June Bug

We used to have big Japanese Beetle problems when I was a kid. They loved my mother's roses. At night you could sit in the living room and listen to them pinging off the windows. That sounds gross, actually, now that I type it out, but the rhythm of them hitting was familiar and comfortable. Lemonade, sweat, heat, and June Bugs; that's summer.

Friday was the last day of school. So I guess it's summer.

Saturday I mostly puttered. (And talked again to my parents about money. This is giving me an ulcer, I swear.)

Yesterday I woke up at 4:30 am, took a shower, woke my youngest up, and left the house at about quarter to six. We drove to the airport, where we flew to NYC. I dropped her off with her grandparents, walked across the street, went back through security, and hung out in the terminal for about four hours, before flying back home. With an hour wait on the tarmac before taking off, another six hour flight, and a drive home, I got back here at ten minutes to two this morning. Twenty plus hours of travel. Dude.

The positive thing is that I don't seem to have jet lag. On the other hand, I'm totally confused as to what day it is. Monday?

While traveling I read Temple Grandin's Animals in Translation. I've known for some time about Dr. Grandin's work in designing humane slaughter houses, and I've read about her in Oliver Sacks' book, An Anthropologist on Mars. It was just as engaging as I thought it would be. I wish more people would set aside their own notions of what an animal "should be" or "should react" and would just observe what they are actually doing.

While traveling I also watched many hours of Mythbusters. I do love those guys. If I were ever to find myself on the Actor's Studio, being forced to answer "The Questionnaire", I would have to say that the profession I would most like to try would be model builder for the movies, or a member of the Mythbusting team. Geeks with a sense of humor. Heaven. Sign me up. (Or I'd like to go work for the James Randi Educational Foundation. (Recently I have spent many hours on Stop Sylvia Browne and on this thread at JREF. waste of time? Yes, but also completely absorbing. I have such a crush on James Randi's mind. And on Robert Lancaster's mien.)

On Friday, the last day of school, I had yet another set back in my son's special education travails. This happened on the Last Day of school, AFTER school got out. It just never ends.

A teacher at his school asked his case worker if her child could go to a summer camp and if the District would pay for it. The case worker sort of looked at her sideways and said, "That's an issue for an IEP." Then the teacher asked, "Is SAUL going to this camp, and is the District paying for it?"

The case manager replied that she was not going to discuss any other child's accommodations and that if the teacher were making a request, then it would have to go through an IEP. Then she called the Director of Special Services and asked for advice. The Director said, "School's over. Get your stuff packed and get the hell out of there."

(As a note here, the camp that my son's going to IS part of an IEP, but it's for patients of a psychologist. You have to be a patient to attend. And yes, I requested it. Because the District has been unable to find my son an appropriate placement for the summer, and he needs a structured program to carry him over the summer. Ten weeks away from school will make his transition back into school that much harder. The director of special ed attended his last IEP, which took place on Tuesday, and cautioned everyone in the room to recognize that everything was confidential, and that it was the District's intent to provide for this child as he needed accommodations, not because his mom was a school board member. It took a grand total of three days for that confidentiality to be breached.)

I don't have proof, but of course I've been racking my brains trying to figure out who knew what when. Originally I thought it was the Business Office, as they would have had to process a purchase order for the camp fees, but now I'm pretty sure it was the school psychologist who told the third grade teacher about Saul's placement. She's already proven herself to have a big mouth.

But I'm putting that one behind me. Sort of. I think. Because I want to focus on summer.

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While I was typing up this post, I got a phone call from a person in the District who's upset and who is probably on the way to resigning. Fuck. This is bad. Very bad. Spent a long time on the phone with this person. This one goes, and the District is fucked. Truly. On the other hand, considering the story I just heard, I support this person no matter what they decide.

Makes my re-election campaign interesting. How many MORE issues can we throw in the pot, Hmmmm?

Remind me NEVER to go into higher office, OK? Because this is just too much.