3 Decades and Counting

I turned 30 this year. I'm incredibly proud of this fact. This means I've survived 3 decades of life! Every year is one more gift from God to see what I can make of it. It seems sort of dignified to say I'm 30. I'm officially a grown-up. All those years as a child deciding what my life would be like, and here I am. Now I didn't become a famous movie star (or have a famous movie star fall in love with me-that was the much more common fantasy), and I have yet to pen the next great American novel, but I have a career where I actually make a difference. I have friends that make me laugh. I have a child who loves me. I have a roof over my head. I have a crazy family that I could never do without. It seems to me that things are going pretty well. Perhaps that's why I've always loathed the term, "those were the best years of my life" when referring to high school or college. Shouldn't every year be the best year of your life? You exist! That's a pretty good start. I also become very frustrated with people who want to live in the past by behaving inappropriately for their ages. What's so terrible about your life right now that you constantly remark on/act out ways to escape it? (No wonder society seems to be crashing and burning! So many people want to remain adolescent. Why? I already quake at the thought of some of my teenage students running the world some day.)

After 30 years, I like who I am. I hated me in high school. Started to like me in college, and finally decided to embrace fabulous me in my mid-20's when I realized I could like the color pink, sparkly things, flowers, dresses, make-up, jewelry and still be a pretty assertive gal. It's all about my confidence in the end, and even though I'm not quite as bold as I'd like to be someday, I think I'm getting there.

I also insist on seeing the good in people. I truly believe there is good in everybody. Someone would really have to be a pretty big slime to convince me s/he doesn't contain a descent core. The downside to being so sickeningly optimistic about humankind is that when I'm proven otherwise it's a really hard blow. Fortunately, I am not proven wrong very often. Besides finding the good in everyone also allows me to love with my whole heart (the only way to love in my mind). I believe these are the things people like about me who choose to be around me. I enjoy knowing that God is using me to be a beacon of light, love, and hope.

It's with this mindset that I embark on 2011. I'm going to make year 31 count just like the previous 30. I'm going to stand strong in my convictions. I'm not going to agree with something that goes against my beliefs because "it's more common than you think." That's the ridiculous adult equivalent to "everyone's doing it." I'm also not going to allow anyone to care for me with any less zest or fervor than I show him/her or deserve. People who cannot love me for who I am with their whole hearts don't need to be in my life. I give a lot as a friend and am worth a lot as a person. I will continue to learn about my faith and relationship with God. I will continue to give 100% in my life (of course I'll distribute it amongst the different facets accordingly because I've tried the 100% to each facet of my life and that nearly killed me). I am determined.

"When, in the early morning, you are reluctant to get up, have this thought in mind: 'I rise to do a man's work. Am I still resentful as I go to do the task for which I was born and for the sake of which I was brought into the world? Was I made to warm myself under the blankets?'...You do not love yourself. If you did, you would certainly love your own nature and its purpose....Display then those virtues which are entirely within your power: sincerity, dignity, endurance of pain, indifference to pleasure, contentment, self-sufficiency, kindliness, freedom, simplicity, common sense, and magnanimity." -Marcus Aurelius

An Elmo Adventure (a.k.a The Reason I'm on BP meds)

Exactly one year ago I purchased a stuffed "Classic Collectible Grover" by Fisher Price for Will for Christmas. I was determined that my child would not only love Sesame Street (and all things Jim Henson), but he would also adore Grover. Much to my dismay, the Muppet Monster that has stolen my child's heart is not the intended "Broba" but rather "Melmo" (Elmo for those who don't speak 20 month old.)

As previously stated in another post, I wasn't a huge fan of Elmo (he's sort of grown on me). Something about him always kind of rubbed me the wrong way. Then of course there was that ridiculous "Tickle Me Elmo" crazy of the mid-90s (it seems so long ago doesn't it?). Therefore, I had promised myself not to allow my son's excitement over Elmo dominate my Christmas shopping this year. Naturally that means I got him two Elmo books, an Elmo movie, an Elmo plate/bowl/fork/spoon set, an Elmo toothbrush/toothpaste set, and planned on getting him the Elmo version of the Grover stuffed toy. Note that I used "planned" in that sentence.

See, a few months ago I contemplated getting the "Classic Collectible Elmo" during a routine stop at Babies R Us. However, I was still in denial about my child's preference of red monsters to blue ones. I passed and figured I could always get it later. I even told my mom not to get it when she saw it because, if he was going to get one, I wanted to be the one to see my son's face light up when handed his very own "Melmo". Well "later" occurred to me a week or so ago since Christmas is now seven days away. Surely, I reasoned with myself, no one wants the plain-ole-don't-do-anything-Elmo so there will be plenty to choose from.

That poor logic sent me on an Elmo hunt earlier this evening. Of course I started at Babies R Us since that is where I knew they had them before. It was great because there were maybe a total of 10 people in the whole store so no Christmas crowds. There was Grover and Cookie Monster and Ernie but no Elmo. Wait, let me rephrase: There was no "Classic Collectible Elmo." If I had wanted my Elmo to play the guitar, they had him. If I had wanted my Elmo to do the hokey-pokey, they had him. If I had wanted my Elmo to chatter, they had him. And of course if I had wanted my Elmo to tickle himself into oblivion, they had him. I believe they even sold just Elmo hands (no really-gloves that your kid wears that make his hands look like furry, red monster hands-my husband assures me that emo kids buy them to wear to raves). After a very nice employee looked in the back and double checked the stock, he shared the sad news that they were out. The light at the end of the tunnel was that the Toys R Us down the street appeared to have some.

Now I had to really consider my option here. It is one week before Christmas, and the Toys R Us I would be going to is so filthy and run down it actually gives me the creeps (this is really sad considering it is the beloved Toys R Us of my youth). There's no question that I love my son enough to face a Christmas nightmare. The question was whether or not I wanted to face said nightmare for an Elmo toy. After a deep breath and reminder to myself how blessed I am to have a healthy, happy child; I figured giving him an Elmo was totally worth it. Then I stepped into Toys R Us.

As expected, my hands went immediately into my pockets, and I sucked in my breath. I hoped that if I made myself skinny enough I wouldn't actually have to touch anything or anyone on my way to the Elmo aisle. I even did a few pirouettes around the children running amok (why weren't they at home asleep?) and sidestepped down aisles to keep away from bumping into "things." It was a complete madhouse and the further back I went into the store the more my vision blurred and temperature rose. Both being sure signs my BP was shooting up. Then there it was: an aisle with an ungodly amount of "Tickle Me Elmos." Clearly, there's no shortage this year. Unfortunately, there was no "Classic Collectible Elmos" either. I grabbed an Ernie (so I could point to the picture of what I wanted on the back of the box-I didn't want to leave anything to chance) and decided to find someone who worked there to see if they had any in the back or at another store. Silly me.

It ended with me deciding that all employees during the Christmas season should be required to wear light-up hats that say "I work here" and have arrows pointing down to the wearer's head. My acute case of claustrophobia also kicked in the closer I got to the exit as the lines formed one big blob of people. I prayed to God to make sure I got back out of the store without having a stroke. If He could help make that happen, I would head straight home.

What about Elmo? Well, I gave up on the "Classic Collectible" version since it seems no store within a 40 mile radius of my house sells them. I did find on Amazon a company named Gund who apparently makes them as well. I order both an Elmo and an Abby Cadaby (my husband's not thrilled at the thought of my son getting an Abby but Will likes her too and if I bought both I got free shipping). Since I'm the one who screwed this all up in the first place, I did go with the free shipping at my husband's request (instead of the pricey one day) even though the earliest they would get here is the 23rd of December.

I shudder to think what Christmas shopping will be like when my child is actually old enough to make requests.

Life's Too Short and I'm Ready to be Famous

I turned 30 a few weeks ago and expected a few things to change in my life: getting up in the morning is a little more difficult than it used to be (mostly because I'm up late reading books-how did I pull all- nighters in college?), periodically I spot a gray/white hair on my head, eating "spicy" foods has to be spaced out due to indigestion, and my need to "tsk tsk" at my students' silly ideas about life has increased greatly. However, I'm alive and am part of a beautiful family. (Of course this is a miracle itself considering the life-threatening birth of my son.) Right when I think that I've got time to continue enjoying the aging process, something truly shocking happens: a young lady I grew up with recently committed suicide. That's the second person my age that has passed away within the past few months. I'm not old! People my age aren't supposed to die!

Aside from the harassment my husband will receive until he schedules a meeting with the lady who filed our wills so we may update them, I am planning to speak with the priests at my church regarding arrangements in case I'm taken suddenly and no one knows what to do. There was a time I would have found that incredibly morbid, but now I find it necessary! I've even toyed around with the idea of making a ton of videos for my son for birthdays, graduations, just because, etc. in case I'm not around to see him grow. Then he would have something to remember me by. I don't like thinking these things, but life's so fragile that it almost seems silly for me not to think these things.

All of this also pushes to the forefront of my mind my desire to publish a novel. I don't need it on a best seller list or to even be a movie (although my husband would disagree-he definitely would want to see it become a movie $$$). I just want to walk into a bookstore and see my name on the cover of a book on the shelf. So I have to wonder why I haven't been inspired enough to take care of this. Perhaps it is because I believed there would always be time to get it done eventually. I mean, didn't Rowling take 9 years to get Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone written? Now I'm starting to wonder just how much time I really have. After all, tomorrow isn't guaranteed.

I suppose I would write a young adult novel since that's the audience I'm most familiar with. And, let's be honest, I love some young adult literature. I have often wondered why I like to spend so much time reading novels written for people whose brains aren't fully developed and still have a lot to learn about life. I think it is because life IS so much simpler for them. There's a good guy; there's a bad guy, and there's always a romantic interest. Maybe I also like being taken back to a teenagehood that wasn't mine. Not that mine was miserable, but I definitely didn't get to do what teens in novels get away with regularly. I mean, they never seem to have to report to any adults. Plus young adult novels make really great movies! Seriously, watch this trailer:

(The movie is actually coming out in March not July! Woo Hoo!)

Okay, so that's what I'm going to do! I'm going to write a young adult novel. I'm going to get it published! And because I love my husband so much, I'm going to drive a hard bargain to get it made into a movie!

Wish me luck.

Losing Doesn't Make My Kid a LOSER

Dear Children's Programing:

Please stop teaching my child it is okay to lose. It's not okay. When people compete there are winners and there are losers. They are not even close to the same thing, and it's definitely not okay to be one of the losers. Before you start thinking dastardly things about me as a mother...

I am a part of the "trophy kid generation" meaning I know what it feels like to see everyone get a trophy or medal or ribbon for simply participating (a.k.a showing up and converting oxygen to carbon dioxide). I bust my ass to overachieve. It drives me crazy that someone who does absolutely nothing other than exist may receive the exact same reward/acknowledgment that I worked so hard for. Fortunately, I am a self-motivated person; therefore, I know deep down that I'm better for working smarter and being more creative. The problem arises when kids who aren't self-motivated and need external inspiration to keep excelling see this. The message those children receive is, "It's okay to settle and be mediocre. You're not going to get recognized any more for your work than the kid who does nothing." So that's what those children who are truly talented or work hard begin to do: embrace mediocrity. The message the kids who did nothing receive is, "No effort required to be special." Then we end up with a bunch of lazy kids who feel entitled to things.

This is why competition is so important: win or lose. There are invaluable lessons to be learned from both.

1. Win: Not only does the kid feel fantastic for reaping the benefits of all his/her hard work, s/he might actually find a passion or talent that can be developed into something further like a career. This is also an excellent opportunity to teach a child how to win with class. I would love my child to win but not to be a jerk about it.

2. Lose: If the activity is something s/he loves to do but isn't that great at, then as a parent, it is my job to discuss where we want to go from here. The kid needs to figure out what went wrong and then decide if s/he wants to work hard to improve and perhaps win later, or if it is a matter of limitations. I think more parents need to discuss limitations with their children. Sometimes we are not designed to be a superstar athlete or famous rock/movie star. I also blame parents for forcing their children into activities that the children may not be suited for. My husband would love for our son to be a football star (or "booball" as my son started saying today); however, my husband and I are tiny people and not very athletic. If my son is not a great success on the football field, we should talk about his options maybe not including football. That doesn't make him a loser, but that does allow him to pursue other avenues where he may "win." Of course if he loves playing football, practices hard, understands that he might never be a starter for the Pittsburgh Steelers, AND is okay with that because he just loves the game and wants to keep playing; then so be it. However, he will be under no delusion that he should be handed a trophy just for trying.

None of this means I believe we shouldn't recognize children for individual talents. I don't mind giving a set of children "trophies" that are different and individualized. That's a great way for kids who aren't usually noticed or rewarded to end up in the spotlight. For example, I can give a quiet child an award for her talent in art while her loquacious counterpart receives one for his charisma. See, both children are highlighted without creating an underachiever or lazy winner.

Thank you Children's Television for trying to do what's best for my child, but I think you're actually doing more harm than good. Perhaps your programing should encourage children to find their strengths and how to talk to their parents about them. Maybe you could even teach parents how to allow their children to be their own people?

Sincerely,
Me

What Makes a School Great

What Makes a School Great

By clicking on the link above, you will see a cover story from a current issue of Time magazine. As an educator, who happens to adore her job, I always grab anything that is going to "reflect" the educational system in the United States. Usually I'm disappointed because people making policy or writing books or creating films or telling me how to do my job have never stepped foot into a real classroom to teach. This is why I stopped seeing teaching movies because they are all the same: idealistic white person who wants to change the world lands in the ghetto/barrio and sees that kids have rougher lives than trying to learn how to diagram a sentence. Not that I don't believe these type of children deserve quality teachers, but there is a large number of average kids who also deserve great teachers. Now, I'm not opposed to anyone who wants to make sure the focus of education is truly on the children; however, it's usually the same people who have no idea who my children are.

That brings us to Waiting for "Superman." It comes out in theaters soon, and I am debating seeing this film. All I know so far is what Time has written and what the American Federation of Teachers (AFT) President has to say about it because I am a member of AFT. Actually, her letter about the movie was the first I heard about it. Read her letter here by clicking on "Where we Stand: Saving our Schools: 'Superman' or Real Solutions" on the webpage (it's a PDF file). This is the same AFT President painted as the antagonist in the Time article. This is another site that AFT has created regarding this movie.

One thing I always teach my students is to consider the source when looking into a solid argument. Unfortunately, like many of my students, I see a lot of gray area; therefore, black and white arguments are very difficult for me (as Obi-Wan would say, "Only a Sith deals in absolutes.") I also encourage my students to see/hear/read whatever they are going to judge so they know what it is that they agree or disagree with. So I guess if I'm going to set an example, I need to see Waiting for "Superman." I suppose my hesitation hovers around how angry this movie might make me. Perhaps I also fear enough parents and policy makers will see this movie and stop trying to build up the public school system (I think another post should be dedicated to my stance on private and charter schools). Teaching in the public school system, even though I love it, is hard enough without making more enemies.

I want to encourage anyone who reads this to look at the articles I've included (maybe even see the movie) and make the best decisions to support both the teacher and the student.

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1.03.01

Cancer Sucks

I really don't know where to start this post. It's 2:22 in the morning, and I can't sleep. I want to cry, but I don't want to wake my husband up. Over 15 hours ago I was informed that a sweet and young friend of mine passed away from cancer. Really, I don't deserve her friendship because she left a couple of years ago for a different teaching position in another district, and I never bothered to say hello or check-in once I knew she was sick. What makes me feel even more wretched is the fact that I attended both high school and college with her, worked with her for years at North, was a guest at her wedding, and wrote one of her recommendations for the new position she applied for when leaving North. (I told you-I'm a crappy friend.)

Of course her death reminds me how short life really is (she wasn't even 30), and my own mortality plagues my mind constantly. I want to say that I'll be more appreciative of the friends I have and the life I live. Instead I feel selfish and undeserving. She leaves behind a husband, and all I can do is pray that God doesn't take mine. She wanted to have children, and having Will isn't enough for me. I greedily want more.

I teach my students a saying, "Fair is what is right for you, and it is never equal." But right now all I want to scream is, "It's not fair!" What is the world supposed to do with one less kind, compassionate, smart, and beautiful person? I don't believe she was capable of harming a hair on a head. With so much indifference and cruelty in life, won't this knock everything out of balance? Yes, I believe she made that much of a difference.

I screwed up and never told her that when she was alive. Even now this post is supposed to make me feel better. And this is why I have to believe there is more after death. I need to know that life is not simply the years we're allotted here. Brandi has to be happy in Heaven because that's what she deserves.

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1.03.01

Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise

It's 7:45 A.M. on a Sunday. I'm running on about four hours of sleep. My head is slightly unfocused and my mouth a bit dry. I'm definitely hungry but too tired to eat (clearly not too tired to write). None of this would seem unusual if I were in my early to mid-twenties recovering from a night of good, healthy debauchery. Instead, I'm 29 dangling my toe off the precipice to 30, am happily married with an adorable son, and will be doing the responsible thing of preparing to go to church in a couple of hours. So where did I go wrong?

I wouldn't say I went "wrong" really. Perhaps I just realize why girls have slumber parties when they are conquering adolescence instead of adulthood. Last night I held an actual slumber party for four sets of sisters who all grew up together. An impromptu night out about four months ago sparked the idea. A few of us were having margaritas with our moms (yeah, I know), and it occurred to me how awesome having all nine of us back together for one night would be! We all share a childhood that would be riotous to recollect, and it would be doubly entertaining to gush about where we are now.

This all culminated into a night of laughter, memories, movies, friendship bracelets (no, you read that correctly), food, and drinks! Without a care in the world, I shoveled pizza, chicken nuggets, cookies, and rum and Cokes into my system. (Something which my reflux is maniacally punishing me for this morning.) In good spirits, no pun intended, I eagerly went to work on friendship bracelets! I had a list of all the people who would receive the fruits of my labor. It was going to be sweet. After hours of measuring, cutting, and undoing; all I have to show for my efforts are two bracelets with about an inch completed. (Apparently hand/eye coordination diminishes with age.) I think I managed to pay attention to two of the four movies we watched before I had to throw in the towel and come to bed. Seeing that is was 3:15 in the morning, I impressed even myself at my stamina. (However, the grown-up inside was kicking me because I wasn't in bed sooner since my son started waking up at 7 for breakfast.)

Do I feel a little old? Yes, but mostly because my mommy isn't currently in my kitchen making pancakes for when all of us wake up and are ready to have breakfast (one of my favorite memories). We'll all probably nibble off of the pizza and chicken nugget remains before everyone goes back to her adult life. Would I change anything about last night? NO! Maybe we are grown-up with responsibilities that never would have crossed our minds at 13. Maybe we gush about our pets and jobs instead of how we're going to marry 'NSync (go ahead and laugh-you know you want to). Maybe we even decided that tie-dying t-shirts would have been a better craft than friendship bracelets (okay, I decided that). But we also still manage to lift each other up and make each other laugh. I firmly believe that in life I need that:).

So even though my body will probably enjoy punishing me for the rest of the day for the junk food abuse it suffered last night, I have collected new memories for the next time we all decide to slumber party-hardy. (Then again, if we wait another 10-12 years, it will probably be a better idea to have a couple of drinks, go home and head directly to bed. Just ask our moms 'cause that's what they did last night.)

Summer Learnin' Havin' a Blast

It's the 15th of August 2010. That means that in roughly 11 hours I will be back at work for the new school year. As I anxiously await the year ahead, I reflect on my summer and some things that I've learned:

1. Even if I finish graduate classes in June, they will hold on to that darn transcript ALL the way till August when the degree is awarded. THEN I'll receive the transcripts before I receive the degree.
2. DJ Lance Rock is kind of scary, but I CAN'T STOP WATCHING HIM!
3. It is possible to spend $30+ on chocolate (but totally worth it).
4. I'll never tan as beautifully as I did as a child.
5. A 16-month-old little boy can eat two whole plates of applesauce with only three fingers (we were practicing with a spoon but he stuck with what he knew).
6. Having any kind of surgery in the summer doesn't guarantee a better environment to recover. It just guarantees I'll feel miserable KNOWING I should have a better environment to recover because it's the summer but I don't.
7. I miss having the maid service come to clean my house:(.
8. I still don't have enough time to read for fun.
9. Agreeing to switch classrooms makes for an anxiety ridden summer.
10. Sesame Street still holds the same magic but just takes some time getting used to (as my husband put it, "They don't change anything by accident.").

I am one of those weirdos that is ecstatic to be going back to work tomorrow. I thrive on busy. I just know that getting back into my classroom and gearing up for the new year is going to, ironically, help lower my blood pressure and chase my slight summer slump away. I suppose I feel that as long as I'm going, I know I'm not dead.

What's the Worst Thing to Happen to Sesame Street?

I'm finally having to wave the white flag in my war against one of the worst things to happen to Sesame Street: ELMO. Okay, perhaps that's a bit strong. Really the worst thing to happen to Sesame Street is the 21st century, but I'll go into detail about that in little bit.

Since I'll be home with my son for the next 3 weeks (it was 4 but I just finished week one), I want to make sure I'm stimulating his little synapses so he'll be super-genius baby by the time he returns to daycare. We play together for a little bit. We read classic board books (love that Monster at the End of the Book). We listen to music and dance together. I feed him nourishing meals and snacks. Then it occurred to me that one of the greatest things I could probably do for my sweet child is introduce him to the magic that is Sesame Street. I know kiddos under the age of 2 really shouldn't be subjected to television, but I figured since Sesame Street comes on at 11 o'clock (lunchtime) it would work as an educational form of entertainment while Will eats (plus it's only an hour of television). I've already immersed  him into the wide world of Jim Henson with a Muppet themed nursery (my sister did a kick ass mural of Kermit on a log playing the banjo) and by purchasing a lovable, fury puppet Grover. Naturally, I was excited on Monday to watch Sesame Street for the first time in about 22/23 years with my little boy.

Here's the many reasons why my heart broke and disappointment colored my childhood memories:

1. The street is different! They have remodeled or something, and I couldn't recognize the place. Boo!
2. There's a new character, Abby Cadabby, who attends "Fairy Flying School," and we are forced to watch her COMPUTER ANIMATED adventures for about 10-15 minutes of the show! CGI? Are you kidding me? I understand that there is an actual Muppet Abby, but all the magic of what the Muppets are and how they work is completely gone! I mean, I really fell in love with Kermit and Bert and Ernie and Oscar and Big Bird and Grover and Cookie Monster, etc. They were real to me. I wanted to meet them. Then as I got older, I respected the care and ingenuity it took to make these creations come to life! Those puppeteers used their talent and dynamic energy to make everything appear seamless and natural. Does this mean I think only talentless hacks resort to CGI to make memorable stories or teach invaluable lessons? Of course not! I'm a huge supporter of 21st skills and Web 2.0 tools (HELLO-I'm BLOGGING). I just think the effect loses part of its magic.
3. The last 25 minutes of the show (keep in mind it is only an hour long) is friggin' "ELMO'S WORLD!" Seriously?! It's not bad enough that that obnoxiously red monster became Sesame Street's poster child once Kermit was sold off to Disney with the rest of the Muppet crew? (And yes, I still partially blame Michael Eisner, that greedy bastard, for the death of Jim Henson.) Everything about Elmo has irritated me from his inception. His voice. The color of his fur. The fact that the best selling Elmo toy involves tickling.

Needless to say, the Sesame Street I loved is gone. It could be that I'm no longer a child therefore even old school Sesame Street would also seem to be a little less than grand, but I don't believe that. After recovering from my first encounter with "Elmo's World" (it's like nails on a chalkboard), I pulled up some classic clips on the Sesame Street website. I had to see the show I knew and loved to find the magic lost, and I discovered I'm not a crazy as I thought! I played a couple of classics for Will on the computer. We watched "C is for Cookie" (none of that "sometimes food" bull) and a few Muppet news flashes with Kermit in his reporters get-up and of course lovable, fury ole Grover being...well...lovable and fury. My son LOVED them! He danced and clapped his hands and squealed with delight. Now if he sees my computer open he'll pull up onto my lap and say, "Bover. Bover." Really. I'm not making that up!

Knowing my son is captivated more by the "Batty Bat" with the Count and Ernie's need to unnerve Bert makes watching the current Sesame Street tolerable. I figure that as long as I can interject a good dose of "Disco Grover" when necessary, I can live with 2010's view of Sesame Street. I can even deal with Elmo. After all, it could be worse. My son could want to watch Barney (I still maintain that is Satan in a purple dinosaur suit).

Will's brand new "couch" and his "Bover."

All good, quality Old School characters.

It's also a "sleeping bag." That's cool.

And our new friends are Abby Cadabby, Zoe, and Rosita (yep, I had to look them all up because I had no idea who they were).

Suit and 'Stache Meet Shawn and Gus

I've been volleying between liking and disliking Fox's new show The Good Guys. I really want to love it since it is filmed here in my native city: Dallas. I also relish the thought that for once Dallas might be portrayed as a real city. I will never forget the last time I was in New York and ate at a "Texan" restaurant. There were pictures of the Dallas skyline surrounded by nothing but desert and tumbleweeds. Then there were all the people asking me if I rode my horse to school. Really? Uh, I've never been on a horse let alone own one to ride to school. Does this mean I think Dallas and New York are on the same level of city? Well, not really but it is frustrating when the only image people have of my city involves the letters J and R and the word Ewing. I mean, the Ewing house is not even in Dallas city limits! But I digress...

In The Good Guys there are a couple of "characters," who I will call Suit (Colin Hanks) and 'Stache (Bradley Whitford), that are thrown together on the Dallas Police force because they are both some type of screw-up. Suit apparently incorrectly corrected someone important and 'Stache still lives in the '70s with regards to how he handles police business. Potential? Sure. Have they pulled it off? Nope. I have many theories why this is so. For example, I cannot even remember the characters' names hence referencing them as "Suit" and "'Stache." (I even had to look up 'Stache's real name because all I know him as is "that guy from The West Wing" and I didn't even watch The West Wing). If I cannot connect to the characters enough to remember their names, the creators have not made characters worth connecting to.

Another reason this show is lacking involves the "relationship" between Suit and one of the Assistant DAs, who has the WORST fake Texan accent. I refuse to learn her name because I don't care if she and Suit hook up or not. The story goes something like Suit and ADA used to date, have broken up, and she's moved on. However, they still have some type of attraction to each other. Not buyin' it! First of all, why would the writers tell me all this in the very first episode? Why not let me see the chemistry the two have, wonder why they haven't gotten together, and then BAM surprise me with their past?! Then at least they could build some type of "relationship" throughout the series. Secondly, there is NO chemistry between Suit and ADA. I don't feel it and can't believe it.

One of the biggest hindrances to the show is the missing partner connection between Suit and 'Stache. Sometimes it's almost there but mostly it's not. I blame the writers since Suit and 'Stache seemed to be strong actors. It feels like there should be witty dialog between Suit and 'Stache that they can play and improvise with. It could build a stronger connection between them and lead to a more memorable set of characters. There has only been one episode so far where I felt they actually had the kind of partnership to make the show worth watching (and the link for the full episode has expired so I can't even embed it). It is the episode with the pimp Gemini. I believe it is called "The Broken Door Theory."

Although it may be too late to correct some of these errors, I know that the last problem I mention can easily be fixed if the writers took a good look at Psych. Now, I know I've praised the glory of Shawn and Gus in previous posts (mostly to express anger at the blatant ripoff the Mentalist is of Psych). Perhaps they work so well because the show's been on for five seasons, maybe it's because the show's writer has a degree in English therefore truly appreciating the written word and how to create meaningful dialog with great allusions, or it could simply be that James Roday and Dule Hill have  a true camaraderie that shines through to the audience. Take the following clip:



Notice how Shawn asks Gus to repeat everything in his Jamaican accent AND HE DOES IT! He doesn't ask why, he doesn't get frustrated, he just does it! Gus also maintains the seriousness of the news he's relating and they make their way from the football field to the crime scene. Psych is full of humorous things like this mostly within clever dialog. Maybe that's why I love the show since wordplay is one of my favorite past times! Watch these videos to see the greatness of Psych:





The final link takes you to the actual Psych page because it wouldn't just let me embed the video. Enjoy!

Best of Psych

So creators of The Good Guys, if you can manage to wrangle the same magic between Suit and 'Stache that exists between Shawn and Gus, I might just remember the characters and love your show.

Yea, Plates.

My wonderful husband took me on a date night this evening to see Beauty and the Beast: The Musical. It was actually a perfect surprise because he knows how much I adore the original movie. That particular Disney film changed my life! Up to that point most of the Disney princesses had simply been content to allow Prince Charming (or Prince Philip or Prince Whomever) to save the day and sweep them away to happily ever afters. (It wasn't until the late 80s when young girls were introduced to Ariel, the red-headed firecracker who insisted on defying her father's wishes and then gettin' hitched at the tender age of 16.) Still, even though I enjoyed them all, I could not really relate to any of the princesses. I didn't like to see myself as completely helpless, and I definitely had no desire to disobey my parents. Then She came along!

Belle was so incredibly different from any princess I had ever seen or read about! She was a brunette with brown eyes...just like me! She dreamed of far away adventures where magical things would happen to her...just like me! SHE LOVED TO READ BOOKS...wait for it...JUST LIKE ME! She was perfect! Belle didn't fall for the town hunk. She saw right through his arrogance and wanted more out of life than sitting at home and waiting on an ungrateful louse of a husband. However, she did have a kind heart and the patience to get past the Beast's surly demeanor to see that inside he was quite a catch. I love Belle even to this day! I never get tired of watching my movie (although "Human Again" did not need to be added in  the "Platinum Edition"-it's a stupid song). I would gladly name my daughter, should I ever be blessed with one, Belle! (Of course I probably wouldn't because I would hate for people to think I'm using a derivative of "Bella" from the Twilight Series-YUCK!) Even when my husband and I went to Disney World I insisted we have our picture taken with Belle! See:

All of this is why I was ecstatic about seeing the musical version of the "tale as old as time." Much to my dismay, my fanaticism for Beauty and the Beast caused the musical version to fall a little short in my opinion. The costumes and sets were exquisite in their colors and designs. Yet, the live action lacked something magical the movie contained. (My husband thinks it's because "Belle" phoned it in for the entire second act.)

Oddly enough, I was cheering Gaston on for Belle's hand! Oh my! The musical's idea of Gaston definitely had him more than narcissistic, but at the same time he seemed rather lovable and humorous. This is clearly a far cry from the jackass Gaston is meant to be in the movie. Not to mention he had all the best musical numbers on stage! The Beast, unfortunately, was a wimp! It irks me that they would destroy my Beast in such a way. All his numbers were pathetic and overly sentimental. He wasn't man enough (no pun intended) for Belle. Thus, I was actually upset when Gaston died. I liked him. Plus, they couldn't really pull off the iconic ball gown or the Beast's transformation back to man. As I put it to my husband on the way home, "it just works better in cartoon form" (yes he laughed heartily at this and told me I should put that on a t-shirt). And of course my favorite scene from the movie could not quite be replicated on stage:



By no means was this the worst stage musical I have ever seen. (I think Footloose wins that award.) It just is the type of show a person takes his 4 to 10-year-old daughters to because the entire performance is really geared for a younger audience. It was adorable to see all the little girls in their "ball gowns" they dressed up in for the show. But in the end I suppose my husband put it the best way right after "Be Our Guest" when he flatly said, "Yea, plates." Indeed my love, "Yea, plates."

Target Treasures

I did it. I actually lost the best pair of sunglasses I've ever owned. They were perfect! Durable black plastic frames. The lenses oval and just the right size so I didn't look like a bug. The tint a nice, dark shade so I didn't have to squint even with them on in the Texas sun. Finally, a delicate set of rhinestones on each side with just enough sparkle to say, "Why yes I'm a Princess, but don't worry because I've got it under control." Those precious pair of shades are now in the hands of some other fortunate person because they disappeared somewhere between Lovefield and Harlingen when I was out of town last weekend. I know. I know. Why would I let such a splendid pair of sunglasses out of my sight in order for them to go missing? I'm incredibly right brained (that means scatterbrained). This meant I needed to add sunglasses to my Target list when I went today.

Aside from new sunglasses, the purpose of my Target trip only had a few objectives: get the $5 DVD copy of Sense and Sensibility, get Will a toddler pillow for the TODDLER ROOM during nap time (still having a hard time adjusting to this), and get Will a backpack since diaper bags are for the infant room:(. I did find my DVD quickly and headed to the Back-to-School section. Then the great dilemma was whether Will would get the Buzz and Woody backpack or the plain gray/green one. Both were $10 so that didn't make a difference. Then it occurred to me that even though the bag would belong to Will, Chris or I would be carrying it. I don't believe either of us relished the thought of walking around with Buzz and Woody on our backs. The toddler pillow, however, does have a friendly picture of Buzz and Woody. (What's with all the Toy Story stuff you may wonder. Well, it was either Toy Story or Hello Kitty or Disney Princesses or Tinkerbell or Dora the Explorer-starting to see the problem?) Now all I had to find were sunglasses.

Since I'm not any type of optical-wear aficionado, I thought I would be out of luck. I finally found a pair that were identical to the ones I lost in every aspect except the rhinestones. Boo. Oh well, I suppose I'll have to find other ways to express the royal highness within. In order to cheer myself up, I thought it would be a good time to purchase some new underwear (it also happened that Hanes Her Way were on sale). It is the first time since my son was born (in April 09) that I have purchased patterned and colored underwear. That's right. I've been living in a plain white cotton underpants world for the past year. And with these new patterns and colors, let me tell you, it's liberating!

So from my top to my bottom (get it?) I would consider this Target trip very successful.

Did I Just go on Vacation?

I actually had the chance to go to South Padre with some friends for a wedding. I've never been to South Padre, and my husband volunteered to watch my son so I could go with the girls. Although there was still some debate about where exactly we would be staying (the hotel was supposed to open in March but was STILL not "officially" opened when we got there), I decided I would thoroughly enjoy time to eat, drink, and be merry.

Well, the first disappointment came when the airplane hit a storm over Houston and caused my dear friend KHam and me to get more than slightly motion sick. We both knew that our other two companions for this trip would not be able to make it since their personal jet would not be able to fly through the rough air. Bummer. By the time we landed and got our luggage, we just wanted to get to the hotel, order some room service, and chill until we fell asleep.

Enter problemo numero dos: the Hilton Garden Inn was not officially open. I should have seen there would be trouble when the only thing in the ghost town of a hotel were the two employees at the check in counter surrounded by spirals and loose pieces of paper. That's right. No computers. The hotel did not have its computer system in yet and resorted to keeping notes on random pieces of paper. Again, I was tired, and KHam was tired. We were also trying to stay optimistic since it wasn't a weekend about us but rather our sweet friend getting married. (However, our spirits were quickly dampened by the pungent fresh paint fumes and sporadic piles of construction trash in the hallways.)

After making our way to our room (which they still charged us FULL PRICE for-trust me the Hilton company is getting a letter), we discovered that there was NO ROOM SERVICE. Yep, I paid $200/night for a hotel without room service. Now I was just starting to get ticked. So KHam and I made ourselves presentable (we changed our sweatpants to jeans) and called a cab to find something to eat. By 10 that night, we were tired, still pretty hungry (not impressed with the local cuisine), and shortly discovered we didn't have hot water (I believe tepid would be a good way to describe it). God was kind to us because Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince was on television. Since our adoration for the adventures of this boy wizard is one reason we are such great friends, we watched that till we fell asleep.

With the hot water working satisfactorily by the next morning, I was starting to feel a little better about everything. The true test was going to be if the Hilton Garden Inn would be able to pull off my friend's reception. Much to my surprise, the Hilton DID manage to make the reception quite beautiful. I was happy for my friend's sake because no bride should have a crappy wedding. So in the end it turned out great for my friend. But I still maintain that I should not be charged full price for a hotel that is, in essence, "out of service."

Now, my gal pal KHam mentioned also blogging about the experience, and I'm sure it will be much more entertaining. I've also moved on passed a lot of the frustration I felt, so this post lacks a lot of the passion it would have contained had I been able to blog at the hotel.

My Voice of Reason has a British Accent

Since I am completely done with graduate work...FOREVER, I was able to take a nap this afternoon. Of course my dreams unleashed anxieties and irritations in various unconscious adventures. I am a HUGE believer in the Collective Unconscious and dream interpretation a la Jung and Freud; therefore, dreams are worth exploring to understand what my brain is trying to tell me when I cannot get in the way. (Please don't misunderstand. I do not believe a person can simply go online and type in "clock" to see what a "dream dictionary" says it means. That is rubbish and a waste of time. It's more useful to look into historical symbolism of all aspects of a dream then apply them to my life not generalize how they would work in all lives.)

This particular dream threw me into an Austen-style cottage with my husband and son on vacation (no big surprise since I'm currently reading Sense and Sensibility). After a myriad of events (on the surface very random-in my dream making all the sense in the world), I was confused, angry, and ready to run away from everything happening. Then who should appear, Russell Brand who sat with me and rationalized a lot of what was happening to me in my life/dream. Okay, let's step back and think about this for a moment. The person my unconscious chose to dispense logic to my conscious was Russell Brand:

One more time to recap: Russell Brand is the form my OWN UNCONSCIOUS MIND chose to be a voice of reason. If you don't know who this man is or know of him but nothing about his life, please Wikipedia him at least. Then perhaps you'll see the irony in all of this.

Don't get me wrong. I am a fan of Mr. Brand. I loved Forgetting Sarah Marshall because of him. It's just I'm not a fan of his like I am of Colin Firth or Alan Rickman or James McAvoy or Orlando Bloom. So why this particular British superstar? That's what my conscious mind will be trying to decode for a while.

Beautiful as Aphrodite. Wise as Athena.

If you were to ask any of my friends who I would be if given the chance, they would all answer with an adamant "Wonder Woman!" I love everything about the idea of being an ass kickin' female superhero who gets to share Justice League status with Superman and Batman. All of this is intriguing considering I've never seen or owned a single Wonder Woman comic (something I believe I shall remedy-Hello new hobby!). The first encounter I had with this amazing Amazon was Linda Carter:

I know that my mother has pictures of me in my Wonder Woman underoos somewhere. Even though I didn't immediately begin cataloging every issue of Wonder Woman to pop out of DC, my adoration did not necessarily stop. 

A few years ago I was passing time shopping at my fave thrift store and found a Wonder Woman belt buckle for $2.75! It was a moment that the heavens opened and a beam of light shone down upon the coveted item. The buckle became mine, and three weeks later, while my husband and I were touring the Warner Bros. lot in California, I found the same buckle for $25. I knew then that God blessed me with my thrift store treasure. My fervor for the famous heroine was renewed.

When my husband informed me this morning that Wonder Woman has been given a make-over, I went into immediate denial and then frustration. Why would anyone dare to change an American icon? (Of course I was also a bit perturbed because I have a Wonder Woman costume I've never been able to wear, and the new image makes the costume obsolete.) Then I read the article discussing the changes and why they occurred. It makes sense. I mean Wonder Woman started out like this:

and she's recently appeared on Cartoon Network like this:

Even with the changing times, Wonder Woman's image stayed relatively the same. I must admit, there is something a little degrading about expecting such a tough gal to parade around in, essentially, underwear. Sure 13-year-old boys probably don't mind, but I know that if I had a daughter, I would want my childhood heroine to embody strength while still maintaining modesty. It's important for girls to realize women can be heroic without being whore-oic (like that? Yeah word play is fun).

So after much contemplation, I have given my stamp of approval to the new image of Wonder Woman:

She's still sexy, but I would much prefer this defender of justice to even Linda Carter's interpretation. Needless to say, I eagerly await the day Warner Bros. finally gives Wonder Woman her own feature film. Until that day, I will stay a diligent devotee.

Sculpting Lives is What I Do

At 10:50 P.M. I have successfully completed my first official day of summer vacation. I spent a majority of the day doing reading and writing for my night class which is starting to seem a little tedious because we have to meet three nights a week instead of only one. The up side is that this particular class focuses on youth in America and how it's been defined over the past century. Therefore, I am interested in the subject matter.

One of the cool things we did last week was watch Blackboard Jungle a movie made in 1955. This is the film that began the inspirational teacher film genre. There is an optimistic new teacher, Mr. Dadier, who is hired to "teach" in a high school full of gang members and delinquents all of whom live in poverty in this inner city neighborhood. Interestingly, this movie is incredibly provocative for what I thought would be allowed in theaters in the 50s. Here is the trailer, and even though the movie isn't unbelievably terrifying and the trailer is a little cheesy, it might give you a good idea of what started films that focus on the lives of educators (I could only find one with Spanish subtitles):



And yes, that is an uncredited Sidney Poitier you see in the trailer. I love that he plays one of the lead hoods in this film because in To Sir With Love he is the optimistic teacher in a classroom full of troubled teens. Aside from the handsomely young Poitier, I really admire the stance this film takes in the end regarding two characters who simply refuse to conform. I don't mean in a "stick it to the Man because we should be free" kind of way. One of them, Artie West, is dead set against furthering his life beyond harassing Mr. Dadier's wife, beating up teachers, stealing, and pulling a switchblade on Mr. Dadier in class. Therefore by the end of the film while all the other students begin to set higher expectations for themselves, Artie goes to jail. I like that. It has nothing to do with him being misunderstood or from an unstable home. He is simply a rotten human being who makes the decision to stay rotten. I think we have lost this idea somewhere in education. Do I believe some students just cannot be reached? Yes and I believe most teachers who have movies made about their lives will agree with me. The number is minuscule, like maybe one or two kids for every 100 or so, which is why I much prefer focusing on the ones that are reachable.

So my fellow teachers, I tip my hat off to you and offer you this list of movies to inspire teachers (in no particular order), according to various lists. I took the ones that I agree with the most:

1. Stand and Deliver (1988)--though I am terrible at math, I know that Jaime Escalante could have taught me Calculus

2. Blackboard Jungle (1955)--aside from its overbearing patriotism because of its setting during the Cold War era, I love everything about this film because it shows me how education has been battling the same problems for over 60 years

3.  Lean on Me (1989)--you only need one quote, "Mr. Clark don't play!"

4. Mr. Holland's Opus (1995)--sometimes we stumble upon our calling in life while waiting for our "real career" to take off

5. Renaissance Man (1994)--Henry V's St. Crispin Day speech was never the same for me after I saw this movie

6. Miracle Worker (1962)--I will always admire those who work with special needs children because that is a challenge I would not be able to meet

7. Dangerous Minds (1995)--I debated adding this one because it is a great film but I think the genre started getting too sentimental "oh it's not the kids they are from bad home lives" and as I mentioned with Blackboard Jungle, sometimes kids are just rotten because they choose to remain so

8. To Sir with Love (1967)--Wow, Sidney Poitier made the list twice. He must be a good actor or something...this film shows how educators know that sometimes we don't actually teach our subject matter but rather life skills students need to have in order to survive

9. The Karate Kid (1984)--when I saw this on one list I almost laughed until I saw the reason why and it made all the sense in the world: sometimes students have to trust the unconventional methods of their teachers because it becomes evident in a big picture sort of way later on

10. Okay, I couldn't agree on a number ten because I haven't seen three of the following and I've heard some people debate about whether or not Robin Williams actually made an impact on his students in the other one: Mona Lisa Smile, The Great Debaters, Dead Poets Society, Music of the Heart

As your minds relax for a brief moment before you see something that sparks an idea for a lesson for next year, enjoy one of these films. And if your brief moment isn't long enough for a whole movie, please enjoy this video made by my district. I get slightly choked up every time I watch because it defines what I do so very well (even with a couple of typos):

Damn the Man! Save the Empire! Part II

The second event that reinforced my desire to do right by my students regardless of "experts" dictating what I am supposed to do was my own recognition.

Two of my students chose me to receive a "SPUR" award during the annual awards ceremony. I received this because I "spur" them on to do great things and because our mascot is a stallion. Get it? Spur? Stallion? Okay, okay, it's a little cheesy but the point is that my students know that I care and will always make the best decisions for them. They might not always like the decision, but they appreciate it later.

I was also nominated for a $500 award for being such an awesome teacher. (I didn't win, but I was one of very few nominated.) This means that multiple students made a point to tell everyone that what I do matters. To my students I am teaching them so much more than English which is exactly how it should be.

It is for nights like this that I teach. Not to be recognized but to see that my students have learned from me and can take that with them when they graduate. I also teach for the brief times when a former student pops his/her head in my door for a quick 'hello' or 'have a nice day.' They know I love them and cherish all the memories we make in class. The fact that they learn some cool stuff along the way is a bonus.

So keep your stinkin' tests State Board of Education and your "minimal" standards and your desire to teach our kids learned helplessness and your stupid belief that failing a student damages a fragile ego. I'm going to teach the best way I know how and my kids will continuously succeed!

Damn The Man! Save the Empire! Part I

Okay, favorite movie quotes aside, I recently experienced two things that in some small way makes me feel like I've really stuck it to "The Man." Who, in my case, is the Texas State Board of Education.

Last week our school held its annual Lighthouse Ceremony. Every school year each teacher chooses a student who has inspired the teacher in some way, a student who has made positive behavioral changes regarding his/her education, or a student who is simply a great kid but might not always be the first one picked to receive the accolades allotted honors and gifted students. Therefore, the students become a "lighthouse" to help teachers always return to shore when things start getting rough.

Two days before school even started I received an e-mail from Anthony's mother informing me, "My son is a 9th grader in you reading class and I just wanted to send you a quick note with my email address in case you ever needed to discuss with me [his] progress.  He does have ADD and struggles with Reading." Oh great, what a way to start the new year. I had not even met the kid and his mother was already doing damage control. The next three days (I see him on "B" days so I didn't even get to meet him on the first day of school) only gave me time to put a picture together of a kid bent on the destruction of my class with his wacky ADD (something that has not been diagnosable since the '80s by the way--seriously, look into a current Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition (DSM-IV) no where is ADD listed, only ADHD). These kids are also always gigantic as if their stature makes up for any intellectual deficiencies. Needless to say, Anthony was not a kid I was just dying to meet.

I knew Anthony would be my lighthouse the moment I met him. He walked in with a smile on his face and a sincere, "Hello Miss." Normally I'm not a fan of the generic term "Miss" because the kids expect me to know their names; however, since it was just the second day of school I allowed Anthony's smile and demeanor to cover for it. He worked hard and paid great attention. Everything was "yes ma'am" or "May I?" or "please." This kid had impeccable manners! Not something I'm used to with remedial readers. I quickly realized the danger in pre-judging so many of my students based on others' actions or opinions. That's not to say that Anthony's "ADD" doesn't cause some difficult days, but he's always willing to work right next to me so I can keep him focused.

I was even the general education teacher assigned to his special education meeting. By the middle of the meeting I was enraged because Anthony was getting a raw deal with his education. Of course people who had zero idea of his potential and capabilities were trying to make decisions for him. I protested and won! This was one kid the "system" would not shove down the cracks! Anthony took all this in stride and continued to perform well in my class. There was no doubt that he deserved recognition for being a great kid.

The day of the ceremony arrived and Anthony's mother and grandfather were present to see me present him with his Lighthouse Award. It was evident by the look on Anthony's face that this is the first award he has ever received. He thanked me over and over and over. He would look at the Lighthouse picture of us together and then hug me and then look at the picture again and then thank me, etc. Even during the small reception his grandfather's pride beamed from that man in an overflowing way. Mom of course was so proud of her baby boy, and I enjoyed watching Anthony soak in the limelight for a while. It was his moment and every second was precious to him.

So take that State Board! No matter how many labels you place on a kid or poor choices you make for some kids regarding their education, there are teachers who are going to fight and acknowledge awesome kids for persevering.

When I'm Slightly Sleep Deprived

Here's what I wrote a couple of weeks ago for an assignment in creative writing. I hated it at the time, but when I'm incredibly tired it seems incredibly funny:

If You Say So Darth Vader
or How I Might Be Seduced by the Dark Side

        
Often I ponder the mysteries of The Force and why the Jedi didn’t take full advantage of its power. Like, why didn’t they just stay home and drop huge objects on their enemies from afar. I mean, The Force is all around right? And Luke Skywalker always seemed like kind of a pansy to me. (Obi Wan should have trained Leia. She would have proved a much worthier student.) Even Yoda in his diminutive stance managed to battle Dooku and raise Luke’s spaceship from the muck of Degobah.

            Then I imagine what it would take for Darth Vader to convince me to embrace his devious ways. The conversation goes something like this:

            “Join me.” Heavy breathing. Heavy breathing.

            “Why? What’s in it for me?” I take a parade rest stance while maintaining “eye” contact.

            “The Dark Side of The Force allows you to use it to terrify those who don’t see the world as you wish them to see it.” Heavy breathing. Heavy breathing.

            “Dude, I’m a teacher. I can terrify students without The Force.”

            “Yes, but can you spin them upside down and pin them to the wall until they succumb to your every command?” Heavy breathing. Heavy breathing.

            “Well no. That does sound like a useful tool.” At this point I would contemplate how I could enforce silence by clamping mouths shut without having to touch the students. Here is where Lord Vader would begin to see the foothold he has on me.

            “Yes. I can sense you are giving in to the ease with which you can manage your classroom. Think of what we could do together!” Heavy breathing. Heavy breathing.

            “What do you mean ‘together?’”

            “I will help with the parents should they be upset by your usual methods.” Heavy breathing. Heavy breathing.

            “And I would…?”

            “You would be at the Emperor’s beck and call to proofread and edit all Galactic Imperial mandates. The last person who held that position performed unsatisfactorily.” Heavy breathing. Heavy breathing followed by a raised arm with the hand in the shape of a sideways “C” and the other hand gliding across his neck.

            “And I could turn any child upside down or shut him up?”

            “But of course.” Heavy breathing. Heavy breathing.

            “When I die would I be able to come back glowing blue?”

            “Uh…no.” Heavy breathing. Heavy breathing.

            “No dice.”

A Little Complaining Never Hurt Anyone

Yesterday I attended my grandpa's funeral service. A loving and rather funny individual, my grandpa always seemed to be in a good mood. Only when he was hooked up to machines or under the influence of multiple dosages of a myriad of drugs did he ever cross over into an unpleasant nature. All in all, I believe my grandpa loved life and lived it the best way he could.

Of course losing him caused me to evaluate my own life because death is the best way to remind a person of her mortality. I like what I found when I started to look at my life. I try hard to do the right thing, laugh often (usually at myself), and let go of the bad. Sometimes I get frustrated and complain a little, but I feel that is a necessary facet of my humanity. However, I am appalled at the current trend of Facebook statuses that end with "FML."

Ask any teenager what those three letters mean, and they will be able to tell you without hesitation. That truly scares me. I remember how life and death everything could seem when I was a teenager. I also recall how unjust the world felt. That's because, like all teenagers, I was selfish and stupid.

Usually I find that hideous "FML" tag following a status where the teen didn't get his way or is being asked to do something for someone else without a "reward." Basically, the teen is being asked to be a decent human being.

I am disturbed because these kids don't know what they are really wishing upon themselves by wanting to f*** their lives. I find it hard to believe that whatever injustice has been done is worth forfeiting life. I cannot imagine that a teenager would want to give up his life because he has to do homework. This means that this tagline is being used rather flippantly. I don't like that teens are okay with using this kind of language and sentiment to define their lives. Why can't they look at what they do have? They have, God willing, years of fun and happiness and success and love and memories to build!

My grandfather fought degenerative heart issues up until he passed away. I promise he never once would have wanted to f*** his life. I want to post the comment "Shame on you for insulting one of the greatest gifts God has given you" every time I see "FML."

Now imagine how seeing "FML" at the end of one of my adult friends' posts, who should know better, makes me feel.


Complaint number two (then I'm done being negative I swear) centers around a billboard I saw the other day.

As I was driving down the highway, I saw a billboard sponsored by Texas Teachers that read "Want to teach? When can you start?" Gee, thanks for slapping me in the face. As one of my friends put it, "Any retard can teach." Even though I hate using the word "retard" in such a way, that is exactly how the billboard made me feel.

Why do I pour my heart and soul into my classroom and my students? Because it is what God has planned for me to do. Never once have I doubted this. My gift is to educate students and to make sure they are ready to conquer the world if they need to. It infuriates me when I find teachers who don't feel this way. I want them to stop wasting their time and ruining the students' lives.

That's probably the biggest reason I hate that billboard. Just because a person is educated doesn't mean he can be handed a teaching certification and shoved in a classroom. There are teachers who have been certified and in the profession for years and don't belong there.

In true Lydia fashion, I completely stuck my foot in my mouth when a friend of mine told me that Texas Teachers is the alternative certification program he is using to become certified (note--he's the same friend that so eloquently summed up my feelings about the billboard). After some quick back peddling, I tried to convince him that he definitely belongs in a classroom (though, since that conversation he has contemplated teaching in a private or boarding school setting--this would of course rob many worthy public school children of a strong English education--and yes, if he's reading this I hope he is feeling very, very guilty).

To sum it all up: Thank you Texas Teachers for making my job seem so easy a monkey could do it.


Okay, no more negative posts for a while:).

Why I'll Never Be J.K. Rowling

The obvious comparison is that I'm not British; I'm Texan. That means her accent is way cooler than mine. Then there's the fact that I lead a happy, healthy, tragedy-free life. So really I am incapable of being a great writer. When you think about writers who work their way in to literary canons, they usually have survived some near death or hopeless struggle. Or they are around others who are near death or hopeless, and these things become the fuel behind their creative fires.

I don't struggle. I'm not near death (although I do teach high school English so it might equate on some level). Growing up was a good experience for me: no split parents, no tragic events, no abuse, etc. Is this such a terrible thing? I am loved. I like that:).

None of the above changes the fact that I'd like to write a least one novel. I would like to write something someone can relate to or be moved by. When my graduate program offered a class on writing the short story, I jumped right on it. It could be my chance to find something to substitute for the lack of "dark times" in my life.

Here's what I've learned so far:

1. Audiences are not only vital but so contradictorily subjective. See, we have to critique short stories from everyone in class. Not that I think everyone should love my writing like I do, but all the comments I received did not help much. There were a few that made sense like, "You could probably delete this because you make your point well elsewhere" or "It might help to clarify this idea for people not familiar with this concept." But overall it was just frustrating. One person would like my "dark" humor and another was appalled that one of her son's teachers might be thinking such things (my story concerned a comedic encounter between an English teacher and Cliffs Notes that ends in arson). What am I supposed to do with that? To whom do I listen? I figure that the latter type of people would not be the ones inclined to read my novel (should one ever be written), and I'm okay with that until I realize...
2. I'm slightly smarter than the average American, and that's apparently a problem. There are about four or five people in my class who I think are in the same boat. Actually, I'm sure of it because they are the same four or five who gave me useful information with regards to editing my piece. Plus, they tended to understand more of the subtleties in my writing. However, if I ever intended to reach mass market status, I fear I will have to cater to those less adept with higher order thinking skills. Am I willing to do that? Probably not.
3. In the end, no one can truly teach about writing. I know books have been written and workshops are given, but none of it matters. I will either write something worth reading or I won't. An editor will tell me how to fix it, not an eclectic collection of night school college students. 

I'm not trying to sound hateful or ungrateful because I have met some fascinating people in this class. And some of them have far superior writing skills. I just realize that my life is good and as a result I will not be able to label myself a "suffering artist" exploding my masterpiece onto the page (my entertainingly inane thoughts on this blog will have to do for now).

My husband might be a little disappointed at this revelation because he is really counting on the movie deal for my first novel. But he'll get over it.

I've Reached a Verdict

Loathing a jury summons is almost as American as apple pie in my world. I teach in the public school system for cryin' out loud! Why should I still be subjected to serving my country by sitting in a room with hundreds of strangers hoping I'll be out early enough to grab a decent lunch and afternoon nap?

Today it occurred to me that hating jury duty does not stem from the fact that it takes me out of my classroom for a whole day, which should be enough. No, I despise jury duty because the city does nothing to show me any kind of gratitude for bothering to show up.

I've served at the main courthouse downtown and at the jail/courthouse. However, my summons this time was for the municipal court, a building I've only ever seen in passing. (Actually, the only thing I knew about it before today was that it was where Oswald was placed after the Kennedy Assassination. I didn't know they actually still used the building.) Usually the summons tells you where to park, but this one didn't. Problem #1 and this was before I even left my house.

I left with plenty of time to drop my son off at daycare and face some morning traffic to get to the building on time. Now, I know that downtown likes to play cruel tricks on unsuspecting drivers with one way streets that make getting lost easy and getting back on track a pain in the neck. Well today my problem was NOT wanting to make a turn in a direction a street did not permit. The problem was that even though I needed and wanted to turn left and the street was a one way going left, drivers are not allowed to turn left on the left going one way street between the hours of 7 and 9 A.M. (It was 8:30 A.M.) WHAT THE DEUCE?! That makes zero sense. How can I possibly turn around if I'm not allowed to turn down any streets? I ended up passing one of my friend's apartment building three times today because all I could do was go up and down Main Street.

Once I managed to get back on the end of town where the Municipal Building is located, I realized that I had no idea where I was supposed to park. This court is already in a slightly seedy area and none of the "parking lots" manned by men with little orange flags to wave customers in were appealing to a mild-manner five footer from the suburbs. So again I had to drive all the way down to the other end of Main Street before being able to about face and look for a parking garage near the court (at this point it is 8:45 A.M.).

On my second round about the Municipal Building I notice a parking garage to my right. Yea! Oh wait...there it goes because I CANNOT TURN ONTO THE STREET WHERE THE ENTRANCE IS LOCATED. Son of a...

Finally at 9:00 A.M. I pulled into the parking garage and notice it will cost me $12 to park there. Maybe they validate? (Turns out they don't. Gee, what a gracious way to thank me for my civil service.)

At least I parked near the garage entrance that is directly across the street from the building entrance. Nope, wrong! They even posted a police officer at the door to tell people that the entrance we had to use was around the corner. Then why on Earth would you have an entrance where you would need to post an officer if it's not used as an entrance?

I must be spoiled from my other jury duty experiences because I found this place a complete dump. It has to be the arm pit of our city's justice system. Come 9:30 A.M. (the time the summons demanded we report) and no one bothers to come to the dilapidated juror room to greet us or inform us about what would be going on for the day. There's not even an electronic system to give us a number for sorting purposes. (I'm still convinced they just threw all of our summons into a gigantic hat and picked the 15 they needed.) At 10:15 A.M. a very nice judge came in and made us recite our oaths. By 12:30 P.M. I was on my way to meet my mom for lunch.

In the end I was not chosen. BUT it doesn't change how unappreciated I truly feel because the city did nothing to make it easier for me to be at jury duty. At least they could have gone halfsies with me on my parking!

13 Going on 30

This weekend ABC "Family" (the family is in quotes because most of the programming I would never watch with my children because it is quite inappropriate) had a Harry Potter weekend. On Saturday they played movies one through four, and today they played two through five. Not only did I watch both days, I even debated watching movie six before going to bed. But the more mature thing to do is go to bed since I have work in the morning.

Whilst watching these films on television, all of which I own on DVD, it occurred to me how attached I am to the entire character list from the book series as well as the actors and actresses playing them in the movie versions. I have to be honest: I've read the series a minimum of three times and can quote the movies almost as well as episodes of The Golden Girls (that's for another post). It is just so well put together, and each character can feel so real. When I watch the movies all in a row or read the books right before a new movie comes out, I see these people grow up.

Today my eyes actually teared up slightly when I realized that the final movie comes out July of 2011. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the rest are very real to me in the sense that I can suspend my disbelief long enough to buy into their adventures and lives. This means that should I ever be blessed in a way to meet Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, or any of the numerous famous British actors that parade through the series I would turn into a useless 13-year-old. I would get some weird hot flash, sweaty palms, barely be able to speak, etc.

I have to face facts. At 30ish years of age, I'm still a nerd. That's what this is really about.

(Don't pretend. I really, really would like to meet them.)

A Spring in My Step*

Saturday is coming to a close which means my Spring Break will be over in about 24 hours. Usually, I pine for all the lost time and what I wish I'd accomplished over the break. Usually, my house is still a wreck, laundry still needs to be washed, papers need to be graded, and grocery shopping needs to be done. I always feel so worthless after these breaks because I mostly sleep and watch television. Well, I can proudly say that I did not allow my break to pass me by this year. My house is clean, laundry is caught up, and Chris went to get groceries for us this evening. Of course I still didn't grade any papers, but I can live with that. Actually, the only reason I am still awake is to take full advantage of all my time left (plus The Karate Kid is on).

I also think I feel great about this week because of the Lenten Mission I attended Monday through Wednesday. Fr. Dennis of The Brooklyn Oratory spoke about joy. How cool is that? Belonging to a religious order that goes around preaching about experiencing joy would be an awesome way to work for the Lord. Anyway, I thought I would share a bit about what this has done for me. Naturally, I am not going to give an exact overview of each day (who would read a post that long?), but I would like to condense my favorite parts.

The overall message of the three days was: Forgiveness leads to spiritual wellness which leads to joy. 

Night one really defined forgiveness for me. I know it is not approval to continue the act and that the only thing stopping me from forgiving is my own stupid pride. What really struck me is that forgiving is only the beginning of the healing process. I need to realize some people are too toxic to have in my life and will continue to hurt me. After forgiving those people, I will need to remove them from my life and move on to reaching joy. Since no one is in a position to condemn anyone else ("For as you judge, so will you be judged, and the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you." Mt. 7:2), once I forgive someone from my heart I cannot continue to "seek justice" by wishing horrible things upon them.

Night two discussed the environment for forgiveness which, of course, is the truth. When I forgive someone I will have to face some truths. These truths might be humbling and I might not like facing my own inhumanity (or the inhumane thing that was done to me). I must ultimately ask, "How true am I being in my life?" The closer I grow to God in the truth the stronger my spiritual wellness. It is important for me to remember that the truth cannot overwhelm me if I embrace it and rely on God to allow it to set me free.

The last night was by far my favorite because it shows that there is a light at the end of a healing tunnel. That is reaching joy! Fr. Dennis gave us nine ways to develop joy:

1. Develop a short memory--stop revisiting the pain 
2. Keep learning, growing, expanding
3. Be a good friend
4. Thank someone who has enriched your life
5. Overlook a flaw
6. Count your blessings
7. Look for humor in daily events
8. Deepen your faith
9. Make peace with your life

 The cool thing is that I feel like I already do many of these. However, Fr. Dennis pointed out that a great sin of human nature is to appreciate only what we've lost. I definitely do not want to fall into that category. So I've decided to live with as much joy as possible. I want people to see me and my joy. I want them to wonder the secret to all the joy in my life. I want them to ask me and listen to my response. I want them to know that even if they disagree with what I say that's okay, but the proof is in the pudding. I know that living my joy will say so much more than my words anyway.

The most moving thing we read during the mission was this poem that Mother Teresa put on the wall of her school in Calcutta:

The Paradoxical Commandments
by Dr. Kent M. Keith

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
Do good anyway.

If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.
Be honest and frank anyway.

The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.
Think big anyway.

People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.
Fight for a few underdogs anyway.

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.

People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.
Help people anyway.

Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.
Give the world the best you have anyway.

© Copyright Kent M. Keith 1968, renewed 2001

It was a very rewarding three days. My whole life feels refreshed and ready to take on the rest of the school year:).



*As you can see, my blog underwent a face lift. It turns out that the old black background with hot pink type was causing me mild headaches (I guess my eyes don't work as well as they did when I first set up my blog). I found a background that still expresses me and is much easier to read.