I must have been on auto-pilot all morning. I don't remember anything before getting off the highway and onto the surface roads that lead to my work place. Seriously. I know I showered. How can you forget taking a shower? I tweeted and updated my facebook status. I dressed in clothes that sorta/kinda went together. I grabbed my usual two Quaker bars and filled my mug with OJ. But I honestly do not recall any of it.
Like I said, I was on auto-pilot.
Checking in to foursquare at work was the first thing I did today that I was conscious of. And then came the planning part of my day. A lot of teachers write lesson plans. Not me. "Lesson plan" denotes that it is all about what the teacher wants the students to know. It denotes that the students are being schooled. Not in my classroom. Don't get me wrong, I want my students to learn, but I prefer for it to happen organically. So I jot down notes on scraps of paper and I make notations to myself just in case the conversation and discussions get stuck or get off track, but on the whole the students are teaching each other. They are teaching me. They are learning on their own. I arrange the scraps of paper on my desk and then I rearrange them and I rearrange them again until they are just right.
From this point I attempt to type up a Planned Learning Experience so that I have something other than scraps of paper to work with (and so my boss can see, if she asks, what we did in class on a particular day). But it is NOT a lesson plan.
I always dread the point in the morning when I have to deal with the copier. Sometimes I will just print all the copies I need on my printer, but sometimes the copy machine is a Necessary Evil as a teacher. But this damned thing is going to be the death of me someday.
Or maybe I will be the death of it!
After class I had to run over to campus to drop off a few pieces of paper work and try to grab a few minutes with my boss. I was a little early so I wandered around and ended up in what appeared to be an old library or storage for the library or something. I'm still not exactly sure. But I came across these AMAZING looking card catalogs.
They remind me of being in elementary school. I went to school right next door to a huge public library. Every so often my teacher would bring us over there so we could learn something new of research a book report or something. I used to love looking through the card catalogs. To be honest, I'm not sure if I would still remember how to look something up in a card catalog. But I love them. I wish I could have one in my home. All those little drawers... and they seem to go on forever.
After work I went to the Niagara Arts and Cultural Center (NACC). One of the theater groups I work with has storage here. It is a complete mess.
Like I said. A mess.
I some how got roped into organizing everything for them. Have they seen my apartment? I found four bundles of what at first glance appeared to be plastic vines tied around colored cords. each bundle was wrapped with about thirty layers of plastic wrap.
But at closer look those colored cords were actually lengths of copper.
Orange and blue and gold and green pieces of copper. That stuff is worth money, you know. The guy told me get rid of the crap, and anything that's worth anything we can split. Sounds good to me! So now came the tedious task of removing the vines and leaves from the copper tubing. It was connected with zip ties and electrical tape.
After an hour, I was able to detach the leaves from the copper from one of the bundles.
Pretty sweet, eh? Just as I was about to start unwrapping the second bundle, the fire alarm started going off. At first I had no idea what it was. The NACC used to be a high school. The building is probably 100 years old. So when I say a fire alarm started to go off, it wasn't the usual "Please walk to the nearest exit..." computerized voice as I am used to hearing. It was closer to what the Flintstones were probably used to hearing. I'm talking Pterodactyl banging its beak into a metal bell kind of alarm. When I first heard it I had no idea what it was. I made my way to the exit and then the fire truck arrived. Maybe it was all the years watching "Rescue Me," but I just had to snap a picture of this:
All the gauges and buttons and lights and dials... it's cool right?
It's like the exact opposite reason why I was so attracted to the card catalogs, I think.
And of course it was raining as everyone was waiting for the firemen to tell everyone what we already knew: FALSE ALARM. You can't burn a building like this down. It's made of stone and mortar and memories of kids smoking in the boys room.
Speaking of The Boys Room, I was met by this note as I attempted to use the facilities after coming back into the NACC:
Don't Flush Good? Um, no. I think you mean well. I think you mean the toilet doesn't flush well. Or at all, knowing this place.
Finally I was on my way home. It seemed as though everyone was just taking their time on the highways. Cars driving 45mph in a 55mph zone, cars driving 55mph in a 65mph zone, cars driving way too friggin' slow and they were all in front of me. I was starving, they had to know this. How could they not? My stomach sounded like a large black bear. No, that was not thunder-- that's my stomach growling. So get the lead out lady!
By the time I finally got to home sweet home, I was greeted by the greatest thing ever: Homemade Macaroni and Cheese!
Greatest. End. To. The. Day. EVER.