Poor Pedro...

This school year started off with a new friend around campus - a rather plump pigeon. Never before had we seen a pigeon around the school campus, so he created a bit of a stir. Each morning "Pedro" (I chose the name because we were studying the Hispanic-American population in Sociology the day I decided he needed a name) would sit on my window and wait for me to go around and throw wheat crackers out the door for him. Each morning my tenth grade class would comment on Pedro's visit.
On a chaotic Friday morning before Thanksgiving holiday, my tenth graders entered my class and quickly began moving about and talking. They could see that I was very preoccupied for the moment with some paper work that had to be done ASAP, and like any highschool student they took advantage of the time they had to wait. As I worked I overheard a couple of students ask where Pedro was and noticed them approaching the window to look out. Suddenly there was a loud gasp, followed by a comment from one of the other students (who by the way tends to process things rather slowly), "What are all of those feathers doing there?" Like a flash I dashed to the window, where by now the entire class had congregated, and looked out in disbelief to find the largest pile of pigeon feathers I had ever seen in any one location. "Oh Pedro, what happened to you?!"
I know it's sick but my first thought was of the movie Shrek - you know the part where the princess sings such a high note that the bird explodes? Yea, all that was left of poor Pedro was feathers and what may have been a beak. There were no bones, just feathers. I couldn't help but laugh and tell my class that I hoped all of those wheat crackers didn't cause him to swell up and burst.
Needless to say, not much was accomplished in class that first hour. We all had to go out and look at Pedro's feathery remains and discuss the possibilites of how his life may have ended. We all mourned the loss and then moved on.
Poor Pedro....

No. I’m Not Dead…

…but it sure can seem like it some times! Despite a severe lack of time, I still do long to Blog. Each day that has passed I have “thought” Blogs – if only I could get them from my head to the computer instantaneously. Even now I should be working, because I’m still way behind, but I must simply stop and move away from reality to the land of empty cyberspace.

There is absolutely no way to catch up so we must just move on from here. For instance, the greatest thing has come into our chaotic and busy middle/high school hallways this week and sparked an interest level that I wish I could see in my students (and myself) everyday. What is it you ask? AFRICA. Actually, it’s an African watering hole. No kidding, there is a real-time audio/video feed of some watering hole somewhere in Africa that has enthralled us all – at least most of us anyway. Everyday we hear birds and bugs of Africa chirping and squawking in the hallways (which is oddly more welcoming than the usual sounds we have). We have seen wildebeests grazing and drinking, monkeys moving about, and even a turtle lazily slumping off into this great watering hole. What an adventure! My daughter really doesn’t get it though. I sent her the link and she simply wasn’t that amused. My daughter usually “gets” this kind of stuff, so I find myself questioning the level of sanity among us all at school. Have we really come to this point? Are we so stressed out that finding moments of escape in an African watering hole has become a salvation to us? I’d prefer to think that we have really hit on something that stimulates our mind and our senses. Check out the
Link

But if you disagree, don’t bother to tell me about it –I prefer to remain in denial until the thrill wears off.

Today was one of those days. After being at work for half of the morning, I suddenly realized that I didn't have my purse. "Where could I have left it?" I thought aloud. So, I decided to pick up my cell phone and give my mom a call to see if I had left it at home.
Interjection: Okay, the truth is out. My kids and I are all living with my mother. Hmmm. Unfortunately, there's not much out there that a divorced private school teacher can afford, outside of the projects that is. Hence, we decided that living with dear ole mom was far better than living with the other choice.
Back to story:I would have placed that call to dear mom if I would have had my cell phone; sadly it was in my purse which was MIA. So I decided to call from my classroom. The phone rang, and rang, and rang some more. Perhaps mom has left the house, so I'll call her on her cell. Of course, that too would prove to be a difficult task because I can't dial a cell phone number out from my classroom phone. By now the bell had rung and classes were switching so I ran into the hall and borrowed a cell phone from one of my 11th grade students. Finally I have a way to get in touch with mom, find my purse, get to my phone, and ask her to kindly bring the cheese that I left in the fridge, all at the same time (today was my day to bring food for the teachers at lunch and cheese was an important topping). But alas, mom did not have her phone turned on. Now I'm thinking-her cell is turned off so that means she's home, but she won't answer the phone despite my countless calls and endless ringing, is she okay?! By now the bell has rung again and my 12th grade class is coming in for Sociology. I'm on the phone with my daughter in a conversation that goes something like this: "Could you take an early lunch and go by the house at eleven to check on your grandmother because she's not answering the phone and I'm concerned about her. By the way, if she's not dead (I said this in humor) could you please look for my purse and bring it, my cell, and the cheese out of the fridge for me?" My 12th graders are laughing by now. No sooner had a hung up the phone I looked up to see my mother walking into my class - holding my purse and my cell phone. I quickly called my daughter back, reported that grandmother was alive and I had everything I needed except for the cheese. Ahh yes, just another beautiful day in the neighborhood. I should charge my students admission into my classroom because their getting great entertainment for way too cheap! Oh, by the way, mom went and got the cheese for me and brought it to my classroom just as the bell rang again. Thanks for saving the day mom :) but I really need to teach you how to use the call waiting feature!!!

The Brick Wall

One day later and I'm still thinking about the "brick wall" - if you have no clue what I'm talking about then read Monday's statement blog.

Why is it that so many of us continually disregard the obvious, running head on into the same brick wall time after time?! The brick wall is there-we know it,we see it,we feel the excruciating impact each time we hit it-and yet it's not enough to deter us from trying one more time to avoid it or break through it.
I have been there, and stayed there for about six long years before I realized that it was never going to change - I couldn't break through that wall. I also realized that I couldn't keep destroying myself little by little trying to.

So, the question I pose tonight is this: How do you help others who are doing the same thing to see the light before it's too late? I NEED to know the answer because it tears me apart to see people I love hurt. Knowing that the answer is there but their desperation to make it work refuses to acknowledge fact, and they plunge on into ignorance only to be hurt again and again. I want so badly to end their pain, place them back onto the road with a good map, and see them reach a better destination.

Ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance is a state of illusion, disregarding truth in order to avoid it.

Ignorance

Ignorance is bliss - until you hit the brick wall.

What Matters

Smiles on my children's faces
The sound of their laughter
Big hugs
Hearing "I Love You" from them
Making a connection with them
Knowing that I love them no matter what

Ugh!

Why is it that we work so hard all week long and then have to spend the weekend working at home?! Oh and long weekends like this one just means you have an extra day to get more done. Don't get the wrong idea, I love to keep up the house and yard. I gain real satisfaction in knowing that everything is just how it should be, and looks appealing to all who arrive. However, after some long hard consideration, I have come to the conclusion that I am not cut out for this double/triple/quadruple duty stuff. I am TIRED by the time the weekend arrives and I always bring home school work to boot. And of course you can't leave out the constant drama of life with an ex-husband, an eighteen year old daughter, and the general belligerence of a seven year old. It's hard to find time to get everything done and lately I'm so exhausted that the amount of satisfaction I usually derive from completing a task is waning. I can tell you one thing, if I had known then what I know now I would have chosen a career that makes a heck of a lot more money than teaching. Lets face it, you work just as hard and the "vacations" that you get are still spent working on papers and plans-it's just the scenery that changes. With a bigger paycheck I'd be calling someone else to cook, clean, and cut the grass. Oh yea, and buying fashionable clothing that matches the current style instead of the last decade.
This year I'm teaching a Sociology class for seniors and we just finished discussing statuses, roles and role conflict/strain. This concept was a breeze for them to grasp - I'm a living, breathing example.

Retards Anonymous

My daughter and I were having a random conversation when “stupid people” emerged as a topic. Now, I’m not talking about regular people who just don’t know any better. No, this group consists of those who don’t know any better and really can’t figure out that they should. It’s because of this group that warning labels were created such as:

On a toaster oven: “Warning, inside coils will be very hot when oven is turned on.”

Duh, how can you not figure that out on your own?! It’s these kinds of people who tend to annoy us and yet amuse us at the same time. Comedians refer to these people all of the time and make a fortune off of them. And you know that the real reason it’s so funny is because somewhere there really is a person who thought or did that very thing.
Following our conversation we felt compelled to help this group somehow. So, in an effort to do just that, we decided that someone should organize a new therapy group: Retards Anonymous, a place where stupid people from all walks of life can go for help. But it doesn’t have to stop there, because Retards Anonymous can be expanded to help even those of us who are really smart but have, on occasion, done some really stupid things. I have to admit that even I could probably use some help in this area. You know what I’m talking about. You’ve been there too. You do something and then think, “Oh my God! How could I have just done/said that?!” And then of course you laugh with everyone else around you, because there really is nothing else you can do at this point, and chalk it up to a “blonde moment” or a “senior moment” (even though you’ve never been a blonde and you haven’t even hit 40 yet).
Nah, never mind. Life would just not be the same without stupid people and those embarrassing stupid moments we all have. Plus, just think of the number of comedians we’d put out of business.

Am I there yet?

The other day my son and I were driving somewhere (as usual) when he asked the question that so many parents hear from the rear of a car, "Are we there yet?" Upon hearing my response he then followed with, "Where are we? How much longer?" About the same time that he posed these questions, my thoughts were rambling about life and in that moment I asked myself those same questions:

• Am I there yet?
• Where am I?!
• How much longer?!

How is it that life is so short but seems to drag on endlessly at the same time? Lately I feel like I've been trapped in the same spot for too many years and I feel certain (or at least I'm hopeful) that I have not arrived at the destination that I'm traveling toward. It would be so much easier if I could know just as assuredly as my son did that afternoon that after we traveled through three more towns we would arrive. Not too much longer now...just hold on...we'll be there soon.

I know that my destination is somewhere. I'll just have to learn to exercise the patience I need and rely on a Saviour that has not forgotten where I am and holds the master map of my life in His hand.

Persistence?

Persistence, as defined by Webster, is to "go on resolutely in spite of difficulties." I am by nature a persistent person. Life is hard, and then it gets harder. But along the way there are wonderful gifts and joys that make it all worth while. Take for instance children. They are sweet and loving, and then they begin to grow up and they attempt to pull away from all of the love and instruction you are trying to give them. Raising children is hard, and it seems to get harder the older they become. However, despite all of the difficult times, you love them and they add great joy to your life - they are precious gifts. Professionals tell us everyday to be persistent in disciplining children. Why? They tell me that it will pay off in the end, and I believe them. Persistence is a good thing. I am persistent in raising my children to become productive, respectful, intelligent adults.
I am also persistent on my job. I am a high school teacher. If it wasn't enough dealing with the hormones of my own teenage daughter, I also deal with everyone else's teenagers. At work I can see my persistence pay off more quickly than in other areas of my life. I get the job done, result: people over me are happy, parents are happy, kids make better grades and actually learn something. I like my job.
Sometimes persistence is not so good however. Take my ex-husband for example. We have been apart/divorcered for four years now. I filed for divorce because he is an addict; he has abused many substances in the past but he is "getting older now" so he sticks to beer and presrciption drugs. The day I left him I begged that he go into treatment, if he would agree I would stay. He refused, so I left. I had been persistent in my attempt to make our marriage work for too many years and there had been no improvements, in fact, conditions had steadily declined. My ex however is an even more persistent person than I am. He has persued me since that fateful day despite my refusal to give him any more chances. He is determined to get me back despite having done nothing to battle his addictions.
I think Webster should add some conditions to his definition of persistence. For instance: persist only after what is just; persist after those things that will advance your life and the lives of others; know when to let go. If my ex would persist after sobriety, he might actually get somewhere with me (and his children). Persistence is a good thing, but it must be kept in right perspective and it must be positive.