Alia/Rob: Mentor

Yeesh. If it weren't for the walking reminder of my physical state, I might forget this blog exists.

Call it self-censorship. I don't live a terribly interesting life. Cliff doesn't either, but she's at least willing/able to air her grievances/thoughts on her body, on her life. I get home after a long day at work and just zonk out.

Stress stress stress stress stressstressstress.

For a long while, it was just overwhelming. I wanted to find some quiet corner of the school and cry (manly tears) over how overwhelmed I was. But generally speaking it is not recommended that teachers lose control of their emotions in front of students. So I bottle it all up.

It's hard, man. Let's not kid ourselves here, this is a stressful job. I remember when I was in high school, the feeling of how overwhelming the pressure was, my quiet suspicion that nothing I was doing would affect me in the long term so long as I got into a decent University (I did.) These kids walking around the halls, half of them have the same parental issues as I did, some way worse. Some don't even talk to theirs, for better or worse. I certainly don't know all their stories, but you get to know who's having trouble.

Oh, you get to know things. The way hormones rule this hallway is palpable, to say the least. Monday morning comes and you can tell which ones had a bad weekend. Every little romantic gesture is scrutinized and agonized over. Students' moods and behaviours change on a regular basis, especially the girls. I've chaperoned a couple dances (I'm on duty for one more this week as a matter of fact) and seeing the way these kids attempt to free themselves from their own awkwardness - with varying degrees of success - well, it takes me back.

That's not to say the teachers are immune to this. We gossip, we make cliques, we have in-jokes. In some really sad ways, we emulate the behaviour of the kids for whom we're supposed to set the example. The sex lives of unmarried teachers (like myself and Cathy) are scrutinized by the older ladies teaching English, Geography and History. We all indulge in inappropriate speculations about the kids. It becomes like a weird little soap opera for some of these people.

Some, however, don't seem to care. This is Marshall McPhee, the senior English teacher. Earlier this year, when the Vice Principal was on my ass about my lackluster in-class performance, Mr. McPhee stood up for me, and even became a mentor of sorts. He's the kind of teacher who's been at it for 25 years, and still gets out of bed in the morning, glad to be teaching, where so many of these people have had their spirits ground down. He's a friendly, balding, thin, bearded sort with John Lennon glasses and a button-up vest.

"Rob," he says to me after school one day, "It's our job to positively impact these kids' lives. We may be here for the long term, but they aren't, and it's our responsibility to see them them through that. We only get a few years to do anything for these kids, and even then it's just a sliver of time. And then they're gone. You've got to be strong. You've got to know your stuff, and you've got to be there for them." I'm paraphrasing, of course: This was months ago. But the feeling stuck with me.

There was this girl who, at the beginning of the semester, was having relationship trouble. That much was true. She showed promise, but also distraction. I knew a lot of girls like that in high school -- hell, I envied them, I was never the one who had the boys' attention, until Todd -- and I know it would've been hard for me to take any teacher's advice seriously (especially a male one) but I did what I could.

Basically, what it amounted to was taking her aside after class and assuring her of the potential I saw in her, and reminding her that things were probably going on in her life that felt the most important, but wouldn't seem so relevant down the road. And showing her perceptiveness, she rebuffed, "And all the classes ARE?"

I told her, "At this point, you're learning more about how to be a person than you are about books. We give you assignments and work not only to teach you their lessons, but how to learn, how to work, full stop. Having a life is important, but what's really important is to learn to balance it all, because believe me, it's never going to stop. There will still be boys, if you don't run off every weekend to hang out with them, and instead keep up on your readings."

And she laughed at this, but a little later when we started doing poetry, she was the only one to have anything memorized, and her insights were quite strong as well. She did a report on Sylvia Plath, which was a sort of "Oh God what have I done" moment (I kid, Plath-lovers.) Was it University-level? Of course not. But she's only a sophomore in high school.

Anyway, the balance-talk worked on both ends because I started dealing with school-related issues a little better, even taking a few extra assignments just to hone my abilities. It's still not my dream job, but I'm getting better at it. And like high school, my time here is limited, and in fact coming to an end sooner than later.

Anyway. It's late, and as always I have an early morning tomorrow. Todd sent me this album by this new Canadian band, Zeus. He loves it, but I think it's a little weak until the midway point gem, "Marching Through Your Head," and then there are some lovely tracks after that, such as "The Sound of You" and "At The Risk Of Repeating," which all makes me yearn for home.

I made him promise not to send me the new Broken Social Scene album. I don't want to hear that until I'm a girl again.

-Alia

Alia/Rob: Too quiet

It hasn't exactly been a carnival for me since I've been here. It's been quiet and lonely, not really worth writing about. I've had to study up on the curriculum for Rob's English and History classes. The preparation has been somewhat akin to what Greg has spoken about, although rather than finger painting and naptime, I have to refresh my memory on figurative language and the Battle of Antietam.

I'm not really comfortable with this situation, because I feel like I'm doing myself, or Rob, or those kids a disservice if I don't know this stuff well enough to communicate it properly, even if most high school teachers I've know haven't had that attitude. Back when I was in high school, I had a teacher, Mr. Brown, who showed up every morning seeming genuinely excited to be teaching his students. He really seemed to like his job, and it was that enjoyment that, for a time, made me want to be a teacher. But that phase passed, and now here I am anyway. and I always thought, if I was going to be a teacher, that's the type I would be - enthusiastic and engaged, but how can I be enthusiastic? I'm not ready for this. It's a lot of responsibility. Classes start on the 3rd.

Meanwhile I've had my share of other concerns. For one, I had a very tense meeting with Rob's soon-to-be ex-wife Ingrid and her lawyer, and they were not pleased that Rob had missed their previously scheduled meeting (which, by my calendar, was shortly before I inherited his life and problems.) She gave me a death-stare the entire time.

She's one of those cold, detached yet mysteriously perfect-looking blonde white ladies my mom always seemed to have a bug up her behind about. She used to warn me that most men really wanted her type, although I thought it was an unfair prejudice, especially considering she married a white guy (and has been happy with him for nearly 30 years.) And most of my best friends have always been white anyway, so I never really thought of myself as "different" from them. This lady, though, gave me the chills, but it had nothing to do with race. Gender, maybe, but not race.

I could see why she might not have made a super-pleasant wife. My guess is that their relationship was fine as long as it was casual. She can't have been all that fun to go on dates with, but she got her claws in him, made him settle down before he was ready, controlled him and caused him to freak out, who probably explains why the first girl he saw, before their marriage was even officially over, was a hairdresser nearly 10 years younger.

Anyway, she sat there, judging me - or Rob, but I was feeling it - with her eyes while the lawyer drew up some paperwork for us both to sign. I'm supposed to take it back to my lawyer, although I have no idea why he wasn't in on that meeting, get it notarized, and send it back to her camp.

I keep putting it off, though, because I'm busy with both the curriculum preparation, and leading my stupid double life. As much as I appreciate Crystal involving me in my life, it's enough of a headache to be Rob and I can't handle the pressure of being both Rob and Alia. For a while, she was been pretty compulsive about keeping me updated on her thoughts on what she may do while being me. And trust m, while I appreciate the consultation, I have matters of my own.

Still, there's some important stuff to deal with that some of these fellow-victims would probably have rather had a hand in with their lives. Crystal wasn't about to pick up my position as a grad student. As important as it was to me that I finish my Master's degree in good time, there aren't any requirements that can't be put on hold until I can resume them myself. Until then, we brainstormed jobs that I could get with my resume, and that she was capable of handling. She's a pretty capable lady, and I'm somewhat accomplished I suppose, so it wasn't hard to come up with a few things -- jobs I wouldn't have necessarily wanted, but were available to me.

What was surprising was how quickly she started getting interviews for places like ad agencies and marketing firms. After only a few weeks, she actually got Full-time position writing ad copy for a place called Epic Communications. It's a small firm with a couple big clients, so the pay isn't great, but enough to sustain the modest lifestyle I'd been living anyway.

Since landing the job, thankfully, Crystal seems to have broken away and started doing her own thing. Obviously I intend to keep informed of what is going on in her life, despite the fact that she is not interested in contributing to this blog. Luckily, I've got two very dedicated spies on her trail in Todd and Bry. Mwahaha.

I'm kidding. She knows they're reporting to me.

Anyway, as annoying as her obsessive advice-seeking was at first, I don't mind that she was the one to end up with my body. She seems like a respectable woman, very driven and dedicated, and eager not to screw things up for me or for her. Maybe it seems a little too perfect, but quite honestly, I think the trade-off is that her life is boring.

Which I'm fine with. As you can imagine, my life as Rob has been pretty boring so far too. Don't get me wrong, I've scrawled down plenty of "Tired of worrying about catching penis in zipper" observations, but we have to save something for later entries, don't we...

Cheers,
Alia