San Diego Adventures (Reprise)

Good thing I can turn my smile off.

My kids take delight in pointing out that I have the ability to turn off my smile instantly. I'll be lecturing, they'll say something funny and I'll laugh really hard for about two seconds and then...*click* back to normal and continuing with the lecture. That skill has come in handy, as this past week has been a test in suppressing the urge to grin insanely.

::cue flashback with fuzzy slow-motion and Musak::

Eric tells me that he used to say hi to me at UCSD all the time when we both lived at Black in Warren during sophomore year. And since I'm a T, and am cruel and heartless, I just ignored him. Not the most auspicious of beginnings.

Fast-forward to summer this year, where I made my annual trip down to SD to help out at CBCSD's Family Retreat. I was extremely impressed with Eric's "ORGANISM" shirt, his creative improv games, his heart for high schoolers, and massive Cantonese pride. But, as Candy will attest, when I don't see people I forget about their existence (apparently I never learned object permanence as a child). So I was more than a tad surprised when Eric informed me that he was coming up to the bay (really, Stockton) for a wedding and wanted to come hang out with me. We ended up going to Williams-Sonoma and IKEA (two of the finest stores in life) and having possibly the most disappointing pasta in the world.

Candy knows that as a J, I hate surprises, so she warned me that Eric was interested and I should start thinking about the possibility. I had never considered the idea, so I had minor angst for about a week and then decided to just not think about it. Being a T makes life so much easier sometimes.

In October, I needed to move from my close-to-school, yet expensive, apartment in San Leandro to my current apartment in Hayward (farther but cheaper). I was prepared to be stressed by the process (potentially a J-nightmare) but in an entirely unexpected answer to prayer Eric offered to come up from SD and help me move. Moving ended up being almost frighteningly easy, and to top it all off, he even came to CCS and gave lectures to the AP Bio and freshmen kids, then hung around after school while I tutored some AP Chem kids. Anyone willing to get to know my students automatically gets points with me.  

I had mentioned before that I would never want to have a dramatic DTR at the top of a mountain or the Golden Gate Bridge or some other scenic spot where a "no" could result in being pushed off a location with high potential energy...so he wisely declared himself at the end of dinner at Daimo, which is about as non-suspicious as you can get. Several awkward bubbles and seahorses were formed, but I was impressed with his willingness to risk just laying out his feelings without any encouragement from me (because I'm a cruel and heartless T).

After Eric went back to SD, I had a pleasant few weeks of life as an NF, angst and all, during which time I decided on three more things I wanted to make sure of:

1) I wanted to be able to respect him intellectually. Check: I love that he's such a bio-nerd and can challenge me at Scrabble...plus, he is a critical part of research to cure colon cancer. I've always been a little bit insecure about my own delight in the intricacies of molecular bio (everyone else I know thinks it's ridiculous that upper div bio classes can be like worship sessions).

2) I wanted to be able to connect with him spiritually. Check: Eric loves his youth kids and really tries to take care of them, which is pretty much how I feel about my CCS kids. When I was prepping for Sunday School, discussing things with him really helped me flesh out stewardship and how that looks, plus I saw that he has a genuine desire to serve God in all he does and has. Subsequent discussions on suffering were similarly edifying -- just the right mix of theory and application. Going to the Flood this last weekend in SD and being able to worship together was really nice, even if it was a slightly awkward sermon topic.

3) I wanted the blessing of an older Christian couple. Check: I thought this might be a little trickier, since my dad only met Eric for about five minutes while moving, and Eric's parents are on the East Coast. But Candy's parents, who know me because I stay with them for a month every summer, and know Eric from his serving at CBCSD, were thrilled about us, so that was really amazing.

I know it's such a rational thing to write out and check off a list, but one of the things I'm amazed at is that this all stands up to my NT-ness. It's nice not to have to temper my T for Eric. Add to that that he's also a J, and makes chili, and is just artsy enough, is into college a cappella, has threadless t-shirts, used to have a microscope too as a kid, and is quite ridiculously diabolical to boot, and I am blown away by God's arrangements. I definitely could not have planned this for myself.

So as of about 12:30 AM last Wednesday, as Emily would say, I have got myself a man. The hardest thing was waiting until Friday to change my Facebook status (I know this is incredibly lame) because I didn't want to be interrogated by my kids at school. But, I vented my feelings by giving several open-note quizzes, a retake, and an open work/nap period in AP Chem. And now that they've had a weekend to digest the news (although one student thought it was an AP Psych experiment to mess with their minds), hopefully the explosion will be nicely contained and I can legitimately smile at my computer.

The Perks of Being the Child of a Science Person

It's PTC week, so all the teachers hang out in the teacher lounge, grading and prepping, while waiting for parents to come and talk to us. One of the middle school science teachers brought his really cute kids in, and they've been entertaining us with their cuteness, absurd noises, and random statements. The six year old was rambling about something and mentioned that some object or other was microscopic. Wow. I don't think most kindergarteners I know even know that word, much less know how to make it into an adjective and use it in a sentence. I guess that's what happens when your dad is a science teacher.

I remember when Derek and I were little, my dad got us this microscope kit from somewhere. It had all these slides of fish scales, dragonfly wings, antennas of bugs, etc. I though it was pretty normal and that everyone had microscopes at home. When my classmates talked about finding out if so-and-so had lice, I asked why they didn't just go home and take a look at the bug under the microscope.

I got blank stares. What kind of mad scientist family has microscopes at home, they wanted to know.

And then there was the fact that we had a lab downstairs...I thought everyone spent their summers learning about emulsifiers and the uses of propylene glycol and stearic acid. I also thought everyone worked on HK math books and built treehouses in their backyards, but apparently not. I'm so glad that my dad made those parts of my childhood possible.

Parent Teacher Conferences

If you've ever read the introduction to Matilda, by Roald Dahl, then you have some idea of what parent-teacher conferences at CCS are like. There are two main types of neurotic parents:

1) "My child is wonderful and brilliant and it must be all your fault that they're getting only an A- in your class."

2) "My child is lazy and stupid and you need to whip them into shape so that they're not just getting an A- in your class."

Both kinds make me sad. Of course, there are the normal ones too, who are genuinely concerned and want to work with you to do right by their children. Unfortunately, since two of my three academic courses this year are APs, I expect more of the neurotic-type. Please, if you ever become a parent, maintain realistic expectations of your offspring. How ironic, that we're talking about heritability in AP Psych right now.

***

Randomness from school:

So most of my kids are working on persuasive essays right now for the Lions' (Lion's?) Club Speech Contest, and one of them wrote me one for AP Chemistry. In the beginning of the year, when I handed out their Ultimate Equations Handbooks (UEH), I said it would become their new best friend. The following has been edited for punctuation:

"My teacher, Miss Tam, says the Ultimate Equation Handbook is my best friend. A best friend is someone who is always there for support and someone who is always there to keep you company. I carry my UEH everywhere I go in my backpack, but life isn't improving.  He doesn't keep me entertained. He makes me sleep. He doesn't make me relax. He makes me read him and study him. I speak English, he speaks elements. In conclusion, my teacher is wrong and the UEH is not my best friend. I also deserve a chocolate."

And then there's this assignment that all science students have to do: read one science magazine a month and summarize one of the main articles. Whenever I used to say it was time to do Science News again, I'd always get moans and groans, so this year, with the help of a couple former students, we came up with a new name for the assignment. Last year, when Liz was working at Baker's Square, she brought back a pin that says "Ask about our Party Pie Bundle." So I have this pin on my wall (along with others that say "Friends don't let friends get scurvy," and "Trust me, I'm a science teacher."), and when they saw it they naturally asked about the Party Pie Bundle. I explained, and we decided that it should actually mean something...so now Science News has been renamed the Party Pie Bundle. See, doesn't it just sound like a much more enjoyable assignment? And the fact that it's not named something obvious makes people keep asking about it, which means they are constantly reminded of the assignment. Well, since AP Psych had a test and a pretty horrid week, I decided to actually bring in pie on the PPB due date. This led to requests for Party Sushi Bundles, Party Steak Bundles, etc. Dear me, it looks like I've opened a Pandora's box. Perhaps at the bottom, after all the sushi and steak and Jamba Juices have flown out and escaped, I'll discovered a slightly squashed Party Bittermelon Bundle at the bottom.

I'm getting married in May.

This is a story about how rumors get started.

I've been assigning a lot of homework in AP Chem; too much, according to some of my kids. When one of my junior boys complained, I said that "[he would] thank me come May," when he aces the exam. One of the senior guys in the back of the room for some reason heard that statement as "[Miss Tam's] getting married in May." Next thing I know, the whole room is in uproar because they'd all thought that I didn't even have a boyfriend. So I explained myself and everyone settled back down to work on precipitation reaction stoichiometry, and that was the end of that.

So I thought. Hah! I should have known better -- CCS is all about spreading crazy rumors (e.g. "Miss Tam has a sister in high school" gets turned into "_______ is going to formal with Miss Tam's sister!"). So I walk into study hall and suddenly all the kids start clapping because they heard that I was getting married in May. Kids want to know where's the ring, what's he like, are they invited, etc.

Oh children, children. Goodness gracious.