Date Archives → February 2026

Snowless snow

“There’s no way we’ll have a snow day tomorrow,” I believe were my exact words to students yesterday.

We have the day off.

I knew there was snow in the forecast, but it looked like a small amount and our district is notoriously stingy with “snow days” to begin with, so I figured there was a snowstorm’s chance in hell that we’d actually have a snow day.

While I’m not going to complain — it’s always nice to have a break in the middle of the week — I am confused by the decision. It’s noon now and it hasn’t yet snowed a single flake. It’s cold and it’s gray and it’s windy, but “cold, gray, and windy” describes Nebraska 50% of the year.

I’ve started reading a book called “The Atrocity Archives” by Charles Stross. It’s the first book in a series called “The Laundry Files,” which seems to be about a British IT guy who’s employed by a government agency (“The Laundry”) that fights against extra-dimensional Lovecraftian horrors.

Sounds like a hoot!

I picked up “The Atrocity Archives” because I was hankering a little Brian Lumley, who used to write books with covers like this before he died a few years ago:

“Necroscope” is a series about a guy who can talk to dead people and fights against an intense body-horrorish breed of vampire (Wamphyri!) from an alternate universe. There are about 16 books in the Necroscope series, and I was really into them when I was in college.

The Laundry Files should scratch that particular itch, but I know very little about these books. (Which is pretty fun, actually. I feel like I usually know a lot about books I read before I read them, which helps me appreciate the writing but leaves little room for surprises.) I’m excited to see what The Laundry Files is all about.

Perfect fodder for a snowless snow day.

A vice so nice I did it twice

Over the last few years, I’ve gone to great lengths to rid myself of vices. I’ve given up smoking, alcohol, soda, and coffee. I’ve started trying to eat healthier, to drink more water, and to exercise more.

If I’m being honest, it’s been horrible. More than horrible. Boring.

When I lived and taught in Korea (between 2008 and 2019), drinking and smoking were practically required. It’s a pretty big cultural difference — I went out with coworkers much more frequently than you do in the U.S. People drank, smoked, and generally had a rip-roaring good time about once a week. It made you feel cool.

(In Korea I’ve been stumbling around drunk at 2 AM on a weeknight with the principal of the elementary school I worked at. There wasn’t anything strange about it. Everyone thought it was normal. Good even. In contrast, at my current school, we go out to dinner or something about once or twice each year.)

I feel decidedly uncool. In fact, I’m as square as a set of dice.

I’m pretty sure what I’m describing is called “growing up,” but it hasn’t been easy.

I’ve been trying to get myself to take pleasure in small things — the little daily rituals you do without thinking about it. Basically, I’ve been trying to think of myself as a character in a Haruki Murakami novel.

In case you’ve never read any of Murakami’s work, there are very frequently characters who embrace simplicity and routine as if it were their entire identity.

Tengo washed the rice, put it in the cooker, and turned on the switch. He used the time until the rice was ready to make miso soup with wakame seaweed and green onions, grill a sun-dried mackerel, take some tofu out of the refrigerator and flavor it with ginger, grate a chunk of daikon radish, and reheat some leftover boiled vegetables. To go with the rice, he set out some pickled turnip slices and a few pickled plums.

Besides being fantastic about food writing, you can see in this excerpt from 1Q84 that Murakami’s characters have a certain kind of presence (as in present in the moment) that I wish wish wish I possessed. I want to be the sort of person who can not only put together a healthy meal, but also enjoy the process.

I’m not there yet, but I’ve been trying for so long that I’ve started to wonder if it’s even possible.

Ultimately nothing did happen

This blog wasn’t exactly a new year’s resolution; it just so happened that I started blogging again at the beginning of a new year and was somewhat resolved to blog every day. Like any pedestrian chump, though, I fell off after about a month.

Sad!

The trick is, I’ve learned, not to beat yourself up over resolutions that you make. Buddhists always say “Everyone suffers,” but if I could add a western spin to that idea, I’d say, “Everyone fails.”

It’s just true. No matter what you do, how often you do it, how good you are at it, or whether or not that thing is your passion, you will have setbacks and you will eventually face failure.

Imagine two people who make a resolution to go jogging every morning. Both people, being regular people, will eventually fail at this resolution in some wayshaperform. It just happens — they have a sick day or they forget to set an alarm or the ground is covered in ice — the world conspires against them and they can’t jog.

Womp womp! But how do they react to this failure; that’s the question.

Person A says to themselves, “My perfect record is tainted! I’d planned to run every day, but now that I’ve failed, what’s the use? Everything is horrible and life is a crap chute!” So they stay home and feel bad about their failure because it wasn’t perfect.

Person B says, “Oh, I couldn’t jog yesterday. Whoops!” and then goes jogging anyway.

I have, unfortunately, always put myself in the former category. I wish I wasn’t there, but here we are. I beat myself up for failing at goals that I have set for myself and I’m not sure what to do about it.

Other than to keep plugging away at this blog as if nothing happened. Because, ultimately, nothing did happen.

That was my plan all along

The school where I work has what’s called a plan center, which is slightly different that a teacher’s lounge (in that it’s not meant for “lounging”). We have this plan center because my school has more teachers than it has classrooms. The school simply isn’t big enough for each teacher to have their own room; we’re packed in like sardines, teachers and students alike.

It’s incredibly annoying. If I want to, say, grade papers during my plan time, which is a daily thing, I have to carry the papers from my files in a classroom (where, you know, the students are) down the hall to the plan center and carry them back when I’m done. It gets even trickier when I have to bring any sort of supplies, like colors or rulers or construction paper, from one place to the other. (A lot of our teachers use little wheelie-carts to haul these supplies around.)

Another annoying aspect of having to use a plan center is that the plan center can get a little noisy.

It’s usually just teacher chit-chat, but it’s bothersome at 7:30 in the morning when I’m trying to get lesson ready for the day.

This morning, a bunch of teachers were talking about negotiations between the teacher’s union and our school district. Apparently, our union is pushing for smaller class sizes, which is something of which we are in dire need. (My biggest class has 36 students, which is incredibly difficult to manage.)

The district, in its infinite wisdom and remembering that education is a top priority for 90% of voters in this country, is pushing for pay cuts and maintaining that a student/teacher ratio of 36/1 is just fine.

Who, in good conscience, can possibly argue for bigger classes and less pay? I cannot fathom these fucking clowns. You could pack them into a car.

It makes me want to say thanks for the support, guys! I can really see why American schools are considered “the best in the world.”

Does this bell work

There are a lot of things that happen in an educational setting today that didn’t happen when I was in high school. No surprise there — I’m a solidly middle-aged guy, so you’d expect that things would have changed in some way, shape, or form.

One change that has become an everyday buzzword in schools is a thing called “Bell Work.”

Practically, there’s nothing really new or groundbreaking about the idea of Bell Work; it’s just an activity or assignment that students are supposed to work on right as the bell is ringing at the start of class. The goal is to more efficiently utilize class time by having students do something immediately when they enter the room. (Because, presumably, students were doing nothing before.)

I’m guessing Bell Work became a thing because some administrator somewhere wanted to make it look like they were “improving” student and teacher performance at their school or district by shaving off those wasted minutes of class during which those same teachers and students were saying hello to each other and/or making small talk.

Anywho. There are a variety of bell work activities that I have students do throughout the year, but right now we’re doing a new kind of bell work that I’m calling “The Fight Bracket.”

Basically, I created a tournament bracket of 16 fictional characters that are going to square off in battle to discover who, ultimately, is the strongest fictional character of all. At the end of class, I give students a QR code to a Google Form that asks, “Who would win in a fight, X or Y?” and has the day’s two contestants as options. Whoever gets the most votes is crowned victorious and moves on to the next round.

The next day, I share the results and give out the next “Battle.”

ChatGPT made this. Sue me.

What does all of this have to do with English? Not a damned thing! It’s just entertaining to talk about.

No offense to the admin who thought up “Bell Work” as a way to show their boss that they were making schools better by cutting out all that “wasted class time,” but I’m going to spend a little bit of each day just doing fun stuff.

As Kurt Vonnegut said,

“I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don’t let anybody tell you different.”

Like a nandle in the nind

I downloaded a little book called The Trauma of Burnout by Dr. Claire Plumbly the other day, hoping (as I always do) to find more information about why I’m having trouble sleeping. And, hopefully, to find ways to improve the situation.

Am I actually burnt out? I don’t know. Being burnt out is more of a spectrum than it is a binary condition (“syndrome,” technically), so I suppose most people who’ve been teaching for a while are. Both mentally and physically, teaching is a tough gig. If you want to see how tough it is, take a little trip over to r/teaching on Reddit and see the horror stories that get posted there on a daily basis.

Plumbly’s book reads like she’s been following me around taking notes about how my day is going, which should make me upset but actually makes me a little relieved. It’s just nice to have a clearer idea of why I feel so crummy and to have some practical steps I can take to fix the issues.

For example, this morning, one of the first things I did after waking up was splash a bunch of cold water on my face, which apparently has some physiological benefits. Did it feel great? No. But my morning did go a little smoother than usual, so that’s a win.

I’ve never been huge on self-help books, but at this point I’ll take advice from anywhere I can get it.

Ooh ee ooh aah aah ting tang wallah wallah Potter

I’m listening to The Prisoner of Azkaban now, and there’s a part of the Full-Cast Editions from Audible that I’m finding particularly strange: The foley work.

Foley work is what we call the sounds produced for movies, tv, radio, podcasts, etc. It can be footsteps, gunshots, squeaky door hinges, coughs, grunts, barks. Cars passing by on a busy highway. Raindrops hitting a window. In visual media like movies and tv, we are so incredibly used to foley that we barely notice — it would probably be strange if the foley wasn’t there (or wasn’t done properly).

In audio books, though, foley work isn’t usually a part of the process. For years and years, audio books have featured nothing more than a single person speaking. There isn’t usually even any atmosphere or ambience done. It’s expensive, time-consuming, and (I think) would involve feedback from the author.

Audible’s Full-Cast Editions of the Harry Potter series, though, are chock full of foley work.

For the most part I enjoy it — it adds to the story when you can hear spells being cast or footsteps running down a hallway or a crowd of people talking excitedly.

It isn’t always…smooth, though. I noticed it first when I was listening to Chamber of Secrets and I was suddenly pulled out of the story in the scene where the Weasleys rescue Harry by breaking him out of his room with their dad’s flying car. While the narrator describes Harry packing up all his stuff, I noticed that the actor who plays Harry was going a little heavy on the grunting.

The kid’s supposed to be packing up clothes and whatnot, but is grunting like he’s trying to juggle dumbbells. It’s in the background, so it isn’t particularly intense, but it does pull me out of the story (which is the opposite of what foley work ought to do).

Since then, I can’t stop hearing it. Sometimes, characters in scenes will just go “Uh,” or “Oh,” or “Ha!” quietly in the background and I think, “Christ, they’re really enjoying their breakfast, aren’t they?”

Home again home again jiggity jig

I was able to keep some food down yesterday (toast, some soup), but I’m still nowhere near back to “normal,” so I’ve decided to take another sick day. I still feel a bit feverish and just so…exhausted that I don’t think I’d be much use in front of a classroom.

I’m a little guilty about it. I always have felt guilty when I’m sick — any time I take day (or two) off of work, my mid-western brain starts beating itself up. “You’re just being lazy,” is a phrase that was always thrown around the house when I grew up, and now it lives rent-free in my head.

People always say your health comes first, but my mind is at odds with that. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a person wanting to work a lot — if anything, I think I’d rather err on the side of being too hard-working — but that means I’ll feel bad about it whenever I can’t work.

And that’s a stupid way to feel. Like a boxer climbing into the ring alone, punching himself in the face, and then complaining to the referee that the rules of the match aren’t fair.

Sarah and I put a humidifier in our bedroom this winter and, holy cow, all the plants over by the window are absolutely thriving. Apparently they like a little moisture in the air.

Sarah’s taken charge of managing all the plants in the house, and she’s been doing an amazing job with them. Her policy so far has been “The more the merrier!” and it is really working. Nearly every available window has at least one plant nearby. Most windows have more. The biggest problem we’ve had is that a lot of them seem to be outgrowing the pots they’re in, which isn’t really much of an issue when you think about it.

I’ve only noticed these hearty greens because I’ve spent a lot of time in bed over the last 24 hours. Take pleasure in the small things, I suppose.

I didn’t read much yesterday, but I finished A Court of Thorns and Roses this morning and…I’m not quite sure how to feel about it. The book is fine. But that’s about it; there’s nothing really amazing going on.

The characters are a little bland, the prose is a little pedestrian, and there isn’t much happening plot-wise that really turns my crank. I think Sarah J. Maaaaas is steering everything toward a love triangle in the next book, which isn’t exactly ground-breaking.

It’s like a scoop of vanilla ice cream as far as fantasy books go. It’s not even French vanilla; just the plain stuff you get in a gallon-sized tub at the local IGA.

I’m going to give the next book a try — A Court of Mist and Fury — but I’ll have to see if things pick up a bit before committing to the whole series.

I should also keep in mind that I’m sick and I’m probably not going to *love* whatever I read right now.

Oh well.

Fruit is just a dream

Welp. My day yesterday went from me wondering, “Why do I feel so exhausted?” straight into my having to leave my first class to go throw up in the teacher’s bathroom.

Turns out I have the flu. Huzzah!

I managed to find another teacher to cover class for me and headed straight home to vomit in my own bathroom.

Then I took a bunch of Pepto and slept and slept.

I’m staying home from work today to rest, rehydrate, and eat toast with butter. If my stomach can handle it, I might upgrade the toast to fruit. At this point, though, fruit is just a dream.

I’ll see if I can finish up A Court of Thorns and Roses (10% to go!), but I don’t know how much I’m going to feel like reading. Today’s more of a “Watch Wes Anderson films while I writhe around in bed” sort of day.

Level 19 in darkshore wow

Up incredibly early this morning. Not feeling great.

Yesterday, after work, I came home and played World of Warcraft Classic for an hour at my standing desk. I walked on a little treadmill while I did so, hoping that a little more exercise would help out with my sleep.

It didn’t.

Well — I know that I’ve got to make doing that sort of stuff more habitual in order to see benefits. As it is, I only walk like that once or twice a week, which simply isn’t enough. I’m going to try to pick up the pace as much as I can, but work has been rough recently and I am stressed out the the bejeezus belt.

All the more reason to exercise more, I suppose.

Anywho. I finished Twelve Months last night, which was great, but then, when I suddenly snapped awake at like 3:30 in the morning, I didn’t have my next audiobook queued up. In a daze, I downloaded the full-cast edition of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets on Audible. Sarah and I listened to The Sorcerer’s Stone a few months ago, so I figured the next book would do in a pinch.

These new full-cast editions from Audible seem like a great idea, although I’m sure they’ll suffer from the same thing that will hit the HBO series when it comes out: Comparisons.

With an IP as omnipresent as Harry Potter, it’s difficult to get away from them. When the original movies came out, everyone compared them to the books. (“DiD yOU pUt YoUr NaME iN tHe GobLet OF fIrE!?!?!?”) Any new version that comes out now will be compared to both the books and the movies.

And can anything stand up to that kind of comparison? The movies are great. The books are even greater.

I want to give these full-cast editions a fair shake, but it’s hard to get away from thinking, “Ron doesn’t sound like that!”