Off we go

Almost. Movers scheduled for tomorrow at 1300 GMT (+1).
And all is well.
Especially after the Presidential Debate last night. The Husband stayed up to watch it, I read the transcript this morning. Kerry did better than I expected him to, managing to keep composed and gracious, whilst Dubya went on and on about hatred, evil and folks.
Sadly, I don't think it will have the desired effect. It all goes back to the Yabba-dabba-doo mentality - even though Kerry came up with all the right answers and a game plan, Dubya sounds like he is talking with the guys at the ranch. He is clever that way, he totally masks the fact that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and several million silver spoons in the bank.
Moving obviously means blog silence. When I come back I will try to wrap my mind around the whole blog rolling thingy. There are quite a few I want to list.

Note to Self

When packing; leaning down to bite off tape because scissors have mysteriously disappeared requires hair to be tied, braided or short.
Hair vs. Jumbo Gaffa Tape is a war without winners.

Sleepy Hollow

Am sleepy & hollow inside.
Because of moving. Am a fabulous packer, some might say anal retentive, I say blessed with a divine organizational skill. Problem is the skill does not sleep. It keeps thinking of new and revolutionary ways of sorting things, even when I am so tired I cannot but schlump into bed.
This is day three of less than adequate sleep.
In my teens and twenties I completely ran my sleeping account into the ground. I owe something like a quadrillion hours. Now when I don't get the full 8 hours I turn into grumpy space cadet, bar the afore mentioned organizational skill which takes on an ever so slight fascist undertone ("Why are there off-whites mixed with the whites?"). Also, when I don't get enough sleep, or if I get too much sleep, I sneeze like crazy. Yeah, go figure.
Before you start feeling sorry for my better half, know this; he loves my packing and has come to rely on it. Or so he says. The sneezing he could do without.
Yesterday I found out we get our new apartment two days earlier than originally planned. Of course this threw me into flux capacitor over drive.

Striking Teachers

Week nr. 1 of the nationwide teacher's strike is over and there is no end in sight. Icelandic media coverage has portrayed the teachers as being mean and greedy buggers who are destroying a whole generation of Icelandic youth.
A starting salary for a new teacher in Iceland is somewhere around $30 000 (currency today, with USD so ridiculously low) a year. For somebody with a college degree- and no doubt hefty student loans to repay- who has to deal with a roomful of children ALL day. I'd strike just to get some peace and quiet. Knowing me, I'd probably strike the kids.
Sure we all had at least one teacher who made our lives miserable. Mine drove me nuts all through out third grade. I vaguely remember screaming fights and sulking during detention. Odd thing though, last year I was doing a project where interviewing elementary school kids was a vital part, and lo and behold, there she was. There were chills running down my spine. And she recognized me. And she HUGGED me (actually if there is a licensed therapist reading this, please advice on how to deal with that particular trauma).
Turns out, teachers are human, even the ones that seemed like monsters at the time. They eat, ergo they need money like the rest of us. However, they are in a profession where the career ladder is short and the chances of making big bucks are slim to none.
Some years ago I attended my ten year high school reunion. Out of a graduating class of 52, about 17 had gone on to become teachers of some sort.
I know, you are still thinking about the dwarfed size of my graduating class aren't you? Long story short: Language minority school in a country other than Iceland, NOT private. If you'd met my parents you'd know there was no chance of me having gone to private school.
Anyhow, these former classmates were teachers and they were almost all doing various workshops and attending classes to further themselves in order to be better teachers, not to make more money. Not only do they have to remember all that stuff that at least I have forgotten, like GRAMMAR, or biology, but these days they supposed to make sure each child is doing all right, they are supposed to look for signs of abuse, they have to make sure that the internal relationships between the kids is bullying-free and healthy.
In some parts of the world they even have to worry about getting physically hurt in their work place.
They are doing a lot of the work that parents who are out there forging careers and making money tend to forget. It used to be that they had great long vacations, but nowadays they are expected to not only work with planning and such, but also re-educating themselves, taking classes on new policies and methods.
I say giv'em all the money they want. Make sure it becomes a profession of well educated people who really want to be the best teachers they can be.
Which would you rather? That the teacher in front of your kid is thinking about the best way to make your offshoot connect the dots or how to meet next months bills?