And so I Write about Bicycling

and so I write about bicycling

because if I don’t my mind whirs through the night

over my profession

of learning and joy and creativity

that hasn’t anymore

because test scores dictate

because budgets are part of the chess board

and legislators override professional judgment

and one of us is doing the work of two of us

and because it all matters too much,

and so I write about bicycling

because a matching kit doesn’t really matter

and joy can be found in a paceline

or outside of one

because clearing the log the first time is a celebration

and because great flow is as good as great sex

and because all of it is beauty

and joy and freedom

and

it

saves me


- ob

Adolescent Nightmare

It had been a hot, sticky morning commute.

I was at my desk hoping to cool down before changing, but the library was warm and still...

don’t they turn on the AC in this place during the summer? is there a fan ANYWHERE?

My distress growing, I grabbed my bag and headed off to the nearest restroom

where I stripped off my cycling clothes, leaned on the door, and stared at the floor tiles

and smiled at the irony

of being in a junior high bathroom stall wearing nothing but flowered anklets and black shoes

and feeling relief.

-OB is this living the dream?

Education and Cycling

Give this read a chance -- the ending applies to all of us who ride. It's a great analogy.


- OB down south for some R & R

Monday Mornings

They're the soft tire of the work week,

the rusted link in the chain,

the loose jockey wheel,

the snagged cable housing.

They're the flu just when training is going the best ever,

the tire iron that fell outta the bag,

the season-old ClifBar,

the thinning of favorite shorts.

They're the bar tape that's dirty,

the ding in the saddle that's no longer in production,

the falling-off at the base of the climb,

the cleat that's loose.

- Bag *sigh*

Gazoombas, Landscaping and Running Shoes

or
If You Want a Cycling Post, Go Away

My costal cartilage mountain biking injury is slowly healing. It still hurts when I run. My massive gazoombas bouncing around cause some massive hurt...or it's those phantom gazoombas, because I'm sure the hurt would be like that if they were massive.

We had landscaping done. I'm still amazed at the time it took me for someone else to do the work. Phone calls. Emails. Meetings. WD and had I debated this for a long time: You know, WE could do this. It always came back to: And, for exactly HOW MANY weekends do you want to be tied to yardwork? It's one thing to take-on maintenance...quite another to be willingly married to a house project at the expense of fall riding.

Work is beginning to bleed out of the confines of the work day. I'm trying to decide if this is a good thing...tonight I found myself searching for library bloggers and twitter-ers. I need connections. This year, I'm a team of one. At least when I worked K-4, there were three others across the district, but currently I'm at a huge intermediate school that's very different, programming-wise, from the elementaries yet it isn't quite the same as the high school. And, you know, it's not all about books. It's about turning-out kids who are information-literate, and about helping teachers step outta the comfort zone and become coaches of learning. We librarians are on the edge, I tell you.

Running: three times in the past week. I need ski legs. It's a fast workout. 30 minutes out the front door and back home again. Do I like it? Ask me in January when I'm facing down the Birkie trail for a point-to-point.

- The distracted Old Bag

Ya Just Can't...

...have a healthy relationship with someone who's unhealthy...

...just can't happen....

One can't make healthy connections with someone who isn't capable.

We assume everyone we meet is normal and therefore is capable of a normal human connection, but we need to keep in mind that there are those who aren't necessarily rational or mentally healthy and therefore are impossible to connect with in a positive and healthy manner.

Someone who is bonkers, even slightly, is impossible to engage in a normal, rational way.

You won't be able to connect to someone if she hasn't got her rocks together.

So the witch down the hall? don't even try!


-OB repeat after me....

Bicycle Parade

At my workplace, students put in their six school hours between 8:00 and 2:00. The professional day is typically an hour either side of the student time slot, with some flexibility. If'n ya arrive at 7:00, stay until 3:00. 6:30-2:30. 7:30-3:30. Most of us arrive at 7:00 and are easily hanging around until 4:00 or 5:00...and when we do walk out the door we do so with a pile of work to do during the evening.

There are bosses in our district who walk around with clipboards, marking who's there and who's gone and what time it is. But not mine. He makes time to chat with us before the school year begins, when we're there just because we want to be. He sees us at our desks in July. He notices the uptick in August as we're beginning to fill the building at odd hours. He sees us at work until 8 PM during workshop week. And he doesn't nitpick about 7-3:00. He knows we'll put in more hours than he could ever pay us for. And, he knows we'll ONLY put in 7-3:00 if he brings out the clipboard.

He believes that life has first priority, work has second, and so encourages us to go home...and by doing so gives us choice. We typically choose to put in extra hours because we know we don't have to.

I've put in a ton of time since this whole job switch came around, so on Thursday I exercised my ability to choose. It was a beautiful, sunny, 80-degree afternoon. I rode down the streets away from work at 2:15. Because I could.

The parade? Just me, my bicycle and the streamers flapping on my backpack.

AND my blinkie lights.


- The waaaay happy Old Bag

How Ever Will I

a back-to-work haiku

has it been a week
since I've put together a
coherent post for

the laundry and mail
regenerate themselves in
an amazingly

how will I ever
accomplish in an evening
things that used to take

- OB Zzzz but I'm not done and it's already time for b

(a reprint from WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 30, 2006 because I'm just so ti)

Back to Work

life is a whirlwind these days

and at first it was novel but

do I have to continue

getting up early

EVERY

day

?

!

?

- Bag I've been doing this for 25 years and it's STILL one helluvan adjustment

Leaving, it's Like

You know when you have a great place to work and the work itself has its ups and downs but there's a crowd of reeeally good people who are reeeeally good at what they do and you get paid to do a job that basically you designed that gives you a lot of freedom and you mostly have a ball with it and you think you're set because who would ever leave a place like that?

You know?

And you know how then someone puts a bug in your ear about a different job in a different place because he knows how you like to shake up your work every few years but you really don't consider it because why-the-heck would you take a different job at a different place since you love where you are but then it turns out you know yourself well enough to think about it?

And you know how then you go back to ask more questions?

And you know how you decide to just let it all go but two months later the job still hasn't filled and you call out of curiosity and the guy is so glad you called because the applicant pool just doesn't have zing and he lays out all these cool things that trip your triggers and says it would be so great if you'd think about it and then suddenly while you're drinking your morning coffee two days later you realize the whole thing is right up your alley after all?

And then you know how when you announce to all these reeeeally great people in your reeeeally great place that you're leaving them and they all write you wonderful emails and they stop by to say how they gasped at the news but that they know you well enough to understand and you get all weepy because they're so encouraging and yet they hate to see you go and then you wonder what the hell you just did?

And you know how it makes you wonder if you really thought this thing through?

But then when you have a little space you know it's the right decision?

It's like that.


-OB the good-bye thing is waaay overrated

OK, so to be honest there was also this one thing that weighed into the decision

When Preparation Meets Opportunity

it's like the night before a race
checking the bags to make sure everything is there
and looking through the closet to be sure about what stays
it's preparation
knowing strengths
being aware of weaknesses but knowing how to shield them
it's familiarity with tactics
it's the coach who recognizes
the soigneurs who know
but it's a brand new course
it's jumping the field
and teammates who sacrifice
and fans who believe

- tOB making a move

But Not the Wheels

spinning
but not on the bicycle
riding miles
but not down the road
eyeing the opening
but not from within the pack
struggling to finish
but not the race

- Osometimes it's hardB

Love/Hate

The Teacher's Conundrum

I love SUMMER! sun warm weather time no plans cleaning house rearranging furniture riding s i t t i n g sorting shopping not riding espresso cream gardens riding grilling weekend plans coming home phone calls yellow fruit kittehs fluffy things red sunglasses hearts actually, I hate hearts and flowers

I hate spring gray skies dirty snow schedules feeling trapped dust and pet hair routine not riding hectic piles shopping not riding office coffee Coffee-mate bare trees %#@$!! schedules cooking packing for the weekend leaving home phone calls gray wilted veggies boxelder bugs #@! fluffy things no sunglasses hearts I detest hearts and flowers

- The currently waaay satisfied Bag

Is it a Commute?

when you go in
to get some work done
but you're not getting paid
because you don't work in the summers
but you're taking care of stuff
and you rode
but it's not like it's a ride
because if it were a ride, "going-in" would mean into a coffee shop for some joe and a scone
because you went in
to the place you work
but you didn't have to
yet you kinda did
so is that a commute?


- OB I thought I had the summer off....

I was Kinda Hopin'

that I wouldn't have to go back in the fall...


- OB *sigh*

It's Time

Three more days
until my first
real summer
in three years

Alice and I
will be having beer
to celebrate
the occurrence

-TOB beer me

Some Days

I
just don't
wanna
go
to

w
o
r
k


- The 14 more days 'til real summer begins Bag

It's not About Being Efficient

Work is a bit sucky these days...budget shortfalls, bla bla. Today, we heard from the hill that they wanted our suggestions for "efficiencies". In other words, whose job isn't worth what yours is worth...justify your own in five words or less.

You know, elementary teachers are inherently kind, middle-aged, motherly types. It's why we're drawn to spending our days with 8-year-olds. Some of us are there because we're plump and we hug well. Some of us are there because kids make us laugh. On Halloween we actually work dressed as pumpkins, robots and scarecrows. People leave the business world for teaching because there aren't enough scarecrows in the workplace.

Bottom line, it's fun. But, it's also tough work. There are kids who aren't so huggable. There are heads that are a bit scary to look inside. There's required testing that masks real learning. There are constraints in budget, manpower, materials and assistance. But, we're all in it together, and there's the beauty: it's a place of support, honesty and ethics.

Given who we are and why we're there, it's tough to diminish each other's work to the point that it's an efficiency.

In the middle of the day as the buzz in everyone's conversation was on the morning's lousy beginning, my mind was on the morning's beautiful commute...and on the fact that I would be getting back on the bike at the end of the day for the ride home.

And my mind was on the couple we laughed with outside Cub Foods yesterday as we wolfed down brats and chips during our grocery-getting ride...and on the guy on a smoke break outside Costco wondering how-the-heck we were going to haul a load from the warehouse home on our bikes.

I have no neat or cute wrap-up message for this post. Things just suck sometimes.

But you know, life isn't only about what we do during 8 hours of our day.

-OB

Irritant

- THE OLD BAG IN HER CRABBY PLACE

Juvenile

we have no teenagers who attend

the elementary school where

I work, yet I deal with

an adolescent

every day

and it

gets

o
l
d


- bag feelin' an age I thought I'd left behind