You pull it out because you're trying to be healthy. You have great visions of Vitamin C. It will be refreshing, you think. It will be good.
And then it spills, and your dreams of orange juice grandeur are crushed. You must change your pants. You must sop up pulp. You must sweat and swear.
I did not spill orange juice.
I did spill metaphorical orange juice.
Damndamndamn.
Feb 12, 2010
Random, Profound Thoughts
It is 7:16am.
I must needs hie me to a restroom.
It is an unfortunate (awesome) byproduct of being an English teacher that I sometimes think in Shakespeare-talk.
I have a student that just drives me nuts. He is a meanie. I have decided, should I ever need to refer to this student on my blog, I will use the code-name, "Bromulous." He gets my goose.
It is an unfortunate (awesome) byproduct of living with Grandpa for two years that I sometimes think in Grandpa-talk.
"Hoooooly To-LE-do!"
Speaking of Grandpa, he had a blind date. When Grandpa considers women, he has two qualifications: 1.) That she be a democrat, and 2.) That she is in relatively good health.
We young whipper-snappers may look for an attractive appearance, decent education, a sense of humor, etc. With Grandpa: it's health. He just wants to know that a lady friend won't collapse when they're out to dinner.
In any case, the blind date did not fruitify. He had a blast with her, but at the end, the lady told him that she was already seriously dating someone else. What the h***! Old lady played my Grandpa?! Oh you SIT DOWN, beeatch!!
I work at a Christian school. I do not use words like beeatch.
I am very proper.
Actually, it is one of my favorite things to explain the dirty jokes in Shakespeare to my students. Also, yesterday, I told my seniors the story of why Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI didn't consummate their marriage for so long which was basically: because they couldn't figure out how to "do it." They literally didn't know how, for years. The seniors were thoroughly titillated by that story.
Earlier in the year, I accidentally used the word "fugly." I thought it was a combination of "funky" and "ugly." It is a combination of a different word with "ugly." My seniors have yet to let me forget it. Especially since the subject of my description was Jesus.
Lord forgive me.
My AP kids are going to come in in 15 minutes. I lost half of their timed writes. I am hideously irresponsible.
Today is Friday. I have a three day weekend. God speed, 2:45pm.
I must needs hie me to a restroom.
It is an unfortunate (awesome) byproduct of being an English teacher that I sometimes think in Shakespeare-talk.
I have a student that just drives me nuts. He is a meanie. I have decided, should I ever need to refer to this student on my blog, I will use the code-name, "Bromulous." He gets my goose.
It is an unfortunate (awesome) byproduct of living with Grandpa for two years that I sometimes think in Grandpa-talk.
"Hoooooly To-LE-do!"
Speaking of Grandpa, he had a blind date. When Grandpa considers women, he has two qualifications: 1.) That she be a democrat, and 2.) That she is in relatively good health.
We young whipper-snappers may look for an attractive appearance, decent education, a sense of humor, etc. With Grandpa: it's health. He just wants to know that a lady friend won't collapse when they're out to dinner.
In any case, the blind date did not fruitify. He had a blast with her, but at the end, the lady told him that she was already seriously dating someone else. What the h***! Old lady played my Grandpa?! Oh you SIT DOWN, beeatch!!
I work at a Christian school. I do not use words like beeatch.
I am very proper.
Actually, it is one of my favorite things to explain the dirty jokes in Shakespeare to my students. Also, yesterday, I told my seniors the story of why Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI didn't consummate their marriage for so long which was basically: because they couldn't figure out how to "do it." They literally didn't know how, for years. The seniors were thoroughly titillated by that story.
Earlier in the year, I accidentally used the word "fugly." I thought it was a combination of "funky" and "ugly." It is a combination of a different word with "ugly." My seniors have yet to let me forget it. Especially since the subject of my description was Jesus.
Lord forgive me.
My AP kids are going to come in in 15 minutes. I lost half of their timed writes. I am hideously irresponsible.
Today is Friday. I have a three day weekend. God speed, 2:45pm.
Feb 8, 2010
Sunrise
Dawn comes
Like absence stretching against a heavy curtain.
Darkness drawn away
By a hidden hand
To leave the sky sliced
In empty light
And swollen night.
So: it reveals.
Dawn comes
Like a crone climbing over the horizon
The moutains,
Her gnarled knuckles
The light,
A last triumphant burst of vitality.
She is living yet;
So: it is ancient.
Dawn comes
Like a child escaping from inside a well
Gathering breath to cast off the panic;
Gathering breath to cast off the dark
The lid lifts;
Atlas rebels.
Watch the young bird fall out of the nest
And soar.
So: it is new.
Dawn comes
Like a breath to me.
Hopelessness slides off
While the shadows sharpens.
So: it forgives.
Like absence stretching against a heavy curtain.
Darkness drawn away
By a hidden hand
To leave the sky sliced
In empty light
And swollen night.
So: it reveals.
Dawn comes
Like a crone climbing over the horizon
The moutains,
Her gnarled knuckles
The light,
A last triumphant burst of vitality.
She is living yet;
So: it is ancient.
Dawn comes
Like a child escaping from inside a well
Gathering breath to cast off the panic;
Gathering breath to cast off the dark
The lid lifts;
Atlas rebels.
Watch the young bird fall out of the nest
And soar.
So: it is new.
Dawn comes
Like a breath to me.
Hopelessness slides off
While the shadows sharpens.
So: it forgives.
Feb 5, 2010
Trust Anyway
It's my 5th period prep. A Spanish class shares my classroom during 5th period. Someone keeps mentioning donuts.
Me gusta donut.
I've become buddies with one of my sophomore boys, who recently acquired a sticker machine. He brought in a couple homemade stickers for me, with his own graphic designs; I asked him if he would make me one that said, "Trust anyway"-- a phrase that has become a personal mantra for me this year. He misheard me, and made a sticker that said, "Trust anyone."
This makes me laugh. :)
Trust anyone! Trust,like, ANYONE!
I think he's bringing in a "Trust Anyway" sticker for me today.
And that's the Friday charge, y'all. You with the baggage? You with the issues? You who deals with self-loathing? You who deals with shame and lust and pride? You who deals with insecurity? You who can't believe love could happen for you? You who can't believe love will WORK for you? You who is sure you're going to end up just like your parents? You that's unemployed? You that's feeling like a failure? You that's lonely? You that's unsure? You that's jaded? You that's bitter and cynical and angry? You that's grieving? You that feels exhausted and broken?
Trust anyway.
We serve a God that makes things new. He is good, and He loves us.
So even if you have every reason in the world to doubt: trust anyway.
Do.
Me gusta donut.
I've become buddies with one of my sophomore boys, who recently acquired a sticker machine. He brought in a couple homemade stickers for me, with his own graphic designs; I asked him if he would make me one that said, "Trust anyway"-- a phrase that has become a personal mantra for me this year. He misheard me, and made a sticker that said, "Trust anyone."
This makes me laugh. :)
Trust anyone! Trust,like, ANYONE!
I think he's bringing in a "Trust Anyway" sticker for me today.
And that's the Friday charge, y'all. You with the baggage? You with the issues? You who deals with self-loathing? You who deals with shame and lust and pride? You who deals with insecurity? You who can't believe love could happen for you? You who can't believe love will WORK for you? You who is sure you're going to end up just like your parents? You that's unemployed? You that's feeling like a failure? You that's lonely? You that's unsure? You that's jaded? You that's bitter and cynical and angry? You that's grieving? You that feels exhausted and broken?
Trust anyway.
We serve a God that makes things new. He is good, and He loves us.
So even if you have every reason in the world to doubt: trust anyway.
Do.
Feb 1, 2010
...Hello out there?
This year is kicking my caboose. Working as a first year teacher is taking up every spare minute I have; it's honestly tough to do ANYTHING non-teaching-related-- even sleep-- without feeling guilty. No matter what I'm doing, in the back of my head, I'm panicking about my grading pile, trying to invent new lesson plans, thinking about the books I'm teaching which I haven't yet read, criticizing myself for not writing up a handout to help my sophomores better comprehend the Shakespeare they're reading, and so on, and so on, and guilt guilt guilt.
This is why I have not been blogging. Right now, in fact, the thoughts going through my head are, "You need to finish writing up the "Tale of Two Cities" questions. You need to be checking your students' blogs. You need to figure out how you're going to better assist your sophomores." And so on, and so on, and guilt guilt guilt.
However-- as some of you may have just mentally commented when reading the above paragraph-- living so single-mindedly is not healthy. Letting my job take over my entire life is not healthy.
And it's taking a toll, honestly. I'm losing myself. I'm exhausted. I tie so much self-worth to my job that, for instance, when a student in my AP Literature class tells me she doesn't feel like the class is adequately preparing her, as she did this morning-- I feel absolutely crushed.
I am more than an AP class. I am more than just a teacher. And-- what I'm able to feebly assert in the midst of these exhausting, defeating, tangled cobwebs-- I am a GOOD teacher. I know I am. I've seen it. My kids are learning, and they're having fun. I am a GOOD teacher.
But that's not all I am.
What I am, is part divine, and part cursed.
The last several weeks I have been confronted with the magnitude of what it means to consider yourself a Christian. We must acknowledge that we are both made in the image of God-- that we are of heavenly origin, that we have every instinct to recognize what is good, and true, and right-- yet also, that we are fallen. We are cursed. We are sickened and impaired by the perversion of our sinful humanity.
Made in the image of God... and fallen. What a beast, right?
I recognize that I can choose to indulge in one or the other. I can give into this twisted part of me, and indulge in lies, in feelings of insufficiency-- I can tell myself that being a teacher defines me and so when I fail as a teacher, I FAIL. I can tell myself that the fears I have about marriage, about faithfulness, about myself, are all TRUE and that Hope is nothing more than a cruel deceiver. I can give in to self-loathing. I can indulge in sin, and tell myself it doesn't matter. I can work myself to death and distract myself from the things that are truly important. I can howl out at the darkness and let it overwhelm me.
Or, I can indulge in the OTHER half. I can hope, and believe in hope. I can claim a whimsical moment and laugh, and share it with a loving Lord. I can seek goodness, and purity, and the understanding that I am beloved and delighted in. I can choose forgiveness. I can choose wholeness. I can choose to trust, to drive a stake in the ground called TRUST and to cling to it while the storm approaches. I can look defiantly at the rolling dark clouds, and I can roar back at the thunder. I can cry out at the darkness and declare that it has no power over me. I am a child of God. I am made in His image. I am blessed. I am protected.
They fight over me, every day. This dual nature wages a tug of war over my soul, over my psyche, over my heart.
And it is just hard, sometimes, to cling to the right half. You know? Some days, it is just hard.
This is why I have not been blogging. Right now, in fact, the thoughts going through my head are, "You need to finish writing up the "Tale of Two Cities" questions. You need to be checking your students' blogs. You need to figure out how you're going to better assist your sophomores." And so on, and so on, and guilt guilt guilt.
However-- as some of you may have just mentally commented when reading the above paragraph-- living so single-mindedly is not healthy. Letting my job take over my entire life is not healthy.
And it's taking a toll, honestly. I'm losing myself. I'm exhausted. I tie so much self-worth to my job that, for instance, when a student in my AP Literature class tells me she doesn't feel like the class is adequately preparing her, as she did this morning-- I feel absolutely crushed.
I am more than an AP class. I am more than just a teacher. And-- what I'm able to feebly assert in the midst of these exhausting, defeating, tangled cobwebs-- I am a GOOD teacher. I know I am. I've seen it. My kids are learning, and they're having fun. I am a GOOD teacher.
But that's not all I am.
What I am, is part divine, and part cursed.
The last several weeks I have been confronted with the magnitude of what it means to consider yourself a Christian. We must acknowledge that we are both made in the image of God-- that we are of heavenly origin, that we have every instinct to recognize what is good, and true, and right-- yet also, that we are fallen. We are cursed. We are sickened and impaired by the perversion of our sinful humanity.
Made in the image of God... and fallen. What a beast, right?
I recognize that I can choose to indulge in one or the other. I can give into this twisted part of me, and indulge in lies, in feelings of insufficiency-- I can tell myself that being a teacher defines me and so when I fail as a teacher, I FAIL. I can tell myself that the fears I have about marriage, about faithfulness, about myself, are all TRUE and that Hope is nothing more than a cruel deceiver. I can give in to self-loathing. I can indulge in sin, and tell myself it doesn't matter. I can work myself to death and distract myself from the things that are truly important. I can howl out at the darkness and let it overwhelm me.
Or, I can indulge in the OTHER half. I can hope, and believe in hope. I can claim a whimsical moment and laugh, and share it with a loving Lord. I can seek goodness, and purity, and the understanding that I am beloved and delighted in. I can choose forgiveness. I can choose wholeness. I can choose to trust, to drive a stake in the ground called TRUST and to cling to it while the storm approaches. I can look defiantly at the rolling dark clouds, and I can roar back at the thunder. I can cry out at the darkness and declare that it has no power over me. I am a child of God. I am made in His image. I am blessed. I am protected.
They fight over me, every day. This dual nature wages a tug of war over my soul, over my psyche, over my heart.
And it is just hard, sometimes, to cling to the right half. You know? Some days, it is just hard.
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