Of Phones and Inventory

I spent part of the day either on the phone or waiting for a phone call.

The rest of the day I spent cleaning and counting. (And denying. More on that in a minute.)

The phone calls were a back and forth with our cellular service provider.  What I was asking them to do turned out to involve lots of research and work on their part and I had to spend a lot of time on hold or hanging out at my desk waiting for them to call back. Luckily, our provider has excellent customer service and although they couldn’t do exactly what I was asking them to do, they told me how to do it. (And I will tomorrow.)

After that, I made one final pass through the pen hoard to decide what needs to go. That led to lots of second guessing and third guessing. That led to lots of pictures, some extra cleaning, and some extra research. It also led to me tracking down missing parts. (It also led to me including three more pens in the sale.)

That led to me deciding on prices which led to more research and a lot of doubt (so that I can avoid registering disappointment) and denial (so that I can avoid actually attempting to sell anything).

I’ll post the for sale list soon. There’s just one more thing I need to do.

Glorious Justified I Told You So

Because I have a lot of stuff I want to do but nothing I need to do I’ve been watching old episodes of American Pickers. This is a dangerous show. If you are a hoarder don’t watch it. If you love a hoarder, don’t let them watch it.

I remember seeing the show the last time I was back in the USA but only recently decided to look it up. When I saw it the first time, I didn’t realize how dangerous it was. The basic premise of the show (two guys digging through hoards for rusty, dirty hidden treasure) proves to hoarders that, yes, no really, that thing will be worth something some day.

Granted, the two pickers will walk into a farm containing 14 trailers full of stuff and emerge with only a few things, but the sale of those few things is enough to justify, to the hoarders at least, that their hoarding was. It also provides enough cash for them to acquire new pieces for the hoard.

I thought it might help inspire me to sell stuff (and it has) but it also puts that little seed in the back of the head that maybe that leg-shaped lamp is worth owning. That’ll be worth something some day.

Time Doesn’t Always Fly

Sometimes they surprise you. At least for a while. But not for a whole class.

I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Pass-back classes are a strange thing. We have 50 minutes to do 15-25 minutes worth of work. The rest of the time is spent babysitting. We’ve discussed with the powers what are at the school where I work getting a shorter class, but that involves paperwork and that one teacher who likes to fill the time. (We hate them; we really hate them.)

Usually, I’m entertaining myself during the second half of the class, but today my junior high school students kept me busy.

Several students in each class worked on their summer homework and kept peppering me with questions. I was then torn between helping them or telling them to shut up and waste time like everyone else so that I could work on my own stuff.

However, since four of my five classes today were lower level classes I decided I should probably help them out as a way to encourage them.

When I wasn’t helping them do their summer homework, I was smacking down attempts to get extra points. This also helped make the day productive.

I kind of miss having time to myself, though. Next term I may just refuse to help.

Shant Be Seeing You in September

It is the start of the time of good riddance.

Today and tomorrow morning first period are the last times I’ll see my first year junior high school classes in their current configurations. Starting next term they will be divided, sort of, by ability. What this means is that the best five of one class will join the “higher level” class and the worst five of the other class will drop to the “lower level” class.

Although it’s only a few students moving, the changes on class temperament can be profound. The new students are hearing a different voice and it takes time to get them used to the new voice and the new rules. This year I plan to have a kind of ice breaker/I must break you session where I get to know the new students and they get to know me. Last year I didn’t do this and I had trouble in almost every class. 

My worst student said his own goodbye by simply breaking out a book and ignoring everything I said or told him to do. I suspect he thinks that the lower level class will be land of Japanese and leisure, especially as he’ll be in his own homeroom near his own stuff.  He doesn’t seem to realize that the other teacher and I agreed early on not to use much Japanese. He will also be closer to the teacher’s room, where it will be easier to have him disciplined. (I’ll mostly be interested to see how tardy he is to a class in his homeroom as he’s always been late to my class.)

Or, maybe the two will hit it off and my bad student will be a decent student.

I’ll have to buy my colleague a beer someday because of this. I suspect he’ll probably need it after a couple weeks.

Registering Up the Cash and Disappointment

As I sort through the pens and knives I want to get rid of, my head continues to dwell on a lesson I learned, for better and for worse,  back in Hayden, Colorado in the early 80s.

For reasons I don’t remember, there was some sort of sale going on in front of the old Quonset hut gymnasium at Hayden High School. It may have involved raising money for a band trip to California and I may have had some things for sale but that’s been long cast down the memory hole. (I have a vague sense that we were raising spending money but all I remember is that a sale of some sort was happening.)

What I do remember is that one key person associated with band had decided to sell a vintage cash register. It was pristine and in working condition and was quickly snatched up for a few hundred dollars by the curator of the local museum who had driven buy, seen the cash register, and then had done a high speed turn whilst pulling out her wallet. (Something like that.)

The key person associated with the band acted fairly smug with a few hundred dollars in his pocket until another band associated person arrived with a similar cash register. That was was not in working condition but they’d bothered to have a professional look at it and the professionals appraisal was well over a thousand dollars. (This was 1981ish when $1,000 was worth over $2,725 in today’s dollars.)

This caused great depression amongst both of the cash register people. The first was upset because he’d sold something valuable for a lot less than it was worth and the latter were upset because the former had guaranteed that their expensive item would never sell.

All this has me questioning what to charge for the items I want to sell. Which, of course, makes me overthink selling them. Cash may be king, but my brain thinks that a little more cash is even kinglier and that not selling things is quite safe and kingly indeed.

Something like that.

Cleaning and Not Processing

I’m gearing up for a large sale, but first there is a lot of cleaning, picture taking, and second guessing to do.

I’m going to use the early part of the summer to purge a bunch of stuff and that starts with pens that no longer set my soul on fire. I cleaned two of them today and took several pictures of them but didn’t process the pictures so that I could use them. Also, the water wasted during the cleaning probably adds up to more than the pens are worth.

These pens join a large bundle of pens that have to go once I get past the “But, oh so PRETTY” phase.

This phase, I suspect, is what turns collectors into hoarders. Your brain tells you that this shiny object must go. You not only haven’t used it in months, you haven’t missed it. Sometimes you even forget you owned it. However, once it’s in your hands your only reactions are “Shiny!” and “It is precious…” as if Smeagol had spent the entirety of The Lord of the Rings trilogy collecting all the rings of power and only wanted the One Ring back in order to complete his collection. (It completes us, it does. Yessss, it doessss. We loves our sets completes, yes we doessss. Dirty Hobbitsess, breaking up our collection.)

Something like that.

(Meaningless Side Note: My ending for the Lord of the Rings would have involved Sauron recovering the One Ring and then Gollum killing him to get it back, thus making the entire trilogy a meaningless waste of time. Yeah, that’s the mood I’m in right now.)

The next phase is the fear phase where you imagine that nobody will want to buy them. Of course, that may be a secret hope that no one wants them and I get to keep them.

I have a few ideas for overcoming this in mind, but I’ll probably second guess those ideas.

 

Okay, So Now What?

After two marathon marking sessions in two days I’ve finished marking all my final exams. I’ve also completed all the final marks. This seems like a good thing.

However, by finishing marking final exams days ahead of my usual schedule, I’ve done my psyche an incredible disservice.

One of the advantages of having work to do at home is that you don’t have to think about the  other projects  you’re not doing. You can always tell yourself “Can’t do that now, I have too much to do.” Then, the paid work expands to fill any available time so that you never have to do the other projects.

However, for reasons I can’t fully explain, I’ve already finished marking all the exams of all my classes. I’ve done this with a full weekend to spare. This means I’m now revising my weekly plans.

Complicating things even further, I’ve already finished exams that aren’t due until next Friday, which leaves me a third day to fill.

I’m now sorting through several layers of denial and excuses to formulate a new plan.

 

 

Don’t Forget to Stand and Walk

Marking may kill me in the end the same way it kills people in the cheap seats on airplanes.*

Because I’m in an atypical “Git r Done” mood I’ve done a couple things I usually don’t do. 1) I’ve decided not to attend this year’s International Stationery and Office Products Fair Tokyo and 2) I’ve actually sat down to work until I’m finished.

It’s the latter that may kill me.

I spent the day in my office chair marking student exams. I did nothing else (well, unless you count watching Marvel’s Iron Fist as background noise but that didn’t involve actually standing up.**)

I’ve made a shocking amount of progress, but I also skipped my usual evening exercise time.

Besides blood clot risk, I also run the risk of having what’s left of my brain turn to jelly as I read student writing.

*(Note: I’m counting the effects of sitting for a long time, not the effects of being beaten unconscious and dragged off by United Airlines staff.)

(**Note the Second: Iron Fist is better than I was expecting and has a great supporting cast but, like Marvel’s Daredevil, it suffers from having a shockingly uncharismatic lead actor.)

Pretty Much Boring

If I were smart, I’d stop doing this bit of blather for a few days.

The trouble is 1) if I get in the habit of not writing then this bit of blather will slowly fade away and 2) I’m not smart.

However, the end of term and exam marking time is fairly boring. All I have to report is that there’s nothing to report. I could mock my students’ exams, especially their long writing sections, but thus far the exams haven’t been entertainingly bad. Also, the long writing sections, at least on the second year junior high school exam, are fairly easy.

Eventually, though, my mood will turn and things might get more interesting.

Until then, I’d better get back to marking. Or at least to convincing myself that’s what I should be doing.

Last Minute Panic After Early Mistakes

Today was the day of the exam I’m in charge of which meant I felt as if I was about to go on stage to do some acting. I felt this way because of past problems. Of course, there were delays which led to a minor mistake and then there was a delay that started feelings of panic and made the pre-performance feeling even stronger.

(Note: If you’ve never done acting or paced around in a locker room before a big match, the feeling you get right before things start is a feeling in your gut that leaves you confused about whether or not you need to pee, poop, or puke. You need to do one, but can’t decide which is about to happen. You therefore have to keep pacing, lest one of them happen immediately.)

The day started with a delay as a major train line was down and that pushed all exams back an hour. I misread the email and I thought mine would start at the regular time because it was after lunch. I arrived at the right time and panicked when the sound technician didn’t arrive. I was quickly informed about my mistake and then tried to relax for an hour until my exam.

Then, when it was actually time for my exam, the sound technician arrived with only a few minutes to spare, putting me in a panic again.

Luckily, he had time to do a sound check and the listening went off without any problems.

I’m only just now managing to relax, though.