Archive for August, 2006

Pollito-Chicken Translations

I have enrolled in classes but my funding situation is still very uncertain. I may be teaching English for International Students if there is money in the budget to offer the course. I should find out shortly.

In the meanwhile I’m putting up flyers on campus (to start) for my services including: translation, editing, proofreading, and transcription. Tutoring may also be available for small groups in English or Spanish.

Anyone interested in my language services can contact me at
pollito_chicken_translations@yahoo.com.

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Maltrato a menores y Maltrato a lectores

Bueno, hoy leí el periódico. Advertencia de descarga. No entrar a este blog sin casco protector. **For my monolingual English readers, I considered making this a bilingual post but this is long enough already!**

Primero me encuentro con la portada de uno de los principales periódicos de la isla: El Nuevo Día. Si no viste el periódico hoy, imagínate que noticia merece estar en portada. Quizás la muerte de Jorge Farinacci quien sucumbió al tumor cerebral que batalló por ocho meses. No, pero quizás uno de los casos de los niños maltratados merezca portada, o la amenaza de huelga de la utier. No digo que el despelote del PNP porque ya eso ni lo registro hace años. El desempleo, el abuso fiscal sistemático del gobierno de Puerto Rico al bolsillo de los peleaos que somos la mayoría. No.

En portada hoy: “El difícil mundo de los ‘petites'” y en la portada par de tipos bajitos. No te hablo de condición clínica de salud sino pues, tipos que miden 4’11 o unos 5’2. Esa es la portada. Ya sé que me espera un banquete.

Llegué a la revista, usualmente es una de mis secciones preferidas. Busco la columna de Mayra Montero, escritora que generalmente disfruto. Hoy en realidad quedé más que decepcionada ofendida en tantos niveles que ya mismito explico.

Hoy su intervención llevaba por título “Gloria” y lleva por acápite lo siguiente:
“Hasta que los enseñen a leer, o sea, hasta que los enseñen a ser personas, creo que a estos brutos habría que disuadirlos de otro modo, con otras imágenes y en el lenguaje que ellos de verdad comprenden”

Hay que examinar esto poco a poco. Doña Mayra se refiere a dos sujetos, al hombre quien le disparó a su hijo de dos años, y a un hombre de Mayagüez, que dizque inspirado por ver al primer sujeto en la televisión. Estos y los demás maltratantes son los ‘brutos.’

Hago pausa para aspectos biográficos pues son relevantes. Primero debo confesarme adicta a la lectura y educadora apasionada. Luego debo añadir que como trabajadora social en el estado de Idaho tenía a mi cargo trabajar con casos de maltrato y negligencia de menores, educación familiar y reintegración (o sea cuando devuelven al hogar a niños que han sido removidos por problemas de maltrato y/o negligencia). Además estudio los medios de comunicación, y añado que soy pacifista. Ten en mente estos datos al seguir leyendo pues muestra cuantos niveles ha logrado ofender este articulo.

El que una persona no sepa leer, no lo hace menos persona. Ni lo hace intelectualmente o moralmente inferior. Hace su vida mucho mas difícil en muchos aspectos (no puede leer una receta, no puede leer los rótulos de las calles cuando existen, no pueden anotar una fecha en un calendario…) pero no los haces animales coño. Mi bisabuela (la mamá de crianza de mi madre) era analfabeta funcional. Apenas si leía pero tenía una habilidad legendaria en la familia para los números. En algunas sociedades aun hoy en día, no se practica la escritura. No son ni personas ni culturas inferiores, se trata de una destreza aislada.

Aparte de eso, los maltratantes son tan humanos como tú y como yo. Cualquiera que tenga niños propios o que haya cuidado los ajenos recuerda, si es sincero, en algún momento haber sentido que se le aprieta el puño por voluntad propia y que desea, por un instante, zamparle la bofetá al muchacho. Pero, nos controlamos. Respiramos profundo. Usamos las herramientas a nuestra disposición para recordar que la violencia no es buena.

Si se ha crecido en un ambiente en el cual la violencia ha sido normalizada, porque papi le pegaba a mami, o mami te pegaba a ti; porque tío y papi no se llevaban y en las fiestas de familia se fajaban, porque en el apartamento del lado le pegaron un tiro al que vendía droga, ya la violencia se ve como solución aceptable al problema.

Quede claro que no excuso al maltratante. No existe excusa para quien dispara a un niño (o cualquier ser humano a mi entender). Pero me preocupa lo cómodo que resulta distanciarnos de los hechos al quitarle su humanidad al tipo. Era un cabrón. Si. Pero un cabrón muy humano y muy persona. Si ha leído a Cervantes, a TeVe Guia, o los artículos de una Hustler importa poco. Muchos de los padres y madres maltratantes no saben otra manera de criar. Muchos de los padres y madres maltratantes aman a sus hijos, aunque los maltraten a la vez.

Lo otro que nos distancia de estos sujetos es cuando asumimos que solo los de clase baja maltratan. Eso es en las barriadas na’ más. En los caseríos. En mi urbanización con acceso controlado eso no pasa. Nadie esta inmune. Llegué a intervenir con maltratantes que eran diáconos en su iglesia, con médicos y abogados. Leían muy bien. Pero igual abusaban. No podemos hacerlo ver como solo un problema de la gente de grupo x. Es problema de todos. Y es problema de todos preocuparnos de que existan los recursos y los servicios para ayudar a esos niños sobrevivientes del maltrato, abuso sexual y negligencia. Ayudar a proveer recursos de ayuda para los maltratantes. Ayudar a proveer recursos para las mujeres en situaciones de violencia doméstica.

Si, porque aunque Mayra se pregunta que le vieron las mujeres a esos hombres, de nuevo asumimos mal. Ella declara que “le miraba la cara al tipo que cogió al hijo por el pañal y lo lanzó al suelo, y me preguntaba cómo puede una mujer embarazarse voluntariamente de semejante larva.” Luego dice “Que nadie venga a decirme que eran caballeros y luego cambiaron.” Pues sí Mayra. Hasta cierto punto, si. Ella lo mira en un acto de violencia y con toda la información a la mano. Los maltratantes lucen muy normales si te los encuentras en la calle. El tipo no anda siempre con el cañón afuera. En el trabajo se comporta como cualquier otro tipo. No tiene un tatuaje que lo distinga de los demás hombres. Y muchos de los hombres que maltratan niños también tienden a tener comportamiento violento en sus relaciones de pareja. O sea, violencia doméstica, que no es otra cosa que violencia en el hogar. La violencia conlleva toda una serie de comportamientos y patrones que resultan en la manipulación de la mujer. Es un fenómeno demasiado complejo para reducirlo a un enculpamiento de las madres.

Las imágenes no son un sistema inferior de comunicación como implica Mayra Montero al declarar que como no leen ni razonan “Lo poco que les llega, bastante fragmentado por cierto, les llega a través de las imágenes de la televisión.” Luego pasa a decir que “lo único que interiorizan es que un tipo en la televisión se ha hecho famoso porque acabó con el niño que no era suyo.” En realidad encuentro esa declaración cínica y no creo que ayude en nada al análisis o consideración del serio problema que semejante comportamiento representa. Son vidas humanas.

Finalmente, cierra el articulo con la sugerencia de que “los reciban en la cárcel a la manera tradicional, y que saboreen, por fin, la verdadera gloria.” ¡Por Dios! La violencia que implica esta sugerencia no hace mas que resaltar la culturas en la cual vivimos la cual normaliza e institucionaliza la violencia (¡no voy a hablar del PNP!)

La violencia contra cualquier ser humano es perniciosa. La violencia contra los niños es el síntoma más horrible de la crisis en la cual se encuentra nuestra sociedad. Los periodos de alto estrés son periodos de alto riesgo para los niños. Miren nada mas el estado de nuestra economía, la falta de recursos, la falta de servicios para las familias, la falta de ayuda para personas con problemas de salud mental y/o adicción, la falta de guarderías para emergencias, de hogares de crianza, de apoyo sistemático todo influye en el maltrato a menores.

Phone issues

My cellphone is busted 😦 so if you tried calling me, sorry. I can’t even retrieve my voicemail so I’m not ignoring anyone deliberately. I also don’t have hardly any phone numbers outside the damn little thing.

In the meanwhile, email works best or you can call me on my landline.

My agenda for the day:
Go to Estudios Graduados for a letter to the registrar telling them to enroll me.
Go to registrar and be told x is missing still.
Go to 6 or 7 different offices to get x.
Go back to registrar.
Cry and have a full on tantrum in the middle of the office.
Enroll in classes.

oh wait. That was yesterday. Yeah, I think I’ll do it again. Why else would I be up at 6:15 AM!

Appeal granted!

Nothing says “HELL Yeah!!!!” like a memo, in this case one from the Director of Graduate Studies to the Interim Director of the Department of English:

Date: Thu, 24 Aug 2006 15:11:39 -0400
Dear Dr. Virtanen (Interim Director Dept of English):

During today’s meeting, the Graduate Council granted Ms. Thea Leticia one year to complete her masters degree and Ms. xxxxxxxxxxxx a readmission effective January 2007. The Council asked me to point out to you that from the discussion of these two cases it became evident that, at least
in the past, your department has done a poor job of informing its graduate students about important regulations concerning graduate studies, such as how long they have to complete their degrees and how many readmissions they can request.

You may want to inform your professors that it is the duty of the academic adviser to keep his/her graduate students informed about university regulations and requirements to complete their degrees (3.a in
http://grad.uprm.edu/9721.htm#El%20Presidente). In addition, the department should have a person in charge of following the progress of all its graduate students, so that they are informed well in advance about important deadlines and regulations.

Our office will gladly help you establish an efficient system to keep track of your graduate students. We can also refer you to several large graduate programs that carefully track their student’s academic progress, and avoid problems such as the ones the Council had to deal with today.
Cordially,

Jose A. Mari Mutt
Director of Graduate Studies
University of Puerto Rico at Mayaguez

Yay Miss Universe????

Regularly scheduled programmes were interrupted today in order to go live to an important press conference in the Choliseo coliseum. The important press conference which somehow justified interrupting my soap opera about a priest who is friends with his first girlfriend and is going to marry her and her hubby who is also his friend but then suddenly her sister interrupts the wedding and tells everyone she is having sissie’s hubby to be’s baby! I know, how could you interrupt that! MAYBE for a natural disaster…

I actually wasn’t watching my soap because, don’t tell anyone but I was busy reading and I failed to do my junk tv duty on time. So, when I realize I’m missing my cutie priest soap I encounter a countdown till Zuleyka Rivera (current Miss Universe) comes back to the island. Because really, I give a fuck.

The first thing I hear as I watch this nefarious newscast is a promoter and Very Important Person earnestly stating that he feels that the planned reception and “Fiesta de Pueblo” is important to help restore the image of Puerto Rico. Because, recently we have been represented by horrible images. Having had the experience in his travels of seeing that we were being represented internationally by the images of people marching on the streets and breaking things in the capitol building he feels we need to erase those images from public view. The new images of receiving an emaciated and surgically enhanced beauty queen will help to restore the image of Puerto Rico. We will be seen proudly receiving a successful Puerto Rican and will be seen partying and happy again. No more restless natives. No more angry brown people. We will be happy because a Puerto Rican woman was declared officially Pretty in a purportedly international forum. Go us!

Then, some woman from the Department of Tourism went on to second the first guy’s words and declare that as part of the tourism industry and as a woman she felt complete pride in Zuleyka’s accomplishments. Yes, I too think that walking on a stage in Very High Heels reflects well on the struggle of women for equality, to be recognized as more than sexual objects, to have equal pay for equal positions, employment, health insurance and housing rights. Yup. Very High Heels. They are the key. Oh and mascara and the strength required to tolerate Vaseline on your teeth for that sparkly (chemically whitened) smile.

I am offended by these declarations. I am ashamed. I would rather be represented by people in acts of civil disobedience and protest for a disastrous and irresponsible budgetary crisis that left thousands without pay. I would rather be represented by strikes and by huge crowds defending our rights as a people than by a skinny teenager in Very High Heels. I would much prefer that we been seen by other nations as a politically involved people who fight for justice and not as the nation who has produced more Pretty Girls who can walk in Very High Heels (and wear heavy metal dresses although not without falling over and fainting on stage and denying eating discorders despite not having been suggested to have one). And our ability to party in the streets is cool but not something I am particularly invested in.

As a woman, I feel pained that we are still selling the beauty myth so aggressively and persistently. Never mind social justice, just make sure you are skinny and you can smile pretty.

I think Mayra Montero put it best when she wrote about her shock seeing the Lebanese representative on stage while her country was being ravaged by war: “Su país muriéndose y ella meneándose en tarima. Eso son los valores del Universo: el vacío, el egoísmo y la banalidad” (El Nuevo Día, La Revista 20 Julio 2006).

Last call

With my appeal scheduled for Thursday I feel like I’m wound way too tight. You know how your cat will be on your lap, purring and happy one moment but then you can feel their posture shift and their muscles tense when they are getting ready to leap, like they are gathering all the energy around them into their bodies so that they can tear across the room and hang from the curtains… yeah, that’s what I feel like. Except the human body is not that well adapted to spring. I’m working on it.

I’m trying to mentally rehearse all the possibilities and prepare to deal with the suspension being upheld. I can hardly even imagine that possibility: it really offends my sense of justice too much for me to fathom it. But, if it does happen then… what? That’s the question I’m struggling with.

I hardly dare to hope.

But I do hope.

So, if I know you, the next two days would be a good time to holla. If you landed here via a weird google search (the most common one being stretch marks, go figure!) and you read this far, then send me some positive energy as well.

Confessions of a Nerd

If you’ve followed the story of my suspension, it will come as no big surprise that I’m depressed. I’m really down in the dumps and I’m trying to cope.

Seeing as I’ve been making healthier choices, many of my tried and true dysfunctional coping strategies are out. Nicotine, alcohol and chocolate are all ruled out. I can’t resort to workaholism for obvious reasons. Of course I’m putting into practice healthier habits, like exercising (and contemplating a lawsuit against the cabrón that lied and said exercise worked better than medications to treat depression), writing, petting the whining dogs for stress relief… but I’ve recently discovered a source of comfort which I had not anticipated. Before you imagine naughty nerd confessions get your mind out of the gutter (or the dungeon).

In a fit of optimism (or delusion) I decided I’d work on some thesis research and spent a few hours downloading articles and reading policy legalese. I took notes, perused citations, looked up more articles… and guess what? I felt much better. Then I was looking up some other stuff, not school related but rather curiousity driven and BEHOLD, again, it was comforting.

Mind you, I am still wrestling with my fear and a mighty army of ‘what if’s but research really does make me feel better.

Which leads to me acceptance of the label pinned on me in 1st grade when I first walked in with glasses (I was so CUTE!) and which stuck since all the way through grad school. I’ve fought my inner NERD too long. I must embrace her. (No, it’s not the naughty part now either)

Even as a child, I think I understood pretty well what the label nerd meant. It meant Other. It was often coupled with weird, and ultimately it just drove home the point–you are not one of us. Nerds are not the majority. Such is life.

Even in College, where I naively thought people attended school to learn and grow and question, I have been constantly accused of caring too much, thinking too much and knowing too much. So, I shifted the focus to become more of a bohemian intellectual. But, ultimately, it’s the same shit. Maybe I wore cooler clothes but still, a nerd is a nerd. Whether I am at a poetry reading or at home under a desk light, fact is I’m a nerd.

I love reading. I love thinking about what I read, whether it be a potboiler I pick up in the grocery store line to distract myself, a goopy girly magazine, a textbook, one of the ‘classics’, or the advertisement on a flyer. I love to write. I enjoy writing papers. I actually like it. I enjoy doing research. I even enjoy such menial tasks as transcribing interviews. I like it. I still get the excitement I remember from kindergarten when I discover a pattern, read something clever, learn a new word. And, as logical extension I guess, I also love teaching and somehow trying to transmit the enthusiasm I feel.

I am never without a book. I am never without writing implements. Few things give me more joy than staying up all hours of the night with an entrancing book. I care about learning, I care very much about learning, whether in or out of the classroom. I invest time and energy into my schoolwork, not because of grades, but because of pride in my work, and because I care. This is also true of the work I’ve done in various fields. I face tasks with enthusiasm and commitment.

So, I guess I’m a nerd. Now that my academic career is in temporary flux, I take great comfort in that.

—-
Mandatory update: Are we there yet????

Sex Ed

I was watching the news yesterday and there was a short report on a new sex ed manual that has been purchased by the Department of Education. I searched, albeit not very thoroughly to see if I could find any more info on this story but was unable to but what they showed was laughable. [Update: I found a mention at El Nuevo Dia]

Apparently some teachers and some parents were up in arms over this manual which was intended to be used with children from age 6 (outrageous I know) to 12 or something like that. The outrage was because the manual adressed topics such as masturbation and contraception.

The reason I tried to look for more info was that while I was watching I couldn’t pay full attention–I was busy trying to find my calendar to check the year. Yes, it’s still 2006 and my suspension depression did not cause any major temporal lapses.

When I worked with preschoolers, part of the curriculum included learning about their bodies and there was also a section on ‘personal safety.’ These four year olds were taught that they had a penis or vagina respectively. I remember I came in from a meeting once and found a little boy inside while the rest of the children were outside on the playground. I asked him what happened and he somberly explained that he had wet his pants and came in to change cause he had a penis and he had to put pants on to cover his penis. All stated very earnestly. What do you say to that? Yes, honey. You do have a penis. Good job putting pants on. Now go play. LOL

The personal safety lessons involved teaching them that it isn’t bad to touch your ‘private parts’ as long as you are in a private place and that no one else should be touching your private parts. IT was geared to preventing sexual abuse and help children keep themselves safe and healthy. The drawings were cartoons and the stories were appropriate to children their age.

Now, back to the images of the manual under discussion. The illustrations were cartoons in full color. They showed a pregnant lady with children poking her belly and seeming to ask questions. They showed two figures in bed. And they showed little girls mooning over cartoon little boys. Nothing even remotely inappropriate from what they showed.

The news did a few of the pendejos on a streetcorner interviews to see what the word on the street is. The three interviews I saw were older gentlemen. They didn’t seem particularly outraged but the reporter’s questions seemed to guide them to express at least a bit of discomfort with fragile little minds being filled with visions of masturbatory bliss.

The assumptions this outrage is based on is very troubling to me.
We assume that children, prepubescent or post, are not sexual beings and don’t have sexual feelings.
We assume that sex is negative and bad (hence ‘innocent’ little children cannot be sexual)
We assume that sexual knowledge is dangerous–one of the objections was that they might start trying to do all this stuff they learn about.
We assume that sexual education is shameful or dirty and we should protect kids from it until the last possible minute (by which time some of them are pregnant already)
We also assume that sexual education is not part of health and self-care (and I didn’t mean the masturbation bit)
And we assume that sex should not be addressed by schools or social agencies and should only be addressed in the home.
We also assume that sexual abuse is not a daily reality for way too many children (one child is too many).

The manual didn’t even include sexual orientations. Imagine the uproar if someone suggested that some boys like to kiss other boys, some boys like to kiss boys AND girls, and some boys don’t like to kiss at all (asexuality is now being recognized as a sexual orientation). Add to it gender issues, some boys feel like girls on the inside, some girls hate dresses and that’s okay… and we have a revolution on our hands. Boys would be wearing skirts and girls would be playing sports and they’d be poking pregnant ladies in the bellies and masturbating in their bedrooms. The horror.

Mandatory Suspension update:

I was a bad, bad grrl… I went to school and learned somethin’ even though I wasn’t sposta. take that! 🙂

My friend the vampire

Back in the mid-nineties I worked at a telemarketing agency while I was going to NYU. I worked late at nights and I remember the account I was calling on was a Chevy Chase credit card. No, really. Needless to say I didn’t get any of the awards for sales although if they had instituted an award for the most people laughing at you before hanging up I may have had a shot.

Telemarketing seems to draw some of the most interesting characters I’ve known. I worked with a number of prostitutes. No, really. They turned tricks or ‘danced’ but they also kept telemarketing as their respectable job, don’t ask me why… I never quite understood.

I worked with the usual cast of frustrated and broke actors who were still looking for the perfect waiter job. Their jolly thespian voices could be heard booming over the headset as they addressed their audience of one with unbridled enthusiasm. Rejection junkies.

There was a smattering of students, mostly in useless areas of knowledge, you know the philosophy major, the art student, the English major… I think the angst held major appeal.

There were a fair number of transgendered people. That was one job where they didn’t have to deal with discrimination or with the mindfuck of reverting to their genetic gender in order to be employable. They were fun– they taught me the tricks to keep from going insane from boredom and we’d pass notes and dirty drawings while on the phone. Some of my tranny friends from this job went on to open their own telemarketing business where I worked for a while. But that’s a whole other story!

By far my favorite character, the one person who made me trudge to work was Lestat. If you are unfamiliar with Anne Rice then the reference was lost on you. Yes, this person’s name was Lestat. This person was a vampire. I am refering to this person in gender neutral terms because I was unable to unequivocally ascertain this person’s sex (trust me I tried). Lestat had nicely sharpened incisors before it was cool. Lestat had porcelain skin and black hair and gorgeous blue eyes. Lestat wore a cape to work. And lots of velvet. And jewlery. And makeup. And Lestat never ate. Lestat self-identified as a vampire.

I think the entire section I sat with had the hots for Lestat. Lestat would sometimes grace my friends and I with his/her presence over break or for the collective smoke break outside, which even those who didn’t smoke joined for the sheer proximity of such a being. Lestat’s smooth indiference only made her/him more attractive to all of us. Lestat’s subtle androgyny only added to the attraction and the curiosity. We had betting pools going on the gender issue.

Then one day Lestat stopped showing up. No one knew what happened to Lestat. Lestat had not crossed the work boundary to hang out, other than a few group outings to goth clubs. We lost our vampire!!! And we never found him/her again. We never settled the bets although debate and speculation continued.

Shortly after that I stopped working there. Call me crazy but it just wasn’t fun to work there without a vampire seated a row over.

Work ‘n’ Culture shock

I had never had to job hunt on the island. I was either recruited for summer jobs when I was younger or I did translating and editing jobs piecemeal, or I’ve worked in the University. That’s it. I’ve job hunted in the US but never here. It was frustrating watching Mag try and try and try to find work here and fail repeatedly. The system by which jobs are procured in the US does not work here.

In the US you buy your Sunday paper and you look at the classifieds and Monday at the butt crack of dawn you start faxing, calling and running around to try and occupy the desired position. Not so here. Classifieds are used sometimes for jobs in the San Juan area (3 hours away from us) but not even then. Instead, you hear about it from a friend. We get our jobs via chisme. So if you are lucky enough to know the right person, voila, you have a job.

I have started applying at many private schools here which don’t require a teaching license which I do not possess. Nevermind that I am doing a Master’s in English Education, the program is not conducive to certification. Go figure. Allow me to digress in order to explore one of those paradoxes which are along the lines of the 8 hotdogs to a pkg, 6 buns to a pkg order of magnitude:

1. Parents pay–often LOTS– to send their sweet little children to private school.
2. Private schools also receive government subsidies and grants and denomination sponsorship.
3. Private schools also get a cut of sales from books, uniforms, gym pants and notebooks with the school logo.
4. Private schools also get money from fundraisers, alumni, etc.

Then… how on earth is it possible that

Private schools pay UNDER $1000 per month in most cases??

Of course they have incredibly high turnover because you can’t live on that much money and when teachers get offered better jobs or get a chance to enter the public schools, which pay better although not well, they leave. The private schools don’t have substitute lists in place for the most part.

Of course they don’t have the best teachers because they don’t pay enough to get the best teachers.

So, where is all that money going? I don’t think it all goes into curricular design because I’ve seen the curriculae. It’s a mystery. And why would parents pay lots of money to send their kids to schools with underpaid teachers…?

Anyway, culture shock. Yeah. Applying to these schools implies a whole different set of codes. Starting with what the hell to wear. I had a debate that paralyzed me in the bedroom with clothes strewn all about me. Clothing has very much to do with my philosophy of education. If I am teaching elementary school and I have a hands on style and I move around a lot and get dirty, I don’t want to wear dry clean only suits and heels to school. To me, nice clothes for teaching are comfortable and washable clothes for teaching. But no. See, image is important at these schools. I watched while teachers walked in, or should I say tottered in, in their sparkly high heels with gauzy dresses on and runway makeup. I at least wore heels with my jeans. *sigh*

I sat in offices while mothers gossiped about other mothers, about money, about cars, about the teachers all while I filled out the application and debated lying about which religious denomination I belong to. I mean really, will they check?

I am applying to enter a world which is completely foreign to me. I understand education, I understand the classroom, I understand children. I don’t understand elaborate pecking orders, name dropping as a necessary qualification for employment or the disdain some teachers express for their profession. Why again would you take a job for under 12000 per year if you hate it? Sears pays more than that. Only reason I’m not applying at Sears is because that job would kill my soul, teaching for peanuts would not.

Mag got a job. She was called one night by the owners of a pizza place and told to ‘come in tomorrow to work.’ They called once and didn’t leave a message, then she called back. Had she not called back, would she not have a job? Notice, I didn’t mention any interview. That’s because there wasn’t one. Just come in tomorrow to work. Wow.

I love my island, I truly love my tropical paradise… but sometimes we can be pretty ass backwards.
So, while Maggie is making pizzas (or trying to despite the lack of training) I am trying to crack the code in order to fit in enough to get hired somewhere to teach something, anything, for peanuts. Peanuts are good.

My appeal is scheduled for the 24th and I should have news by 1:30 PM. I still harbor a tiny nugget of hope that I’ll be allowed to enroll this semester and carry-on. All prayers, happy thoughts, chocolate cakes and support are most appreciated. Don’t worry I won’t check the denomination or religion.

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