This Post Is Not Really About Teaching; It’s About My Usual Shit

In my professional life, I’m graded on a rubric. Did you know that? There are six standards upon which teachers are evaluated, and for each we are deemed Developing, Proficient, Accomplished, or Distinguished.

A couple weeks ago, I was out with some friends, one of whom is also a teacher, and we got to talking about the rubric. For shits and giggles, I suggested we use it to rate ourselves in other aspects of our lives.

Honestly, I can’t remember much—we were a couple cocktails in—except that Meg rated herself Distinguished in both Being Alone and Handling Her Shit (a super-accurate self-assessment), but I’ve been thinking about it lately, and here’s my self-evaluation.

Developing

1. Dressing myself. I still don’t know what looks good, what to buy, or how to put it together. It takes a ton of emotional effort for me to dress up. All I want to wear is jeans, my Obama hoodie, and

these guys.
these guys.

But I’m getting better. I wore skinny jeans, for Christ’s sake.

2. Dating/being in a relationship. You know how everybody’s always like, “Gahd, another Taylor Swift break-up song?! When is she gonna realize that the only constant in all these situations is her?”?

Yeah, I realize it’s me. I do. I’ve done a lot of work and put myself out there, but clearly I need more practice/support/guidance.

To that end, two things:

(1) In a maneuver I’m calling Amy’s Last-Ditch Campaign to Get Inseminated by a Dude She’d Like to Chill with for Awhile/Maybe Forever (ALDCGIDSLCAMF, for short), I joined Match Fucking Dot Com. For one month. ONE MONTH, and end scene—I shall forever abandon my Sisyphean online dating endeavors.

And (2) to quote Homeland Security: If You See SomethingSay Something™. Friends, you have to tell me when you see the metaphorical spinach in my teeth, OK? If there’s some invisible-to-myself road block I’m throwing up, let your girl know. For real.

Proficient

1. You know, as recently as a few months ago, I would’ve put cooking in the Developing category, but I’ve had some pretty consistent victories lately. ‘Member those carnitas? <licks chops>

Also, I marinated chicken. (Me, out on the town with friends: “You guys, I’m marinating chicken right now.” Friend: (pause) “Is it… is it in the fridge?” Hahaha. I couldn’t blame her for checking—I’ve made some questionable judgment calls in the past.)

I made Chinese chicken salad with it.

There's chicken in there, swear to god.
There’s marinated chicken up in there somewhere, swear to god.

That sludgy business in the jelly jar? Homemade sesame-ginger motherfucking salad dressing. Booyah.

I mean, every once in a while, mistakes are made.

Nothing Like Bacon

In hindsight, there were a number of points at which a different decision could have rendered a more desirable outcome.

But for the most part, I’m feeding myself yummy, healthy things, so I’m gonna go ahead and declare myself Proficient in the cooking department.

Hubris? Probably.

2. CrossFit. Listen, I’m never going to be competitive. That’s OK. But I’ve been lifting heavy objects for nearly three years, and I’ve got pretty skrong, y’all (265-lb deadlift last night—what what!). And my form on most things is solid. Coach Rich watched me doing snatches the other day, and he said, “God, you’re so good at that.” :)

3. Storytelling/hosting storytelling events. If you’ve seen me at the Monti, I think you’d agree I’m getting better and better.

Accomplished

1. Teaching. I’m a good teacher. I’m not an exceptional teacher. I don’t take work home with me, and I don’t blaze any pedagogical trails, but I try to do cool things with my students, and I work hard to improve my practice every year.

2. Fostering dogs/getting them adopted. Git yer dogs here at Amy’s House o’ Pit Bulls!

3. Blogging. I have a readership. It’s small but, based on a pie chart I only sort of understand, I believe very loyal. (Thanks, guys!)

Distinguished

1. Jackshit.

Except one thing that I won’t share here because this is a family show. ;)

**********

Now you go. Don’t be shy. This is not about judgment. It’s about personal growth.

Retrovloggy Friday 5/3/13

Three years ago, my students did a good job of summing up what would happen if you did/did not show your friends you care. Listen, I want you guys to be filled with hope, backed up in fights, and invited to birthday parties four months in advance, so make sure you read that post.

About this time, two years ago, I posted my first vlogs! I was trying to do food reviews at the time. I was not good at it.

Ira Glass quote

A year ago, I made a list of things I find highly satisfying. Here are a few more:

1. Writing “Rx” in my workout notebook. (In the year 2011, I did five WODs Rx. So far, in 2013, I’ve done five Rx each month. Raaaaaaaaaawr!)

2. Listening to a well-crafted story at the Monti.

3. Seeing all my breakfasts and lunches for the week fixed n’ stacked in the fridge on Sunday afternoon.

4. Staying out too late on a Saturday night with my friends.

5. Shit my dad says. (Dad, a definitively not rich man, recently: “You need any money? You got any dogs that need operating on or anything?”)

You have things to add to your list?

Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.

It Happened

Disturbance in the Force

And I felt all right, you know. They’re Calvin Klein (thus reasonable quality, I guess? I don’t know these things) and made of stretchy fabric, so they’re comfortable. And the way they felt, the way they fit, I kind of found myself strutting around like Sandy at the end of Grease, when she’s got all that skin-tight business on.

But looking in the mirror/at the picture…

IMG_5391
my torso sits atop twin ice cream cones.

I just don’t dig the shape—so very narrow at the ankles, and so very expansive at the child-birthers. It looks like, if I put my feet together, everything would get wicked precarious wicked fast. The tiniest tectonic movement, and I’d be supine. (Especially in my super-cute, red leather wedge sandals [that, like every other pair of heels, make my feet lose all feeling for 2-5 days].)

This fayshun stuff is hard. (My first-world problems are so hard.)

But the important thing is I’m making progress, right?

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