I love you, I do. You do important work and you make a difference.
But can you please please please just admit how good you've got it rather than going into full howl?
At a party recently, a teacher friend of mine lamented loud and long about being bullied by the province over teacher contracts and the right to strike. She also told the story of how one of the four year olds in her junior kindergarten asked her to check his little backside after he used the loo.
After about 20 years on the job, I estimate she gets paid just under a hundred thousand dollars for ten months in the classroom each year.
Would you wipe a kid's bum for 95K?
A couple of years ago I estimate my lovely friend was paid about $70,000 during an entire year off work because of an arrangement called 4 for 5. She took a 20% pay cut for four years, the school board held on to the money and during that whole year off, she was paid the reduced salary. She spent half the year travelling the world and got paid the whole year with benefits. At the end of it, her job was waiting for her.
When was the last time you had a paid year off?
A cousin of mine has been a high school teacher for more than 20 years, and she tells me she has somewhere around 350 sick days 'banked'. When she retires at the age of 55 with a pension of about $60,000 a year, she will not actually 'retire' for the first year. She'll be at home, being paid nearly a hundred thousand dollars while she 'uses up' those days.
Is this how things work at your house?
Damn, I wish I'd gotten in to teachers' college.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Les Miss
I'm getting ready for a Christmas with a difference. With a lot of differences, actually, after my plans for cuddling cute children over an extended holiday were scuttled with an unhappy twist.
At one point this summer, I had a count-down underway until the day my brother, sister in law, and their three kids would travel home to Canada for a month-long visit. They moved to Brisbane in March, and while Skype and phone calls and videochats and email are all well and good, a 15 hour time difference is unwieldy and I miss them pretty badly. They sold their house when they moved, so my plans included sleepovers at my house for at least a few nights, and a few at my Mom's, too, where the kids would likely spend at least some of the holiday.
In late September, we got the news they weren't coming home after all, for a range of very reasonable reasons.
And so, I have no moppets to spoil, play with or tease. No one to take shopping or whose secrets to hear, no little people to tickle or whose hair to braid.
My nieces are 5 and 11, my nephew 9, so they're at a great age to be friends with, too, but since my sweetheart and I simply can't afford a trip to Australia just now, we will have to 'make do'.
We'll also have to talk to my mom via Skype, since she is taking an extended trip to be with the dear little ones. She will be with them for several weeks, which means lots of lovely memories being made in Australia, but no Mommy for me. Her absence and theirs reduces my family Christmas circle to my sweetheart, a brother who lives three hours away and my inlaws. Oh, and of course, our beloved dog, who tends to eat the presents.
This may not altogether be a bad thing. Sweetie and I have complained loud and long about the vast pile of events we are faced with every year. It has seemed to us that we were on a "dead giddyup" most of December, with extended family gatherings, office parties, the party we host for our friends and all the family 'things' we simply can't miss between Christmas Eve and the 27th. Most years, we have had trouble finding time for just the two of us. This year, we'll find out how much 'just us' we're interested in.
We are still attending our office parties and hosting a party for our friends, but Sweetie's extended family has decided not to have a get-together this year. We will go to church on Christmas Eve and afterwards have drinks and snacks with Sweetie's siblings and mother, but we won't have Christmas Eve Tourtiere with my parents beforehand.
We are still having a traditional Christmas dinner with Sweetie's family, but we're not having Christmas morning at his mom's house or Christmas Day brunch at mine.
On the 26th, which has long been the traditional Christmas dinner for my first family, we'll be completely our own.
The number of events has been reduced by about half, and while not being in the presence of my moppets might well make me miserable, having the chance to see Les Miserables on Boxing Day might just make things a little happier chez nous.
At one point this summer, I had a count-down underway until the day my brother, sister in law, and their three kids would travel home to Canada for a month-long visit. They moved to Brisbane in March, and while Skype and phone calls and videochats and email are all well and good, a 15 hour time difference is unwieldy and I miss them pretty badly. They sold their house when they moved, so my plans included sleepovers at my house for at least a few nights, and a few at my Mom's, too, where the kids would likely spend at least some of the holiday.
In late September, we got the news they weren't coming home after all, for a range of very reasonable reasons.
And so, I have no moppets to spoil, play with or tease. No one to take shopping or whose secrets to hear, no little people to tickle or whose hair to braid.
My nieces are 5 and 11, my nephew 9, so they're at a great age to be friends with, too, but since my sweetheart and I simply can't afford a trip to Australia just now, we will have to 'make do'.
We'll also have to talk to my mom via Skype, since she is taking an extended trip to be with the dear little ones. She will be with them for several weeks, which means lots of lovely memories being made in Australia, but no Mommy for me. Her absence and theirs reduces my family Christmas circle to my sweetheart, a brother who lives three hours away and my inlaws. Oh, and of course, our beloved dog, who tends to eat the presents.
This may not altogether be a bad thing. Sweetie and I have complained loud and long about the vast pile of events we are faced with every year. It has seemed to us that we were on a "dead giddyup" most of December, with extended family gatherings, office parties, the party we host for our friends and all the family 'things' we simply can't miss between Christmas Eve and the 27th. Most years, we have had trouble finding time for just the two of us. This year, we'll find out how much 'just us' we're interested in.
We are still attending our office parties and hosting a party for our friends, but Sweetie's extended family has decided not to have a get-together this year. We will go to church on Christmas Eve and afterwards have drinks and snacks with Sweetie's siblings and mother, but we won't have Christmas Eve Tourtiere with my parents beforehand.
We are still having a traditional Christmas dinner with Sweetie's family, but we're not having Christmas morning at his mom's house or Christmas Day brunch at mine.
On the 26th, which has long been the traditional Christmas dinner for my first family, we'll be completely our own.
The number of events has been reduced by about half, and while not being in the presence of my moppets might well make me miserable, having the chance to see Les Miserables on Boxing Day might just make things a little happier chez nous.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Just Because You CAN
I had a tough time with my outfit for the office Christmas party this weekend, but after throwing several heaps of dresses and skirts around, I finally figured it out, with the help of my sweetheart.
I wanted to go full-on Christmas with a lovely vintage plaid taffeta ankle-length skirt, complete with a three-inch black velvet band around the bottom. I paired it with a brand-new black cashmere sweater and thought I was ready to go, with just the right blend of vintage and new, formal and casual, only one hole in my pantyhose and my great big fake eyelashes glued firmly in place.
But I wasn't allowed out of the house. My sweetheart said in a tone women usually reserve for men, "Is that what you're wearing?"
Oh, that one's never a good phrase to hear. It's never a question, it's a judgement. And not an aquittal.
"It's Christmassy!" came my plaintive reply.
"Which Christmas?"
"Well, my mom made this for me." (maybe the Mom card would get me some leeway.) "It was before we met, but after I could get served, so sometime between 1984 and 1986. Hey, I wore this to a Junior Farmer Christmas Formal! Can you believe it still fits?" (looking for leeway with my newly trim figure...)
"Honey, just because you CAN wear something doesn't mean you SHOULD. Where's the sticky-outy thing that goes under it to poof it out?"
His reference to a crinoline sealed the skirt's fate. I guess 'old' and 'vintage' might be different things, but I'm not yet sure just how.
"Fine. Maybe I'll cut it up to use in a quilt..." I sighed.
"Not one that I'm sleeping under!" was Sweetie's quick reply.
In the end, I went with a little red wool number I wore to my friend Stephanie's wedding three summers ago. It's two sizes too big, but at least it's from this century, and even this decade.
I can't say the same for the lamp shade I had on later in the night, but that's another story.
I wanted to go full-on Christmas with a lovely vintage plaid taffeta ankle-length skirt, complete with a three-inch black velvet band around the bottom. I paired it with a brand-new black cashmere sweater and thought I was ready to go, with just the right blend of vintage and new, formal and casual, only one hole in my pantyhose and my great big fake eyelashes glued firmly in place.
But I wasn't allowed out of the house. My sweetheart said in a tone women usually reserve for men, "Is that what you're wearing?"
Oh, that one's never a good phrase to hear. It's never a question, it's a judgement. And not an aquittal.
"It's Christmassy!" came my plaintive reply.
"Which Christmas?"
"Well, my mom made this for me." (maybe the Mom card would get me some leeway.) "It was before we met, but after I could get served, so sometime between 1984 and 1986. Hey, I wore this to a Junior Farmer Christmas Formal! Can you believe it still fits?" (looking for leeway with my newly trim figure...)
"Honey, just because you CAN wear something doesn't mean you SHOULD. Where's the sticky-outy thing that goes under it to poof it out?"
His reference to a crinoline sealed the skirt's fate. I guess 'old' and 'vintage' might be different things, but I'm not yet sure just how.
"Fine. Maybe I'll cut it up to use in a quilt..." I sighed.
"Not one that I'm sleeping under!" was Sweetie's quick reply.
In the end, I went with a little red wool number I wore to my friend Stephanie's wedding three summers ago. It's two sizes too big, but at least it's from this century, and even this decade.
I can't say the same for the lamp shade I had on later in the night, but that's another story.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Review: Twilight Finale II
Best. Husbands. In. The. World.
You know who you are, the ones who were oh-so-patiently sitting in the theatre this weekend, listening to the under-breath screams of delight from spouses deep in the thrall of the finale of Twilight.
It was for you they put in the big fight scene.
I was wondering how and why the trailers for the final movie in the series all featured this big fight, when there is no fight in the book at all. There was only Bella with her shield and a staring-down across a snowy field.
What gives?
But I get it now, and I have to say, kudos to you, movie makers, for such a well-thought out play on my emotions. I thought I was there to see a book I really enjoyed, acted out, but you gave me so much more. It was well worth the price of admission and the bellyache from the popcorn.
Skyfall was 'beyond belief' good and next up in my season of awesome movies: Les Miserables opens on Christmas Day.
You know who you are, the ones who were oh-so-patiently sitting in the theatre this weekend, listening to the under-breath screams of delight from spouses deep in the thrall of the finale of Twilight.
It was for you they put in the big fight scene.
I was wondering how and why the trailers for the final movie in the series all featured this big fight, when there is no fight in the book at all. There was only Bella with her shield and a staring-down across a snowy field.
What gives?
But I get it now, and I have to say, kudos to you, movie makers, for such a well-thought out play on my emotions. I thought I was there to see a book I really enjoyed, acted out, but you gave me so much more. It was well worth the price of admission and the bellyache from the popcorn.
Skyfall was 'beyond belief' good and next up in my season of awesome movies: Les Miserables opens on Christmas Day.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Review: Skyfall
I can't stop gushing about the latest Bond movie. It was just about everything I wanted to see, including, you know, a plot.
Let's not kid ourselves, there have been a few of the 23 movies in the Bond franchise over the last fifty years that were a little bit, shall we say, um, thin, in the plot department. Oh, they blow stuff up real good, but I have often been disappointed when it comes to character development and believability
Not this time.
There's still lots of blowing up stuff and the requisite great car chases, but there's also a plot that can be followed, and dare I say, sensitivity in this particular Bond, plus a little bit of back story not only for Bond, but also for the arch-villain.
I didn't think Daniel Craig was good-looking or suave enough for the part the first time I saw him, but he is rapidly becoming my favourite of the boys who have taken on the iconic character, in spite of the fact that he holds his arms funny when he runs.
My very favourite piece of this movie (and I'm not giving anything away): the Moneypenny reference. Perfect.
Let's not kid ourselves, there have been a few of the 23 movies in the Bond franchise over the last fifty years that were a little bit, shall we say, um, thin, in the plot department. Oh, they blow stuff up real good, but I have often been disappointed when it comes to character development and believability
Not this time.
There's still lots of blowing up stuff and the requisite great car chases, but there's also a plot that can be followed, and dare I say, sensitivity in this particular Bond, plus a little bit of back story not only for Bond, but also for the arch-villain.
I didn't think Daniel Craig was good-looking or suave enough for the part the first time I saw him, but he is rapidly becoming my favourite of the boys who have taken on the iconic character, in spite of the fact that he holds his arms funny when he runs.
My very favourite piece of this movie (and I'm not giving anything away): the Moneypenny reference. Perfect.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Random Kindness
I still have the bumper sticker I bought during my 'peace love and grooviness moonbeam mother earth save the whales birkenstock' years.
It's in a towel drawer in the bathroom, which is indeed a random place to store a bumper sticker, I know. Somehow randomness is appropriate for a sticker that reads, "Practice random kindness perform senseless acts of beauty".
I didn't put the sticker on my bumper because when I proudly showed it to a co-worker way back then, his response was, "Why not -consistent- kindness?" and since then, his voice asking that question is all I can hear when I look at the damn thing.
I still support the idea, but I think the groovy attitude it expresses would have to change if it were being handed out today.
It would more likely read, "Practice random kindness and be sure to post about it on facebook."
It's in a towel drawer in the bathroom, which is indeed a random place to store a bumper sticker, I know. Somehow randomness is appropriate for a sticker that reads, "Practice random kindness perform senseless acts of beauty".
I didn't put the sticker on my bumper because when I proudly showed it to a co-worker way back then, his response was, "Why not -consistent- kindness?" and since then, his voice asking that question is all I can hear when I look at the damn thing.
I still support the idea, but I think the groovy attitude it expresses would have to change if it were being handed out today.
It would more likely read, "Practice random kindness and be sure to post about it on facebook."
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Codes in our Dozes
I have to brag about my perfect day on the trail:
--blissful sunshine pouring down onto decaying leaves and brush along the trail toward Poplar Sideroad
--no one at all on the trail past the river, so doggie could run free to sniff and seek out all the good smells and critters
--just the right amount of clothing for the temperature and my exertion, so I was Goldilocks; neither too warm or too cold, but just right
--a new and fun acquaintance, whose equally lovely dog neither attacked nor ran from my pooch
--the whole time, the unmistakable scent of the leaves and the sunshine and a feeling of luckiness to have an hour to walk such a rare and perfect late-fall day.
It was just great.
And then, as my sweetie and I made our dinner:
--a tickle at the back of the throat.
--a shiver.
--a sniffle.
--a sneeze.
By 7 o'clock, my itchy, watery eyes and stuffed up nose were alternately shivering and sweating under the covers with my equally-afflicted darling.
Today, the only scent I can enjoy is VapoRub.
--blissful sunshine pouring down onto decaying leaves and brush along the trail toward Poplar Sideroad
--no one at all on the trail past the river, so doggie could run free to sniff and seek out all the good smells and critters
--just the right amount of clothing for the temperature and my exertion, so I was Goldilocks; neither too warm or too cold, but just right
--a new and fun acquaintance, whose equally lovely dog neither attacked nor ran from my pooch
--the whole time, the unmistakable scent of the leaves and the sunshine and a feeling of luckiness to have an hour to walk such a rare and perfect late-fall day.
It was just great.
And then, as my sweetie and I made our dinner:
--a tickle at the back of the throat.
--a shiver.
--a sniffle.
--a sneeze.
By 7 o'clock, my itchy, watery eyes and stuffed up nose were alternately shivering and sweating under the covers with my equally-afflicted darling.
Today, the only scent I can enjoy is VapoRub.
They can Keep it
Don't get me wrong- I'm a big fan of snow.
Is there anything better in this world than a big fat flakes drifting quietly down on a crystal clear night as you pull your touque down a little tighter on the way home from a friend's house on Christmas Eve? I think not.
But I'm not ready. Not yet.
I've been busy doing pretty much anything but getting the yard ready for its big sleep.
Oh, I own the bags for the leaves and I own a rake, and I certainly have my fair share of leaves, but no matter how many times I look at the leaves and wonder where I put the rake and ponder the pile of bags, they can't seem to get together.
I know the hoses need to be coiled and the outdoor furnitue needs to go into the shed, and the flat tire on the snowblower needs to be inflated and the potted plants need to come into the house. I know the dahlia bulbs need to be dug up and the tulip bulbs need to be dug in, but I just can't seem to find the time.
I'm curling, teaching piano lessons, getting my hair done and sitting on my tush reading facebook.
So, I've decided. The snow will simply have to wait this year.
I will allow some on Christmas Eve, but the folks up at Blue Mountain will just have to make their own.
So far, it's working, and we have a 14 degree day on the way for the weekend.
But with a foot of snow on the ground in Edmonton, I may have to reassess my powers of persuasion with Mother Nature.
Just not yet, please, I'm not ready!
Is there anything better in this world than a big fat flakes drifting quietly down on a crystal clear night as you pull your touque down a little tighter on the way home from a friend's house on Christmas Eve? I think not.
But I'm not ready. Not yet.
I've been busy doing pretty much anything but getting the yard ready for its big sleep.
Oh, I own the bags for the leaves and I own a rake, and I certainly have my fair share of leaves, but no matter how many times I look at the leaves and wonder where I put the rake and ponder the pile of bags, they can't seem to get together.
I know the hoses need to be coiled and the outdoor furnitue needs to go into the shed, and the flat tire on the snowblower needs to be inflated and the potted plants need to come into the house. I know the dahlia bulbs need to be dug up and the tulip bulbs need to be dug in, but I just can't seem to find the time.
I'm curling, teaching piano lessons, getting my hair done and sitting on my tush reading facebook.
So, I've decided. The snow will simply have to wait this year.
I will allow some on Christmas Eve, but the folks up at Blue Mountain will just have to make their own.
So far, it's working, and we have a 14 degree day on the way for the weekend.
But with a foot of snow on the ground in Edmonton, I may have to reassess my powers of persuasion with Mother Nature.
Just not yet, please, I'm not ready!
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