Those of you that know me well know that at times I can have a bit of an addictive personality. I always seem to have some newfound obsession that I spend hours researching on the internet and even cause me to develop ridiculous schemes related to the object of my obsession. For example, last spring it was all about David Blaine. In the week that he was in the bubble, I went to see him three times (I even took my students to see him), read every article on the internet about him and took his advice seriously. Then there was the Trailer Park Boys, the best Canadian TV show ever. Pat and I watched the first six seasons in record time, and then even took a pilgrimage to Nova Scotia in search of Sunnyvale Trailer Park!

My current favorite thing in the world, besides my loving husband, is the Dog! I got hooked on watching Dog the Bounty Hunter (on A&E—I highly recommend you watch it) when I was on vacation in Florida. For the past few weeks our Friday evenings consist of watching Dog marathon thanks to our lovely TIVO-like machine. In the past eight weeks or so I must have seen over thirty episodes. Unlike my other obsessions though, I am learning a lot from this one and putting it to immediate use. Here’s a little story from the wonderful MS 391…

Friday morning when taking attendance I noticed that a group of four girls, who are the best of friends, all happened to be absent. I casually asked the class about it and just about all of the students admitted to seeing three of them this morning outside of school. As it turns out the dean of students also happened to see them and talk with them in the morning before school. (Something I wouldn’t recommend doing then proceeding to cut an entire day of school.) Once I put two and two together, I got my people on the clique of cutters! By 9:00 all of their houses had been called, their relatives alerted, and other friends questioned. Remembering the teachings of the Dog, on my free period I went on a hunt of my own! (No mace gun on this one though!) Unfortunately I didn’t have enough time to hit all of the houses, but I did get to one and made my presence known in the neighborhood. By noon I had been in contact with one mother, and one older sister. After school, I hit the other two houses, with the help of their little brothers. The hunt made me feel really energized and powerful, a lot like the Dog does after his hunts! Now I must wait until their punishments are dealt Monday morning.

(Cue theme song—to the tune of the Dog’s theme song!)

There’re books and knowledge all around you
The students are cutting school
No use in hiding behind the desk
I’ll hunt you down ’cause I’m the Teach!

I’m the Teach
The big bad Teach
The Bounty Teacher

Categories: Work
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While we were diving in Cayman, even the intervals of time on the surface between dives were enjoyable and informative thanks to Nick Buckley! We actually dove twice at Trinity Caves, the site where a few weeks before, David Blaine did a lot of the shooting for his latest TV special. Nick told us a lot about David and his underwater trickery—something that immediately grabbed my attention. Actually, I didn’t know all that much about him before we got back and I started doing some research. www.davidblaine.com

Today David began his latest endurance challenge right here in New York—he will be living in an eight foot bubble aquarium in the plaza at Lincoln Center. Clearly, this is a major event in American History; therefore I am taking my students there on a trip on Thursday! Actually, the history making part of it is not really the rationalization for the trip; instead it’s more an opportunity for the students to write friendly letters to David for encouragement using the elements in writing that we have been working on lately, such as comparative adjectives and idioms. The students are really excited about going there to see “el loco” as they have named him. Keeping with the theme, we are going to see the Deep Sea, Imax 3-D movie that is also playing at Lincoln Center, and closing up the trip with a jaunt through Central Park.

This is why I love teaching; I get to take kids on wacky adventures that will stick with them long after they leave my classroom. Wouldn’t you love to be in my class? (Actually, if you are in the city and want to play hooky from work for awhile join us!) I am sure I’ll have some cool pictures soon!

Categories: General, Work
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The highpoint of the week at my current client is the event that has been tagged: “the ice cream frenzy” by a colleague of mine. Several months ago, during an “all hands meeting” to discuss the myriad problems facing the project, one of the solutions suggested, and the only one later implemented, was to have ice cream every week for the project team.

Wednesday became the anointed day, and every Wednesday around 2:15, the ice cream drop off point takes on strange properties, similar to a low-grade black hole. People are slowly drawn to the drop point, and gradually a gauntlet forms where the poor cafeteria lady pushing the ice cream cart must pass.

Around 2:30, the wobble and squeal of a gimpy wheel can be heard heading towards the project area, and the crowd will hush. Those not already milling about the drop point, or formed in the gauntlet take their positions, and any stragglers follow the ice cream cart like so many children following the Pied Piper.

Staring at the hungry eyes of over 200 people with mounting fear, the cafeteria lady generally abandons the ice cream cart well before reaching the official drop point, and runs for her life as the crowds descend. Attempting to grab the best of the assorted ice cream treats, the risk of losing a hand placed too close to the fray is very real. People climb over cubicles, grabbing handfuls of treats for themselves and their colleagues, and mild mannered IT managers and business people turn into salivating wolves.

In less than three minutes, 250+ treats are being shepherded back to cubicles, and those that missed the frenzy are stalking around with forlorn looks, or contemplating whatever stragglers remain on the cart, generally something appetizing like “Broccoli Ice Cream Bar with Brussels Sprout Coating (artificially flavored).” If only Pavlov were around to see the spectacle!

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My current home away from home, the Sheraton Long Island located in world famous Hauppauge, NY (no, I don’t know how to pronounce it either) has once again ruffled the feathers of my comrades and I. Despite a relatively modern and attractive lobby, complete with bubbling fountain and a full compliment of bubbly concoctions at the lobby bar, the rooms have always been less than stellar.

After staying at a hotel for over six months, you get a good sense of the nuances between rooms. There are a series of rooms named after past presidents, with no particular relation that I can discern, that include a spiral staircase and “lounge” on the lower floor. Despite thinking that a spiral staircase and/or automatic freezer icemaker were sure signs of unimaginable wealth during my youth, the rickety spiral proves more of an inconvenience than anything else. The squeaks and buckles made by the staircase as overweight businessmen mount it’s spiraled wonder are heard for a four room radius on any side, and the risk of disability incurred by a fall after a nightcap are very real.

The general 1970’s decor of the rooms is also complimented by the patented “smoke funk” odor: stale cigarettes from past life as smoking rooms, combined with noxious chemical smells designed to mask the smell of smoke. There are a few rooms with fireplaces which seemed like a nice benefit, until the small plague next to the gas switch informs the guest that the “Fire Marshall of Hauppauge” has disallowed their use and disabled the system.

Despite the lackluster rooms, a reasonable rate and the siren’s song of Starwood Points, good for free vacations at wife-approved venues around the world kept myself and a band of merry men on the frequent guest list. The New Year brought the shutdown of the club lounge, an evening refuge for the aforementioned overweight businessmen to have a cocktail, pig in a blanket and catch Jeopardy. It also marked a 13% increase in our rate. For a 20% decrease in service, we were being asked to pay an additional 13%.

To enrage a business traveler, especially one that is self-employed, take away his or her frequent flyer status, or increase their rates for any of the services they use. The “Revenue Manager” at the hotel received several calls and visits from “interested parties” regarding the new rate. Her qualms about appeasing shareholders were met with stern faces, especially since my “shareholders” sit across from me at the dinner table!

Categories: Travel, Work
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When I woke up Tuesday morning, I wasn’t really sure what the transit strike would mean for me. I knew that my usual Metro North trains would be running, and that I would be able to walk—like I usually do in good weather—from the train to work in about ten minutes. I sat watching the news for a few minutes and everything that they said seemed so terrible. I saw images of people walking over bridges, and complaining about every aspect of the city’s contingency plan. The part I found most humorous was parents complaining about how their children’s schools would open late—what am I to do with Johnny until 10:30?

New York City teachers were given a one hour grace period, which we all took to mean that you didn’t have to be at work until 9:30. Since I usually arrive in the building around 7:00 in the morning, I decided to take a later train, but still arrive by 8:15. When I did arrive I realized that the building was just as barren as it usually is when I arrive, and I would still have my quiet time to work alone. The only thing that I really found out of sorts was that most of the office staff had not yet arrived, so a security guard was answering the phones. She’s a funny, loud mouthed, southern Mama that usually tells you exactly what she is thinking; all the while calling you Boo (and speaking VERY LOUDLY!). She thought it outrageous that parents and children were calling to see what time school opened, “Don’t you have a TV? Don’t you watch it? Haven’t you seen there’s a strike? It’s all over the news on TV and the radio that you don’t have to come in at regular time! 10:30 Boo, and if you come earlier, don’t expect me to open the door and let you in!” After that conversation, she turned to me and revealed how dumb she thought the last caller was, and reminded me that these people live with the TV and radio on, how could they miss it? Then she rattled on about how all this just made her angry and not answer the phone anymore, but she still did. EVERY TIME!

Well after the first day, it seemed that everyone found their routine to get to work, and we quickly got accustomed to teaching only half a day, after having plenty of time to plan and hang out with your colleagues in the hour before the students arrived. Ahh the life! It was great while it lasted, especially since it was right before vacation and the kids were wild to begin with!

I read a few articles about the strike and its impact on various facets of life in the city that never sleeps, one of which was the negative impact the strike was having on attendance rates in public schools. I think that one report stated that high school attendance rates went down to 31%, middle schools to 66% and elementary schools to 70%. I think that my students threw off that curve! I had perfect attendance everyday of the strike. I joke around and call my homeroom class of seventh graders mailmen: through rain, snow, sleet, hail, and strikes, they call come to school on time! Got to love my little ones!

On Thursday afternoon we were singing a different tune though. With the possibility of the strike ending one day before our vacation was really a drag. Why did it have to end, it was so convenient for us! What were we supposed to do with kids for an entire day on Friday? Actually teach for eight periods?!? Oh… the horror! Well the strike did end on Thursday night, and despite our hopes and prayers, the transit system was up and running to full capacity by the Friday morning commute. We welcomed the children at 8:30, and it was back to business as usual.

Categories: Humor, Work
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After several months of writing and working with my web designer, Prevoyance Group, my fledgling consulting company has a website! It even looks moderately good to my non-artistic eyes. My lovely wife earned her gold start as Prevoyance Group’s lead proofreader, and I as lead copywriter. Hopefully the business will begin to pour in in the near future. Look for an evil mass mailing to announce the site in the very near future…

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Henderson, one of my most intelligent and astute seventh graders, put it so bluntly: this is abuse! He was referring to one of the many asinine things that happened at my school last week. Here is a short summary of the ridiculousness of the week:

1. Students at my school take Princeton Review Exams. This test is given twice a year to measure students’ growth and to give teachers insight into what skills the students are deficient in. Theoretically I am all for this test, as it makes planning easier on the part of the teacher.

Most of the students in my homeroom—the 7th grade bilingual class—have been in the country for less than five years meaning that they are exempt from the mainstream standardized tests. I think the major issue is that most of them are nowhere near a 7th grade reading level in English. In the past, the students who were exempt were not required to take the English Princeton Review test, but do take the Math test in Spanish. Those students who are more proficient in English, and are required to take the test because of their tenure in the US do take both in English. Very logical, don’t you think?

Apparently it was a decision of the administration that “no child be left untested” meaning that all students regardless of their exemption status had to take the test. So I had to sit there and administer the English test on Wednesday to 36 students, about 10 of which actually could read the passages and understand the questions, and the other 26 kids who are fresh off the boat were pretty clueless. Being determined and hard working students, they sat there and tried to understand as much as possible and eliminate answer choices, but as time when on, I could see their frustration building. Poor little Henderson, who has made great strides in English this year, told me that after that horrendous hour, he did not want to read or look at words for the rest of the day. I felt his pain and let him draw instead of read until the others were finished with their test.

2. Field Testing.
Along with the Princeton Review tests, all ESL students (almost 300 at my school) are required to take a field test. What does that mean? They have to take a shortened version of the regular examinations that are administered in the Spring to measure their growth in English. This test has four parts, speaking, listening, reading and writing. Think of all of the time that must be devoted to successfully completing this massive job. You must be thinking, the results of this test must really be used in a productive way. Not so much. When I first heard about this I thought great, a way to see how students have grown since their test last May, but as it turns out, we never see the scores. I had the wild idea of maybe taking a look at how the students fared, seeing what they were struggling in to perhaps inform my instruction—I was looked at like I had two heads! What a crazy idea to actually have an interest in how students do on a standardized test that takes about five hours per student to complete.

3. Welcome to America—where everyone is entitled to a free education! Welcome to MS 391—these are your teachers and your classmates; please take your time to adjust to your new surroundings. Six weeks later… are you getting used to your new life here? Yes, good, now leave!

From what I hear, classes are supposed to be capped at 33 in New York City. Although, there has been some confusion regarding bilingual classes. Last year, there was a class that kept growing, and nothing was done about it until there had been 50 students in the class for about a month. It seems that with bilingual classes, legally it doesn’t have to be divided until there are 50 students. Eventually the class was divided in two, but I find it strange that it took so long, and that it is legally acceptable to have a class that large.

At the beginning of the year, I was afraid that my class was headed in that same direction. At one point there were 41 kids on my roster. I started making a stink about it, and talked to the right people and we started getting some kids out by transferring the ones the most proficient in English into monolingual classes. I got rid of four that way, but was still left with 37 on my list.

Our mostly incompetent union representative took it upon herself to file a formal complaint—a grievance in union speak—to the district office for every class over 30 students. It seems that her actions were successful as I was instructed to either shuffle some kids from my class into a monolingual class, or to choose six to be transferred to another school because we don’t have another bilingual 7th grade. Although it sounds like a good thing to reduce class size, this issue really does go deeper. Think about who the last six students added to my class would be FOB kids who are just getting used to going to a new school, in a new city, in a new country. Think of what kind of emotional scarring this could have on a young child. Once they have started learning the ropes, boom, bye bye! Why didn’t anyone think of this when the kids were registering in the first place? I’ll get back to you with the developments on this front.

Categories: Work
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Monday marked the start of my third week as an “independent service provider,” which is loosely translated to Man Who Works for Self. My company, Prevoyance Group has been pumping out invoices, and word on the street is that the first official check should be coming next week.

Working for oneself is quite an adventure, and if it weren’t for the encouragement of the better half of PatandMeg.com, I don’t think I would have made the plunge. Work has a whole new lustre to it when you know that the money you earn goes straight into your pocket, and that any successes or failures drive your destiny. I am no longer at the whim of some corporate machine (other than my client) who can “rightsize” me or send me to some gawdawful project in East Armpit, Wisconsin.

One of the most interesting aspects of my new found lot in life is working with other independent consultants. It takes a certain mixture of gumption, resolve, quirkiness and a heaping helping of madness to succeed in this business, and I am the relative baby of my team with only six years of experience. In addition to tons of SAP knowledge, much of it of questionable value at social events, my colleagues are full of strange tales. One speaks in animated tones about visits to India for “business opportunities” while becoming greatly upset at even the slightest mention of administrivia, while another is full of tales of her adventures as a bona fide slumlord, a “side job” outside her consulting activities.

Lunchtime conversations range from tales of lost love and nasty divorces, to where the best suits can be bought in Shanghai. While this sounds quite exotic, it’s more than balanced with frequent bitching over lost photocopies of hotel receipts, the nuances of the fax machine at the client site and incessant complaining about all things travel-related. Every consultant is a simultaneous authority on dining, lodging and air travel, and the mere mention of the crooks at Delta taking away the 25% mileage bonus, or the earth shattering inconvenience of a doughnut drought at the free continental breakfast, is all it takes to throw a mild mannered SAP consultant into a fit of rage.

I’ve always employed a policy of hanging out with non-consultants as much as possible to ensure I don’t become that evil beast, the perma-consultant, who speaks of “best practices” when discussing making an omelet, or refers to his or her special someone as a “key stakeholder in the work/life balance equation.” While it’s fun to be part of this rare breed Monday through Friday, it’s even more refreshing to come home and go an entire weekend without lamenting American Express’ latest point promotion, or hear the phrase “outside the box” used when not referring to the crap I hid in a closet and still need to unpack.

So, if you’re bored and have a few hours to kill, ask your nearest consultant friend which is better: Starwood or Marriott. In the meantime, I have to go fill out my expense report, and research the latest rental car promotions. By the way, the steak in East Armpit, Wisconsin is horrible!

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My father always likes to tell me that in a single year, he got married to my mother, started his first job, and was commissioned in the Army. The only thing that’s changed in those ~30 years is that he’s no longer in the Army.

I like to think that I’m making up for his fidelity to a single employer, as for the third time in my working career, I am leaving a job. I’ll no longer be able to complain about my colleagues, managers or underlings, since they’ll all be the same person: me! Capitalizing on what the politicians call “America’s engine of economic growth” I’m embarking on my own small business adventure. Since this old dog isn’t yet ready to learn new tricks, I’m sticking to consulting for the time being, and landed my first contract last week. While there’s certainly some risk to eliminating the middleman, there’s also the rewards of choosing my own destiny, plus the savings that come from “going direct to the consumer,” just like they do on those late night infomercials. Not only do I do consulting, but I also leave your entire load of laundry smelling April Fresh!

I’ll keep everyone posted during the countdown to the first official check, and you can follow the progress of my company as we build out our website and other marketing material. Now if only I could fire that damn CEO…

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The slogan for the event was “Seeing Red,” but for the Estrada/Sierra family across the country it became the “Red Scare”!

My grandparents left their homeland in search of a better life for their families. Their stories are wonderful triumphs of seeking political refuge and searching for the American Dream. Ask any other member of my family from any generation, they will all say the same thing: what they found in America was democracy, hope, and freedom from Castro’s communist regime! To their dismay, I was seen wearing Red.

As a teacher in the New York City School System, I am a card carrying member of the UFT–the United Federation of Teachers. The union. That’s right, I’m part of the union. At first it didn’t seem like much to my anti-Communist family, but then I crossed the line–I joined nearly a thousand of my comrades–clad in Red–in a demonstration for a new contract. It sounds innocent, and I thought it was.

No big deal, just a detour on my way to the train one afternoon for the rally, no one (in my family) will ever have to know about it…until I got there. I discovered quite the opposite. There were TV cameras and reporters everywhere. I tried to blend in with the the chanting, signing toting, sea of red sweaters and hats. Don’t draw too much attention, I thought to myself, but my attempts failed. It was my backpack, my innocent little red North Face backpack that separated me from the crowd. The person I was standing with warned me, “That lady with the notepad is checking you out!” Her warnings did not come soon enough, I was trapped with a reporter. I spoke with her briefly about the union, my hopes for the contract, and my red bookbag. I prayed that my quotes wouldn’t make it into any newspaper or TV news show…

…And then it did. A few weeks later, all the familiar faces from the rally started to smile at me in the hallways, “Good work Estrada, I saw your quotes in the “Union” paper!” And yes, there I was with my name in lights. Sorry abuelita, sorry America… I’ll try not to wear too much red anymore, or talk to reporters if I do. (Click Here for the article)

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Here?s a little story from school?talk about a tongue twister!

So LaTia and LaCreshia told Felix that LaTiesha said that she was going to get her cousin to beat him up. Felix was concerned and told his friend LaTasha about the situation. He instructed LaTasha to give Latiesha a talking to. ?LaTasha, don?t hit LaTiesha,? he said, ?just scare her a bit.? So in the hallway before my class LaTasha began giving LaTiesha her talking to. Unfortunately, things with LaTasha and LeTiesha didn?t go as planned and quite a catfight erupted. Being the uninhibited and determined young lady that she is, LeTiesha was raging like a bull and it took about five adults to pry LeTasha and LaTiesha apart and hold LaTiesha back. After the earrings were recovered and the hair was cleared off the floor, the true story came out: LaTeisha didn?t know LaTasha or why she began yelling at her. LaTeisha never told LaTia and LaCreshia that that her cousin was going to beat Felix up. She admitted, ?I don?t care what Felix does, and if I did, I wouldn?t get anyone to jump him?I?d do it myself!?

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In an odd twist of fate, and much to the chagrin of my lovely fianc?e, Meghan and I have swapped geographic location vis a vis where we were last year. As faithful readers and friends may recall, Meghan was just finishing up at the University of Pennsylvania while I was working in Stamford. Once upon a time the project I was on in Stamford seemed relatively secure, and thus Meghan moved in with me in Stamford shortly after graduation. As of last week however, I was staffed on a project outside Philly, and have thus traded my wedge in for a hoagie (?wedge? is the strange term for an elongated sandwich that Connecticuitians have adopted).

This project is moving at a more ?aggressive? pace than my last one, and at least in this early stage of the game, looks like it will have me keeping far more busy than my last gig. Frequent readers will also be pleased to know that I have already settled in to the local Sheraton, which is only a few miles down the road from the Holiday Inn!

Categories: Work
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In one of those amazing “management” decisions that makes you really question who is captaining your ship, my current client has implemented a cost cutting measure that requires all consultants to take the last two weeks of the year off. While this is a little rough for the independent consultants, who basically don?t eat if they?re not billing, I have the protection of a corporate flag flying overhead, so I was given a gift of two free weeks off! Without questioning the assumption that consultants are generally hired to help your company, telling those helpers that perhaps their cost is not worthwhile is somewhat akin to telling the doctor that you?d rather save the money on that triple bypass operation.

Despite my frequent chiding of Meghan for the occasional Jewish holidays the NYC school board bestows, she is working until Thursday, and I am the one who has temporarily dropped from the ranks of contributing members of society! It has been nice not to be rushing around doing laundry and packing up on Sunday evening, and Monday morning was a whole new world (queue the music from Disney?s Aladdin) without my alarm clock jolting me out of bed at 4AM.

My only problem with these free weeks from heaven is that I suffer from over plan-itis. As soon as I found out I had the time off, I began concocting schemes on how to spend it. Everything from winter motorcycle rides, repainting the apartment, to building a paper clock (that I?ve been working on for three years), to finding the cure for cancer and the common cold were on the agenda. Anytime I have some extra time on my hands, I?ll add to my agenda with enthuesastic abandon. ?Build Rome?? Sure, I?ve got the time! It wasn?t built in a day, but I?ve got 5!!!?

When my eyelids slowly cracked open on Monday, sans the grating monotone of the Sony Taskmaster, err alarm clock, my brain was a clean slate, elaborate plans and schemes buried somewhere behind the decision to start the day with plain, or blueberry waffles. I spent Monday and today with about four neutrons firing throughout the entirety of my brain. A leisurely breakfast, a little web browsing and suddenly day two of my unplanned vacation is over.

Tomorrow promises to be a new and exciting day however. I?ll soon be following in Meghan?s footsteps to dreamland, and am even planning on setting the alarm to get an early start. Now, if only I could remember where I put my chemistry books from college, that cancer cure must be right around the corner!

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10. Because I LOVE getting my exercise by chasing David, Akino and Reuben around the library and the entire third floor.

9. Because if I weren?t there, who would tell the other teachers that don?t speak Spanish that the words puta, chupalo, chocha, and huevo are not the innocent pet names that the kids say they are.

8. Because without me Brianna wouldn?t have anyone to call a b**ch!

7. Because I love the exciting new adventures that each day brings: drinking in school, cutting up books, cutting class, spitballs, fights, and actual learning?

6. Because if I weren?t there, who would be there to take two horrific coverages when 50% of the teaching staff is simultaneously ?out sick? on a Monday?

5. Because who else would actually teach a schedule of 6th grade, 7th grade, 8th grade, French, and bilingual classes?

4. Because some of my students think that ?Chingy? is the vice president; North and South California are states and that Bill Clinton freed the slaves.

3. Because I love the feeling I get when I look around the room and I see every student interested and engaged in the task at hand.

2. Because I really do love expanding the horizons of my little darlings and teaching them a thing or two about the world we live in.

1. Because I wouldn?t get to hear Francis say, ?Miss that was a really great lesson?one I?ll remember for the rest of my life!?

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This past Friday, my 8th grade students had the pleasure of meeting a ?friend? of mine: Mr. Patrick Gray! He did a short presentation about using business plans in the real world, as they are working on their own business plans as part of the unit we are currently working on. I think that the students were excited to see a new face, hear a new voice, and learn a thing or two from someone who has more experience in this area than any of the teachers do.

Since I didn?t exactly tell the kids who Pat actually was, it was pretty funny when one girl made a few joking comments to me. ?Miss,? she said, ?I?m going to tell your fianc?e that you got all dressed up for the business man and that you are going to run away with him!? Little did they know? I think that eventually I?ll tell them that my fianc?e and the business man are the same person.

It was great to have a chance to show Pat all the people and parts of the school that I talk about so much. Most of all, I think he got a chance to ?see me in action? and appreciate my alternate persona: Ms. Estrada. Maybe someday I?ll enjoy a little SAP along side my darling fianc?e!

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Last week, I hit an all time low. Wednesday night, I bolted awake at two in the morning, soaking with cold sweat, with the feeling of spiders crawling all over my skin. I looked around in sheer panic, not recognizing the four walls that seemed to be rapidly closing in on me. After several years of company-paid travel, room service-delivered scotch and flying first class, I found I had hit rock bottom: the Holiday Inn.

My name is Pat, and I am a travel snob.

Years of company-paid travel changes a man. Like most Americans, my first brush with travel was during the family summer vacation. We would spend our nights at various motor lodges, or our home away from home: the Red Roof Inn. Our family of four would occupy a single room, Mom and sis in one bed, Dad and I in the other as we rested up before finishing the long drive over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house.

By virtue of a reasonable education and good timing, I ended up starting my career at the tail end of the economic boom of the late 1990′s. Dot-coms were still investors’ darlings, and companies had more money than they could spend. In their exuberance, they were even willing to finance the worldwide travels of a punk 22-year old. I graduated college having never left North America, and suddenly the world was opened to me. In the course of about two months, I managed to visit Amsterdam, Paris and Las Vegas (four times) on the company dime. During the work week I would stay at high end hotels, and not an eye would be batted if three people went out for a three hundred dollar dinner and “ran it through” as they say.

I had room service available 24/7, Platinum status on airlines and hotels, and a guaranteed room within 24 hours notice the world over. Limos and rental cars on call, and I had sampled the best in fine food and liquor the world over; I had it all.

Of course, that’s all over now. I’m your average schnook. I called room service the other day and asked for a filet and bourbon, and ended up with a cheeseburger and Budweiser.

With the “irrational exuberance” of the late 1990′s over, I’ve been reduced to the Holiday Inn. I’m not on Holiday, and if I were, you can bet your gold medallion that I would not be staying at an “inn” of any sort. I can say this particular Holiday Inn did include one feature I have never seen in a hotel before. At random intervals throughout the evening, my room phone would ring, with no one at the other end of the line. This feature was particularly appreciated at 2 and 4am! The preemptive wake up call, so to speak.

After my tense evenings of “rehab” at the Holiday Inn, I’ve slipped into remission and hit the speed dial for my “dealer:” the Starwood Hotels Platinum hotline. With some creative use of corporate promotional codes, this week I am in the comparative luxury of the Sheraton in the suburbs of northern Chicago. My dealer has been missing me, since he upgraded me to a suite while still remaining within the meager budget my client has allocated towards my weekly lodging “fix.” This is how it starts: an upgrade here, free points there, and then they take it all away. All the same, while it lasts I’ll keep my nose turned up at the Inns of the world. The kids can eat free and I’ll eat my overpriced room service in the comfort of my suite!

Categories: Travel, Work
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If you’re Pat and Pat (yes, my parents really are both Pats) your only son was off to LaGuardia at 4am, and is currently enjoying the company of other working slobs in the Delta Crown room. I visited the restroom, and it looks like I smoked something funky, since my eyes are beet red. Ah the joys of travel!

Hopefully my body remembers its “fall asleep within 4 minutes of sitting down on the airplane” trick, so I’m not a complete babbling idiot when I arrive at my new client!

Categories: Travel, Work
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Yesterday I received official word that I am heading out to Chicago on Monday for work. It’s been a little over a year since I was last travelling for work full-time, and I have mixed feelings about my return to the road. My favorite aspect of consulting is that a change in clients is almost like getting a new job, with new people, problems and locations. Your actual employer stays the same, so there is some degree of consistency to the entire operation. Frequent travellers also get some nice perks in the form of frequent flyer miles and first class upgrades. I will however, miss seeing Meghan on a daily basis.

Working from home these past few weeks has been nice in that Meghan and I have been able to spend some quality time together. It’s nice to see each other after work, and I’ll miss that as I return to the friendly skies. My project does allow for returning on Thursday night, so it won’t be too bad. I’ll post some updates once I settle in out in Chi-town, as I “enjoy” the project-mandated stay at the Holiday Inn (queue the Chingy song). One thing you’ll quickly learn about consultants is that we’re all “travel snobs,” and the Ho-liday just doesn’t cut it, especially where you’re spending 200 days per year there.

Categories: Work
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?Miss, can I borrow some tape and a pair of scissors??
?Sorry, you?ll have to ask Ms. Verhille.?

Of course Ms. Verhille gave him what he was asking for. It seemed innocent enough?though she did mention that it was suspicious he insisted on using it at his desk. Later she mentioned that she didn?t think anything of it until she heard me yelling, ?What are you doing!?! Boy, you must be crazy; I know you did not just ruin my brand new French textbook!!!?

Honestly, I think that if this was taken to court, he could win his case by claiming temporary insanity. I mean really, would it occur to anyone in their right mind to neatly cut out the middle part of two pages from a textbook and tape them in their desk in order to cheat on a test?

As you can imagine, I was pretty upset that he was plotting to cheat on the test. Most of all, I was offended that he would deface the brand new textbook that was entrusted to him? ?You all are in 8th grade, how long have you been using textbooks in school? I can?t believe that I would have to tell you not to cut pages out of your book… Why would you cut pages out of your book? It?s not OK to destroy any page of any book, especially if it doesn?t belong to you?? At this point I was franticly pacing around the room, flailing my arms, and drastically changing the intonation of my words. Although I am known for successfully managing a classroom with over dramatization, this was totally unintentional!

He was pretty upset and probably embarrassed that I was making such a big deal out of it. I guess a teacher catching you preparing to cheat on a test?in such a ludicrous manner?is pretty humiliating for any adolescent and my rubbing it in wasn?t really helping?Really though, what in the hell was he doing to my brand new French book!

It didn?t end there though, after class I happened to run into all the teachers and the assistant principal and retell all of the details of his actions. From what I heard, he was really hearing it from them all day long. Towards the end of the day he came to me and begged that I not call his mother, ?Please Miss, I?ll take any punishment, just don?t call my mother!? ?Oh no,? I replied, ?you should have thought of that before you did what you did this morning, now you have to suffer the consequences??

So I?m still asking myself, what should the consequences for this be? Should he never be allowed to use a textbook within fifty feet of a pair of scissors without close adult supervision?

Categories: General, Work
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After countless orientations, trainings, institutes and such I began my professional career as a teacher last Monday at MS 391 in the Bronx. At the start of the week I was relatively calm and anxious about finally getting started, and at the end of the week I got my first paycheck!

I made it through the week unscathed, and with even more enthusiasm and excitement about the rest of the year than I began with. With regards to curriculum, age, maturity, and behavior, my classes are all vastly different. While this diversity makes planning and preparation time consuming, it keeps me on my toes all day and anxiously anticipating what next period will bring.

Luckily, I?m working with a group of talented, friendly and interesting people at school. Everyday I learn more about who to go to when I need help, advice, or supplies. Even though I am still learning the ropes, I?m already feeling like a complete member of the school community.

Here’s to week 2…

Categories: General, Work
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