The Little Guy

The little guy's a big guy, but relative to me he's just a little guy. He's a little guy with a big heart, loads of energy and a curious streak that will eventually kill four cats. He rarely raises his hand to speak, but never does anything actually wrong. He's just a little guy with a big heart and outweighs his classmates by 15 lbs.

That's a lot when your seven.

One day I pulled him out of the class because of a bump he had with another kid. Essentially the other kid bounced off the little guy when turned around.

Buddy I said to him you're bigger. You need to watch yourself.

I know, Mr Birdley, but he pushed me first

I'm not upset about who-pushed-who-first, you're bigger than them. You need to be careful. Even when you're playing, you can do dammage.

Ah, I (stretches out the "I") see Mr Bird, it's b'cause I'm bigger.

Then, just yesterday, the little guy became one of my line leaders. Which means he's leading the pack down the stairs while the pre-first kids are coming up the stairs and, just like all little kids whose shoes are the most interesting thing in the world, the smaller guy wasn't looking up and didn't see the soft wall he ran into at the first landing.

uh-oh, I thought.

I could see the situation playing out in the Little Guys head - he was the bigger vessel and this smaller guy was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Then I counted them ... one .. two .. three .. .. three chest bumps. The Little guy was trying to bounce them smaller guy off his chest.

I'm going to have one child with a cracked head, and another one that's still going to think the little guy was in the wrong place.


This little guy reminds me so much of another Big Guy I know.

an image

Tears and Little Eyes

It was the first day. My plan had basically been done for me, there are some veteran staff here that go above and beyond helping.

But 45 minutes to set up their agenda and copy homework? You can't be serious.

She was.

This is something that I've just come to accept over the past five days. These little things that I don't remember learning will take a long time to become so routine that they can do them with out prompting.

For now the last period of the day is a lot of

"Take out your agendas and write down today's date"

"Can everyone take out their agenda"

"John, can you take out your agenda"

"Hands up if you have the date written down"

"Julie, take out your agenda"

"Hands up if you have your agenda out. Hands up if you have your agenda here today. Hands up if you can hear me. Hands up if you're listening. Hands up if your hand is down. Hands on your nose, on your chin, on you head, on your desk, on your nose."

Those last few keep me sane.

There's a tug at my side, little eyes looking up. "Mr. Bird, I don't have my agenda with me." Of course you don't. "Can you check your bag again, please?" Little Eyes look back at me as if to say I've checked my bag, stupid. It's not there. It isn't here today. What the heck do you want me to do.

Instead of saying those things, though, mostly because she's a language learner and doesn't know how, she walks away and I go back to the other 48 little eyes that are wondering what they are supposed to do with their hands on their noses.

my goodness they listen well at the most odd times

Over the next 28 minutes we manage to get the date written and 2 of 3 points on the homework list. This is when my boss walks in. She's here to check on the little one who has been having a rough day. This rough day started with Mom dragging, unsuccessfully, her into the classroom and Dad, unsuccessfully, shoving her into the classroom; both ending, obviously, in tears.

She was still coming in and out of tears.

I scan the classroom and notice, at the same time as my boss, the Little Eyes with her head on her desk.

son. of. a. crap.

"Is she crying?" my boss mouths to me, with more concern than anything else. I shrug because I have no idea ... I'd only noticed half a second ago too.

My boss rubs her back to see what is the matter.

Nothing. No movement. Nothing.

Boss looks back at me, shakes the Little Eyes' shoulder.

Nothing.

Shakes a second time, and Little Eyes looks up groggily.

son. of. a. crap. She'd fallen asleep. I didn't help her find her agenda, or give her a blank sheet of paper, and she'd fallen asleep. And my boss had seen it before I had.

The good news was that Tears was no longer in them and seemed to have made friends with the girls sitting to either side of her.

mental note: keep her there for as long as is necessary. feed children coffee at 1:30.

Happy "New Header" Day

This is my new header. It's not as family oriented as the last one, but it'll do for now. It's also not my artwork; I borrowed it from flickr and put my own text on top of it.

Thanks to the one who took the picture.

I'll get an image of my own up soon, I just have to take one. I haven't been taking many pictures, at least not ones that I'd like to use. J took one, and I have to dig it out of the digital depths that it was put in.

Hasta Luego,

Pájaro (pah-yaro)

Re: Useful info from The Weather Network

Thanks mom, the weather's pretty great. No rain yet, just a steady 23 or so. 

[PS - turns out today it's 35, but there's no humidity]

We're settled in the apartment, a few things need sorted out, like the shower head is terrible and the bathroom sink sprays water in every direction except down. 

The place we're in is a palace, regardless of the direction of the water. 12 foot ceilings, colourful walls, walking distance to a few great watering holes, an Internet place (where I am now sitting at with my phone) and a mart that exclusively sells walls (when I find out more about this I'll write again). 

The price of the Internet is 12 pesos which is actually the cost of the pop which is funny to the American sitting next to me because to her it's a soda. 

For now, that's all the stories I have to share now - save for the wobbly luggage wheel, the 18 hr travel day and the security guard who was giving my hair tips - but those can wait for another day. 

Adios, mi amigos!

Written with the help of a thousand monkeys

On 2012-08-06, at 10:22 AM, momma_bird@hotmail.com wrote:

August 06, 2012 You might find this information from The Weather Network useful. http://www.theweathernetwork.com/ mom

A Holiday

(I found this in my drafts folder)





Lightly tapping on the table, Uncle Dude stares at his phone. Small
one was bursting with excitement and could hardly control herself
while he waited in line for a smoothy. It wasn't the smoothy she cared
about, in fact she hardly touched it when he brought it over. Mommy
was seated quietly next to small one looking rather disengaged, uncle
dude was tapping away on his phone.

"stop that" he said, "you'll get me sick." Small one looked just as
confused as you do right now - as she had no idea what she had done.

"he needs his space" she said in a way that redefines passivity.

"this is my cylinder", he said gesturing to his sphere.

Small one's expression might have resembled an emotion close to <I>
why did you just say cylinder<\I>, but since she didn't know what
cylinder meant she cocked her head to one side and smirked.

"yeah" small one smiled, "well this is my sillindinar", supporting my
theory completely.

Uncle Dude tapped tapped tapped on his phone some more and then
stopped. Small one had started to work on her smoothie again and mommy
had drifted off somewhere.

Uncle Douche stood up and said "mumble mumble", or something equally
unrelated and motioned for Small One and Disenchanted to follow him,
which they did. Small one skipped a bit until momma reached for her
hand to keep her grounded. Uncle dude walked several paces ahead of
the pair with his nose once more burried in his phone.

Merry Christmas kid, I sure hope your mom finds a less douchie dude by
next holiday season.

Arrivals and Departures

The flight into Calgary was followed by a five hour car ride. The four of us, BiL, Sister, Dog and I, piled into the truck and headed north.

Had you have asked me then if I thought I was going to tackle a bull calf to have it castrated I would have said there is a vas deference between that and how I'm going to be spending my weekend.

I would have been wrong.

I also wouldn't have figured I'd be fishing on a pontoon boat , let along catch 10 or so fish (two of which we end up catching, and one of those I'd get to gut myself).

There would be campfires and fireworks and lazy river rafting. There would be old traditions shared with new friends, and tradition setting fathers remembered. Younglings would sip beer and everyone would find it cute.

However that was what the weekend promised to contain, and we weren't to those places yet. We were stuck on the hwy, heading north stopping only for bathroom breaks every 40 mins and at the Canadian Tires we saw between the bathrooms.

Currently I'm seated on my flight home, and I hope to recount a few of the weekend's events. At least as much as I can.

(greg, it's just occurred to me that we didn't meet up last night. I hope you enjoy Stampede!)

In flight,

Bird








Written with the help of a thousand monkeys

Untitled, for now

It was going to begin with the tweet

"Lady behind me "hasn't been gambling in six months". I be her she won't last the flight."

But then I needed Some context.

I started writing

"at the airport. Let's get this party started. #therewillbenopartyattheairport"

Then I realized that I did t care enough to send it, so why would anyone on twitter care to read it. Or anyone at all. Save yourself, dear reader. By the way, thanks for stopping by.

I was listening to the lady behind me because I'm here four hours early because my loving gf wanted to make sure I arrived here, not wanting to leave anything to chance, two busses or a distractible, thirty-something.

That reminds me, I need to change the banner.

I'm glad you still showed up. You may have had trouble finding it since I laid to rest the dot 'ca' address. It my be occupied by a squatting robot by now, I hope it doesn't write better than I do. I'd hate it if my writing voice could be reproduced by an algorithm.

Currently I'm routed North of Edmonton, with a short layover in Calgary. The connecting flight, however, will be a car. The pilot's my brother-in-law and the in-flight meal will be granola bars and sandwiches and some sort of beverage.

I love travel.

Stay tuned for more western stories, as well as some teaser posts about my upcoming Mexican experience.

The trouble is

Dear Salutmaman,

The trouble is I am supposed to be either prepping for the class I'm about to teach, or studying Spanish for my lesson tonight.

Not writing.

Which I'd like to do, but shouldn't.

Perhaps soon. I just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you and writing here.

Hope you're well,

Bird

Written with the help of a thousand monkeys

A Grump

Today I'm a grump.

(A great way to break my hiatus, start out with a story about how I'm a grump today)

A time ago a man told me to "remember who you're grumpy at, Bird". This was after I had asked him why he was never grumpy. "Well Bird" he said, "you have to remember ..."

Then I smirked the way late teens smirk when they hear something they know is profound yet don't quite understand what is profound about it. That something may not be entirely, or specifically, profound at all, merely a neat observation, but I'd smirk all the same since it was the reaction I knew best and was quite good at it.

A guy at the site today said to me "Bird", he said "Bird, why are you so grumpy today. I like it when you come to site cause you're usually cheerie. Not today, today you're a grump."

"I am", I said, "I know. I'm trying not to be."

I'll fix my attitude right now. I'll write it down to get it out of my system, then post it two weeks later.