously busting into happy dances. For now.

The Story of Beda

Photodork — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 19:10:16 +0000

I love my little cat…well I actually love all three of my cats, but today I am writing specifically about my middle cat, Beda. I was folding the laundry a few minutes ago, an endeavor that takes place on the bed. I was standing on one side, battling with an unruly nightgown when I looked across the bed and saw these two little black ears protruding from the other side of the bed. If I stood on my tip toes I could just see the top of her face, and I was struck with how much I adore that cat. I realize that I am risking the label of crazy cat lady and I’m pretty much fine with that. Today I pay tribute to the meekest of Dylan and I’s brood of cats: the sleek, black mini-panther that spends most of her days lurking in darkened corners of our compartment; the cat with a coat so smooth that Dylan refers to her as being softer than Jesus’ washcloth; the wee Beda.
The funny thing about Beda is that I was against getting her from the start. Dylan had been after me to adopt another cat for a few months. At the time, we lived with a roommate, her cat, and our own cat, the magnificent Thomas. Dylan’s reasoning was that when Idy and her cat eventually moved out (something that was not even a discussion at that point) Thomas would be lonely. Still, I resisted, Thomas had a buddy for now, we’d cross that bridge when we came to it. And Dylan persisted: it was better to get the companion when both cat’s were reasonably young he insisted (lots of words that end in “sisted” in this post, eh?). So I relented and agreed that we would get another cat when we found the right one, but I had stipulations: no female cats and no black cats. I hadn’t had good experiences with these types of cats (and no, I am not superstitious about black cats) and told Dylan we would be steering clear of cats with either of those qualities.
A few weeks later on a Friday night I was closing up at the bank. I was in the midst of counting out my teller drawer when Dylan appeared at my station and announced that he had found our new cat. He was acting a little shifty, so I questioned him about his discovery. Where was said cat? What kind of cat was it? Was it a nice cat? Had he held it? Continuing to act in a shady manner, Dylan told me I would just have to come see her. Well, there was strike one…had he just said “her” in reference to our new cat? Indeed he had, but again he insisted that there was no reason to not get a female cat. She was very mellow and so cute; he was certain I would love her straight away. “What kind of cat is she?” I asked, not committing to anything. I was secretly hoping for a little calico cat, but Dylan resumed his shifty behavior and told me that she was a reddish brown color. Strike two. I have never seen a plain reddish brown colored cat before, but Dylan maintained his story and even coerced me into the car and to the pet store to have a look at this reddish brown cat, that I highly suspected was black.
By the time we got to the pet store, I had hardened my resolve again. I did NOT want another cat, especially a female cat with mythical reddish brown coloring. Dylan herded me into the pet store, tugging on my arm the entire way and fretting that she might already have been snatched up. He positioned me in front of the cat cage and pointed out the cat that would become Beda, and she was the smallest, saddest looking little cat I had ever seen. I don’t know how else to describe her than to compare her to the Christmas tree that Charlie Brown picks out in the Holiday Special. Her enormous eyes were green, her ears were much too big for her body giving her a bat-like quality, and her fur was most certainly black. But this little cat looked like she needed to be loved, and I was sold. I reached in and picked her up and she immediately attached to my shoulder. As I walked around the store a few times, just so that Dylan didn’t get too big for his britches and think that he had been right all along, she never let her kung-fu grip go. We paid $20.00 for the newest member of our family and headed home to Fort Collins.
Beda, whose proper name is actually Freda, has been our cat for nearly five and a half years. She is a timid but beautiful little creature, full of quirks and the most charming mew of any cat I’ve met. Her eyes are still enormous and she eventually grew into her ears, although she has a permanently worried look about her all the same. While Thomas and Reno are very much present in the everyday happenings of the house (and are usually the cause of any mayhem that occurs) Beda serves as an invisible member of the household, only appearing at night to take up residence on the bed as we sleep. She is my favorite of all the cats, and so I must finally give Dylan the credit he deserves for discovering her. There, I said it.

A Heavy Heart

Photodork — Wed, 24 Dec 2008 19:21:34 +0000

It is a rare person that is not afraid of death. Taoism teaches that we should not worry about an afterlife and take each moment as it comes with as little expectation and judgment as we can. At least, that’s how I’ve taken Dylan’s explanation of the religion. And yet, who has not wondered about the end? So often, as we are stuck in the daily grind and the days seem to wear on forever, it is hard to believe that these days that we so often count and wish away are limited.
I have never been as concerned with my own death as I have those of my loved ones. I have lost a few dear people in my life, and the idea of losing anymore leaves me with insurmountable dread and preemptive grief. I even cling to my little cats as surrogate children and wonder how I will ever be able to let them go when the time comes. For the most part, I choose to bury my head in the sand and not contemplate this particular inevitability of life. How could I function if I did not?
I have recently been confronted with reality, though somewhat remotely. My brother’s father-in-law (Rebekah’s father) has been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, sending Matt and Rebekah into a tailspin. I received the news last night and seem to have finally digested it after reading my brother’s blog post this morning. I have met my brother’s father-in-law, Merlyn, a couple of times and found him to be a nice man, however, my knowledge of him ends there. And yet, reading my brother’s blog this morning has left me devastated. As I tried to leave a comment, something to let him know how deeply sorry I was, I could not find adequate words. I feel helpless to lend comfort or a solution….anything. I think this is why most of us fear death the way we do. Even the most laid-back of us likes to be in control of our lives to some extent, whether we realize it or not and dying is one of the few aspects we exert no control over.
At this point, I can only express my regret that Matt and Rebekah must face the grief that has found them. One of my heroes, a college professor that was truly compassionate and wise, often told me that “We live in hope”, and I will leave the post at that thought.

To Office Depot: A Diatribe in the Key of Annoyed

Photodork — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 20:21:17 +0000

So…I have been teaching Digital Photography for the last 3 months without an actual photo printer. Apparently, even though a veteran teacher who got the digital photo program approved at our school and also teaches two sections of the class could be working on the project of researching and purchasing printers, it is my job. I’m not bitter, per se, just slightly exasperated that this task fell to me as a first year teacher. Anyhow, I have been too swamped to really address the issue all semester, and finally got the process started last week. I talked to the nice lady in the front office who controls all the money (as far as I’m concerned, anyway) and she said I just needed to bring her an invoice that stated exactly how much the printer/supplies would be and the school would cut me a check. Sounded simple enough.
So today, like the dutiful little employee that I am, I used the first day of my Thanksgiving Break to go get said invoice from Office Depot. I brought the little slip with all the printer’s information to the front of the store, explained the situation to them, and politely asked them to create an invoice for me. I wanted two items: the printer and a media cart to put it on. The poor guy at the front of the store looked panicked and then radioed for help. Along comes Mr. Crabby Manager to help Dylan and I in our quest. He made it immediately clear how inconvenient our request was, and impatiently strode to the back of the store to get a price on the cabinet I had requested (seriously, I had to jog to keep up with him). Then he abruptly tells Dylan and I that he’ll be back and leaves us there.
5 minutes pass…and Mr. Jerk Face appears at the front of the store next to a slightly more competent clerk. He rattles off a lengthy set of instructions to her that involves returning the printer and cart, then reselling them, making a copy of the receipt and marking that invoice. Really, really now? He couldn’t have just created something in Word during those 5 minutes he disappeared? This didn’t have to be all that official. The school just needed something to prove the price. So, the slightly more competent clerk…we’ll call her Bertha, starts trying to help us. Meanwhile the guy standing next to her (the employee who panicked at the beginning of the story) can’t figure out how to do an exchange for another customer. Now we have the Mr. Bad Customer Service Manager stalking back and forth between the two clerks barking directions, and finally Bertha just completely abandons us to help the new kid..who we’ll call Biff from here on out.
And there’s a line. This goes on for 10 minutes. Evidently, answering the phones is more important than helping a customer standing right in front of you, helping another employee also takes precedence. To top it all off, Bertha is asking Dylan and I questions about what she’s supposed to do.
Then just when it looked like we might get out of there by the end of the week, we hit the road block. I needed my invoice to reflect tax-exempt prices, because after all, I work for a school, and this is for the kiddies. I explained that I did not bring the tax-exempt certificate with me today, but that I knew I needed to present it at the time of purchase, and was more than willing to do so. I had obviously offended Bertha at this point though, because she snottily replied that that would not work, Office Depot didn’t operate that way. I HAD to be set up in their system. We gave them the district name and phone number and Bertha and Mr. Creep-o Maximus when over to another computer to try and look the school district up.
After another 7 minutes had passed, Dylan went over to tell them to nevermind…we were pretty fed up at this point. When he reached Bertha andMr. Fonzanoon they informed him that they were going to have to ring everything up with taxes because they couldn’t get into their system to find out if my school district was in it. Dylan told them that we would go elsewhere and they just blew him off. No “Sorry we’re completely incompetent and can’t tell our butts from our heads”, no “Hey, our bad, we just lack both the intelligence and courtesy to do our job well”. Nothing.
It was truly a ridiculous experience, so I decided that I would report the situation to Office Depot through their website. It worked with our drycleaners, and I thought that the incident warranted some kind of attention. But…lo and behold, Office Depot doesn’t have that feature on their website. From a few minutes of web research it appears that they have a Complaint Phone Line that is absolutely worthless. Thus, I have now unleashed my irritation on my blog. I doubt that I will ever give Office Depot my business again. I wouldn’t have minded them not being able to help me, but they made me feel like such a pest and were just so darn incompetent that I can’t justify supporting them any longer, despite my unnatural fondness for school supplies.

My First Year Teaching: A Cautionary Tale

Photodork — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 00:19:53 +0000

You might be wondering why I haven’t updated my blog…or you might not be, given that I don’t have a very good track record as a blogger. In any case, there really is a good excuse this time: I’ve been up to my eyeballs in work. I landed a teaching position last May, and was quite excited about it. The school has fantastic facilities and is in a rural area, both of which are attractive qualities as far as I am concerned. I was also lucky enough to be assigned classes that fit my skills and interests: Art I, Digital Photography and Art Appreciation.
I took a class in Digital Photography over the summer to get some professional training, since everything I’d learned had been trial by fire, and I fully intended to get a ton of planning done this summer so I could have an organized, well-ordered first year (for those of you who have forgotten that I am slightly OCD, here’s your reminder). Ahhh…but the best laid plans of mice and men go oft awry. And oh, how mine went awry. I discovered, despite my affinity for plans and schedules, that it is nearly impossible to plan for something you have very little information about. While the school district I teach in is very warm and caring, they aren’t always on top of passing along the crucial info. For instance, my digital photo class is a year long course. When did I find this out? On the first day when one of my students told me there was a mistake on my syllabus. Awe-some. And who knew that Art Appreciation had a sequel class Spring Semester? It sure as hell wasn’t me. So I started the year in a jumble of panic and a state of complete lack of preparation. I didn’t even know when I was supposed to be there in the morning until two days before the start of term. Not the way I generally roll.
While it did not take me long to adjust to the everyday grind, I have to admit that student teaching did not prepare me at all for what I am facing this year. Classroom management was a very small issue last year, but that was probably because I was under the wing of a veteran teacher who had established himself with the students. Even when he wasn’t in direct control of the class, or even in the room, I have come to realize that the kids knew who they would be dealing with should they step out of line. Plus, I had someone telling me what to do each day and reading the mountainous volume of emails that constantly streams in. So, even though I would like to report that I love my job and am an awesome teacher, it would be a lie…or at least a stretching of the truth. There are so many days when I wonder what the hell got into me. Why didn’t I just go get a nice job in art restoration or as a curator and live out the rest of my days in peace? This is not to say that I hate my job either, though. Some days are better than others, and occasionally, I feel like maybe I am getting somewhere. From what I understand, the first year is supposed to be wretched…so I am right on par. I’ll try to take comfort in that as I spend a good chunk of my Thanksgiving break working.

Welcome to Munchkinland

Photodork — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 23:02:18 +0000

Today was my first day of student teaching at the elementary school. It was a much more proper first day because I had never attended this school, unlike my first placement, so I got to experience the uncertainty and bewilderment that most of my fellow student teachers did with their first placement.
Overall, I am surprised to report that it went pretty well. I didn’t expect it to be a bad deal or anything, I just wasn’t looking forward to it the way I was my high school experience. I have always been really uncomfortable around little kids, maybe because I was kind of the baby of my family (I could explain the kind of part, but trust me, it is a little complex for 5:00 on a Monday). Plus, I did not have any real great art experiences of my own from elementary school to draw upon and comfort me. The only thing I can actually remember is being yelled at for not coloring my Santa and his reindeer scene neatly. Bad flashbacks aside, I was relieved to have a good time today.
I am placed at a rural elementary school, which is a change from my first placement. And…bonus! All the kids are shorter than me (so far anyway). I’ll admit there are a couple who are giving me a run for my money in the height department, but it is an astonishing change from the high school age crowd. Though I don’t get to talk incessantly about photography, I can do the art that these kids are doing. I am not a master painter or illustrator, but I can take the kindergarteners in this area any day (little boost for the old self esteem, eh?). Plus, the kids are much more accepting. I got three hugs today, and all of the kids were willing to talk to me and show me their work. It makes me wonder what happens to these kids by the time they get to high school to make them so selfconscious and reluctant to ask for help. I am sure it is a symptom of their developmental stage, but it was nice to not have to pry the work out of the kids’ hands to see what was going on.
One area that has not changed is the pace of the classes. Even though I am at the elementary level, I am a specials teacher so there is a constant stream of classes in and out of the room. We saw six classes, one from each grade level, for fifty minute chunks with five minutes of prep time in between. Insanity. The funny thing was I was startled each time my cooperating teacher just started the class without waiting for the bell…until I remembered that there are no bells in elementary school, between classes anyway. You don’t have to take attendance each time either…weird! It strikes me as odd that the administrative differences feel so strange to me. Apparently it doesn’t take long to settle into a routine and grow accustomed to certain procedures. I will keep meeting new kids until Friday, when I will have the same kids that I met today again. It makes me happy that these kids get art each week, sometime twice. I don’t remember that being the schedule when I was in school.
So for now, I am exhausted at the end of my first day, and much more hopeful about the remainder of my seven weeks.

Sarah, Redeemed

Photodork — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 23:07:20 +0000

After our last attempt at painting, what I shall now refer to as the lemon atrocity, my confidence was shaken. Although Dylan and I ran around the entire house with the t-shirt of power (a $5 purchase at target that was a warm caramel color) making sure that the color would jive with everything else in our house, I was still not convinced that we were on track. This did not stop Dylan and I from buying another 5 gallon bucket of paint, however, and diving right back into the painting scene (well, something had to be done about the yellow…the cats were going blind). I am pleased to say, after 5.5 days of painting the new color looks great. I have redeemed myself for the lemon atrocity incident and am now the happy inhabitant of a cozy living area. One problem: the color reminds me of peanut butter and with the chocolate brown den I find myself craving Reese’s on a fairly regular basis.
Also new to the house: a baby chandelier that Dylan and I found at Lowe’s while picking up supplies, etc. We even managed to install it ourselves with no casualties. It hangs over our eating table (I don’t really know what else to call it…it isn’t in the kitchen and we don’t have a dining room) and is pretty. It also hangs high enough to prevent Dylan from bumping his head on it, a weekly occurrence with the old fixture.
Next on the agenda: wood floors. We ordered them early last week and were expecting them yesterday, but were informed today that they will not be in until Friday or Monday. We are bummed; we were hoping to at least start installing them during my break, but I am sure all will work out. We don’t have many visitors, so it won’t be a huge deal if our floors are in limbo for a few weeks. I think we are just excited to get started and see the transformation on our compartment. I am particularly excited to get rid of the carpet and the lovely gift of cat pee that Thomas has bestowed upon said carpet. More updates to come on the flooring adventure, as well as my return to the world of student teaching.