Amounted to little more than a dusting.
Snow 2025
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Snow Tomorrow
In the South, we don’t know what to do with snow. When it falls, everything comes to a halt. There are long lists of closures and delays on every local website — first and foremost, schools. Our district posted this today ahead of snow that’s suppose to start around noon tomorrow:
Greenville County Schools will have an eLearning day Friday, January 10. Schools and office buildings will be closed. All activities, including athletic events and field trips, are canceled on Friday and Saturday. The District’s ICE (Inclement Conditions Evaluation) Team evaluated the forecasts, and the decision was made based on the predictions and timing for snow and/or ice accumulation, which may result in unsafe road conditions, downed power lines, and loss of electrical services.
Because we are an approved eLearning district, this day will not have to be made up and instruction will be provided through Google Classroom. Students will complete eLearning assignments later if they are unable to participate due to power outages, lack of internet service, or other barriers. Once operations resume, school personnel will begin rescheduling events as appropriate. Please check local media, the district website, and the district’s social media for the latest information on school closings or delays.
I have mixed feelings about this: elearning days are seldom very productive because so many students, for whatever reasons, fail to log in and do the work. Teachers almost always give light work during that period because they know so few people will show up. Knowing this, a few more students decide not to show up.
But at least we’ll be able to play in the snow. In theory.
Lost Christmas Picture
So tired — this is the best I can do today.
First Day Back
First day back of the new semester. Being with the kids again reminds me of why I continue teaching: it’s an incredible feeling to realize my job is simply to help a bunch of really great kids. Did everything go perfectly? Of course not. Were there some magnificent moments? Of course there were.
Could I have used another few days of break? Of course I could — but not from the kids. Not from the kids. From the paperwork, meetings, and bureaucracy.
Strengths
Today was our first day back in the building. It was, mercifully, a teacher workday. It’s a good way to begin the new semester: I had time to do some serious planning in the morning, and I worked with the Special Ed teacher who co-teaches one of my classes to figure out some effective ways of simplifying a terrorizing, difficult text that’s in our textbook. That’s how I spent my morning. I could have used the afternoon to prepare some of the materials we’d planned on using and to create some differentiated (i.e., simplified) versions for some of my students who are still learning English. (I’ve got seven students in one class alone who speak very limited English, including one who speaks almost no English. She needs a specialized English class for absolute beginners, not anything I can give her. But I’ll be damned if someone is going to be in my class and not learn something, so I make special mini-lessons for her that I squeeze in here and there. Otherwise, she works on Rosetta Stone.) Still, we didn’t have that time.
Instead, we had a Clifton Strengths Finder session. Earlier in the year, we were asked required to take a survey to help find our strengths. Each question had two activities and you were to pick which one you preferred and to which degree, and there was a neutral option in the middle. For example, it might be something like this:
Imagine it’s time for dinner. What are you more likely to do: pick the restaurant or decide to stay home? What an idiotic question! It depends. How tired is my wife? How tired am I? How much money do we have? What do we have in the refrigerator? What time is it? What plans do we have after dinner? I picked neutral.
Another one: Imagine you’re speaking to community leaders. Are you the “let’s get started now” type or the “No, I don’t eve want to do that” type? Again, that depends. What am I talking about? How long am I expected to speak? To what end am I giving this speech? Do I even support the cause? Is this something likely to affect change or am I just a figurehead speaker? I picked neutral.
A third example: Imagine your boss asks you to work on a big project. Are you a big picture person or do you need details? Once again, it depends. What is this project? Do I feel it’s in my scope of expertise? Will I be working on this alone or with a group? If it’s with a group, what role will I be playing? What is the timeframe for this project? What is the budget? I picked neutral.
A final example: Imagine you’re receiving an award. Would you want individual recognition or would you insist on recognition of the team effort. Bet you can guess where I’m going with this one: it depends, damnit.
Almost every one of the questions was like this. I picked “Neutral” over and over and over — for most of the 190 questions. (Yes, 190 questions. Are these people insane? Does district administration think I have nothing better to do with my time than read 190 poorly-conceptualized questions?)
Just before break, I got an email from the district office politely requesting me to take the survey. I did take the survey. We don’t have your data results. (New Year’s Resolution: I am so sick of hearing the word “data” that I have sworn I will not use it myself at all in 2025. I hate that word now, oh how I detest it.) Well, I know I took it. But we don’t have your results — the session won’t be as meaningful for you if you don’t take the survey.
When I logged back in, I saw a message: “We were unable to tabulate your survey because you selected ‘Neutral’ too frequently.” Well, that’s what I get for thinking. I explained this in yet another email. Can you please take the survey again? Fine, I’ll take the survey.
For probably 175 of the 190 questions, I randomly chose any of the options other than “Neutral.” In fact, if I’d thought about it, I would have had one of my students come in during planning and pick them randomly for me: it was such a hassle because the survey software was so poorly programmed. Sometimes the “Submit” button worked the first time, sometimes I had to click it twice. Still, for about 15 of the questions, something caught my eye in the wording or the responses, and I actually answered those questions truthfully.
Today, we got those results back. Strangely and somewhat unexpectedly, the test results put my four top strengths as just the ones I’d choose for myself. Two thoughts about this: first, how did it do that? It was literally 92% random selections. Second: why did I spend all that time taking a survey when I already knew what the results would be?! I could have looked at this chart and told you most of my strengths would lie in the “Strategic Thinking” block, and four of my five “strengths” were in that quadrant. The only outlier was one in executing: I have a “restorative” strength — I like to fix stuff and solve problems. No, I don’t. I don’t at all. I prefer to think things through carefully and avoid the damn problems in the first place. That’s my priority.
This is one of the biggest contemporary frustrations with teaching, and it seems to be nationwide: the powers that be require us to waste so much time on just such things as today’s nonsense.
Walk
K and I went for a quick walk this afternoon around 2:30. We had to be back by 4:00 — it was non-negotiable — so we rushed to our favorite park to do a quick loop.
Why the rush home?
We had pierogi to make for one thing. We’re still working on that. One hundred and sixty five today — most of them frozen for quick dinners throughout the next few months. They’re a good backup plan: when we are in a rush and just don’t have the time to cook, we have pierogi.
But that wasn’t the real reason for the rush home. The Boy had a friend coming to hangout, and she was scheduled to arrive at four.
Watching our children develop new interests has always been one of the most exciting — and sometimes stressful — elements of parenting.
End of Break Saturday
Today was the day everything went back to normal. The Christmas lights came down (though the tree is still up — whatever K wants to do is fine with me in that regard). The Boy’s 5v5 soccer season resumed: E’s team won 4:3, with the Boy scoring the winning goal.
But some things were still holiday-esque: I made farsz for pierogi again. And this time, I remembered how much grease the sautéed mushrooms spit out as they go through the grinder.
“Do we a fartuszek of any kind I can use?” I asked K.
“But of course…”
Fruit Drawer
Roof
2025 Day 1
We always like to begin the new year with something outside. Last year, we were at Hilton Head with Babcia; the year before, we were hiking somewhere — can’t remember the name. This year, with L still recovering (though she’s mostly fine now) and the Boy feeling a bit reluctant, K and I went for a short walk at our favorite park, just the two of us. And the dog.
And a lot more people than usual. But can you blame them? A beautiful New Year’s Day with temperatures in the mid fifties and a blue sky — of course, you’re going outside.
In the evening, we decided on a family movie — a classic. Well, not quite. But the kids had never seen Titanic, and it’s such a 90s film that both K and I have memories of and — well, okay. There’s no reason to watch that film except for the sinking scene.
The Boy watched about half an hour; we made it to the halfway mark. We’ll finish it Friday or Saturday — tomorrow is a sleepover for the Boy. We’ll have a house filled with kids.
Boys. Twelve-year-olds…
2024
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
November
December
China Town 2002
Family
Our family probably doesn’t get together as much as it should.
Illness
“Padre, when you get a chance, can you fill my two water bottles,” the Girl asked standing at the top of the stairs after checking on her bath water.
“Of course,” I said, finishing up a couple of dishes. As I headed up the stairs, I suppressed a giggle about it. Instead of going to L’s room, I headed straight to ours. K was reading in bed.
“I hope she realizes this is a temporary thing,” I said to my wife. Laughing, I continued, “‘Padre, can you make me some tea?’ ‘Padre, can you get me a nose hose ready?’ ‘Padre, can you get me some gauze?’ ‘Padre, can you fill my two water bottles?'” K just smiled.
In truth, helping her this week has been a pleasure. Helping your daughter recover from a minor surgery is so much less stressful than sitting with her in an emergency room. With the latter, there’s no clear outcome. Too many unknowns. Helping her through this post-operative trial, though, has been simply helping her through very clearly and well-defined steps. We know what happens next. It’s just a matter of dealing with the present discomfort, which will most definitely pass.
That being said, I thought L might try to go it alone. To strike out and try to take care of herself as a show of a now-eighteen-year-old young woman. Heaven knows there’s a stubborn streak in our family that’s as wide as it is deep. “I can do it.” “I don’t need help.” That’s been L the last few years as she explores her growing independence. It’s admirable and frustrating.
I could see L doing it.
But instead, we see another form of independence: the understanding that adults can ask for help. The understanding that asking for help does not suggest dependence.
“We are a family that has three bowls of dried ice cream and a plate of crusty scrambled eggs in a room we’re not even supposed to have food in.” It’s a sentence
Saturday
Remainder
Boxing Day 2024
Everyone has returned home; K returns to work tomorrow — the 2024 holiday season is over. The timeless magical period of Wigilia and Christmas and all the time preparing for it disappears, and the worries that for a few days we put out of our minds come crowding back in.
Worry 1
I woke up this morning thinking of school. The students are great — the best group I’ve had in years. The amount of micro-managing and mindless paperwork has increase so much over the last two years that it has me dreading a return. I’m left in a stressful quandary:
- stay at the school where I have a reputation, where I am (by administration’s own admission) the most frequently-requested teacher and put up with the increasing fiddling in every single decision I make while taking a little bit of comfort in the fact that that reputation serves as a bit of a buffer as I push back, or
- move to a new school (preferably a high school — I think all middle schools in the county are under the same micro-management stress: it comes from the district) where I am an unknown with no capital and no reputation, where it might in fact be even worse.
It’s a difficult decision that I’ll have to make very soon, and it entails a conversation with my school’s administration that I don’t really anticipate gleefully.
Worry 2
L is still recovering from surgery. It will take a couple of weeks. It’s still stressful to us all, though. It’s “Worry 2” instead of “Worry 1” because we know it’s temporary. She’ll recover; she’ll be able to breath better; her sinuses won’t be giving her constant headaches. So it’s a short-term worry — hence, “Worry 2.” But it’s our daughter we’re worried about: even when it’s a seemingly unfounded worry, we can’t just shake it off.
Worry 3
We have a leak in our roof. It might be under warranty from the company that replaced our roof a few years ago; it might not be. We won’t know until the company comes out and looks at it. But we’ve been on the list for over a week now. It took them forever to start the work in the first place. I’m not confident we’ll see anyone here for a long time.
And it’s supposed to start raining tomorrow afternoon and rain through the weekend.
I’ve got it tarped, but not sufficiently for a heavy rain. The location of the leak and the shape of our roof make it difficult to tarp. And we have no idea how long this will last.
Do we just call another company and take the hit?
Do we call insurance (they suggested calling the company that replaced it in the first place — a company the insurance adjuster had recommended, for the wrote our current roof)?
Worry 4
We have elected as president a narcissist who’s a convicted felon who tried to retain power by overthrowing the democratic process, a man who is, in every possible sense of the idea, completely unfit for the office. And some very worrying people will likely have an influence on him. People like Curtis Yarvin:
Yarvin, who considers liberal democracy as a decadent enemy to be dismantled, is intellectually influential on vice president-elect JD Vance and close to several proposed Trump appointees. The aftermath of Trump’s election victory has seen actions and rhetoric from Trump and his lieutenants that closely resemble Yarvin’s public proposals for taking autocratic power in America. (The Guardian)
When Trump takes office in a few weeks, it could conceivably lead to the end of America as we know it. Sure, the Republicans said the same things about Biden, but those fears were based on baseless conspiracy theories and good-old-fashioned hate-mongering. The people surrounding Trump aren’t being conspiratorial about anything: they’re saying it all aloud. They’re not holding their cards close: they’ve laid them all out with the Project 2025 manifesto and rhetoric people like Yarvin are saying.
Given the post-election period and Trump’s preparation for a return to the White House, Yarvin’s program seems less fanciful then it did in 2021, when he laid it out for Anton.
In the recording of that podcast, Yarvin offers a condensed presentation of his program which he has laid out on Substack and in other venues.
Midway through their conversation, Anton says to Yarvin, “You’re essentially advocating for someone to – age-old move – gain power lawfully through an election, and then exercise it unlawfully”, adding: “What do you think the actual chances of that happening are?”
Yarvin responded: “It wouldn’t be unlawful,” adding: “You’d simply declare a state of emergency in your inaugural address.”
Yarvin continued: “You’d actually have a mandate to do this. Where would that mandate come from? It would come from basically running on it, saying, ‘Hey, this is what we’re going to do.’”
Throughout the 2024 campaign, Trump promised to carry out a wide array of anti-democratic or authoritarian moves, and effectively ran on these promises. Trump has suggested he might declare a state of emergency in response to America’s immigration crisis.
Trump also promised to pursue retribution on individually named antagonists like representative Nancy Pelosi and senator-elect Adam Schiff, and spoke more broadly about dispatching the US military to deal with “the enemy within”.
Later in the recording, Yarvin said that after a hypothetical authoritarian president was inaugurated in January, “you can’t continue to have a Harvard or a New York Times past since perhaps the start of April”. Later expanding on the idea with “the idea that you’re going to be a Caesar and take power and operate with someone else’s Department of Reality in operation is just manifestly absurd.”
“Machiavelli could tell you right away that that’s a stupid idea,” Yarvin added. (The Guardian)
This is, of course, a worry that leaves me thinking, “This is all out of my hands — I can do nothing about it,” and yet. And yet…
So when the holidays are over, it’s not just a return to “normal” life. It’s that with a few additional stressors (not even all mentioned here) thrown in. We’ll get through it all, but it doesn’t diminish the stress levels.
Christmas 2024
Wigilia 2024
Going into Wigilia sick is no fun. K was ill during the 2011 Wigilia, and I had to make the barszcz as a result. It was probably not as good as K’s.
Still worse than heading into Wigilia sick is going into it after an operation. The Girl’s last Wigilia here as a full-time resident of our house and it was a struggle for her — the whole day.
She stayed in her room for most of the day. “I’m saving my energy for tonight,” she explained.
Evening came and she put some nice clothes on, came down stairs, and had dinner with us. After soup, she took a break in the living room, but she came back for the fish.
When it came time for the gifts, she lay on the couch and smiled as E passed out all the gifts she’d bought for everyone.
That was a bit of a role change: she’s always been so thrilled to get the gifts (what kid isn’t?), but tonight, she was more enjoying watching everyone else open her gifts.
The Girl is growing up. In fact, how long can we continue calling her “the Girl”? Isn’t she legally an adult now? A woman?
But some things never change. Wigilia never changes. The same food every year. Perhaps a different fish — trout this year. Or did we have trout last year as well?
And the same faces around the table, with one exception — a new guest this year.
So if some things don’t always change, if some things just stay the same seemingly forever, I guess the Girl can remain the Girl in our eyes indefinitely.
And what of the Boy this year? He retained his role as the gift distributor, but his voice is a little deeper now when he hands someone a gift.
But some things with the Boy don’t change: he’s still the most grateful gift-receiver.
Everyone, happy with their gifts, discussed whether to go to Mass tonight or tomorrow. They all decided on tomorrow, so we watched National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. The girls’ pick. I hadn’t seen it since I watched it in the theater, I don’t think.
I checked the release date of the film: 1989. I was two years younger than the Girl is now. And like that, those thirty-five years disappeared.
The movie ended, and like that, yet another Wigilia was over. Everyone slowly went their own ways.
Another Wigilia.
Another little bit of perfection.
Wigilia Preparation 2024
Getting ready for Wigilia is a multi-day affair. We actually began a couple of weeks ago by preparing an absolute truckload of pierogi and uszki for the dinner as well as the zakwas for the barszcz This morning K put the dried mushrooms to soak just before she began the vegetable stock for the barszcz (carrots, parsnips, celery, a couple of turnips, some prunes and an apple) and the beets themselves were roasting in the oven. As I was grating the roasted beets, she was preparing the crust for the cygan.As I cleaned up the mess we’d made, K was chopping the massive amount of dried fruit (mainly prunes, dried apricots, and raisins) cygan requires. As K was melting the butter, chocolate, and sugar to mix in with the dried fruit, I looked for recipes for spanakopita. A bit of a mixed morning.
In the afternoon? I’m sure K finished the cygan, and she was going to make a rolada, one of the Girl’s favorite desserts, for L. That was the plan. I’ve no pictures of that process, though, because I was with the Girl in the hospital. We arrived at twelve as instructed. At 3:30, the surgeon still hadn’t met with us.
“Things are running behind,” the nurse said. “That happens.”
True enough. Medicine, though, is the only industry for which we have this kind of patience. Everywhere else, we would have long ago gotten up and left. “We’ll take our business elsewhere.” Not such an option for surgery.
Finally, a little before four, they wheel the Girl back for her minor procedure: a deviated septum which has contributed to never ending sinus problems for our poor girl. The day before Wigilia is hardly the best time for surgery, but we have to fit it in wherever we can between volleyball, winter/indoor track, work, school, and everything else that crowds the Girl’s calendar. After waiting over three hours in preop, the Girl gets wheeled to the OR, and I head to the waiting room for more waiting.
It seems somehow appropriate that the last Wigilia that L is living at home is so wonky. It gets us thinking about how it’s so different from every other Wigilia and so similar at the same time. We spent the day not preparing as a family, and we go into Wigilia not even knowing how L will feel a day after surgery — will she even want to sit at the table? (Not really a serious worry.) And yet Wigilia will be the same as it always is, as is my post about it: the timelessness of tradition in the midst of an ever-changing world for our family. Next Wigilia, L will be coming home from college, probably with a big list of foods she wants K to prepare and a big bag of laundry. It’s always been this way: all the same, never the same.
