CAUTION: Long entry. Contains very frank rants. Don't feel obligated to read the whole thing, unless you're really bored and have nothing better to do. You have been alerted.Which snapshot of this week do I want to preserve? I feel a little bit like the metal marble in a pinball machine, no time to think between events. The kind of week in which my best and worst traits are magnified and broadcast, the kind of week that makes me question myself and wonder what I'm trying to accomplish......Monday and Tuesday are my long days because of all the private lessons that happen after school. Wednesday is a half-day every week, the afternoons given to various staff and department meetings, occasionally a prep and plan session. In typical ADD-Brian fashion I'd misplaced the Wednesday meeting calendar, e-mailed one of my colleagues about where we were going to be, didn't hear from her, assumed it was a prep and plan. Thursday morning the e-mail she sent on Wednesday came through, and yes I DID miss a meeting.Crap. Did it again. This is the sort of thing that happens to me when I've got too many plates spinning on the poles! Apologies to my department supervisor, another e-mail to locate future dates, and highlight them on my wall. I hate the feeling I get when I slip up like this, incompetence. It hovers over me the rest of the week.Thursday, starts with a before school meeting with the assembly committee, two programs happening this month and they need to be thought through. Rush upstairs, move furniture, start the classes, move furniture (yes, two different setups), 64 chairs for the 5th grade chorus.The last few rehearsals with them have not been especially pleasant. I need to change the quality of my interactions with them, and I need to figure out some better motivational strategies. The librarian, a good friend of mine, tells me about a book the kids are reading called "The Last Holiday Concert" by Andrew Clements. It's about a frustrated 6th grade chorus teacher who is losing his job to budget cuts and a student who is suddenly left in charge of planning and rehearsing a 30-minute holiday program. While the situations described are fictionally and dramatically extreme, I can't help wondering if that's how I look to my students. Clements certainly understands what it feels like to be on both sides of that circumstance. And I'm reminded that I need to find ways to give my students more ownership of what is happening.Not done yet, stack and remove the chairs, reset the room, it's been a rainy Thursday and indoor recess, the first grade is tired and cranky. Three children in the last class melt down so badly that I need to find quiet corners for them to sob themselves into some kind of calm.Rehearsal at three with the assembly committee for the core values program at the end of the month. I'm the Big Brown Rooster (Little Red Hen's grandson. Don't ask). We are all so overcommitted that not all of us are there for the read through, I'm freaking out about the beginner's cellomaster class I'm giving at 5 (two hours away) with a colleague I've only met once and haven't really had time to talk with. Cell rings half-way through the read-through, I run out into the rain where I get reception to firm up what we're going to do. I still don't know where I'm going to find 30 chairs all the right size (the chorus furniture is too big).Back to rehearsal. Cook-a-doodle-doo. Yes, it's cook, Little Red Hen's grandson, remember?25 seats scarfed from various classrooms, my 6th grade student arrives for his lesson (oh thank God I don't believe in he actually remembered to come!) We meet in one of the practice rooms - I end 10 minutes early, promise to add the time to his next lesson, start tuning the cellos that have come wandering into the main classroom, Leo, the other teacher, is already there.The next 40 minutes are fun, I'm at my best when I'm in front of a crowd of kids. I've worked on bow stuff, he has done left-hand stuff, it's a good combo and we've both had a chance to watch each other teach. Interesting aside: last week we found out we both studied with the same teacher.Lesson done, return the furniture, another before-school meeting to prepare for as well as a 9:00 assembly. Those of you who've been reading my journal may remember that our principal died last Mother's Day. Since her passing the front alcove has been decorated with a tiled frieze with one of Ellen's favorite sayings: "The difference between stumbling blocks and stepping stones is how you use them."  The library has been named in her honor, and outside a labyrinth has been installed, something Ellen had wanted for children for a long time. The assembly is to dedicate these three spaces to her, the first principal of this school. (Aside: the building I teach in was originally built in 1938. Several years ago when enrollments dropped it was used for offices. As more families moved into town it was decided to renovate and add on to the school, and it was re-opened 5 years ago).It is now about 7:30 and I'm STILL in my classroom, I've been at school nearly 12 hours, and I stay to put a few ducks in a row for Friday morning. Check e-mail, and there's a message from someone who saw my post in the anger management community. The question is, basically, "I understand why you are angry, but why are you angry at Religion and the Higher Power?"I should know better, but I fire off a response and I don't hold back. Why do I feel the need to land on this person with both feet? I suppose the trigger was that she identified herself as a Christian and innocently enough used the phrase "would hate to see you go to the flames, so to say."I should know better. My nerves at this point are shot and I'm not yet done being in front of large crowds (which, even though I enjoy this, always requires more emotional/physical output than the usual day-to-day teaching stuff). I don't hold back. She's offended by my language and feels I have personally accused her, when in my mind I'm talking in generalities. I've re-read my response to her several times and can see why she thinks my words sound like they are aimed directly at her. They're not, but then I did not take care to make that very clear.She's deeply offended and promises not to contact me again ever. "You don't deserve my time," she says.Great. Another "unfortunate you exist" response I've elicited. Way to go Brian. (insert eyeroll here)So once again I've alienated someone over the I-can't-stand-or-forgive-Christianity-for-existing rage that I can't seem to let go of. I don't know how to feel about this. Part of me thinks I should apologize, part of me thinks no, it's not worth it because I don't know how long I can maintain a civil dialogue with someone who believes God might someday send me to hell if I don't have the correct belief. I am ashamed to admit that part of me was glad to have offended. I am not proud of this.I don't know how to talk about the institutionalized anti-gay bias in this culture without offending. I am firmly convinced that it is fueled by the conservative Christian, conservative religion elements in our society that teach homosexuality is a sin. When I bring it up I am accused of bashing Christianity.Well, if the shoe fits...On the other hand (foot), it isn't just the anti-gay stuff from Christianity that angers me so. It is that, but it is also the whole "you-need-to-be-saved" stuff that I find so demeaning. I'm probably MORE upset by that than the homophobia (the homophobia, I think, is only the symptom of this far worse thing, this belief that it is be-saved-or-go-to-hell).Sigh. Go home, go to bed.Friday morning. Hour and a half early to cope with technology set ups that still aren't finished. Move furniture. Five minutes before the program we're continuing to solve problems, but it looks like everything is going to work. The school gathers together, we sing a couple of songs and view a slide show of children working on the tile projects as archived by our amazing art teacher. She also speaks to the school about the three spaces being dedicated. It's a bit emotional for the adults, but simple enough for the kids. I'm pleased with the singing the whole school does together. Move the furniture again, set out all the instruments for 4th grade who are learning parts for their participation in the OTHER assembly at the end of the month. 20 minutes for lunch, move all 30 instruments back so the first grade has room to learn the singing game I'm teaching. Fortunately (and was it because we all sang together this morning that everyone is in a better mood, or only that the sun came out and yesterday's weather sucked?) the punkins are much happier and are able to cooperate with each other. When their teacher comes to the door she watches them go through the dance. She is smiling. The children sit on the floor when the music stops - "criss-cross, 1st grade sauce!"  They giggle. "Do you see the look on your teacher's face? She's smiling. Take a look around at your classmates' faces. What do you see? They're smiling too. This is what it's like when you use teamwork." Again with the guilt. My tirade yesterday - a 48-year-old tantrum. And again with the questions - I demand that Christianity accept me as I am - not just my gayness but also my atheism - but I am unwilling to extend the same in return. And I wonder does agreeing to be less hostile to them mean I've sold out? I'm so firmly opposed to what it teaches (and no, I'm sorry, I do NOT for a moment believe that conservative born-again Christianity as practiced in this country teaches a path of love. It's about the avoidance of Divine Judgment - that message is WAY louder than the unconditional love they'd like me to THINK is the central focus). School day ends, the dedication assembly we had at the beginning of the day is repeated from 3:30 to 4:30 for parents and colleagues who had worked with Ellen in other schools. The PTO president and superintendent also speak. This time I cry. Day is done - almost. ATt 4:30 I gather up the goods, move one last batch of furniture (it should be in the job description), and head to the gym for a training session. Thank god I don't believe in, we're doing legs, always a great stress relief. My trainer invites me over for homemade soup after, we have a nice chat, then home. Go right to bed, we're training again at 9 in the morning. Saturday - today - I wake up at 4:30 with a yell. George's hand is on my arm and he's saying in a soothing voice, "it's okay, it's okay." "I was having a nightmare." "No kidding." "I kept screaming and screaming, was I yelling?" "No, but you were whimpering."  Nightmare: I'm home alone, it's dark, George is nowhere to be found, someone is trying to get into the house, I hear them upstairs (we don't have an upstairs in real life), and I'm screaming, shrieking till my throat hurts, over and over, "Who's there? Who's THERE?"  I am TERRIFIED. What I think this is about is that he's had some medical problems lately we don't know the cause for, some bleeding. He's scheduled for a visit with the urologist and a renal sonogram. I'm trying not to fear the worst. A few more hours' sleep -then the workout. Upper body. Eat my chicken and head to the local coffee house to spend some time processing the week. And this is it. The coffee is finished, the laptop battery has just about run down, and I think I can leave it here for a while. Off to my classroom to sort through the mountains of paper that didn't quite make it to the finished pile. peace,Brian