save me some room on the dirt floor

*Edited, thanks to Meredith. Shame on me for not proof-reading.

There's only one thing that makes me feel slightly worse than drinking Starbucks as I walk by a homeless person:

employees at mall kiosks.

I can't think of very many jobs worse than standing in between the Cinnabon and American Eagle, trying to get people to stop and try some new miracle-working face serum. There are two extremes of the kiosk employee. They could take the stalker approach, following you halfway down the corridor trying to convince you that a life isn't worth living without a new cover for your cell phone. Or, they take the "I'm a 16-year-old girl who can't be bothered to get my ass off this backless stool, let alone put my cell phone down." Either way, seems like a sad existence.

So yesterday, as I wandered the 3rd floor of the Towson Town Center, I gave into a particularly aggressive kiosker from the SEACRET beauty products neck of the woods. She had the speech memorized: use the buffer for just 3 minutes every two weeks, I should treat myself to something special, it's a great gift idea for the holidays, if I bought it today I could get two 4-piece nail kits for the price of one. She was pushy, and at times I wanted to push over her lotion samples and get the hell out of dodge.

But since I was at the mall to de-stress from a particularly taxing day of teaching, I thought I would give her a chance and not take my bad day out on the innocent kiosker. After all, we all have to put food on the table. I didn't buy the nail set (my generousity of spirit only goes so far). But I thought about it, if for nothing else to absolve my soul from the guilt of years of hurried paces and skillful avoidance of eye contact. And to think, I could've gotten two souls absolved for the price of one...

let's get physical

Halloween is probably one of the most stressful holidays for me, for one ridiculous reason: the costume.

I think Sarah's exact words to me last week went something like this: "Bacon, your costumes always blow." And she's right. I went through the ambiguous princess phase in early elementary school, and then moved into the attempts at sweet costumes that never quite made the cut. I believe I've tried both the M&M and Hershey Kiss costume, to name a few. But I never had one of those "all in one" costumes you can buy, that come with hat, sword, hydration materials, shoes, and pet accessories as needed. I always went for fast, cheap, and most durable in the face of inclemate weather. I also never can get behind the excuse to wear as little clothing as possible and pass it off as some sort of kitty cat, nurse, or officer of the law.

So this year, in a new town and somewhat new lifestyle, I knew that I had the chance to set a new tone. The goal was to replicate Olivia Newton John's "let's get physical" video. It turned into a conglomeration of bright spandex, tights, and orthopedic velcro shoes (note to any senior readers: you can spice those things right up with a nice pair of knitted leg warmers.) And I have to say, I was convincing. I got a handful of compliments on the costume, plus an excuse to dance like an idiot and pass it off as "fitting into character."

Other odd/admirable costumes spotted around town: a life-size box of Franzia wine, a guy with sponges that spelled "me", to represent being self absorbed, Wolverine, Abraham Lincoln and the Gettysburg Address (written on chart paper turned into a tube dress), and Roseanne.

some things are worth exclaiming

It's the No. 1 rule of journalism: no one ever makes an exclamation. They don't comment, note, sigh, yell, or any of the other 18 million ways you're taught in elementary school that someone can say something without just saying "sally said."

So as a friend and I were driving through the parking garage at the mammoth-sized Towson Town Center (the closest suburb to Baltimore with the largest mall I've ever been in. Bellvue Square would fit in the luxury wing of this place), I was taken aback at the signs directing me:

"Lots more parking ahead!"

Normally, I would've made some cynical remark at how the world should use its words, not its punctuation, to make a statement. But for some reason, this sign made me stop and exclaim for myself, "what a wonderful place for an exclamation mark!"

How many times have I driven around a parking garage and by the end of it just wanted to drive off the edge of the damn thing and go home? I hate the claustrophobia, the frantic nature of the place, the feeling that at any moment some Hollywood action/thriller moment will hit and the whole thing will collapse on top of my tiny car. The use of this simple yet powerful punctuation gave me hope; more parking, and a pleasant experience, was just ahead of me.

So maybe, just this once, I can accept that a well-placed exclamation mark sometimes really does the trick. Just don't tell my students I said so...

For more insight, check out this Slate article about their overuse in e-mails.

for the next life

Things that I hope give me good karma:

-I try to order in full anytime I go out. I choose my side dishes, specify size and type of beverage, and pre-empt the "how would you like that cooked" questions. If it's listed on the menu, then use the information given to you.

-Let people merge. I call it my "good driver karma." Especially in Baltimore, where lanes end at any given moment when some idiot decides to just park in the street.

-buy coffee/beverages/snacks for friends. Nothing makes someone's day than "here's the delicious beverage I know you would have ordered for yourself but didnt' have time for."

-doing research before I vote.

Things I complain about even if it means coming back as a squirrel next time around:

-so called "start-up" fees for things like electricity, my new crackberry, etc. I shouldn't have to pay you to take my money once a month.

-serif fonts. Only about 1 in 10 are actually worth my time.

-Reporting that uses excessive modifiers and fluffy descriptions. Like this, for example.

-men with long hair. Even McDreamy length just grosses me out.

-abstract art. Some of it is nice. Some of it just seems lazy.

Putting the w in wtf

Apparantly my whole education has been a sham.

I learned today (learned is a strong verb. More like "was made aware that some people think") the letter "w" can be used as a vowel.

This is absurd.

According to a post on answers.com, "people in the state of Washington were not taught that 'w' is sometimes a vowel." The entry goes on to explain how w rests in the same consonant/vowel continuum as the letter y, when used as the final letter of a word, ie "cow," "tomorrow," or "few."

I decided to go to a more authoritative source, so like any good English scholar that meant off to Oxford it was. According to their online dictionary a vowel is "a speech sound which is produced by comparatively open configuration of the vocal tract, with vibration of the vocal chords but with audible friction." In comparison, a consonant is "a basic speech sound in which the breath is at least partly obstructed." It goes on to refer to the w as a "semivowel" because it is used in contrast to consonants, but functions like a vowel.

Leave it to Oxford to invent a third type of letter to justify an obnoxious technicality.

As for me, the letter w remains firmly in the consonant category, if for no other reason than my entire Wheel of Fortune and Hangman strategies are ruined otherwise. I mean, if Pat Sajak says it's a consonant, than who am I to say otherwise?

And for the record, my Massachussetts-educated roommate had never heard of this, either.

christmas isn't the only time for wish lists

This is one of the few times I'll cross the line between blog-life and teacher-life.

My students have independent reading every day for 40 minutes as part of my school's new focus on boosting literacy. While the program is getting off to a somewhat rocky start, I'm really excited for its potential to give kids the chance to get super stoked to read. They can choose any book, as long as it's at their reading level.

Problem is, my school gave me about 30 books, only about 5 of which my students would have any interest in or actually be able to read.

So here's the solution. I've created a wish list through Amazon of books that are popular in Baltimore, as well as at varied reading levels that reflect the abilities of my students. I know a lot of people out there say to themselves "wow, Joy is great. I wonder how I could help her out in her first year teaching?" Now you have your answer. Browse the list, or add your own. It doesn't matter if the book is used or new, either. It gets shipped directly to me, and I would be eternally grateful!

Here's the link: Ms. Bacon's class library

the real sisterhood of the traveling pants

Last Friday was my first real teacher paycheck. So naturally, my roommate and I went shopping.

I ended up getting a pair of pants from Gap (where else) and was excited about them but not at the point of "I want these in 8 different colors" yet. That was, until this morning.

The Starbucks on 25th and Charles, inside Safeway, has become a regular morning stop for me. Yes, I know it's cheaper to buy a coffee maker and do it myself, but honestly I've had one before and I just don't take the time to make coffee in-house. And since switched to americanos, it's significantly cheaper than my white mocha days. But I digress.

So I was scurrying back to my car this morning, beverage in one hand and keys in the other, when my foot slipped in one of the 100 or so potholes in the parking lot and my coffee flew everywhere. Including all down the front left leg of the new pants. After a few choice expletives about the lost caffeine and $2.10 down the toilet, I turned my attention to cleaning myself up for school. Going back home to change wasn't an option, so I blotted what I could from my pants. And then, a magical thing happened: the coffee disappeared.

I can't explain it. It's like the pants whisked the stains away into a secret stain bank that I'll have to deal with before I die. But it's like nothing ever happened. No wetness, discoloring, not even a drop of scalding water on the skin underneath. For a stain-susceptible woman like myself, these pants are a godsend. Oh yeah, and they make your ass look fantastic.

Gap. Wide leg trouser. Dark charcoal. Go get some.