Later this afternoon, unless something very drastic ... and positive ... happens, I'm telling the principal he needs to find someone else to fill my classroom.  My last lesson this morning included this quote from W.E.B. DuBois.

Why I came to Blank Schools –

In the fall of 1975, I was teaching at what is now Different School on Blankblank Avenue in Milwaukee.  One of the mothers of my students, Mrs. Roberts, stopped by one day and we were talking.  She said that she didn’t have much time because she was on her way to her second job, cleaning offices after the office day was done, so that she could afford the tuition she was paying to have her children go to the school

She said she hadn’t had any real education – that she left school after sixth grade so that she could take care of her brothers and sisters.  She did continue to read, and she said that she had read almost everything that W. E. B. DuBois had written.  She said she didn’t understand a lot of what he’d said, but that didn’t stop her because each time she read or re-read it, she did understand a little more.

“But,” she said, “I need to get going.  I really wanted to tell you what I want for my son.  I want him to ‘sit with Shakespeare’ like Mr. DuBois said.  I want him to be a man, not just a male old enough to drink liquor and be with women.”

I don’t know what Isiah Roberts became.  I know that one of his classmates is now a pastor in a church in Tempe, Arizona.  I know that another of his classmates is a teacher in Denver, CO.  I heard that another of his classmates owns a string of stores in St. Louis, but I can’t confirm that.  What I do know is that his mother, and the mothers of the other kids in that school, most of them working second and third jobs to pay for their children’s educations before the days of “CHOICE” schools, had deep hopes in their hearts and so much love that they sacrificed a great deal so that their sons and daughters could ‘sit with Shakespeare’.

Feeling so very, very old ...

Forgot to mention that the minute I got home from my "outing" Will met me and said "I thought you were upstairs in the shower, there's a FLOOD."  Toilet tank connection died.

Good and bad ... the bathroom is a half inch lower than the bedrooms on either side and has two small drains in the floor.  That's good.

Tank, not bowl.  That's good. 

The leak was much faster than the drains could handle.  That's bad.

Water went out into a bedroom.  That's bad.

Floor is wood, which ain't great but much better than carpet.

It was Jane and my bedroom.  That's bad, no .. that's good.  If it had gone the other way into Mary's bedroom, we'd still be taking out the "mulch" that is on her floor.

Had to move bed and closet that are flush with the floor and would soak up water. Not good with a bad shoulder, but good in that it's a heck of a way to get dust off one's floor!

Ok ... went out on my cycle today for the first time since "the accident."  Speed bumps are not cool, and if you were to visit here you'd realize how much the Thai people rely on speedbumps in lieu of police. 

I gingerly went to the closest grocery store and sort of just marveled at ... shopping.  I hate shopping, but I hate even more not having the ability to shop if I ever wanted to.  Got daughter some spicy cheese (only if you have lived in Asia will you understand how special "cheese" is!) and she's almost like she was 10 years old again, speaking to me, human, you know? Not 14.  I could almost overlook the bright red hair (I say orange, but she's says "red").

I'm not ready for real riding in heavy traffic, believe me, either emotionally or physically.  I drove gingerly ... very gingerly.  Didn't go far, either.  It's going to be a LONG time before I ever have a rider, too, because I know very well that if a rider starts leaning too much to the left, I simply don't have the strength to balance the bike.  It's either that, or I'll react without thinking and I'm going to be in a world of hurt.

I go back to the doctor on Saturday.  Still wearing the brace, although I can actually take it off to shower now (or have someone take it off, because it's worse than wearing a bra would be, I think, and I'd be lost with one of them without the problem of the arm).  I'd look pretty odd, too, but that's a whole 'nother story.

I know the collarbone is healing, and I also know it's healing a bit crooked.  I've got a spur of bone just west of my neck that isn't matched by a spur on the east side.  Unless that disappears in time, it's going to be a big problem trying to carry a backpack, because it's barely covered by skin and is a problem already with just the brace riding over it.

I can't lift my left arm above the shoulder -- just barely can touch the top of my head with my left hand.  It's not painful, it ... just ... won't ... go.  I'll have to talk to the doctor about physiotherapy and see what I can, and should do, to change that.

Temps are supposed to be almost unbearably cold tomorrow, too.  Highs should only be about 20C or ... low 70's F.  I wish I had my electric blanket, but I suppose I could get some bricks, heat them in the toaster oven, and have them put into bed, right?

Bombings in Bangkok and a fake bomb was found just a few blocks from where we live here in Chiangmai.  I really don't know what's going on, and to be honest, I don't think anyone here does.  Muslim separatists from the south?  Supporters of the ousted prime minister?  The present rulers trying to pin something on the ex PM?  Idiots who are just plain jerks?  Who knows.

What probably disturbs me most about the bombings is that the police in Bangkok didn't allow the forensic investigators onto the site until after the street cleaners had been there.  Seems the police and forensic bomb squads are not on the same side, and considering those same police "lost" all the papers on their "investigations" into the former PM within 12 hours of the coup last fall, that's ... scary.  No matter what you might feel about the "establishment" (and yes, I was a child of the sixties and seventies), they are a whole lot more "clean" than most people, including Michael Moore, like to think.  And when push comes to shove, it's nice to know they're there.

Instead of speed bumps.