There are things that I think about that blow my mind. Things that I stay up until 2 in the morning wondering. I toss, and turn, and try to turn off my brain, to no avail. Do other people wonder these things too? Ah, one more thing to wonder about! Here are a few of my recent ponderings...
1)Don't those people on American Idol have someone in their life that loves them enough to tell them not to audition? Just one person? Mother, sibling, teacher...anyone???? And why don't the auditioners solicit public opinion on their way to the audition? If it were me I would be asking every stranger on the subway if I sounded decent--- just to make sure I didn't end up as the next bad audition superstar!
2) Low rise jeans and short shirts. Why do so many girls and women wear them, and not seem to notice that their bellies are exposed? Did they look in a mirror? If so, did they think they, "Yeah, that's just the amount of belly fat exposure I was looking for."? Do they not have a mirror that shows them more than just their faces, or are they so self confident that they just don't care? I will always wonder about these self-depricating wardrobe choices, and as with the American Idol failures, where is their "someone"? The one who loves them enough?
3) You know those pictures of the solar system in text books? It occurs to me that we live on one of those spheres, suspended in space, surrounded by nothing but black vastness. How is it that we are just living life on a blue marble? That when I look through a telescope and see planets- I am seeing another version of where I live. If there were people living on, Uranus for example, well, I am living on the thing that the Uranians look at in their telescopes. This place where I live is in some other planet's sky, just as Mars is in my sky!! Mind blowing! Oh, and not for nothing, but "Yay gravity! I love you. You're one of my favorite forces."
4)Speaking of space...the shuttles are cool, and the whole mission to Mars...missions to the moon...International Space Station. All have major cool points in my book, but what exactly are we going up there for? I have never understood it, but it must be something important because brave people are willing to die for it.
5)I would feel better if there were a real Dr. Gregory House; a mad genius doctor who can differentiate almost any diagnosis. According to Web MD I have a few possibly terminal illnesses, but none of them fit me just right. My fear of irony tells me that if I am to get ill, it will be with one of those terrible, whacky diseases or infections that would make doctors bring in med students to use me as a teaching opportunity. It's never good when doctors gather other doctors just to check you out- like some sort of sick theme park attraction. So, if Dr. House were real, he could figure me out. Possibly.
6) Why does denim get a bad rap? It is outlawed at many workplaces, and deemed too casual to be appropriate attire. But why? Is it not a fabric like any other...? I have seen lovely denim trousers, and jean skirts that are so adorable. We need to find a way to reclaim denim. If not for me, then for all of those poor home school moms in their denim, floor length jumpers. It has been discriminated against for too long.
From loving them enough to tell them the ugly truth, to contemplating the galaxies, to how much unfair treatment denim clothes receive, my brain keeps me busy. Occasionally I think of things that are actually important. But often, its just me thinking about things like this, or how I can purchase a small island nation in order to make Pig Latin a national dialect. I think a Pig Roman Empire sounds delightful, and Pig Rome, the obvious name for my island nation, would be paradise. And it would be quiet, so I would be able to do a lot of thinking there.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
My brother
I can't imagine our family without my brother. He is kind of what makes us interesting. He still lives in Maine, and I miss him. I wish we were closer... in a lot of ways. Charlie is a mystery to me. I think he always has been. I love him endlessly, and I look up to him in a way that I can't really explain, except to say that he is my big brother. I am funny, but he is funnier. I am smart, but he is smarter. I wish I had the courage to bend some rules and have some adventure in my life, like I think that he did, but I never had it in me.
As a kid, everything that he did was cool in my eyes. In high school he had this awesome collection of music. So cool. I used to sneak into his room to look at his stacks of cassettes in his desk drawer: The Beastie Boys, Billy Joel, Bob Marley, James Taylor. He has the quickest wit, and is very sensitive and insightful, and I think he is probably the smartest person I know. This fact was impressed upon me when playing Trivial Pursuit with him about fifteen years ago. I think he got every single answer right. Literally. The one answer that stuck in my head was that he knew that Rudyard Kipling is the poet who, though Educated in England, was born in Bombay. Who knows that just out of the blue? He is very philosophical, and I love the way his brain works. It was a potential source of torment, at times, for my mother whose brain works almost completely in retrograde of his...but even that was terrifyingly cool to me. While I dreaded the dinners where Charlie would push my mom's buttons, like asking how to get his status changed to "deceased" to avoid repaying student loans, I also watched in awe and amazement at how it all just sort of amused him.
Charlie turned out different from my sister and I. She and I are alike in that we really didn't question things our parents told us, things about life, faith, citizenship...but my brother challenged them all. At our cores, we share the same values, but express them so differently. My brother is a bit of a hippie. He was "green" before being green was trendy. He balks at consumerism, in fact, my mom bought him a Red Sox shirt once for his birthday, and had to return it because it was made by Nike and had their small, signature, swoosh symbol on it. He didn't care for being a walking advertisement for a large conglomerate like Nike.
We're all grown up now, and I suppose even middle aged, but Charlie is still inexplicably cool in my eyes. He is a talented artist, and story teller, and a good family man. He likes jazz, and taught himself to play guitar. I can picture him now, picking at is guitar on my parents porch while the summer sun is setting; his dirty bare feet keeping the rhythm on the pine wood boards, and an occasionally off tune melody on his lips.
Yep, that's my brother. I have always sort of just watched him from a distance, admiring things in him that I never saw in myself. At the same time, I completely identify with him and feel we are kindred spirits. So, we are back to my big brother being a mystery to me. A mystery that I love, and have always wanted to be so much more like.
As a kid, everything that he did was cool in my eyes. In high school he had this awesome collection of music. So cool. I used to sneak into his room to look at his stacks of cassettes in his desk drawer: The Beastie Boys, Billy Joel, Bob Marley, James Taylor. He has the quickest wit, and is very sensitive and insightful, and I think he is probably the smartest person I know. This fact was impressed upon me when playing Trivial Pursuit with him about fifteen years ago. I think he got every single answer right. Literally. The one answer that stuck in my head was that he knew that Rudyard Kipling is the poet who, though Educated in England, was born in Bombay. Who knows that just out of the blue? He is very philosophical, and I love the way his brain works. It was a potential source of torment, at times, for my mother whose brain works almost completely in retrograde of his...but even that was terrifyingly cool to me. While I dreaded the dinners where Charlie would push my mom's buttons, like asking how to get his status changed to "deceased" to avoid repaying student loans, I also watched in awe and amazement at how it all just sort of amused him.
Charlie turned out different from my sister and I. She and I are alike in that we really didn't question things our parents told us, things about life, faith, citizenship...but my brother challenged them all. At our cores, we share the same values, but express them so differently. My brother is a bit of a hippie. He was "green" before being green was trendy. He balks at consumerism, in fact, my mom bought him a Red Sox shirt once for his birthday, and had to return it because it was made by Nike and had their small, signature, swoosh symbol on it. He didn't care for being a walking advertisement for a large conglomerate like Nike.
We're all grown up now, and I suppose even middle aged, but Charlie is still inexplicably cool in my eyes. He is a talented artist, and story teller, and a good family man. He likes jazz, and taught himself to play guitar. I can picture him now, picking at is guitar on my parents porch while the summer sun is setting; his dirty bare feet keeping the rhythm on the pine wood boards, and an occasionally off tune melody on his lips.
Yep, that's my brother. I have always sort of just watched him from a distance, admiring things in him that I never saw in myself. At the same time, I completely identify with him and feel we are kindred spirits. So, we are back to my big brother being a mystery to me. A mystery that I love, and have always wanted to be so much more like.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
A thankful heart
I have decided that there is little in life as beautiful as a thankful heart. It doesn't matter if it is your four year old thanking you for making play dough cookies with her, or your two year old's squeaky high pitched, "Thanks" after you wash his two stickiest fingers for the thousandth time at dinner. True thanks is a beautiful thing.
Most of the people that I know are surrounded by things to be thankful for, and I think that if we would just set our minds on looking for them rather than looking past them, that we would be amazed at what we would see.
If we looked for things to be thankful for, most of us would find family. True, it won't be a perfect one, but that's just because there is no such thing. Perhaps it is a family full of people who mean well, but get too pushy. Who don't ask the right questions about our job, or our lives, or who simply act like they don't care about either one. Maybe its a family that is too loud around the dinner table, or tells too many embarrassing stories. Or perhaps, it is a broken family, and times around the dinner table are not noisy enough because there are too few people, and not enough to talk about that won't bring up painful memories. But, nonetheless, there is family. For this we should be thankful. For the fact that we are not alone in the world. Most of us, despite the lack of perfection, have people that would call us there own and would be there for us in a pinch. No matter how strange, or estranged, nothing compares to having a family.
Most of us also have jobs to be thankful for. True, we may have to tilt our heads a little bit to the right, and squint just so, in order to see the great things we have at work, but a job is a blessing. In this current economy, maybe more of us are thankful for that than at this time five years ago, but still it is something we may complain about more than express thanks for. I know, it might be a job, and not a career. It might be a way to pay our bills, rather than follow our bliss. We might be overworked and underpaid, and vastly under-appreciated. Maybe it a part time job when we were promised full time, or a full time job with part time pay, and less benefits than we would want. But, there is work for our hands to do. Work that gives our lives some sense of purpose, and belonging, and value. Work that provides us the money we need to feed and clothe our families, and leave ever such a small amount left over for a teeny bit of fun.
A man's home is his castle, and most of us have homes for which to be thankful. Maybe not our dream homes, but homes just the same. Perhaps it is an apartment with noisy neighbors on all sides, or a home that has had a for sale sign in the yard for two years now, and just won't catch a bite on the market. Maybe its not beach front, lake front, or on a cul de sac. Maybe it even has the carpet ripped up in the back bedroom, and only three walls painted because we ran out of money to finish fixing it up. Even so, we have a safe space in which to place our belongings and lay our heads at night. When the winter wind whips cold outside, and the rain throws itself at us from all sides; we have shelter. When the stress of work, school, carpool, doctor appointments, and long lines at the grocery store are all more than we can bear; we have that safe, quiet place of refuge called home. The place where we are most comfortable, most ourselves, and most happy to be. The place where we can wear sweats, bathrobes, slippers, or nothing at all.
I think there should be a forum for "regular people" to give thanks. I know we have Thanksgiving, but who are we kidding? That has pretty much gotten to be all about the turkey and football these days. I am not a famous and talented actress, so I will never win an Academy Award and get the chance to say thanks in front of the world. But, even so, I would like to thanks to the not so "little people" in my life.
I would like to thank God for His mercy, grace, and providence in my life. I would like to thank my parents for, among other things, having three children instead of two, and my sister and brother for all the fun times and friendship. I would like to thank Jayme for loving me even when I am borderline crazy and want to have long conversations at midnight, and my kids for being the funniest people I have ever known. I would like to thank my aunts and uncles, and cousins that I love and almost never see, for being some of those people that would call me their own and be there for me in a pinch. Oh, and my precious friends. I would like to thank you most of all. For making me laugh, and for laughing with me. For filling the huge gap in my life that I have had for so many years being so far from home. You are more than just people to go to the movies with. You are my immediate source of strength, joy, and perseverance. If ever a person could say their friends are their family, I can. Thank you all. Thank you God, for my abundant life. There is little in life as beautiful as a thankful heart.
Most of the people that I know are surrounded by things to be thankful for, and I think that if we would just set our minds on looking for them rather than looking past them, that we would be amazed at what we would see.
If we looked for things to be thankful for, most of us would find family. True, it won't be a perfect one, but that's just because there is no such thing. Perhaps it is a family full of people who mean well, but get too pushy. Who don't ask the right questions about our job, or our lives, or who simply act like they don't care about either one. Maybe its a family that is too loud around the dinner table, or tells too many embarrassing stories. Or perhaps, it is a broken family, and times around the dinner table are not noisy enough because there are too few people, and not enough to talk about that won't bring up painful memories. But, nonetheless, there is family. For this we should be thankful. For the fact that we are not alone in the world. Most of us, despite the lack of perfection, have people that would call us there own and would be there for us in a pinch. No matter how strange, or estranged, nothing compares to having a family.
Most of us also have jobs to be thankful for. True, we may have to tilt our heads a little bit to the right, and squint just so, in order to see the great things we have at work, but a job is a blessing. In this current economy, maybe more of us are thankful for that than at this time five years ago, but still it is something we may complain about more than express thanks for. I know, it might be a job, and not a career. It might be a way to pay our bills, rather than follow our bliss. We might be overworked and underpaid, and vastly under-appreciated. Maybe it a part time job when we were promised full time, or a full time job with part time pay, and less benefits than we would want. But, there is work for our hands to do. Work that gives our lives some sense of purpose, and belonging, and value. Work that provides us the money we need to feed and clothe our families, and leave ever such a small amount left over for a teeny bit of fun.
A man's home is his castle, and most of us have homes for which to be thankful. Maybe not our dream homes, but homes just the same. Perhaps it is an apartment with noisy neighbors on all sides, or a home that has had a for sale sign in the yard for two years now, and just won't catch a bite on the market. Maybe its not beach front, lake front, or on a cul de sac. Maybe it even has the carpet ripped up in the back bedroom, and only three walls painted because we ran out of money to finish fixing it up. Even so, we have a safe space in which to place our belongings and lay our heads at night. When the winter wind whips cold outside, and the rain throws itself at us from all sides; we have shelter. When the stress of work, school, carpool, doctor appointments, and long lines at the grocery store are all more than we can bear; we have that safe, quiet place of refuge called home. The place where we are most comfortable, most ourselves, and most happy to be. The place where we can wear sweats, bathrobes, slippers, or nothing at all.
I think there should be a forum for "regular people" to give thanks. I know we have Thanksgiving, but who are we kidding? That has pretty much gotten to be all about the turkey and football these days. I am not a famous and talented actress, so I will never win an Academy Award and get the chance to say thanks in front of the world. But, even so, I would like to thanks to the not so "little people" in my life.
I would like to thank God for His mercy, grace, and providence in my life. I would like to thank my parents for, among other things, having three children instead of two, and my sister and brother for all the fun times and friendship. I would like to thank Jayme for loving me even when I am borderline crazy and want to have long conversations at midnight, and my kids for being the funniest people I have ever known. I would like to thank my aunts and uncles, and cousins that I love and almost never see, for being some of those people that would call me their own and be there for me in a pinch. Oh, and my precious friends. I would like to thank you most of all. For making me laugh, and for laughing with me. For filling the huge gap in my life that I have had for so many years being so far from home. You are more than just people to go to the movies with. You are my immediate source of strength, joy, and perseverance. If ever a person could say their friends are their family, I can. Thank you all. Thank you God, for my abundant life. There is little in life as beautiful as a thankful heart.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Famous people
I have met only one famous person in my life. It was former first lady, Barbara Bush. It was exciting, as exciting as meeting Barbara Bush could be. It was the summer after my senior year of high school, and I was working at some job that I have quite literally forgotten. I do remember that the building we were in also had a recording studio in it, which is why Barbara was there. It was in Portland, ME which, as everyone knows, is THE city in Maine. Barbara, likely spending her summer at Walker's Point in Kennebunkport, had come to our building to record her memoirs.
I walked out of the office to go do something so insignificant that I have completely forgotten it, and came face to face with the once First Lady. She was nice to see. Just, happy, and friendly, and grandmotherly. I was tempted to snuggle up and get a big hug from her, but thought better of it. She smiled at me, though it was kind of a small smile, and asked me where the rest room was. Yes, it's true, she talked to me. Little old me! The woman who once slept in the White House, and likely had conversations with George Herbert Walker Bush that went like this, "No husband, don't use the red phone for this matter, we can settle it without the nukes". Yep, she and I talked, and then we walked. I walked her down one and a half flights of stairs, and past a single, bored looking (yet still super cool)Secret Service Agent, to the bathroom. This is where we departed. I thought she would ask how to contact me again or invite me to Kennebunkport, but instead she just thanked me.
That was it. My one, golden, famous person encounter. It was memorable, so obviously, I basically know her. Although she is the only one that I legitimately know, I do "kind of know" a couple of other famous people too. I "know" Jennifer Aniston, because she touched my husband's arm and said, "It's nice to meet you, Jayme", and also Jason Varitek because I teach someone related to him (with the last name Varitek) and have an autographed baseball from him. Oh, and I almost forgot Tina Fey! She is one of my favorite celebrity "friends". We became close when I saw her at Disney, just feet away from me, getting ready to go on the Peter Pan ride.
I am holding out hope that I will meet more famous people in my life. Not because I am someone who is interested in celebrities and their lives; I am not. I don't subscribe to People magazine, or even peek at the Enquirer when I'm in line at the grocery store. I am just too busy with my life to worry about theirs. Even so, there is something surreal, and interesting, and...memorable... about meeting someone famous. That is what my vast experience in the matter has taught me! ;)
I walked out of the office to go do something so insignificant that I have completely forgotten it, and came face to face with the once First Lady. She was nice to see. Just, happy, and friendly, and grandmotherly. I was tempted to snuggle up and get a big hug from her, but thought better of it. She smiled at me, though it was kind of a small smile, and asked me where the rest room was. Yes, it's true, she talked to me. Little old me! The woman who once slept in the White House, and likely had conversations with George Herbert Walker Bush that went like this, "No husband, don't use the red phone for this matter, we can settle it without the nukes". Yep, she and I talked, and then we walked. I walked her down one and a half flights of stairs, and past a single, bored looking (yet still super cool)Secret Service Agent, to the bathroom. This is where we departed. I thought she would ask how to contact me again or invite me to Kennebunkport, but instead she just thanked me.
That was it. My one, golden, famous person encounter. It was memorable, so obviously, I basically know her. Although she is the only one that I legitimately know, I do "kind of know" a couple of other famous people too. I "know" Jennifer Aniston, because she touched my husband's arm and said, "It's nice to meet you, Jayme", and also Jason Varitek because I teach someone related to him (with the last name Varitek) and have an autographed baseball from him. Oh, and I almost forgot Tina Fey! She is one of my favorite celebrity "friends". We became close when I saw her at Disney, just feet away from me, getting ready to go on the Peter Pan ride.
I am holding out hope that I will meet more famous people in my life. Not because I am someone who is interested in celebrities and their lives; I am not. I don't subscribe to People magazine, or even peek at the Enquirer when I'm in line at the grocery store. I am just too busy with my life to worry about theirs. Even so, there is something surreal, and interesting, and...memorable... about meeting someone famous. That is what my vast experience in the matter has taught me! ;)
Monday, January 24, 2011
Is This Some Sort of Joke?
I took a strengths test at work that suggested I consider teaching as an occupation, and it made me cry a little. That's not a joke. I never wanted to be a teacher, and although I find it rewarding to be a part of the life stories of all of these kids, I spend a little part of every day dreaming about something more. So, it was a bit of a shock that this (albeit potentially flawed) strength test was telling me that I am already doing something that is a good match for my skill set.
I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I thought that it would come back with large bold print and lots of exclamation points and say that I am wasting away a mass of skill and talent by being in the classroom. I think I thought that it would help me create a new future by seeing something in me, that I couldn't find, that would make me perfectly suited for some other, awe-inspiring, career.
Clearly, that didn't happen. Now what? Well, there is only one way to go. Now I must be the most amazing teacher ever to wear a teacher ID badge and have an ugly picture on the faculty page of the yearbook. I must read more than I have ever read, and I must go to more conferences than I have ever been to. I must write referrals and merits with my nicest pen, and get my teeth whitened so that when I greet the kids with a smile every day, it is the whitest smile they have ever beheld. And, truthfully, I am a bit relieved. I don't think there is another job where I could be a counselor, comedian, performer, judge, professor, singer, and poet all in the same day. Maybe, just maybe, this teaching thing will work out!
I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I thought that it would come back with large bold print and lots of exclamation points and say that I am wasting away a mass of skill and talent by being in the classroom. I think I thought that it would help me create a new future by seeing something in me, that I couldn't find, that would make me perfectly suited for some other, awe-inspiring, career.
Clearly, that didn't happen. Now what? Well, there is only one way to go. Now I must be the most amazing teacher ever to wear a teacher ID badge and have an ugly picture on the faculty page of the yearbook. I must read more than I have ever read, and I must go to more conferences than I have ever been to. I must write referrals and merits with my nicest pen, and get my teeth whitened so that when I greet the kids with a smile every day, it is the whitest smile they have ever beheld. And, truthfully, I am a bit relieved. I don't think there is another job where I could be a counselor, comedian, performer, judge, professor, singer, and poet all in the same day. Maybe, just maybe, this teaching thing will work out!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Favorite Things
I don't have to think too hard to come up with a list of my favorite things. I see the world as happy little snippets of film on a cutting room floor. Here are just a few of the things that make me smile:
Brand new baby teeth
Puffs Plus on day three of a bad cold.
A comforting wink from across the room letting me know my friend has my back.
Teachable moments
High pitched squeals of glee from a happy toddler
Christmas making everything magical
The smell of salty air that tells me I'm home
The tightest hug ever from my 95 year old grandfather
How people in love pretend-fight just to amuse themselves
An unexpected gift
Dinner turning into "up way too late on a work-night" talks with a friend
The great cookie debate...cookies or cookie dough?
Pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse
People who let me be me
Others who sing along when I break into spontaneous song.
Pretending my dog talks likes Aunt Jemima
The liberation of my mind when wrapped up in a good story
Praising God
How a look between close friends can take the place of words
Platonic Soul Mates
The way a two year old says I love you
How just knowing he's there makes me feel inside
Promises Kept
Bucket lists
No bills in the mailbox
Texting
When my parents sing happy birthday to me on speaker phone
Choosing to focus on strengths, not weaknesses
The Circle of Trust
I could go on for at least another couple of hundred things. :) Moments are memories, and they are priceless. I completely enjoy the little things, like the way the coins jingle in my dad's pocket when he walks, or the way my husband whistles while he works on his car. Remembering, in life, that limitations are just opportunities to be creative, and that perspective changes everything. There are reasons to be happy everywhere we look! Life is good! :o)
Brand new baby teeth
Puffs Plus on day three of a bad cold.
A comforting wink from across the room letting me know my friend has my back.
Teachable moments
High pitched squeals of glee from a happy toddler
Christmas making everything magical
The smell of salty air that tells me I'm home
The tightest hug ever from my 95 year old grandfather
How people in love pretend-fight just to amuse themselves
An unexpected gift
Dinner turning into "up way too late on a work-night" talks with a friend
The great cookie debate...cookies or cookie dough?
Pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse
People who let me be me
Others who sing along when I break into spontaneous song.
Pretending my dog talks likes Aunt Jemima
The liberation of my mind when wrapped up in a good story
Praising God
How a look between close friends can take the place of words
Platonic Soul Mates
The way a two year old says I love you
How just knowing he's there makes me feel inside
Promises Kept
Bucket lists
No bills in the mailbox
Texting
When my parents sing happy birthday to me on speaker phone
Choosing to focus on strengths, not weaknesses
The Circle of Trust
I could go on for at least another couple of hundred things. :) Moments are memories, and they are priceless. I completely enjoy the little things, like the way the coins jingle in my dad's pocket when he walks, or the way my husband whistles while he works on his car. Remembering, in life, that limitations are just opportunities to be creative, and that perspective changes everything. There are reasons to be happy everywhere we look! Life is good! :o)
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Easiest Job...Ever.
"I think teaching would be pretty much the easiest job...ever". This is a direct quote from one of my 17 year old students who knows everything. I just smiled and said, "maybe one day you'll be a teacher, and get to find out". On the surface I thought it seemed like an innocent deflection of a thoughtless comment, but in reality, I wish that upon him.
I wish he could experience first hand, how "easy" teaching really is. I wish that he could know what it is like to have to be at school at an hour when most adults are still waiting for the alarm clock to go off every morning. And that instead of "clocking out" at five to head to dinner, he could go home most nights with armfuls of curriculum and papers. I would love to hear this thoughts at spending his "free time" at night grading and planning and having to say, "No, I think I better get some work done tonight", whenever some friends ask him to join them for dinner. I wish this audacious little man-child the "easy-breezy" life of PTF meetings, fundraisers, and sporting events (on school nights and weekends) that he has to go to in order to do his job well. He should get to experience the simple task of engaging the minds of students who are used to flashes of light and sound effects at every turn. Of course, that just touches on the easy part of teaching, the academic part.
Once we get the "hidden curriculum" involved it gets even more interesting. Teaching social skills, conflict resolution, goal setting, self esteem, self-acceptance, self-advocacy, respect, obedience, civic duty, and on and on. Easy? Maybe. And what about matters of the heart? When he might have to comfort a girl whose cousin commits suicide, or parents abuse her, or mother has been in jail for the past ten years...how easy will that be? When he has to figure out what to say to the boy that comes in between classes, and bursts into tears because he is new to the school, has no friends, and feels like if he doesn't bring his grades up that he will disappoint his mom. Will he think that is a walk in the park? I wish he could see, just once, how "easy" it is to sit in a meeting with a parent whose child is a nightmare on roller skates, and find two positive things to say for every concern. And to do all of that creative thinking even while knowing that these same parents have been nothing but critical, hateful, and derogatory toward every effort the teacher has made to help them educate their child.
Yeah, it's not very mature of me, but I wish all of that upon him. If not in reality, then at lest in an Ebeneezer Scrooge type experience one dark night. I think, mostly though, that I wish "The Ghost of High School Past" would show him how "easy" it is to put a smile on his face every day, and give his heart, soul, finances, time, and passion to a bunch of kids who think he has pretty much the easiest job...ever.
I wish he could experience first hand, how "easy" teaching really is. I wish that he could know what it is like to have to be at school at an hour when most adults are still waiting for the alarm clock to go off every morning. And that instead of "clocking out" at five to head to dinner, he could go home most nights with armfuls of curriculum and papers. I would love to hear this thoughts at spending his "free time" at night grading and planning and having to say, "No, I think I better get some work done tonight", whenever some friends ask him to join them for dinner. I wish this audacious little man-child the "easy-breezy" life of PTF meetings, fundraisers, and sporting events (on school nights and weekends) that he has to go to in order to do his job well. He should get to experience the simple task of engaging the minds of students who are used to flashes of light and sound effects at every turn. Of course, that just touches on the easy part of teaching, the academic part.
Once we get the "hidden curriculum" involved it gets even more interesting. Teaching social skills, conflict resolution, goal setting, self esteem, self-acceptance, self-advocacy, respect, obedience, civic duty, and on and on. Easy? Maybe. And what about matters of the heart? When he might have to comfort a girl whose cousin commits suicide, or parents abuse her, or mother has been in jail for the past ten years...how easy will that be? When he has to figure out what to say to the boy that comes in between classes, and bursts into tears because he is new to the school, has no friends, and feels like if he doesn't bring his grades up that he will disappoint his mom. Will he think that is a walk in the park? I wish he could see, just once, how "easy" it is to sit in a meeting with a parent whose child is a nightmare on roller skates, and find two positive things to say for every concern. And to do all of that creative thinking even while knowing that these same parents have been nothing but critical, hateful, and derogatory toward every effort the teacher has made to help them educate their child.
Yeah, it's not very mature of me, but I wish all of that upon him. If not in reality, then at lest in an Ebeneezer Scrooge type experience one dark night. I think, mostly though, that I wish "The Ghost of High School Past" would show him how "easy" it is to put a smile on his face every day, and give his heart, soul, finances, time, and passion to a bunch of kids who think he has pretty much the easiest job...ever.
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