Snapshots

Snapshots of my week:


This album cover...

...because I plan on listening to the new Mumford & Sons CD...on repeat.

This church scene...

...because it was beautiful outside yesterday, and we took the Tiger Pause kids out.

These shoes...

...because only a BF kid could get away with them.

This page out of an old military book...

...because during reading class, I have been learning how to bear arms.  Just in case.

This kitten...

...because Theo is my mom's new kitten, and I love her (that's right, her).

"What's in a name?"

Juliet was wrong.  I mean, I know she was tormented by her love (lust) for Romeo.  But there is way too much connected to a name to cast off so willingly.

I think that I realized just how much is connected with a name when discussing baby names with my roommate.  First off, I could never name my (future) child a name of someone that I know and do not particularly care for.  That seems to be a common idea.  Secondly, apparently half-Asian children cannot be called "Karl." That seems to be only one person's idea.  Thirdly, one must think about nicknames.  For example, I might like the name William but not of the nickname "Willy" or "Billy."  My own mother did not like others calling me "Katie."  And finally, the meaning of  a name is troublesome to me.  What if I like a name but the meaning is ridiculous?  How on Earth do people decide what to name their children?!

This whole idea unnerves me.  Perhaps I will just pull a name out of a hat.  Or flip through a book at an unusally quick pace and wherever my finger lands...name.

Snapshots

Snapshots of my week:

This silhoutte...

...because Karl and I are taking (free) ballroom dance lessons for five weeks.  This is what I felt like after one lesson, not actually what I looked like.

These Star Wars figures...

...because they were on the teacher's desk and I giggled.

This view...

...because my grandpa's funeral was a lot of this...the color black, tissues, and waiting.

This view...

...because I would very much like to say, "Step into my office." Which is really the corner of the library.

These envelopes...

...because I borrowed the idea from a friend and used them for class.

Things I Would Like to Tell Students

I walk around the school mentally cataloguing the social inadequecies of high school. From what I remember as a student (which is all a bit hazy), public school was a chore.  I don't mean to say it was not altogether enjoyable.  However, it was enjoyable in the sense that one enjoys a so-so meal.  The meal completes its job by fullfilling the stomach but it is easily forgotten in order to move on.  However, there are some life lessons to be taken away from high school.  From the shoes of the person in front of the classroom (standing, that is), there are many things I would like to tell these (small) beings who live in a world of their own.

1.  Ladies, it is COLD outside...put some clothes on.
2.  Gentlemen, your hormonal attempts to woo me (or anyone else for that matter) are useless.  Nothing can tempt me to go to jail.  Not even your cheesy lines and average intelligence.  Alas.
3.  "Shushing" people is as obnoxious as talking while someone else is talking.  It just requires more spit.
4.  Tonsil hockey is not a spectator sport.
5.  Your eyes are not looking over that far because they need to stretch.  It is called cheating.  And a zero.
6.  Whining does not get you what you want.  It only makes me want to do the opposite of what you want.
7.  Not every Asian is Chinese.  Period.  And Asia is a continent for goodness sakes!
8.  Kids in suburbia are not thugs.  You are tamed creatures.  You can stop pretending as of now.
9.  I can see your phone.  Game over.
10.  Read.  Please just read.  "You'll thank me later."

Kids and Cards

This past week had been difficult.  I was running around (ill), and attempting to balance time between the Falls and home with my family.  After receiving a call from my roommate/co-worker, I came home to find a present on my bed.  Cards.  Lots and lots of cards.  Like others who know the value of a hand-written note, my kids from Tiger Pause had drawn/written various cards and pictures.  Some of them made me cry.  Others made me laugh aloud.  All of them made me smile.

My name was spelled any which way.  There were pictures that didn't make sense.  Most of the kids were "sorry for my lost" and "hoped [I] find my way."  However, the true meaning was clear.  These kids care about me.  They understand the meaning of loss and how one can feel afterwards.  While I appreciate everyone's condolences over the loss of my grandpa, I am especially thankful for the love and grammatical errors of my kids in Beaver Falls.

Snapshots

Snapshots of my week:



 This candle...

...because it smells like Fall and adds a light to our home.

 These cookies...

...because after you work all day, sometimes pull-apart cookies are all you can manage.

This diploma...

...because I FINALLY put my official diploma in its shell. This makes me official.

 This phone...

...because this is my first real phone with a real plan. And it's so smart. And fast.

These tea things...

...because although I had a rough week, wrapping myself in a blanket and watching "Downton Abbey" while drinking tea made me feel so much better.

Demotivator or Motivator?

I have seen a few "demotivators" hanging in different classrooms around the school.  My first thought, upon seeing the above image, was your typical "ha."  Then it was, "ouch."  And finally it became a "hmmmm...".  I typically tend to see and read these without a passing thought, but as a teacher, it struck a particular chord. 

I want to be able to tell all my students they are "special" or "unique."  Words that either have a positive or negative connotation, depending on the tone of voice in which they are said.  I want my students to find their special or unique niche in life, and I want them to either find and/or utilize it somehow in my classroom. 

But then I realized that perhaps teachers are using this thought train as an excuse.  How many times do teachers tell students that they may or may not do something because they are "special"?  Or we allow students to go on being socially awkward because they're "unique"?

Everybody is unique.  At least that is how the saying goes.  But if you want to make anything of yourself, it always feels like you have to be a cut above the rest.  That is a demotivator.  However, I think the lesson here is that it is not enough to be "special" and "unique."  Those talents or skills should lead you to be useful.  If you're good at communicating with people, good for you.  But perhaps we should stop leading people to believe that they should stop there.  I'm not talking world-changing (although there is that potential, isn't there?).  I just think that the time has come to motivate students.  Even if we have to demotivate them first.

Goodbye

Goodbyes are easy for no one.  Many prefer "see ya later" and "call me when you're around!"  Some might even go the romantic route- "au revoir."  Until we meet again.  Even if the person never comes back around, at least you tried to maintain contact.  At least you know there is a chance of seeing that person again.

Permanent goodbyes are a little more difficult.  By permanent goodbyes, I mean, if there was a euphemism for it, it would be "see you in Heaven."  This is the type of goodbye I am facing this week. 

My Grandpa (or "Pa") has been a farmer his whole life.  When my Grandma passed away, family members worried that Pa's health would fail as well.  However, the doctors said he was strong from a life of toiling on his farm.  This week, Pa has been diagnosed with pneumonia...as well as an aggressive form of cancer.  Give two days to a couple weeks to live, family members come, say goodbye, and wait.  Waiting is the hard part.  Some family members prefer not to come in at all, claiming they want to remember him the way they saw him last.  As we all know, funerals are not for the deceased--they are for the living.  You might as well just come in and say goodbye while he breathes (if you ask me).

So here's my goodbye to the man who allowed to me to catch kittens in the barn, and then convinced my mom we should keep one (or two).  To the man who let me eat (most of) the chocolate-covered raisin and peanuts on his lap, even though I was too skinny and that could not have been comfortable.  To the man who let me have two calves as pets and let me name them what I wanted (Cinderella and Crazy, if you must know).  Because I know I won't be able to think these things, yet alone, say them aloud.  Goodbyes are much too difficult for me, and I hate to cry in front of others.