I did not want to get out of bed this morning. I had been up all night hacking up my lungs. I was exhausted and puny. While lying in the cozy cocoon of my bed, I grabbed my cell phone and checked my email, the first thing I do every morning. And I finally got “it.” I hear some sentimental teachers talk about special letters and notes from students, but I haven’t received one. Until this morning. Here’s what my student wrote:
Dear Mrs. Frost,
I want to thanks you for allowing me to borrow your book. It truly means a
lot that you trusted me with your personal belonging.
I've heard great reviews about this book from a couple friends, and I was
so glad when I saw it in your classroom today.
This book made me think a lot about my life and how it's going on. I know
now that I may be ready for college, and all the responsibility that come
with it. And I know that I'm not the only one that actually loves their
friends, and not the only one that actually wants to cry when I see them
hurt.
Charlie also taught me that I should always be honest. With the last scene
when Sam and Charlie were in the bed, and they were having a serious
conversation. "You weren't being a friend at all, because you weren't
being honest with them." I've never had a problem with telling my friends
straight-up what they need to hear. But, I do sometimes have a problem
when it comes to them acting upon me, just like Mary did when they were
dating, and when Patrick kissed him.
Anyway, this book really touched me and made me think a lot. A lot more
then I usually do. It made me want to change from my 'depressed' self, so
a new and improved 'peaceful' self.
Oh, remember the girl I wrote about in my Class notebook?
Well, I pretty much told her to 'Screw Off". (Not word-for-word) After
Four long years of pain she's given me, and all the times she's just
stomped on my kindness. I couldn't take it anymore.. So yeah. She's done.
And, I do miss her still, but I feel a little lighter now. I'm with an old
friend now.. The girl you probably see me walking with
everyday pass your classroom.
Anyway, back on topic. I've never been the 'happiest' kid around. And,
I've been picked on and mistreated since 6th grade from being a heretic.
(I'm not an Atheist, sorry for lying. I just don't believe in your
Christian god. I believe in Life itself, and it's many wonders.) This book
finally let me know that someone is like me. I can't really relate to him
100%, but I can relate enough. We've had different experiences.
In conclusion, thank you so much for letting me borrow your book, and I'll
be sure to bring it back to you tomorrow morning.
And, thanks for letting me talk to you all the time.
(No, I don't think this will have any effect on me in class. Haha, that
isn't what I'm looking for, and I really hope you wouldn't treat me
different.)
Sincerely, D.
I was floored. I was so excited that a student found the real magic and power in a well-written book, and I felt so honored that he shared his feelings with me.
At the same time, I felt like I had let this boy down. “Thanks for letting me talk to you all the time,” he wrote. I wracked my brain and couldn’t recall one single conversation with him. “Good morning,” yes, every day. “How are you today?” I cried. I cried for his pain- a pain I can still relate to from high school. I cried because I became a teacher to touch students the same way my teachers did. To show kids that they are important and can do whatever they want- even if they dress funny or live in a trailor or have crooked teeth or bad skin. Instead I feel like those kids keep falling through the cracks in my classrooms. They are the intelligent, quiet kids who do their work and obey the rules. Unassuming, not squeaky wheels. But hurting and needed encouragement and love. I cried because I spend most of my days trying to make class fun and engaging for jerks who couldn’t care less, and the kids who are interested sit patiently, eager to learn, while to other goof off.
It is so hard to give that individualized instruction to every student when they all need and crave attention. I wish I could go into my class and say, “I am here to teach students who want to learn. So if you don’t want to, go to the principal and explain to her why you don’t care.” But I can’t do that. This is why I often feel like English (especially literature-based ELA) should be an elective. Maybe that way I could have classes full of thoughtful students like Dustin. I feel like I have failed him. Is he a better person for being in my class? Have I taught him anything? He taught me something very important. I am not doing my job to its fullest. I am failing. Yes, I know the content. Yes, I can write an engaging lesson plan. But can I change lives? Can I encourage and inspire?
I didn’t treat him any differently. I left a note in his bell ringer notebook to let him know that I had responded to his email and left it at that. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to apologize to him. I wanted to tell him high school is not everything. There is so much waiting for him beyond the walls of PCHS. The world is so big.
The book he read was Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Two quotes that stand out for me are:
So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose wherever we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them...
AND
I walk around the school hallways and look at the people. I look at the teachers and wonder why they're here. If they like their jobs. Or us. And I wonder how smart they were when they were fifteen. Not in a mean way. In a curious way. It's like looking at all the students and wondering who's had their heart broken that day, and how they are able to cope with having three quizzes and a book report due on top of that. Or wondering who did the heart breaking. And wondering why.
I think he’ll be okay. I hope I will.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)
Close your eyes,
Have no fear,
The monsters gone,
He's on the run and your daddy's here,
Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy,
Before you go to sleep,
Say a little prayer,
Every day in every way,
It's getting better and better,
Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy,
Out on the ocean sailing away,
I can hardly wait,
To see you to come of age,
But I guess we'll both,
Just have to be patient,
Yes it's a long way to go,
But in the meantime,
Before you cross the street,
Take my hand,
Life is just what happens to you,
While your busy making other plans,
Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy,
Darling,
Darling,
Darling Sean.
So that is one of my favorite John Lennon songs, mostly because it's abo
ut his son (Sean), and it always reminds me of my son (Sean). It's just a really beautiful song. I was sitting in class last night and thinking about all the tattoos I want and playing around with song lyrics and quotes and so on, and I thought "John Lennon sketch". Years ago Curtis and I saw an exhibit of Lennon's works and I remember being struck by not only the simplicity of his work, but the love in it. It sounds cheesy but you could "feel" the love he put into these little haphazard scribbles.
So I did a ton of searching and found a sketch I loved, except the boy had "his" Sean's straight black hair, and I thought this would be perfect if I could get a tattoo artist to rework it with some crazy blonde hair. The opportunity presented itself today and 30 minutes later, I had it.
Guys, I am so in love with this particular tattoo. It is by far my favorite and so special to me. Sean is at such a magical age right now; everything he does or says it so cute or so smart or so funny. He is the MOST BEAUTIFUL child ever! I just can't imagine life without him. It has been a really tough summer. I have been in classes four nights a week and most Saturdays, so I rarely see him. Thankfully Curtis takes lots of video and tells lots of great stories. I feel like I miss so much, and I know in a couple of years, it will be worth it, but it's hard to think that far ahead when you are right in the middle of it. I've been very discouraged lately, trying to balance school and work and family.
Sean is twenty-one months old... do you still use months at this age? His vocabulary has to be over 100 words, and the things he says are sometimes full sentences. The other day at a very fancy bridal shower (Love you Sara B!), he was admiring all the knickknacks in this museum of a house, admiring them in a very physical way, and he caught me looking at him and he said, in all seriousness, "Don't touch!" I was so impressed; I assumed he got it. Well, next thing you know he's running around with this probably 2000 year old box, yelling "Mine! Mine! MINE!" Oh well.
He loves brushing his teeth and elephants and cars and trucks. He's learning colors, but everything tends to be "blue." He will blow goodbye kisses to anyone.
He's awesome, and this tattoo is a permanent reminder of this magical time, and that makes me happy.
Have no fear,
The monsters gone,
He's on the run and your daddy's here,
Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy,
Before you go to sleep,
Say a little prayer,
Every day in every way,
It's getting better and better,
Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy,
Out on the ocean sailing away,
I can hardly wait,
To see you to come of age,
But I guess we'll both,
Just have to be patient,
Yes it's a long way to go,
But in the meantime,
Before you cross the street,
Take my hand,
Life is just what happens to you,
While your busy making other plans,
Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy,
Darling,
Darling,
Darling Sean.
So that is one of my favorite John Lennon songs, mostly because it's abo
ut his son (Sean), and it always reminds me of my son (Sean). It's just a really beautiful song. I was sitting in class last night and thinking about all the tattoos I want and playing around with song lyrics and quotes and so on, and I thought "John Lennon sketch". Years ago Curtis and I saw an exhibit of Lennon's works and I remember being struck by not only the simplicity of his work, but the love in it. It sounds cheesy but you could "feel" the love he put into these little haphazard scribbles.So I did a ton of searching and found a sketch I loved, except the boy had "his" Sean's straight black hair, and I thought this would be perfect if I could get a tattoo artist to rework it with some crazy blonde hair. The opportunity presented itself today and 30 minutes later, I had it.
Guys, I am so in love with this particular tattoo. It is by far my favorite and so special to me. Sean is at such a magical age right now; everything he does or says it so cute or so smart or so funny. He is the MOST BEAUTIFUL child ever! I just can't imagine life without him. It has been a really tough summer. I have been in classes four nights a week and most Saturdays, so I rarely see him. Thankfully Curtis takes lots of video and tells lots of great stories. I feel like I miss so much, and I know in a couple of years, it will be worth it, but it's hard to think that far ahead when you are right in the middle of it. I've been very discouraged lately, trying to balance school and work and family.
Sean is twenty-one months old... do you still use months at this age? His vocabulary has to be over 100 words, and the things he says are sometimes full sentences. The other day at a very fancy bridal shower (Love you Sara B!), he was admiring all the knickknacks in this museum of a house, admiring them in a very physical way, and he caught me looking at him and he said, in all seriousness, "Don't touch!" I was so impressed; I assumed he got it. Well, next thing you know he's running around with this probably 2000 year old box, yelling "Mine! Mine! MINE!" Oh well.
He loves brushing his teeth and elephants and cars and trucks. He's learning colors, but everything tends to be "blue." He will blow goodbye kisses to anyone.
He's awesome, and this tattoo is a permanent reminder of this magical time, and that makes me happy.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Musings and Meth Heads
Unfortunately, I have been in Wal-Mart A LOT lately. I was pretty sick the beginning of the week (I missed two days of work, and if you know me at all, then you know this is WAY out of character for me. I even had a friggin' fever. I mean, how old am I? Two?!?) After a visit to the local "doc-in-a-box", I went to Wal-Mart to get my prescriptions filled. Prescriptions for vomiting and diarrhea. Remember that... it is important later. They tell me it's going to be thirty minutes, which we all know is just a gimmick to get you shopping. This pisses me off because, "Hello! I am getting drugs for vomiting and diarrhea! Let's speed it up, k?" But I shop around for my mandatory 30 minutes.
Thirty minutes later.... my RX isn't ready because my "insurance company's computer system is down." FYI, I worked in pharmacy for six years. That's code for "We are DAs and we screwed up." So I have to wait around. Two really sketchy chicks are sniffing around for the Sudafed, obviously to make meth with. It was really skanky, and the pharmacy never could get my insurance to work.
Fast forward to THREE days later- I'm back at Wal-Mart to pick up prescriptions, and the dumbasses didn't run them through the insurance. Now this is shoddy and unacceptable, so I insisted on complaining to a pharmacist. While I'm waiting, another skank comes up to buy Sudafed. She catches my attention because she literally CANNOT stand upright. It is disgusting and pathetic. She is two folks behind me and invading everyone's personal space, hitting people up with this sob story about how she only has five bucks and can't pay for her medicine and can she borrow some money. Luckily, no one falls for it. When she gets up to the register, she asks specifically for NAME brand Sudafed, not store brand. Definitely a junkie, and a skank. I complained about that too.
Now before you tell me, to take my business elsewhere, I already do, but when you are SHUKING you go to the closest place, got me?
Ugh... so April is going to suck big-time! I have so much to do. I am teaching Julius Caesar with mixed results, and I am really worried about teaching tenth graders how to write a traditional research paper. I have to take the Praxis II (big deal test I have to pass to keep my teaching job) in three weeks. I have two HUGE papers to write for UAB. And Curtis says I spend too much time goofing off on-line. I retaliate by writing this blog instead of working on something "important."
I love the song "In a Big Country" by Big Country. It is super powerful. Almost as good as "Your Love" by The Outfield.
Sean currently speaks upwards of 30 words, and probably recognizes closer to thirty billion. He is not only a supergenius; he is also the CUTEST thing, and a great kisser. He is very polite, saying "Pleeeaasseee!" at mostly the right ties, and being sweet enough to hug and kiss you after he hits or bites you. Who could ask for anything more, right?
Thirty minutes later.... my RX isn't ready because my "insurance company's computer system is down." FYI, I worked in pharmacy for six years. That's code for "We are DAs and we screwed up." So I have to wait around. Two really sketchy chicks are sniffing around for the Sudafed, obviously to make meth with. It was really skanky, and the pharmacy never could get my insurance to work.
Fast forward to THREE days later- I'm back at Wal-Mart to pick up prescriptions, and the dumbasses didn't run them through the insurance. Now this is shoddy and unacceptable, so I insisted on complaining to a pharmacist. While I'm waiting, another skank comes up to buy Sudafed. She catches my attention because she literally CANNOT stand upright. It is disgusting and pathetic. She is two folks behind me and invading everyone's personal space, hitting people up with this sob story about how she only has five bucks and can't pay for her medicine and can she borrow some money. Luckily, no one falls for it. When she gets up to the register, she asks specifically for NAME brand Sudafed, not store brand. Definitely a junkie, and a skank. I complained about that too.
Now before you tell me, to take my business elsewhere, I already do, but when you are SHUKING you go to the closest place, got me?
Ugh... so April is going to suck big-time! I have so much to do. I am teaching Julius Caesar with mixed results, and I am really worried about teaching tenth graders how to write a traditional research paper. I have to take the Praxis II (big deal test I have to pass to keep my teaching job) in three weeks. I have two HUGE papers to write for UAB. And Curtis says I spend too much time goofing off on-line. I retaliate by writing this blog instead of working on something "important."
I love the song "In a Big Country" by Big Country. It is super powerful. Almost as good as "Your Love" by The Outfield.
Sean currently speaks upwards of 30 words, and probably recognizes closer to thirty billion. He is not only a supergenius; he is also the CUTEST thing, and a great kisser. He is very polite, saying "Pleeeaasseee!" at mostly the right ties, and being sweet enough to hug and kiss you after he hits or bites you. Who could ask for anything more, right?
Friday, February 27, 2009
When It All Goes Wrong Again
Ugh, today was just a crappy day. You ever wake up, and know it's going to be a bad day, well, that's how I felt when Sean started fussing fifteen friggin' minutes before my alarm clock went off. I drag my ass out of bed to start my day. It's rainy; the new jeans I want to wear are too small. I go downstairs to find a pair of jeans that fit, and they are dirty. Back upstairs and can't find the shirt I want to wear; downstairs- can't find it. Cussing a blue streak by this point, I tear apart the closet and there is the shirt, hidden by hangers full of clothes too small.
I pop a Klonipin. I have a feeling it's the only way I'll make it through the day. The students were actually OK. I have a student that I really like, probably a "pet." He's very intelligent, fantastic writer, but lazy and a total ass. He comes up from lunch early to tell me that he's withdrawing right now. I was flabbergasted, I had just gotten him turned around, convinced him not to drop out, had him enter a writing contest and win, increase his grade from a 45 to a 95, and he's leaving? He hugs me bye and promises to keep in touch ( I haven't gotten his award form the contest yet). No big deal, but I worked so hard on that kid, and what if the next school doesn't? What if he doesn't have an English teacher that rides his ass? I told him to use the move as a new start, and to keep writing. He just laughed and waved over his shoulder.
Normally, I would be all right, but this has already been a shitty day, and did I mention I'm pre-menstrual? I boo-hooed. I went to my friend Callie's room, but I couldn't even talk. But it was about everything that's been going on. I never see my husband and son, and when I do I end up resenting the amount of time they take up when I could be grading papers or reading books for class or writing lesson plans. I haven't cooked a meal for my family in months. I can't remember the last time I've cleaned the house or washed a load of clothes or unloaded the dishwasher. I can't fit in any cute clothes. I don't have the money to buy new clothes. I want to hula hoop all my frustrations away but I can't because it's raining. I want to go out and eat dinner and have a drink, but I can't because Sean no longer sits in restaurant and Curtis and I end up fighting and babysitting instead of eating.
I feel so stretched in so many directions. I feel like I am doing a million things, but none of them particularly good. I am listening to Everclear, which is my "depression" music I feel defeated. Sometimes I don't want to get out of bed. Sometimes I want to drive and not stop.
"I feel like I am holding it together/Sometimes I feel like everything is fine/Something I feel Like I'm out of control/I feel like I am falling......Sometimes I feel like I am really lucky I have made it through Bruised and scarred/And half alive/Sometimes I feel Like I'm out of control I feel like I am falling......
I feel like I am faking it/I feel like I am wrong/I feel like I'm a guest...like I just do not belong I feel like I am faking it/ I feel like I am wrong /I feel like I'm a guest...like I just do not belong"
Tomorrow will be better, right?
I pop a Klonipin. I have a feeling it's the only way I'll make it through the day. The students were actually OK. I have a student that I really like, probably a "pet." He's very intelligent, fantastic writer, but lazy and a total ass. He comes up from lunch early to tell me that he's withdrawing right now. I was flabbergasted, I had just gotten him turned around, convinced him not to drop out, had him enter a writing contest and win, increase his grade from a 45 to a 95, and he's leaving? He hugs me bye and promises to keep in touch ( I haven't gotten his award form the contest yet). No big deal, but I worked so hard on that kid, and what if the next school doesn't? What if he doesn't have an English teacher that rides his ass? I told him to use the move as a new start, and to keep writing. He just laughed and waved over his shoulder.
Normally, I would be all right, but this has already been a shitty day, and did I mention I'm pre-menstrual? I boo-hooed. I went to my friend Callie's room, but I couldn't even talk. But it was about everything that's been going on. I never see my husband and son, and when I do I end up resenting the amount of time they take up when I could be grading papers or reading books for class or writing lesson plans. I haven't cooked a meal for my family in months. I can't remember the last time I've cleaned the house or washed a load of clothes or unloaded the dishwasher. I can't fit in any cute clothes. I don't have the money to buy new clothes. I want to hula hoop all my frustrations away but I can't because it's raining. I want to go out and eat dinner and have a drink, but I can't because Sean no longer sits in restaurant and Curtis and I end up fighting and babysitting instead of eating.
I feel so stretched in so many directions. I feel like I am doing a million things, but none of them particularly good. I am listening to Everclear, which is my "depression" music I feel defeated. Sometimes I don't want to get out of bed. Sometimes I want to drive and not stop.
"I feel like I am holding it together/Sometimes I feel like everything is fine/Something I feel Like I'm out of control/I feel like I am falling......Sometimes I feel like I am really lucky I have made it through Bruised and scarred/And half alive/Sometimes I feel Like I'm out of control I feel like I am falling......
I feel like I am faking it/I feel like I am wrong/I feel like I'm a guest...like I just do not belong I feel like I am faking it/ I feel like I am wrong /I feel like I'm a guest...like I just do not belong"
Tomorrow will be better, right?
Monday, February 23, 2009
I love Google!
So, as many of you know, I love Google. I use it at least three times daily. It is the most wonderful thing ever, behind TiVo, magic bullets, and eating out without a baby, but none of those wonderful things are the focus of this particular blog.
My ex-boss sent an e-mail out earlier this year about this new-fangled thing called a search engine and we all made fun of him, but I am truly a Google aficionado.
Last night Curtis and I watched the snoozefest that was the 81st annual Academy Awards. During Queen Latifah's "In Memoriam," we noticed the absence of Heath Ledger, and this led to a debate as to why he wasn't included in this year's telecast. To determine the answer, I went to my trusty pal Google, and I was not disappointed. Heath died on January 22, 2008, and his memoriam was during last year's telecast, although with his nomination and eventual win, you think they could have shown him again this year, but I digress.
Since I was on Google, I asked Curtis was there anything else I needed to research, and then I remembered a long-standing debate we have had about which lame-ass balladeer, Michael Bolton or Bryan Adams, had penned songs for Kiss. Naturally I was right! Thanks Google!
Then he said, "Quit making things up. Next thing you'll tell me George Washington wasn't the first president of the United States." Twenty-five million hits in .45 seconds and viola. Google you rock my face off!
Next he challenged me to find something anything about President Barack Obamba ( a clever play on my favorite 50s' Latino hit performed by dreamboat Lou Diamond Phillips in the movie version of Ritchie Valens's life and tragic death). I had called him Obamba on purpose as a joke, but lo and behold, "Obamba!" Viva la Google!
Inside joke now, we were talking about spicy Mexican taint on Saturday, and no, I don't remember what started the conversation or why, but he said I would never find anything about that, not even on the juggernaut that is Google. Puh-lease! Give me a real challenge.
But do yourselves a favor, okay? Stay away from Mexican subways! Google, I wanna make out with you!
Then Sean Penn won the Oscar for Best Actor, and I thought to myself, "Damn! Is he ever going to shut up?" Naturally, this begs the question can anyone shut Sean Penn up? Apparently this is crazy popular on Google. Shut up already, dude!
In conclusion, Google is the best thing ever, and if it were a person, I'd totally marry it. Thank you Google for making my life better, and just more fun!
My ex-boss sent an e-mail out earlier this year about this new-fangled thing called a search engine and we all made fun of him, but I am truly a Google aficionado.
Last night Curtis and I watched the snoozefest that was the 81st annual Academy Awards. During Queen Latifah's "In Memoriam," we noticed the absence of Heath Ledger, and this led to a debate as to why he wasn't included in this year's telecast. To determine the answer, I went to my trusty pal Google, and I was not disappointed. Heath died on January 22, 2008, and his memoriam was during last year's telecast, although with his nomination and eventual win, you think they could have shown him again this year, but I digress.
Since I was on Google, I asked Curtis was there anything else I needed to research, and then I remembered a long-standing debate we have had about which lame-ass balladeer, Michael Bolton or Bryan Adams, had penned songs for Kiss. Naturally I was right! Thanks Google!
Then he said, "Quit making things up. Next thing you'll tell me George Washington wasn't the first president of the United States." Twenty-five million hits in .45 seconds and viola. Google you rock my face off!
Next he challenged me to find something anything about President Barack Obamba ( a clever play on my favorite 50s' Latino hit performed by dreamboat Lou Diamond Phillips in the movie version of Ritchie Valens's life and tragic death). I had called him Obamba on purpose as a joke, but lo and behold, "Obamba!" Viva la Google!
Inside joke now, we were talking about spicy Mexican taint on Saturday, and no, I don't remember what started the conversation or why, but he said I would never find anything about that, not even on the juggernaut that is Google. Puh-lease! Give me a real challenge.
But do yourselves a favor, okay? Stay away from Mexican subways! Google, I wanna make out with you!
Then Sean Penn won the Oscar for Best Actor, and I thought to myself, "Damn! Is he ever going to shut up?" Naturally, this begs the question can anyone shut Sean Penn up? Apparently this is crazy popular on Google. Shut up already, dude!
In conclusion, Google is the best thing ever, and if it were a person, I'd totally marry it. Thank you Google for making my life better, and just more fun!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
"You know what they say about assuming..."
Today I was teaching grad exams skills to my tenth graders, and one of the skills we reviewed was making conclusions. We have worked on ths all year, but sometimes they just don't get things. A refresher for my readers who may not remember tenth grade English. A conclusion is when you take prior knowledge and combine it with evidence from something you read or write and then make a conclusion. It it were a math equation it would look something like this:
What you know (prior knowledge) + what you see or read
= conclusion
A good person is kind, generous and selfless + Ben Franklin gave food to poor people
= Ben Franklin is a good person
Get it?
So a conclusion is like an assumption, and you know what they say about making assumptions...
I went to the teachers' lounge before lunch to get a soft drink, and discovered a young female in blue jeans looking kinda lost and uncomfortable. I combined my prior knowledge- students aren't allowed in the teachers' lounge and teachers can't wear jeans- and the evidence I could see- young woman in jeans, and concluded "There is a friggin' student in the teachers' lounge! Busted!"
I barked at her: "What are you doing in here?" She looked at me questioningly.
I snarked: "I'm sorry, are you a new teacher I don't know about?" I couldn't tell if she was about to cry or run away, but she wasn't responding.
My voice trailed away: "Are you a substitute?" She nodded.
She said: "Did you go to Erwin High School?"
Holy crap! I yelled at a substitute teacher! A sub that went to junior high with me!
I am such an ass!
What you know (prior knowledge) + what you see or read
= conclusion
A good person is kind, generous and selfless + Ben Franklin gave food to poor people
= Ben Franklin is a good person
Get it?
So a conclusion is like an assumption, and you know what they say about making assumptions...
I went to the teachers' lounge before lunch to get a soft drink, and discovered a young female in blue jeans looking kinda lost and uncomfortable. I combined my prior knowledge- students aren't allowed in the teachers' lounge and teachers can't wear jeans- and the evidence I could see- young woman in jeans, and concluded "There is a friggin' student in the teachers' lounge! Busted!"
I barked at her: "What are you doing in here?" She looked at me questioningly.
I snarked: "I'm sorry, are you a new teacher I don't know about?" I couldn't tell if she was about to cry or run away, but she wasn't responding.
My voice trailed away: "Are you a substitute?" She nodded.
She said: "Did you go to Erwin High School?"
Holy crap! I yelled at a substitute teacher! A sub that went to junior high with me!
I am such an ass!
Monday, February 16, 2009
Tough Decisions
I make choices every day. I decide if I am going to eat a healthy breakfast at home or
Chick-Fil-A's chicken, egg and cheese bagel. I decide am I going to wear pants that fit or those pants that are entirely too tight. Will I "sleep" through Sean waking up at 4:15 AM or will I get out of bed and tend to him? Some choices- those of the ethical/religious variety - are few and far between. Do I believe in Heaven? What happens to people who commit suicide? Does life begin at conception? I don't have to make those decisions every day, thank goodness.
Today I did have to make a choice, and I don't know if it was the right one; I guess I may never know. I love my son. I truly, 100 % believe that he is the most beautiful, most intelligent creature I have ever, or will ever know. He has the most beautiful curly blond hair, despite two botched haircuts. He has the bluest eyes (genetics be damned, it happened!) He is talking. Granted I may not know everything he says, but he is saying it. He will blow kisses and say "MUAH!" I love him.
But being a parent isn't always easy. In fact, it is hard as hell. Thankless. Sleepless. Exhausting. Aggravating. I don't know if I will ever be ready for another child, and I am resigned to that fact. At least once a day, I think to myself, "I am a crappy mother." I get frustrated when I shouldn't - he won't eat, he is fussing, he keeps dragging me around from room to room, he wants me to read "Wheels on the Bus" AGAIN! I resent nights when he decided to wake up at 4:15; doesn't he know I have to be up in an hour!? I miss being able to go out to dinner whenever I want to. I miss being able to read books and magazines for pleasure.
All that isn't to make me look like the most selfish person on the face of the earth; it's just to show that I am human. I love my son, but I don't know if I am willing to go through this again. My life has been turned completely upside down for the last 16 months, and I know it will never be the same. I am fine with that; I relish that. But I am not willing, at this point, to sacrifice anymore of my life to another human being.
It's a humbling job. So when I waked up to that pharmacy counter to purchase Plan B, the "postcoital pill", I swear my left ovary was aching. In 16 months we have not had a single slip, not one. Blame it on Cupid. Blame it on the new lingerie. Blame it on me, or him, or whatever. I had a decision to make. Chances are nothing would happen, but there is always a slim chance that something could develop out of this moment of carelessness. I couldn't help but remember the fact that Sean was conceived the FIRST time we tried. So I know, joyfully, that it only takes one time. Take a chance or make a choice. I chose to be pro-active, no matter how wrong or morally against the choice you may be.
Plan B is NOT an "abortion" pill. It prevents fertilization from occurring. In some eyes, that may not be a difference, but in my eyes it will have to be. I have so many reasons for not wanting another baby, especially right now- I'm not tenured; I am back in school to get my Masters; I'm tired. Maybe they are selfish. Maybe they are unfair. They are mine. Did I make the wrong choice? Am I a bad person? Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? Am I a baby-killer?
I hope not.
Chick-Fil-A's chicken, egg and cheese bagel. I decide am I going to wear pants that fit or those pants that are entirely too tight. Will I "sleep" through Sean waking up at 4:15 AM or will I get out of bed and tend to him? Some choices- those of the ethical/religious variety - are few and far between. Do I believe in Heaven? What happens to people who commit suicide? Does life begin at conception? I don't have to make those decisions every day, thank goodness.
Today I did have to make a choice, and I don't know if it was the right one; I guess I may never know. I love my son. I truly, 100 % believe that he is the most beautiful, most intelligent creature I have ever, or will ever know. He has the most beautiful curly blond hair, despite two botched haircuts. He has the bluest eyes (genetics be damned, it happened!) He is talking. Granted I may not know everything he says, but he is saying it. He will blow kisses and say "MUAH!" I love him.
But being a parent isn't always easy. In fact, it is hard as hell. Thankless. Sleepless. Exhausting. Aggravating. I don't know if I will ever be ready for another child, and I am resigned to that fact. At least once a day, I think to myself, "I am a crappy mother." I get frustrated when I shouldn't - he won't eat, he is fussing, he keeps dragging me around from room to room, he wants me to read "Wheels on the Bus" AGAIN! I resent nights when he decided to wake up at 4:15; doesn't he know I have to be up in an hour!? I miss being able to go out to dinner whenever I want to. I miss being able to read books and magazines for pleasure.
All that isn't to make me look like the most selfish person on the face of the earth; it's just to show that I am human. I love my son, but I don't know if I am willing to go through this again. My life has been turned completely upside down for the last 16 months, and I know it will never be the same. I am fine with that; I relish that. But I am not willing, at this point, to sacrifice anymore of my life to another human being.
It's a humbling job. So when I waked up to that pharmacy counter to purchase Plan B, the "postcoital pill", I swear my left ovary was aching. In 16 months we have not had a single slip, not one. Blame it on Cupid. Blame it on the new lingerie. Blame it on me, or him, or whatever. I had a decision to make. Chances are nothing would happen, but there is always a slim chance that something could develop out of this moment of carelessness. I couldn't help but remember the fact that Sean was conceived the FIRST time we tried. So I know, joyfully, that it only takes one time. Take a chance or make a choice. I chose to be pro-active, no matter how wrong or morally against the choice you may be.
Plan B is NOT an "abortion" pill. It prevents fertilization from occurring. In some eyes, that may not be a difference, but in my eyes it will have to be. I have so many reasons for not wanting another baby, especially right now- I'm not tenured; I am back in school to get my Masters; I'm tired. Maybe they are selfish. Maybe they are unfair. They are mine. Did I make the wrong choice? Am I a bad person? Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? Am I a baby-killer?
I hope not.
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