Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

Today was awful.

Things just fell apart. I made mistakes. I got criticized. I couldn't respond. I spilled coffee all over myself, and then someone else spilled the remainder on a bunch of papers and got mad at me for leaving the lid off and "letting" it happen.

I cried on my way home, and now I feel like I have a mouth full of thorns that I'm not allowed to spit out.

Days like this make me ache for the last day of school. Pleasepleaseplease hurry up. Just let it be over.

Wishing I could go back here:


I guess that's what summer vacation is for, right?

THERE'S Your Cinderella Team

After finishing a 27-page-paper last night which was part of a major-mondo project, I think... I might ACTUALLY have free time tonight.

What's THAT like?

Just got off the phone with a friend who makes a job out of following college sports. No, but really, that's his job. (Shout out to Drew.) I tried to impress him with my knowledge of March Madness.

"UW got the number 4 seed, heeeey."
"Yeah, I had them do pretty well in my bracket."
"Only PRETTY well?"
"I had them lose to U-Conn."
"Yukon? The Yukon plays in the NCAA tournament?"
"Yeah, they've got a good team."
"Yukon CANADA has a really good basketball team??"
(Long pause.)
"University of Connecticut... They go by U-Conn."
"OOOOOHHHH. I thought you meant the Y one."
"Yeah, no."
"And I thought, 'I thought the NCAA tournament was only for UNITED STATES'ers!"

So much for tossing my hair and being savvy-sports-trivia-queen. "The Yukon Yaks... have taken it all the way this year!!"

Good Lyrics

Words caught my attention when driving today-- some great songs on the radio that just put together some wonderful phrasing. Thought I'd share!

Oh poor grey Sita
Tragic little teacup
Did he go and shatter you again?
But the way that you're cryin'
Is more like a lion
Little wounds before she seeks revenge
- Bishop Allen, "The Lion & The Tea Cup" from the album "Grrr..."

And if I had a boat
I'd go out on the ocean
And if I had a pony
I'd ride him on my boat
And we could all together
Go out on the ocean
Me upon my pony on my boat
- Lyle Lovett, "If I Had a Boat" from the album "Anthology, Vol. 1: Cowboy Man"


All the bad boys are standing in the shadows
All the good girls are home with broken hearts
- "Free Fallin'" -original lyrics obviously by Tom Petty, but brought to new life by a great John Mayer cover

How was YOUR Monday?

Those Days

Some days are so long.

Some days, you start work as early as 7AM, mentally choreographing a number for the spring musical by listening to the song on your I-Tunes, while you dry your hair and put on make-up to get ready for the day.

Some days, the school copier breaks down. And you have to get REAL creative, REAL fast to revise your lesson. And then sometimes, the copier gets fixed at the very last second, and you can carry on after all.

Some days, you can rhapsodize about Shakespeare, and the history of medieval and Renaissance England, and tell students about your own performance on the Globe theatre stage in London, and they listen, and they laugh, and they sit up and look at you with bright eyes and grins on their faces, and you feel so good.

Some days, the kids are great about doing an in-class assignment, and they work together, and you feel awesome about their progress.

Some days, you and your mentor-teacher read "The Merchant of Venice" out loud to your students with especially silly, exaggerated voices, and the kids giggle and follow along.

Some days, you have to end regular school by rushing off to grad school, and prepare for a big presentation in front of your other grad school cohorts.

Some days, the presentation goes great. You play your guitar, you teach your classmates a round, they all sing, it sounds great, and people tell you afterwards that they loved your presentation especially.

Some days, you go home wanting nothing more than to just get into your pajamas and watch a mindless sitcom.

But some days, you can't rest yet. You have to finish choreographing that musical number by scratching out notes in a script while eating dinner-- and drinking wine. Oh yes. While DRINKING WINE.

Some days are awesome. Class goes well; grad school goes well; you've prepared for tomorrow, and you feel GOOD about life as a teacher.

But some days... leave you EXHAUSTED.

So some nights, you're in bed by 9:30PM. And on those nights, it takes you less than 10 seconds to fall asleep.

But those are great days.

Those are really great days.

Discombobulation

One would think the antonym of "discombobulated" would be "combobulated." Alas, it is not. And so, I shall have to invent words to explain the pros and cons of muddle-mindedness.

BAD-BOBULATED:
Last night, I went to bed thinking it would be so nice to have a snow-day. Thought sleepily, "It would be such a bummer for the kids to miss their poetry day... But so good for me to have time to get WORK done... zzzz." Woke up at 5:00AM, and thought, "It is so quiet! It is the kind of heavy quiet that only comes from snowfall!" Looked out the window and SAW, I swear, I SAW four inches of snow blanketing the street outside. Thought happily, "We'll have a late start at least, woo hooo...!zzzzz...." My alarm went off at 6:20AM and I looked out the window again, and SAW, I swear, I SAW a thin layer of snow all over the yard. "Hmm... some of it melted I guess," I thought sleepily. Turned my alarm off. We'd have a late start for sure. Stumbled out of bed to double-check the school district's website, and was confounded-- I daresay, even DISCOMBOBULATED-- to see no such announcement related to snow. "Whatever..." I thought, and stumbled back to bed. "They don't even know..."

Finally, a holler from Gramps: "It's 7:15!"
"WHAT?!?!" I yelled, and leaped out of bed, finally in my right mind, and 30 minutes late. Looked out the window. Not a single snowflake on the ground. Not a wayward one.

I started the day off late and ridiculous. I dressed for a blizzard. Then sweated all day as the spring sunshine poured in. Felt decidedly grumpy. Bad-bobulated, indeed.

GOOD-BOBULATED:
Was positive another huge grad school project was due tomorrow evening, but just found the piece of paper with the due-date, and-- HIP HIP HUZZAH!-- it is not due til Friday! Two extra days! Two extra days for a deadline is GOOD-BOBULATED for sure.

And so? What do I do with my newfound extra time? Why, blog, of course. Blog to you. Blog to you with newfangled words.

Flubbertywibbits

I have nothing wholly blog-worthy to post today, but lots of little bits that may or may not entertain you. I'm still trying to keep up the daily blogging though so UP UP AND AWAY.

1.) I caught the end of Harry Potter: Prisoner of Azkaban on TV this weekend, and have concluded, one: Hermione really IS the cleverest witch of a girl her age, and two: WEREWOLVES ARE TERRIFYING. Also, I would like a hippogriff for my very own.

2.) My friend Kelsey got me a gift certificate to the Gene Juarez salon for my birthday, to get their "signature pedicure." OH. MY. FEET. This is how Heaven starts; I'm convinced. Peter will meet me at the pearly gates with a paraffin bath, massage oil, and pink nail-polish. I'm now considering a career change, if only to make enough money to get one of those every weekend. Praise the Lord for friends who pamper.

3.) I wrote a ROUND this weekend. For grad school, we had to write a "Philosophy of Teaching" paper, and then, for Wednesday, we have to come up with a "creative" way to present it. My philosophy has four main points which are supposed to all work together. I considered illustrating the point by sitting under a card table, and then knocking one of the legs out so that the whole thing collapsed on top of me to show: HEY, you need ALL FOUR LEGS! But that sounded painful. So instead I wrote a round!! Four different parts, and honestly guys?? I recorded it all on Garageband, and it sounds SO PRETTY! That is exciting.

4.) I really did nothing else productive this weekend, which means it is now STRESSED-OUT-MONDAY.

5.) It keeps snowing. Yet crocuses are popping up everywhere. I always feel tempted to kiss those dear little flowers, who soldier up through the frosty ground and prepare the rest of the world for blooming. "We've arrived!" they crow softly: the world's most delicate infantry.

6.) Daylight savings on a Sunday morning-- when one can sleep in for as long as one desires-- is completely innocuous. Daylight savings on a Monday morning-- when it's dark and freezing and feels like 5am-- is a MERCILESS HARPY.


A bit uninspired, I admit. Had fun with the students today; we have poetry again tomorrow. At one point, when trying to get 4th period's attention, I gave all their homework instructions in a Russian accent. That made them giggle.

Breathing

Last year, when I was studying for some of the horrendous tests that you have to take to get into grad school, I stressed out to a boy.
"I don't know how I'm going to pass this."
"You'll pass it."
"But what if I don't??"
"You'll pass it."
"But what if I DON'T?"
"Do you believe God wants you to be a teacher?"
"Yes."
"Then don't worry about it. He'll make you a teacher."

I thought my would-be advisor was awfully patronizing at the time, but the more I think about those words, the more reassuring I find them to be.

I have been stressing out ALL DAY LONG about getting a job for next year. I know of at least three districts in Seattle that are in hiring freezes-- in fact, I don't know if I know of a district that is NOT in a hiring freeze. MY school is being shut down, so all of the teachers are scrambling like rats on a sinking ship. Everyone's losing their jobs. Everyone's panicked. Everyone is freaked out.

I woke up feeling terrible, so I called in sick and just worked on my resume all day long. I've been to two resume workshops in the last couple weeks. Each one has said things like, "You need to do THIS, but you CANNOT do this, and you should definitely feature this, but by no means do THIS!" And so I've been working on my resume, but each little thing feels like a wire connected to a bomb-- it's taken on THAT much dire significance. Finally I called SPU and asked someone at the career center to take a look at what I had. They sent it back-- the version that I'd been working on all day-- with tons of suggestions for how to improve it.

Then I called my mom and cried.

Anxiety is not a new experience. Starting last year, on the morning that I took the GRE, anxiety has batted me around every once in a while like a cat toying with a mouse. Earlier this year, at one of my counseling appointments, I talked about how frustrating it was to feel so imprisoned by WORRY. We discussed a couple sides of it, and finally we just prayed and decided to see if God had anything to say.

I got a picture in my head, of me, barefoot, in a field that was dotted with wildflowers and bordered by some trees in the distance. There was a breeze, but it was warm. My hair was down, and I had on a linen dress with a skirt that was full enough to catch the wind and move around my legs. There was a full length mirror in front of me, situated in the long grass-- one of those old fashioned oval ones, that stands up on big wooden legs. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Wind-blown. Barefoot. Open. Light.

I heard: "THIS is you. You're meant for freedom."

Big deep breath in. But then came a flood of questions and doubts and worries, and "What if's???" and I asked the speaker in my dream, "But whatif, whatif, whatif??"

And I heard: "None of those matter in deciding where you go next. I am the one who chooses where you go next. And I have a good next step for you."

Then, something in that girl in the field rose up and floated like a kite over the trees, bobbing and dancing in the wind.

I heard, "THIS is you. You're meant for freedom. That's the sort of spirit I've given you."

... So now, after a day of stressing out, and feeling panicked, and feeling insecure, and feeling unsure, and feeling terrified by this economy, I come back to the simplicity of that question:

"Do you believe God wants you to be a teacher?"
"Yes."
"Then don't worry about it. He'll make you a teacher."

Resting in that this evening.

Not Your Energizer Bunny

Dang it. I missed my March 4th blog by two minutes. It was a busy evening. (Good reasons.)

Yesterday, after watching those boys in the parking lot, I felt frustrated and helpless and needed to vent. So, I did something which I NEVER do: I went for a run. Seattle, methinks, is the running capital of life. Everyone runs. Even the plentiful dogs run. I do not run. But: I went for a run.

And as I was jogging around Greenlake, I thought, "This is totally not bad. This actually feels good." Then thought: "This sucks. I hate my life." Then thought, "Sure, walking is totally allowed." Then thought, "Apparently this gets easier though SOMETIME. I have heard tales of people going from running one mile to running many without stopping to walk. So... I guess endurance HAPPENS."

Today at school, we asked both 3rd and 5th period for their typed essays so that we could do peer-reviews. Not one kid had a typed essay ready.

NOT.

ONE.

Isaac said, "I didn't know it was due!"

I almost blew a hernia. I don't know what that means, but I bet I almost did it. "NOT. TRUE," I said. "We have had that assignment and that due date written on the board for the last three days, I have written it everyday!!! We reminded you yesterday. AND, Isaac, I know for a FACT that you knew because I told you PERSONALLY when you stayed after school to get help!"

Luckily, Viola did the volcano. She does the volcano better than I do.

We walked the kids to the library to work on typing their papers. I walked with a new girl, Charlotte. "Charlotte, how are you doing on your paper?" I asked.
"Um, good," she said. "I've been working on it at home, so that's why I don't have anything here."
"Okay. What's your basic thesis?"
"Um... well-- I need help."
"Okay... what are you thinking of writing about?"
"Well... you know. Maybe the title."
"Kite Runner? Okay. Great. So what do you think you want to say about the significance of the title?"
"Well... something... about the kite?"
"... Okay. What about the kite?"
"Well... that's what I need help with."
"Why don't you describe the way the kite is to me."
"... I don't know."

The frustration welled up. It was strong like bull. It was fast like meercat. It was powerful like the Mystical Mad White Rhinoceros, and I COULDN'T STOP IT WHAT THE *H* IS THE MATTER WITH THESE KIDS DON'T THEY UNDERSTAND HOW IMPORTANT GRADUATING FROM HIGH-SCHOOL IS AND HOW HARD IS IT REALLY TO READ A NOVEL THAT WAS ON THE BEST-SELLER LIST FOR MONTHS AND WHY CAN'T THEY JUST DO THEIR WORK AND CAN'T THEY EVEN THINK OF A FRICKIN IDEA?!!??!?!!

I took a deep breath. I thought of my Philosophy of Teaching paper (10 pages, submitted it today, booyah), which is all about respecting the kids, and making efforts to understand where they're coming from, and showing them genuine LOVE, and I took another looooong deep breath.

"Okay," I said. "Charlotte. Let's think about the kite."


Endurance will come. These things are less exhausting than they were to begin with, and although they're still exhausting, they're maybe LESS exhausting. Endurance HAPPENS though, right? Unless-- I suppose-- I burn myself out. That also supposedly happens.

But for now, I'm choosing to think that, just as runners put their runner legs to work and get stronger, so shall I put my teacher efforts to work and hope to get stronger. Then, maybe I will be strong, fast, and powerful like those runny-run-runners are. Because those runners feel strong, right? They feel fast, after they stop hating life? They feel powerful when they don't need to walk, don't they?

Just curious. Because... I don't really ever plan to find out.

Out of Reach

Today was sort of a depressing day.

The kids are starting a poetry unit with this renowned spoken-word-poet Seattle woman, who's coming in every Tuesday for the next ten weeks. She's great with them-- very encouraging, and affirming. The kids read some of their initial free-writes out loud at the end of class today, and I was completely shaken. The writing was STUNNING-- but in many cases, absolutely heart-breaking. One girl wrote about her alcoholic/drug-addicted mother. Another boy wrote about his uncle who was in jail for murder, and his mom who had died, and his dad who had been crippled. He ended it with saying in this strong, sharp-edged tone, "I'm Dan. And my life's been f****d." Some poems were funny-- one kid wrote about cake. Another girl started off with, "I used to think dinosaurs were real. But now I KNOW I'm a Gloriasaurus." But so many of them... were just shattering.

It's like these kids have finally found a venue through which they can actually TALK about what's going on in their lives-- and it's explosive. It's resounding-- but utterly devastating to witness.

Anyway. That gave me heavy boots.

And then Jane was supposed to come work on her paper after school, so I waited, but she didn't show, and I started thinking about all the different kids that have basically tried to scam us this week, with bogus excuses, and lies... And I just felt discouraged.

I decided to just go home. I got my things together, and began walking slowly down the stairs. The particular staircase I was on has big windows looking out onto the parking lot below, and I saw my latino posse, all gathered. The afternoon today was warm, and full of sunshine, and I squinted down at them on the staircase landing, just watching them.

There were George, and Raoul. There were Jose and Eduardo. I saw Miguel there too, who hasn't come to school in weeks. He's a junior, but was taking our freshman/sophomore English class a second time-- but I think he may have just decided to drop out of school altogether. I squinted at his hand, which he brought to his mouth. Smoking. I saw a blonde girl, facing away from me. Was that Jane? Is that why she wasn't getting help on her paper? No, I realized. It's the Ukrainian girl. Miguel's girlfriend.

A mini-van slowly drove by them, and, as if on cue, they all began moving with purpose as if they were going somewhere together. Then, once the car was gone, they abandoned the act and resettled on a stair-case in the shade, like birds settling themselves on a wire. I just looked at them. Every single one of those boys is failing right now. I saw them talking, laughing, smoking. I never see Raoul laugh like that in class. He always looks so afraid.

I looked at them and just thought: I don't know how to help you.

Eduardo looked up at me, and a moment later, other heads swiveled up to look at the window. Caught. I walked down the rest of the stairs and went outside into the warm sunshine. Waved at them. "Is that Mikey there?" I called out.

"What?"

"Isn't that Miguel? I thought I saw him!"

"What? Oh! Yeah!"

Miguel stood up. "Hey!"

"Hey! How you been? We've missed you!"

"What?" he called.

"How have you been?" I called again.

"I can't hear you!" he called back.

I know, I thought. I wish you could.

_

Monday

In other words, ew.

1.) The downside of being 25 is that I am now uninsured. Let the walking on eggshells... COMMENCE.

2.) The kids were terrible today. I got so frustrated with them. THEY DON'T TRY. They just don't even TRY! On their last test, we gave them two options for an essay; one of them would have tested their knowledge on the book, but the other was just a personal freewrite-- it was a TOTAL freebie for the kids who hadn't finished the book. And still: way too many of them didn't write anything. Not A WORD. I felt like shaking them.

3.) When looking for a youtube link to illustrate how I want to SHAKE them, I entered "shaking" into the search bar-- and it gave me about 500 videos about booty shaking. GROSS.

4.) I am stressed about getting a job. I am REAL stressed about getting a job. Furthermore: I am stressed about all that goes INTO getting a job, i.e. endless applications, collecting references, etc.

5.) I like the sound of 25. I do not, however, like the sound of, "you're a quarter-century, hahaha!" Let's leave the century-talk of out it, shall we?

On the plus-side, I wore a new birthday outfit to school today, and looked adorable.

Still, Monday? Can be done-day.