field trips

Last week, I took 60 11-year-old girls to MOTAT, the Museum of Transport and Technology. We'd been studying technology and inventions so the exhibits at MOTAT were perfect for our topic. We saw old cameras and old washing machines and rode an old tram. It was a bit disconcerting, however, when the MOTAT guide showed the girls an old dial telephone and demonstrated how it worked. They were fascinated by this ancient technology. Talk about feeling old! But it was a great trip, and the girls behaved perfectly, as always.

While I was at MOTAT, however, my English class got into a bit of mischief with the reliever (substitute teacher) back at school. The reliever walked in and saw instructions on the board that said "Silent reading for 5 minutes, then playtime." She was justifiably suspicious and went to get the head of the English department, Margaret, who came into my room: "Right. Who wrote that on the board? And what is it really supposed to say?" All the ponytailed little heads turned toward Jennifer, a bubbly little blonde with a bit too much energy. Margaret sorted out what the class was really supposed to be doing with the reliever, and took Jennifer into the corridor to give her the "You Made a Really Bad Choice" speech. It goes something like this: You wasted the reliever's time./I'm sorry./You wasted my time/I'm really sorry/You wasted the class's reading time/I'm very sorry/You violated Mrs. Davidson's trust in you/ I'm truly so sorry/....

Ironically, while I was on the field trip I had told the other teacher that my English class was so good, "even if a reliever never showed up, the girls would probably read for 20 minutes and then do Skill Sheet #4 as instructed." Ha.

In spite of small glitches like that, I've always been a big promoter of field trips. Some teachers hate them and refuse to take their students anywhere, but I love it. I didn't hesitate to take my students to the state capitol building, the courthouse, or even the public library.

One time I was taking my English class to the Portland public library to show them what a library has to offer - besides books, there are magazines, free computers, free CDs, and free movies. I requested parent chaperones. Andrew's dad signed his name on the permission form and said he'd be able to help. Excellent ... except that I knew Andrew's dad had just been released from prison after serving 5 years for a drug offense. Not coincidentally, he was unemployed and therefore available during the day to chaperone field trips.
My fellow teachers thought I was nuts to let him come along, but I figured it was a good sign that a) he wanted to get involved in school events and b) he wanted to spend time with Andrew (who barely knew him). Besides, he could probably c) learn something new about what kinds of things are available at the library. Maybe he would even d) sign up for a library card while we were there. What would you do? Here's what I did: The ex-con and I took 29 students to the library for an hour and everything went fine. Although he did smell like smoke and had a lot of tattoos.

There were no such problems on the field trip to MOTAT. Diocesan parents are not really the ex-con or tattoo type.

Reports are to be written in passive voice

It's report (report cards) time at my school, which usually means long hours and major headaches. Besides writing 100 paragraphs about my own 100 students, I was unanimously selected to be the chief proofreader for the rest of the Social Studies department because I am the only English geek in the bunch who has eagle eyes to search out typos wherever they lurk. So I read about 1,000 more paragraphs. Apologies for being such a grammarian, but in the course of reading all those comments, I couldn't help noticing the Kiwi predilection to write in passive voice.

First, an example of passive voice: The hamburger was eaten by me.
and an example of active voice: I ate the hamburger.
Seemingly, both sentences convey the same information, but there is a different tone to the first one. It's as if the hamburger went out and got itself eaten; as if it was somehow the hamburger's fault. As you can see, the passive voice can be used to shed blame.

What I noticed on reports is a tendency to write things such as: She is to be commended for her effort or It is pleasing for me to see her improvement. Why can't they just say I was pleased with her improvement!?!?

I was wise enough NOT to put red marks all over my fellow teachers' reports every time I saw passive voice. I reserved my red pen for their instead of there, run-on sentences and typos. But I mentioned the preponderance of passive writing to them, who were absolutely shocked to hear that the passive voice is frowned upon in America.

In fact, most American university professors believe that the passive voice signals sloppy, lazy thinking; that the writer has not fully thought through what they are discussing. Automatic grammar-checkers on word processing programs also point out passive construction, as if it needs to be changed.

But in New Zealand, it is accepted and even preferred. The Auckland newspaper is full of sentences like It is understood that the man was from Hamilton. In America, the reporter would have written Unidentified witnesses said... instead.

My colleagues and I agreed that this is a partly due to the British penchant for understatement. Likewise, there is a custom of not wanting to take credit for something for fear of looking like a braggart. Therefore, a NZ company report would say clients were well-served. American culture, however, values directness and speaking plainly. Americans aren't afraid to take credit and a US company report would say: our staff served clients well.

And yet, an American made perhaps one of the more memorable passive statement, used to shed blame: Ronald Reagan said "mistakes were made" when referring to the Iran-Contra scandal.

"The dog ate my homework" and other excuses

"Mandy, Where's your myth?" I demanded as class began on Friday.
"Well, it's done but you see..."
"Do you have it? Yes or no?" I interrupted.
"Um. I was ..."
"So your answer is no. You'll be joining me for lunch detention. Today." And with that, I turned back to the rest of the class and proceeded giving the instructions for today's lesson.

On Monday, a big myth-writing assignment had been due in Year 7 Social Studies. Most girls turned in their work.
On Tuesday, I got a few more myths from those who'd been absent, and I nagged the last few slowpokes.
On Thursday, I announced lunch detentions for anyone whose myth wasn't turned in by Friday.
Unbelievably, on Friday there were still two girls, Mandy and Carrie, who didn't turn in their myth. It looked like I would be having 2 guests for lunch ... until Carrie announced that she couldn't come because she already had a detention with her PE teacher scheduled for that day. Mmm Hmm. Call me a cynic, but I needed to confirm Carrie's story with the PE teacher.

Then Carrie told me an even more suspicious story: Mandy's myth got stolen. Another Mmm Hmm. I'm having a bit of a hard time believing there is a black market for schoolwork. Furthermore, Carrie informed me, Mandy was too scared to tell me this herself so she sent Carrie with the news. Admittedly, that's not entirely accurate - Mandy tried to tell me herself but I kept cutting her off. I'd better go hear the whole incredulous elaborate story from Mandy. Do I sound like I have an open mind?

Mandy said her myth was at her Dad's house, and her Dad's house got robbed.
"Why would robbers want your myth?" I inquired, attempting to sound sincere, but not being entirely successful in masking my scepticism. What kind of stories will kids come up with next?
"Well, they didn't actually want the myth, they just used my school bag to load up their loot and the myth was in my school bag."
"Really. So all your other school books got stolen, too?" I am trying to sound sympathetic.
"Um, no. They dumped out all the other books but the myth was at the very bottom."
How convenient. Does she think I am that gullible? "Well, I'll be contacting your dad to let him know how important it is that you re-write it by Monday." I watched her eyes for a glimmer of panic. I expected her to start backpedalling at this moment, but she didn't. Could her story possibly be true?

I have a hard time knowing when to believe students. During 10 years of teaching, I couldn't help noticing that kids at this age (11-14) tended to blame every problem on something or someone other than themselves. When their document doesn't print, it's the computer's fault. When they get caught fighting, it was always The Other Guy who started it. When they get poor grades, it's because the teacher hates them. Then there was the time when a boy impersonated his mother over the phone. So. I get a little suspicious. Call it healthy scepticism.

First I contacted the PE teacher with the alleged lunch detention for Carrie. That part was true. OK. Maybe I'm a just little wary when it comes to students' excuses for avoiding detention.

Then I called Mandy's mum. Yes, Dad had been robbed.
Really? I'm gobsmacked. And a little embarrassed.
Sheepishly, I acted like the purpose of my call was to let her know that Mandy would be working on the myth over the weekend. Yes, thank you for your time.

And yet ...
I'm still the slightest bit distrustful. Could Mandy have asked her mum to lie for her?
Honestly, I really must stop thinking this way. I am far too suspicious.
Or am I?

Continental knowledge

One of the things I like about being a teacher is all the things I learn while I'm teaching. For instance, in one of the Social Studies assignments, there was a question asking what continent New Zealand is a part of.


My first reaction is to say New Zealand is an island and therefore not part of any continent. But when you think about it, Great Britain is an island, yet still considered part of Europe, isn't it? Japan is considered part of Asia. Um, wouldn't that mean that New Zealand is considered part of the Australian continent?

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" say my colleagues. They're noticeably adamant that NZ is not a part of Australia. "First of all, Australia is not a continent."

"What? When I went to school in America, we learned that of the 7 continents, Australia was the only one that is both a country and a continent."

"No. It's called Australasia and it includes New Zealand and the South Pacific islands. Sometimes it's called Oceania. The correct answer is Australasia or Oceania"

So I went home and looked it up. Australia is indeed a continent according to Encyclopaedia Britannica, which seems like a pretty reputable source. (I mean, at least I'm not quoting Wikipedia or anything, although it too said Australia was a continent.) Australasia or Oceania may be regions of the world, but they are not names of a continent if you ask me. Not that I'm going to challenge my fellow teachers.

Ultimately I've decided that determining whether or not to include neighbouring islands in the definition of continent may well depend on the distance between the continent and the island. So I researched a few distances: England is 30 miles away from Europe, Japan is 120 miles away from Asia, but New Zealand is 1300 miles - yes 1300 miles - away from Australia. Therefore I would call New Zealand an island and not part of any continent. Who knows. Just don't ever accuse New Zealanders of being part of Australia. They get really touchy.

Teen magazines

In my Y9 Social Studies class, the girls are studying women's rights throughout history. I am in heaven because it's a topic I love to rant about (ask my husband and four sons). And I work at an all-girls school which means I don't have to be worried about presenting a "balanced" view. Just kidding. But it's hard to explain female infanticide or dowries without sounding a bit biased. You should have heard me explain what a chastity belt was.

One of the assignments involved analysing a teen magazine. Good grief. Those things are wretched. In New Zealand, the teen magazines are called Dolly and Creme and Girlfriend, but I have a feeling they're similar all over the world. Since I didn't have any daughters, I haven't seen a teen magazine since I was a teen back in the dark ages. What a shocker. First of all, they're 90% advertising. And the rest is clothes and make-up tips, advice on how to get a boyfriend and celebrity pictures. Lots of celebrity pictures. The latest covers all seem to be plastered with images of the stars of High School Musical. (A Y7 student told me on the first day of school that the most important thing I should know about her is that she is going to marry Zac Efron. She's 12.)

My Y9 students all purported to be appalled at the content of the magazines, but couldn't help reading the horoscopes aloud and asking me if they could please tear out the centerfold picture of some cute guy, usually the aforementioned Zac Efron.

In spite of their infatuation with teen magazines, I was reassured when I saw their mis-analysis of a political cartoon from the New Zealand suffrage era. (Did you know that New Zealand was the first country IN THE WORLD to give women the right to vote?) My students were sure that the oversized, powerful woman towering over men was an indication that the cartoonist believed women should be able to vote. (In fact, it was anti-suffrage) But in their world, women have always been powerful. They live in a country with a woman Prime Minister. They have no personal understanding yet that a caricature of a powerful woman would be used as something threatening. Although their answers were incorrect, I found their naivete comforting.

I was also heartened by their response when assigned to write about a woman they admire. I was expecting them to pick someone like Angelina Jolie or - heaven forbid - Victoria "Posh Spice" Beckham, but I was wrong. A few chose Mother Teresa or a sports figure such as New Zealand bicycle gold medalist (and Diocesan Old Girl) Sarah Ulmer. But most of them chose their mums or other female family members. There's hope yet.

Sir Ed and me

Sir Edmund Hillary has died.
In this small country, where there seems to be 3 degrees of separation instead of 6, everyone has a connection to Sir Ed, as he is affectionately called. Here are mine:
• I can't claim to have ever met him, but he lived about 2 miles away and I drive by his house every day on my way to work, if that counts.
• His casket was driven to the cemetery at the end of my street.
• His wife was an Old Girl (alumni) of my school, and their daughter attended my school until age 16 when both perished in a plane crash in Nepal on a visit to see Ed. That was 30 years ago. There is still a Nepalese painting hanging in the school library, donated in honour of Louise and Belinda Hillary.
• My next-door neighbour was acquainted with Sir Ed and more specifically his (second) wife, June: June's sister worked for my neighbour, so they would all get together for a BBQ or whatever. Imagine, Sir Ed has been next door for a sausage sizzle.

Besides admitting to having only the slightest connection between Sir Ed and me, I can also admit to a dearth of similarities between Sir Ed and me.
Ed climbed Mt. Everest, the highest mountain in the world.

I climbed Rangitoto, a volcanic island in Auckland's harbour.




After conquering Everest, he said "We knocked the bastard off"
After huffing and puffing to the top of Rangitoto, I said "Who's idea was this?"

It must have taken Ed days/weeks/months to

travel by ship to India, then over land to Nepal, then walked to Base Camp, Camp 1, etc. until he got to the top.

I had a pleasurable forty-five minute ferry ride from Auckland, and hiked for a few hours.

Ed wore crampons on his boots.

I wore Teva sandals.

The temperature was below zero when Ed climbed Mt. Everest.

It was about 15ºC/60ºF when I hiked Rangitoto.

During his climb, Ed probably said encouraging things like, "Keep going, we can do it!"

During my hike I complained and belly-ached and said things like, "I'm too old for this!"

Ed was 33.

I was 50.

Ed had trouble breathing because of the altitude.

I had trouble breathing because I was out of shape.

From the top of Everest, Ed had a view of everything on Earth.

From the top of Rangitoto, I had a gorgeous view of Auckland and the Hauraki Gulf.

Back at Camp 4, Ed and Tenzig probably had a cuppa tea.

On Rangitoto, I drank bottled water. It was ice cold, and very refreshing.

Afterwards, part of the mountain was named after him: the Hillary Step.

I got nothing.

Here's what I like about Sir Ed: It's not that he was the first to reach the top of Mt. Everest, or raced to the South Pole, or gave all his money to the needy in Nepal. No, it's that he went to palaces and mansions, met royalty and millionaires and - as he described it - never saw much to envy, let alone emulate. I like that he's called Sir Ed. Most of all, I am impressed that his name is listed in the phone book under "Hillary, Sir Edmund." That says everything about him and about this country.

Prizegiving vs. Graduation

I went to my first prizegiving ceremony at Diocesan. It was the end of the school year and 200 of our Year 13 girls had completed their secondary studies. In American tradition, there would be a ceremony marking this occasion, called Graduation. But In New Zealand, there is no such ceremony for secondary schools. Instead, there is Prizegiving.

The basic purpose of Prizegiving is to announce all the students who had won scholarships or awards of any sort. At Diocesan's Prizegiving, girls who achieved 95% or above in all their classes earned awards, as well as 90% awards and 85% awards. Usually, they received certificates, but sometimes there was a gift included with the more specialised awards like Best Art Student. Actually, those specialised awards were not called Best Art Student - they were called The (insert wealthy family's name here) Memorial Cup for Excellence in Art, funded by an endowment from a Dio donor.

The most alien part to me was that in NZ, there was no recognition for every Year 13 girl who had completed her studies. In contrast, during an American graduation ceremony (see photo on the left), the principal would read all 200 names one by one, and each student would come up to the stage to receive their diploma and a handshake. In the U.S., winning a university scholarship or a prize for the best science project would be announced in the school newspaper, or maybe the local newspaper, but not at the graduation ceremony.

On this day at Diocesan's Prizegiving, all the teachers processed into the gym, wearing gowns and collars signifying their degrees. We wore full academic regalia, including different colour hoods or collars to represent different departments (minus the mortarboard hats). But the graduating Kiwi students did not wear gowns, unlike the U.S. where the students would've been the ones parading in, wearing gowns and mortarboards with tassels.

At Diocesan, like every NZ college (=high school), the most anticipated moment is finding out which girl has been named Dux, the top scholar of the school. There is also a second-place title, called Proxime Accessit. In America, the top scholar would be called Valedictorian, but she would know ahead of time that she won, and she would have to give a speech at the graduation ceremony.

Besides prizes for the Y13 girls, there are even prizes awarded to the Year 12 and Year 11 girls. While their prizes are not university scholarships, they were awarded things like 95%, etc., and also a few specialised subject awards.  

Diocesan's prizegiving was held during the school day, so every student from Y11, 12 and 13 attended in uniform. whereas American graduation ceremonies are usually held in the evening or on the weekend, so the younger students' attendance is not compulsory.

There are some similarities, however.
• In both countries, there are "inspirational" speeches about how you have your whole future ahead of you, yadda, yadda, yadda.
• Both countries play Pomp and Circumstance during the processional.
• Both versions are held in large venues with lots of parents present, taking lots of pictures.

In America, graduating from high school is an important rite of passage;  it's seen as the beginning of one's adult life.  On the other hand, in NZ - since some students leave school at age 16 with a Level 1 certificate, others leave at 17 with Level 2, and the final group leaves at age 18 with Level 3 - being 18 and finishing a Level 3 certificate isn't the same benchmark in life that it is in the US.  

American teenagers also look forward to a big graduation party after the graduation ceremony. This is usually sponsored by a parent organisation and may involve going to a few different activities (like disco/go karts/video arcade) lasting all night. In theory, the parent group ensures that it is an alcohol-free event, but in reality some may get smuggled in. There did not seem to be a similar all-school party after Dioesan's Prizegiving - it was 3:00 p.m, after all.

I can't really say if either system is better than the other. At first, I felt a little sorry for the Y13 girls because they didn't have a special ceremony marking their completion. But they have other traditions instead: a Leaver's Dinner and a formal Ball (to which their parents were invited!), and they seem to be content with that.

One other similarity I found - both Graduations and Prizegivings are basically pretty boring to sit through.

Act II, Scene 3: citybound and southbound

CITYBOUND:
On Thursday, I took Carlin and Kristen to the aquarium, called Kelly Tarlton's.  First, we got to see a scuba diver hand feeding the fish in Underwater World.  She was getting mobbed by all the fish and turtles, and I'm sure it made her feel quite popular.  There was also a Stingray Encounter with a diver feeding the huge stingrays as they moved elegantly through the water.  Their wingspan was about 6 feet!  But our favourite part was the penguins.  We rode the little snow vehicle through the penguin exhibit 3 times, watching them swim and dive and twirl in the water.  There were even baby penguins recently hatched, all fluffy and cute, and you could see them hiding under their parent, occasionally sticking out a webbed foot or a grey head.  Strangely, there were about 100 girls from my school there, on a class trip with their science teachers. It seems I can't escape school even when I'm not there.

On Friday, I went to the Auckland Zoo with Carlin and Kristen ... and about 100 students from my school. Yes, there was another class trip courtesy of the science department. Yesterday, the Year 9 girls went to the aquarium, and today the Year 8 girls went to the zoo. What are the odds? Mostly, I tried to be incognito, either wearing sunglasses or hiding under an umbrella, depending on the weather at the moment. But at each place, a few girls noticed me "Look, there's the libarry lady!" or "Hey, isn't that the libarrian?" (What I want to know is: why can't they pronounce library correctly?)

Besides girls in Diocesan school uniforms, there were plenty of exotic animals at the zoo. Seals played and wrestled while sea lions whooshed through the water. The kangaroos were disappointingly lazy, but the emu came right up to us. A mama spider monkey clung onto her baby while scolding a mischievous teenage monkey who wouldn't obey. A peacock was showing off his feathers. Carlin especially like Janie, the last of the Tea Party gorillas. Apparently, back in the 1950s, the zoo used to dress up 4 gorillas in frilly dresses and they would have a tea party for the crowd. Janie is the last one alive, and she is pretty old but still entertaining as she searches for her food, hidden in various containers around her enclosure. We also saw rhinos and hippos and lions and tigers and cheetahs. Sadly, we never were able to locate the (nocturnal) kiwi bird in its dark exhibit. We learned two new Scrabble words while we were there, but I've forgotten one of them already: spronk is what the springboks do when they jump straight up in the air as if their legs were pogo sticks. And the other new word was ???

After the zoo, we went to Newmarket for lunch where - you guessed it - I saw 2 more Diocesan students and one Diocesan teacher. I think they're tailing me. Or stalking me.

Next, I dragged Carlin and Kristen to the Auckland Museum for a short visit. I really wanted them to experience the volcano exhibit, where you sit in a living room and watch a volcano erupt a few hundred metres offshore from Mission Bay. We also briefly walked through the Maori and Pacific Island exhibits, marvelling at the giant waka and the ornate marae. After seeing a few bugs (wetas) and birds (giant moa), we were exhausted. It had been a long day. I wouldn't recommend going to the zoo AND the museum in the same day. On the plus side, I didn't see a single Diocesan student while at the museum. Whew.

SOUTHBOUND:
Once we arrived home at about 4:00, we immediately started packing for a road trip to Rotorua. Unfortunately, the traffic did not cooperate and we didn't arrive in Rotorua until 9:30. During the drive, Kristen and Carlin played Scrabble in the back seat until Kristen started getting carsick, so she and I switched places and I took over her Scrabble game. I lost badly, but kept everyone entertained which was my real objective. Even Kristen forgot about feeling icky and laughed a few times.

Along the way, we stopped for coffee at a little place in the middle of nowhere and saw the most curious mail boxes. Apparently, this cafe served as the local post office, and each local resident had a post box. This in itself doesn't seem overly curious until you look closely at their numbering system. It went
like this: 1 2 3 4 5 35 38 42 44 43 11 12 31 14 15 16 17 18 19 20. Hmmm. To add further confusion, there was a small piece of tape on box #43 that said 10. We debated the possible origin of their numbering system while drinking our coffee and, unable to come up with any reasonable explanation, moved on.

The next morning in Rotorua, we went to Te Puia, a Maori cultural centre and geothermal site. Curt and I had been there once before, a few weeks after we landed in NZ, almost two years ago.  The Maori performance was still the best part - I volunteered to do the hongi with the welcomer lady because I was the only tourist who knew what a hongi was (it's a nose-to-nose greeting). The guy doing the fierce welcome this time wasn't as fierce as the last time we were here. But the dancing and singing was great. They even invited ladies from the audience up to the stage to learn bits of the poi dance, so Kristen and I volunteered to make fools of ourselves. We twirled little white balls on their strings and tried to remember out steps at the same time, not entirely successfully. Then they invited men on to the stage to learn the haka, and Curt and Carlin gave it a go. Curt tried to be especially ferocious. After the Maori performance, we went to see the bubbling mud and the geysers. Carlin was happy when the geyser finally erupted.

Before leaving Rotorua, we had a picnic lunch at the lakefront, and walked over to an amazing church decorated with Maori carvings all over the walls and the altar and the pews. In the courtyard outside the church, we could also feel the thermal energy below our feet pushing up the pavement and discolouring the concrete.

On the way home to Auckland from Rotorua, we stopped at Hamilton Gardens and saw 4 weddings going on there! It's a popular location, obviously, for wedding pictures. Carlin and Kristen liked the Italian Garden best while I liked the Herb Garden, and Curt liked the Sustainable Garden with heaps of cool ideas.

For the last hour in the car, we played word games like G-H-O-S-T and I kept them entertained again. I kept trying to use the letter Z just because I like saying zed. We finally got home at about 8:00, and stayed up even later playing Taboo next. I haven't played Taboo in 10 years probably but I was always really good at it which infuriated Curt, who was never very good at it. That explains why we haven't played in 10 years, I guess. I have this theory that women are better at Taboo because they have more connectors in their brains from the right side to the left side. They are able to think more creatively while men tend to think linearly. In Taboo, thinking linearly is clearly a disadvantage. We played the women against the men. Need I tell you who won?

Lastly, we looked at photo albums. I had spent 6 weeks compiling 10 years' worth of memories and I needed to show them to someone so Carlin and Kristen were the lucky winners. They were good sports about it. Plus, Memory Lane is a fun place to be.

Well. It had been a busy week and an even busier weekend. But their time with us in NZ was almost over, for they were flying home to America in just 2 short days.

Act II, Scene 1: The newlyweds arrive

MONDAY - Carlin & Kristen arrived to spend the next 2 weeks with us. On their first night in NZ, we took them for a drive to the neighbourhood beach and on the way back, I gave Carlin his first driving lesson for driving on the left. It always sounds scarier than it is; people usually get the hang of it within a few days. He did fine.

TUESDAY - Curt and I had to go to work today so we sent the intrepid travellers off to explore Auckland on their own. They even put gas in my car and did the grocery shopping! I think I'm going to like having them around.

That evening, we took them to One Tree Hill for a great view of Auckland from sea to sea. New Zealand is so narrow at this spot that you can see both east and west coasts. Kristen especially liked the sheep who eat the grass on One Tree Hill (instead of using lawnmowers). We stopped at a fence and tried to entice a sheep near us, but it wasn't interested.

Back at the house, they played Scrabble while I marked papers. Curt won the Scrabble game, of course. Poor Kristen didn't realise she was marrying into a ruthless Scrabble family.

WEDNESDAY - Carlin & Kristen came to my school today for morning teatime to meet my colleagues. Then they went to Newmarket to shop (it's the ritzy shopping area), and finally they met Curt for a picnic lunch. He took them to Winter Garden, a beautiful setting in the the huge domain (park) near his office.

I've been feeling a little lost at work concerning my English class, not knowing what they did while I was gone, or what I'm supposed to be teaching them now that I'm back. Since I only teach one class, I'm often out of the loop. Well today, I got a bombshell. The head of the English Dept came to the library to see me and asked how I was doing. "You do know that reports (report cards) are due tomorrow morning, don't you?" What? I had no idea. Somehow, I thought Dec 6 was the due date for reports. Oh my. I started entering scores right away, but knew it would take me HOURS.

On top of that, I got a call from the HR guy at my school. I had applied for a job as a Social Studies teacher on Monday, and they wanted to interview me. This was good news ... but the interview was the following day, and I had to prepare a sample lesson plan. It looked like I was going to be up all night.

I would've preferred to skip choir practice and work on my reports, but Carlin was coming to practice a song with the choir so I felt I should be there. I was the one who got him roped into this in the first place. The poor guy. His own mother had talked him into performing with the choir on viola while he was here on his honeymoon. I am shameless. In my defence, I was imagining a simple hymn where he could just pick out a nice harmony line, but our director chose a longer and far more complicated song which Carlin would have to practice. (The choir was going to need lots of practice, too) At least Carlin and Kristen got to meet some of the choir folk who have been so good to us, and they were all pleased to hear him play.

Back at the house, I was madly writing reports while Carlin and Kristen played a "friendly game" of Scrabble (read: not always friendly). Eventually, everyone went to bed except me. I stayed up till 1:00 a.m. finishing stupid reports, and preparing for my job interview the next day. At least I wouldn't have to go to work the following day. I was taking it off because it was American Thanksgiving. I'd been hoping to do some sightseeing with Carlin and Kristen, but instead I would be going to a job interview ... and shopping and cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

THURSDAY (THANKSGIVING) -
Prepared a few dishes for the Thanksgiving feast that morning before I went to the job interview at 11:00. It seemed to go pretty well. I think it was more than a courtesy interview, at least. They were impressed with the student work samples I brought, including the packet of instructions all laid out for the kids - timeline, grading rubric, parent signature, etc. They liked my IT skills, too. Fingers crossed.

On the way home, I stopped at the grocery store for more turkey day supplies, but still couldn't find pumpkin pie or Durkee's French Fried Onion Rings, a necessary ingredient for the traditional Green Bean Casserole (Carlin's favourite). Eventually found a recipe to make my own french fried onion rings which was amazingly easy! As for pumpkin pie ... I decided to skip it. I don't even like pumpkin pie so I wasn't inclined to make one from scratch. Sent Carlin and Kristen to the store to buy an alternative dessert. They wisely chose something chocolate.

Made the usual turkey, stuffing, etc. but added a bit of Kiwi culture by using kumara as the sweet potato dish. When Curt got home, he started the tates and gravy. Mmmm. My favourite part. Kristen and Carlin put extra leaves in the dining room table, for we had invited our neighbours over for an authentic American Thanksgiving.

Our neighbours, Bruce and Annette and their two boys Sam (8) and Nick (6) arrived in time for some traditional pre-dinner Thanksgiving colouring: Carlin taught the boys how to make an outline of their hand and turn it into a turkey. They were suitably impressed and created some masterpieces of their own. Sam was also impressed when Carlin played a few songs on the piano for him. Sam had recently started taking piano lessons, and it was fun for him to see how years of practice could pay off. He even fetched some of his music and played for us. Sam and Nick also kept busy playing with our giant tub of Legos. It was nice to see that little boys of this generation are still enthralled with Legos, like my boys were. We explained the background of the Thanksgiving holiday to everyone, how the Pilgrims would've all starved to death their first year without help from the Indians, etc. And of course, we ate too much. But it sure was good.

After dinner, we all needed to go for a walk and burn off some of those calories, so Bruce and Annette grabbed their dog and we all went to a nearby parkland. Carlin threw the tennis ball for the dog, a golden retriever who reminded us of Duffy, the dog he'd grown up with. The little boys chased each other and ran off steam, while the adults enjoyed the conversation and the serene setting. It was a perfect way to end a lovely day.

Last year, we didn't do anything on Thanksgiving; it was just another day at work for us. So this year it was nice to have Carlin and Kristen here, and it was a prefect excuse to put on a big Thanksgiving dinner. And inviting our friends to be a part of our American holiday made it even more special.

FRIDAY - Went to work at 7:30 and got a call from the HR guy at 8:00 offerring me the Social Studies job! The Humanities Dept loved me, apparently. I was applying for a part-time position, but they wanted to know if I would take the full-time position instead. I had been hoping to teach part-time and still work in the library part-time, but had recently found out that I wouldn't be allowed to, unfortunately. After agonising indecision, I eventually decided to teach part-time: 4 classes of Social Studies and 1 class of English. But no more library, which was sad. Initially, I was a little angry that I wasn't allowed to stay in the library part-time, but I had to remind myself of all the recent whistleblower drama I had been caught up in. I was being given an opportunity to get away from that craziness and into a higher-paying job. I should be happy! Plus it felt so good that someone wanted me. 

Meanwhile, back to reality: It was getting close to the end of the school year and there were lots of special events around the school. Somehow, an English teacher forgot to come teach her class in the library 6th period. Her girls were all there, but there was no teacher. Yikes. Barbara and I did our best to manage the orphan class and run the library simultaneously. In addition, our library boss had been home sick most of the week and was not at school to teach her class, also 6th period. Unfortunately, she forgot to tell the appropriate person to secure a reliever (substitute teacher). About 20 minutes into the period, we got a frantic call at the library. Where was the Library Manager who was supposed to be teaching her class? Do we know what her class was meant to be doing? Where is the video they should be watching? So I hustled the video up to the classroom, only to find absolute pandemonium: One girl had covered her face with stickers (and couldn't see) and had two pairs of pink knickers on her head. Yes, underpants. The rest of the class was - as you can imagine - out of control. Good Lord. I removed the knicker-headed girl from the room, did my best I'm-really-mad-and-I-mean-it voice to settle the class, and turned on the movie, Romeo and Juliet. At least the knickers were clean.

At home that night I had heaps to report : the job offer, 2 unattended classes, and the girl with knickers on her head. Carlin and Kristen had heaps to report, too: They'd taken the train downtown all by themselves, shopped at the outdoor market, took the ferry to Devonport, and had fish & chips for lunch.

Carlin and I had an important conversation later that night. We stayed up late (too late) talking about my feelings that I was "losing him." Part of my sadness came from the fact that he and Kristen would be living in Phoenix, 1200 miles away from Bellingham where all our family gatherings would be. Whenever Curt and I fly back to America, Bellingham would be the logical destination ... but Carlin wouldn't be there. I hardly had any right to blame him, though because we're the ones who moved 7,000 miles away to the other side of the world. Still.  It's hard to let go, I guess.

Intermission

Intermission lasted 48 hours:

We returned home to Auckland at 6 a.m. Saturday morning, did heaps of laundry, and took quite a few naps. Beautiful, sunny day. Good to be home.

Went to church Sunday morning and sang in the choir. Everyone was glad to see us. Then took another nap.

Monday morning - had to go back to work. It was good to see my little friends who hang out in the library every morning. They call themselves the "library slaves." They fight over who gets to feed the fish, plus I've taught them to fill up the copy machines with paper, collect books from the returns slot, and turn on the search station computers. They are my groupies. Well, they were positively ecstatic to see I had returned. They RAN in and nearly knocked me down with their big hugs. It's nice to be loved. My class was equally happy to see me again. They stood up and cheered when I entered the classroom.

I left work early to pick up Carlin and Kristen at the airport! They'd been in Fiji for their honeymoon for a week, and were now going to spend 2 weeks with us.

Intermission was over.