11 November 2003 - 11:34 AM
So far behind -- and what a five-day span since I last updated. I'll try to hit the highlights.
Friday was the day of the formal observation, which I think went OK. It's hard for me to judge exactly, as I am always my own worst critic and I noticed every hair that went out of place: squeaking chalk, mistake in a link on the school website, etc. Most of it was not under my control, but nevertheless it bothered me. The Academic Honcho has not seen fit to reveal to me the outcome of the assessment yet, which is probably the most nerve-wracking part. Should I clean out my desk today, or would he rather I waited until the end of the semester?
As Sis points out, I'm not a bad teacher, and even if the observation is recorded in negative language, they won't (can't, I'm technically tenured) fire me on the strength of one observation. But still, it's all very anxiety-provoking.
The Viking has a relatively easy schedule Friday, and when he got home he suggested going to fight practice up in Bright Hills, 'if you want to and aren't too tired.' Well, I was too tired but I told him we'd go anyway. He's always happier when he's had a chance to beat on people, and sometimes getting out is more psychologically helpful than staying in, even when you're too tired.
The practice actually had quite a good turnout, and the Viking was able to try out some of the tricks Master K (a Master of Arms and jarl from Atenvelt recently arrived in the northern marches of Atlantia) has taught him. K seems to have taken a shine to my fair-haired boy, and being also a centre-grip fighting Viking, can help him more with that fighting style than Atlantian fighters can. K wasn't in attendance on Friday but he would have been pleased, because the Viking not only held his own but got in a few good licks, and didn't get legged once.
On the way home, we talked about some of the Viking's bigger dreams in the SCA, which I think are beginning to seem within reach to him again. He's had a tough time in Atlantia as a fighter, in part because centre-grip shields are non-existent or nearly so, and in part because, frankly, a lot of the fighters simply haven't been very friendly. Maybe it's the weird Auslander fighting style, or the lack of a red belt -- or who knows. It doesn't matter, really. It's been a rough couple of years, and it's good to see the shine coming back into his eyes.
Saturday we did nothing. Didn't even get dressed. We sat on the futon and played The Sims all day. The Viking got me the latest expansion last week, which allows Sims to cast spells and have pet dragons and other such things. Great fun.
Sunday I had to work at the open house for the school, about which the less said the better. Somehow also I seem to have eaten something which disagreed with me, and paid for it all Sunday night. I'm not sure how I managed that since I didn't eat anything the Viking didn't, and he was fine. But then he has an iron constitution, and I, degenerate frail thing, do not.
Yesterday I was supposed to go to Grandmaman's to help pack and sort, since the Grand Exodus is this week. I didn't (see above for why) and it was probably just as well, since Grandmaman's mood was apparently rotten, and the Avuncular One was in attendance and trying to kipe whatever he could of the 'good stuff.' I got an abbreviated report this morning from Sis, and it's probably a good thing, for those who care about such objects, that Grandmaman and Grandpapa not only compiled a list of what was to go to whom, but had also formalised it as a deed of gift. So in the end it doesn't matter that Mr Avuncularity likes the sterling silver goblets, and the spindle-legged card table, and the large gold-leafed mirror, they are mine, mine, mine!
Gawds and little fishes. It's just stuff.
The Viking thinks he has the Avuncular One figured out. He's the guy who gets killed first in the war movies -- or the junior officer Kirk shakes hands with in the 'Star Trek' films. Too much nervous laughter and joking.