Being A Student Is Hard

I’m sure at one point you’ve been a student or are now the parent of a student so, ideally, you have some idea of what it’s like to be in the classroom. You know that said student should pay attention in class, do some homework, speak up during class discussion, write some essays, do some experiments, and then graduate. Being a student is not hard.

Do you know what makes it hard?

When you cuss me out when I ask to see your pass.

When you throw your pencil across the room and then get up to get said pencil, seven times in a row.

When you keep poking the girl in front of you with a pen.

When you run away from me when I ask to see your pass.

When you play your music on your phone, during class, while we’re taking notes, and there is literally no other sound in the room.

When you keep asking questions about my personal life when I ask, “Any questions?” which is obviously a question that is directly correlated to the course material.

When you refuse to work with a classmate based on their race.

When you flip me off when I ask to see your pass.

When you refuse to listen to me when I say, “please don’t touch anyone.”

When you smoke in the bathroom.

When you refuse to get out a pencil.

When you pretend to have done the reading.

When you slap a girl in class, then run back to your seat, all while I’m dealing with another situation on the opposite side of the room.

When you ignore me when I ask to see your pass.

When you fart in class.

When you use a Sharpie and draw images of the male anatomy.

When you keep touching her hair, even though I have asked you to stop nine times.

When you punch a locker after I ask you to remove your hat.

When you check Instagram every two minutes.

When you sleep in class because you’ve worked until 2:00 a.m. to help pay the rent in your grandmother’s apartment.

When you don’t have someone at home telling you that school matters.

When you don’t have money to eat lunch and you’re hungry.

When you miss the school bus because you just cannot face the ridicule today.

When you watch your mom do drugs and then expects you to care for your younger siblings.

When you have to miss school again so you can go to your father’s job and translate so he can receive the benefits he and his family deserve.

When you move from homeless shelter to homeless shelter because the system is so broken that you have been forgotten.

When you are being abused but have no one to talk to because you feel like “teachers just don’t understand.”

When you cannot study because there is too much fighting in your home.

When you cannot use a textbook because the state will not provide one for you or your classmates.

When you sell drugs at school because you need gas money to get to your more socially accepted job.

When you fight at school because your name has been dishonored and your reputation is the only thing you can control.

When you cuss out a teacher because the only way you have been taught to be heard is through volume and four letter words.

When you mock fellow classmates because you are so uncomfortable in your own skin.

When you force your partner into a sexual relationship so you feel like at least one person loves you.

When you refuse to make an appointment with a guidance counselor because all she talks about are your “A” grades when all you want to talk about is the broken home you are going home to each night.

When you act like the class clown even though you are filled with self-loathing.

When you wear revealing clothing because you just want someone to notice you today.

When you are waiting for the late bus funding to come through so you can stay after school and get extra help from teachers because you cannot fail sophomore year, again, and you need to eventually get out of the hood.

When you are a victim of the public education system and you are socially promoted and yet, you cannot read beyond a third grade level.

Being a student is hard. And being a 16 year old dealing with issues I, a responsible adult, have never, and probably will never face, is hard.  Are some students in complete control of their own actions? Sure. Are there usually greater, unknown circumstances that influence every student’s behavior? Yes. Let this serve as a reminder to me and anyone else that this life is hard and that love and grace, towards my students, my coworkers, and my neighbors, are probably the only things I should be fighting for each day. 

I Judge A Book By Its Cover (And By Everything Else)

I realize that I’m very judgmental about books. I need to be courted and wooed by a book. I need to feel as if the book was written for me, and only me. Books need to change me, even if the change is slight, in order for me to give it a stamp of approval. I do not discriminate; these parameters apply to both fiction and nonfiction texts. I want to be in a book club, but I’m afraid I’ll be kicked out because I usually negatively critique books. People have said to me, “You should read (insert book title), you’ll probably hate it though.”  I no longer find that offensive. I cannot like every book, much like I cannot (and will not) like every musician.

As an English teacher, there have been too many books that have altered my life in significant ways. I hope to create those same moments for my students, just as Ms. Duffner and Ms. Moore created those experiences for me. But having read certain books at various stages in my life, I know that I can foster a love of reading, but the meaning is entirely up to the one reading said book.

Since most of my time is filled with lesson planning, grading papers, and calling home to inform parents of their children’s behaviors, I have little time for reading for pleasure. In the summer, I fly through books. During the school year, it’s a slow crawl. With that being said, I read everywhere and whenever I can. I always carry a book with me. Not for bragging rights (“I’m so smart, look at this giant book!”) but as a reminder to fill my time with something that so greatly matters to me.  I read at the gym, every morning before work, during SSR in my lower level English classes, whenever there is a free moment at rehearsal on Thursday nights at Crosspointe, in any waiting room, at the pool, during my planning period, and the list continues. I wish I could create more hours in the day solely for reading.  

I can’t write a post about books without listing, and critiquing, a few of my favorite books. Even writing a list of “favorite” books seems absurd since my “favorites” are always changing. Here a few I have enjoyed reading multiple times, have learned from, and will always recommend to others in search of a new book to read.

1. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Yes, I have a Gatsby shirt. Yes, I disliked the most recent movie. No, I will not judge you if you hate the book. This novel, by far, is the novel I have read the most. I’ve taught it almost every semester I’ve been a teacher, read it in a few college classes, and read it in high school. That comes to total of at least 13 times, ±3. Each time I read it I learn something, discern something, and fall more and more in love with the characters. I have indulged in the writing, believed in the green light, and wanted to slap Daisy. I can’t imagine going 30 weeks without reading about failing dreams and the promise that the future could hold.

2. Bossypants by Tina Fey. The funny, strong female autobiography books are coming in strong these last few years, but Bossypants is by far the greatest. The first time I read it I stayed up until 4 in the morning sobbing laughing. Obviously, Tina Fey is hysterical. Fey’s writing about her awkward teenage years, her awkward college years, and her awkward adult years helps the reader identify with her, but it also humanizes her. And she sort of gives me hope that my life can be just as great, not despite the awkward, but because of the awkward. Fey is quick and witty in her writing (Duh, have you seen 30 Rock?) but she also writes about some poignant moments in her life.

3. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safan Foer. This novel takes everything I thought I knew about writing and storytelling and flips it upside down, shakes itself around, and then sets it down sideways. Weaving in the reality of 9/11, the fiction story of Oskar, and the ideas of self-preservation and trauma this novel tugs at the heart strings and makes you marvel at Foer’s creativity. Foer pulls in a varying amount of writing techniques and art throughout the novel that force the reader to engage with the novel in an unorthodox way which at first intimidated me (“How should I feel?!”) upon my first reading. Now I see the artistry and the complexity in the novel. Foer is one of my top authors right now.

4. The Kite Runner by Khaled Housseini. Whoa. This novel wrecked me. And then wrecked me again. The novel is set in Afghanistan during the fall of Afghanistan’s monarchy all the way to rise of the Taliban. It centers on a father and son relationship. One of the most compelling concepts of the novel are the themes of guilt and of redemption. Housseini does a remarkable job of writing about Afghanistan’s history, creating characters that are identifiable, and making me touch despair and then bringing in the light. It’s a beautiful novel.

Yes, I judge books and their authors. And I love doing it. Regardless of my judging, I love books. I love reading. I love how books and reading make me feel and think about myself, my life, and this world.

Channeling Thoreau

This week I have needed some inspiration. I have sought inspiration in my teaching, inspiration in my crafting, inspiration in my cooking, and inspiration in my writing. In the last week I have solicited coworkers, Pinterest, blogs, and the book 642 Things to Write About. And as I walked away, logged off, moved to another web page, or picked up another book I still left feeling uninspired. Could it be that I had higher expectations for this school year and they have already fallen short of the reality? Perhaps it is the lack of money that is keeping me from being as crafty as I’d like to be? Cooking is so relaxing, but “cooking for one” leaves me with less freezer space; and after being awake since 5 a.m., I use less brain cells causing me to revert to the same meals I usually make. Writing fills me with such joy, but I always find a reason, or reasons, to not have enough time.

Those are all excuses. Not a single one of those thoughts are productive or motivating. It’s so easy to convince ourselves that we don’t have enough time, that we’re too tired, or that situations are gloomier than what we expected. But where is the creativity? Where is the optimism? I realize this sounds a little “cheerleadery” and if you know me, you know I’m fairly cynical and that this is not “normal” for me.

I have decided that I’m going to approach this next year filled with hope and creativity. Hope that I will find some comfort in my job. I will be creative in how I use my artistic abilities. I will be adventurous in my cooking, no matter how exhausted I am. And I’m making an effort to be more intentional in my writing.

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” 
-Henry David Thoreau

No, I’m not giving up my possessions, moving into the woods, and observing all that this world has to offer. But I am making a choice to look deeper into what I already, so routinely, do.  I’m making a choice to look at my life and patterns through a different lens. I want to experience all that life can offer, even if it just cooking dinner.

Twenty-eight Things

“But as each year went by, she didn't feel much different than she had before. Time kept going by and she was just here, the same.” Girls in White Dresses by Jennifer Close

As I was reading Girls in White Dresses a while ago, this quote jumped out at me and has been hanging around since. This quote has been pretty accurate for my life, especially the last few years. I’ve done a few “adventurous” things, but I’ve just become so stagnant in my life.  Don’t get me wrong, I really love the majority of the things in my life but I tend to have this fear that I’m missing out on something else too. Maybe that’s a nudge telling me to push myself. Maybe that’s a whisper I need to recognize. A prod to put myself out there, to try new things, to grow, and to be okay with the change that comes.

Each year on my birthday, I make a list of things I want to achieve over the course of the year as an attempt to combat this feeling of being “the same” Mira. A few years ago I decided I was going to be selfish for the entire year. Last year I had a goal to “be open” to whatever came my way. This year I decided that I wanted to learn, experience, and try new things. I was inspired to make a list, corresponding to my age, of all the things I wanted to do. Some of the items are very practical, some are things I’ve never done before, and some are infrequent practices I’d like to turn into habits. 

28 Things To Do This Year

1. Go to dinner and a movie by myself.

2. Take a cooking, barista, or self-defense class. (Yes, I realize these are very different. I'll do whichever one is the cheapest.)

3. Learn how to change a tire.

4. Go to a city I've never been to before. (Perhaps whatever city Hanging Rock is in?)

5. Ask a guy out on a date.

6. Take a pottery or glass blowing class.

7. Go golfing with Kevin Kohles. (There is a hilarious story that accompanies this goal that I'd love to share at some point.)

8. Bake bread from scratch.

9. Blog once a week. 

10. Only buy books for people at Christmas.

11. Go an entire day without social media. 

12. Refinance/consolidate/apply for loan forgiveness on my student loans.

13. Go to an open mic night and read my fiction writing. 

14. Have a daily quiet time.

15. Build this bookshelf.

16. Make a new friend.

17. Get glasses.

18. And $50 to my savings account each month. 

19. Watch 52 Ted Talks. (One per week.)

20. Make all my friends' birthday cards.

21. Wake up, go downtown, and watch the sun rise over downtown Durham.

22. Wear my hair straight for a week.

23. Spend an afternoon in a park with a book.

24. Create an art journal.

25. Go to a writing or artist Meetup group.

26. Create my own, professional website based on my fiction writing, my photography, and my other creative talents.

27. Tour a brewery. 

28. Become more confident. 

I'm sure I'll lean on others for several of these tasks. I'm ready to learn, experience a bit more than what currently resides in my box, and grow. 

How I Spent My Summer

While sitting around with my lunch bunch at school one day, my friend Emma and I were discussing why it’s so hard to meet guys. “We work with all women.” “All the church boys we know are our brothers/best friends.” “We don’t want to get hit on in bars.” Also, for the sake of transparency, there is a lot of hesitation when it comes to dating. It’s scary, and if you’re fearful (like myself), then why pursue something you’re afraid of?

A few weeks after that conversation I went to Emma’s classroom and I pitched the idea of doing an experiment to join an online dating site. Just for the summer. It could be an opportunity to put ourselves out there, slowly begin taking down bricks from the wall, and maybe meet someone. Emma was just as hesitant as I was, but by the end of the day she had texted me a coupon code and boom, we joined match.com for three months and were embarking on our "Summer of Adventure". 

After punching in our credit card numbers and not reading the Terms and Conditions agreement form, we had logged on. Thus began my (almost) three month journey on what would be the strangest online experience I’ve ever had.

Creating your profile is enormously complicated. Trying to write about why someone should date you is incredibly awkward. Do I mention that I like reading? Does that make me sound nerdy? Do guys like smart girls? Well I like smart guys, so yes, I’ll write that I like reading. Do I say that I like music? I mean, everyone likes music, but do I have to say it? Do I list the bands that I like? That can be overwhelming and the site only gives me 400 characters in this box and there’s no way I can condense what music I like in that amount of space. Do I mention my laugh? Oh well, he'll find out. Then I have to pick a photo. Oh gosh. Fine, whatever my facebook profile picture is. Oh, select a few more. Fine. Top five facebook photos. This is weird. After spending about five hours going back and forth over what I had written about myself I just threw my hands in the air and said “screw it”. I can change it later and I’m overthinking it anyways.

I had certain boundaries set on the kind of guy I wanted to date: 25-37, Christian, lives within 20 miles of my zip code, likes reading and music, must have a sense of humor, must be kind. Little did I know that this guy is an anomaly on match.com.

Now I must begin looking at guys. Talk about being overwhelmed. So. Many. Guys. I read every profile I could the first few weeks. And it felt awkward. Almost like online shopping for a date. After the newness of joining the site, it started to feel a little creepy.

Wait, I can “wink” at a guy? Based on my experience, this is the first step in starting a conversation with a guy. At first, it was liberating. I can be outgoing and click a button and let a guy know I’m interested without being afraid of rejection. I don’t know him and he certainly doesn’t know me. You’ve both winked at each other so now what? Well, I can “favorite” a guy. This is when you’ve read their profile, are interested in pursuing something further than just “hey, you’re cute”. “Favoriting” a guy is exceedingly nerve-wracking. How can I favorite him?! I don’t really know them. They wrote a few well crafted paragraphs, that’s it. Then comes emailing. That’s the real test. I’ll come back to the messaging portion of my summer adventure in a moment.

But here’s the reality: not a lot of guys fit what I’m looking for. Too young. No job. Not Christian. Too old. You’ve misspelled every other word in your profile. Why are there photos of you with girls on your profile? Is that a dead deer in the background? One of your profile pictures is your origami dinosaur collection. Nine out of your 10 profile pictures is you posturing without a shirt on, and newsflash, I’m not into that.

Then there were the guys who were already a “no”, but then they decided to push themselves into the “even if the fate of the human race was in my hands the answer is ‘no’ ” category. Keep in mind, these are direct quotes from various guys who messaged me on match.com.

“I love your red lips.” Umm, you don’t know me. Please don’t.

“Do you wear 80’s clothes? I love 80’s clothes.” What is happening?

“Do you like guys with earrings? I’m wearing a cross, dangly earring right now.” Stop.

“I live 250 miles away, let’s meet halfway.” Uhh…

“I know I’m 62, but I’m looking for a young love.” Why did I do this again?

“I’m looking for my princess, are you her?” Nope.

“I don’t want to date anyone with man hands.” I think I’m good.

“Id lick to trad numberz and git ta no u.” It pains me to read this.

“I just want to come and save you.” Umm, I don’t need to be saved, especially by you.

And there are others that spiral more and more into tasteless and slightly bizarre.

After two and half months, I officially cancelled my three month subscription. But I didn’t do so lightly. I didn’t like the idea of online dating because it didn’t seem organic, but it’s 2014 and I know several success stories from online dating. I know that if I stayed with online dating over the course of a year, then the likelihood of me meeting someone is higher. I just don’t have the money to pour into another nine months of online dating and I just began to feel uncomfortable spending my already limited amount of money on something that I didn’t enjoy.

Attempting to wade through the nonsense and awkward emails from guys, I learned a lot about myself. I know what I want, and don’t want, and I’m not afraid to vocalize that. I learned that I’m worthy of waiting for someone who actually is interested in me, not the best version of myself that is presented in a dating profile, a facebook profile, a twitter account, or an Instagram photo. I thought I already knew that a guy being a Christian is important to me, but I learned that if he’s not one, then it’s actually a deal breaker for me. I learned that it’s ok to be complimented and it’s ok to accept a compliment. I also learned that I prefer to meet someone through a friend, or at a bookstore, or at a music show. That seems the most comfortable for me. Do I think I could meet someone somewhere else, in another way? Sure. Am I willing to try it? Sure. Will I do online dating again? Right now, no. 

I had high expectations for the summer. I expected to push myself, perhaps meet someone, and gain some confidence. And I met some of those expectations. I am still pursuing those goals, but this time, I don’t want to sit behind a computer and do it.

Why I Like Thomas From Downton

I almost feel guilty saying that I like Thomas from Downton Abbey. For those of you who don’t know, he’s “the bad guy” on the show. He is pretty evil. However, there is something that makes me love him. I said this to a few coworkers and they looked at me in disgust. Please allow me to fully explain.

It’s so easy to write Thomas off. He’s the bad guy. He’s mean. He has no heart. His arrogance is annoying. His motives are always self-serving and he doesn’t care to have any positive relationships with others. And we love to hate him. We’re told to hate him through great writing and acting, and we follow our orders very well. But even though we hate him, there’s something about him that strikes a chord within myself.

Perhaps Thomas represents something in me, in all of us, in humanity. He is the ugly, the ruthless, the disregard for others that some of us are, carry, or bury deep within ourselves. His self-serving demeanor is something I despise, but I keep coming around and defend. He’s broken. He’s hurt. He’s alone. He’s just like the rest of us.

Thomas, like so many other characters, exemplifies the part we all try to hide, cover, and pretend doesn’t exist. Much like Iago from Othello, Curley’s Wife from Of Mice and Men, Satan from Paradise Lost or Voldemort from the Harry Potter series, they all just want to belong, feel loved, or be accepted. And those desires become powerful enough to drive them to be in constant pursuit of those qualities and they turn “evil.” So why write about evil? Does it function as a warning for us all?

On some level, we all have exhibited the “bad” behaviors of Thomas and these other literary characters. Maybe you lie. Maybe you quietly retreat into your aggression. Maybe you disguise your disdain with a smile. Maybe you fail to show grace, and instead write that person off for good. How often do we, myself included, do this to coworkers, people at the gym, someone we call a “friend?” I will admit I’m guilty of doing such actions. Perhaps Thomas and I aren’t that so far removed.

So what’s the answer? What’s the trick in keeping us from continuing to be like Thomas, Iago, and Voldemort? Stay away from England? I’m not sure if there is an answer. Perhaps turning to love. Showing love when it’s hardest, when it’s the last action we want to perform, when it’s the last thing on our mind. And I know, easier said than done, especially because I don’t know your past, baggage, and hardships. Love definitely isn’t what I turn towards first.

But what’s the alternative?

Becoming like Thomas.

The Times They Are A-Changin'

I’m so grateful for a second semester. I get new students, new energy, and a new perspective. I’m still teaching English III (American literature) this semester but I have an Honors class and I couldn’t be more excited about using my brain in a different way this semester.

A second semester reignites teaching for so many of us teachers. I’m able to shake off the dust from texts I haven’t read in awhile. I’m able to meet a new crop of fresh faces. I get a chance to start over. As humans we crave change, whether we willingly admit it or not, and in my world, a new semester allows for that. However, this change is a safe one. Ultimately, I know exactly what this semester will consist of. Students will come in, I’ll teach, we’ll have some laughs, there will be some tears (from both them and me), and at the end of the semester hopefully they’ll have learned and I hope to walk away knowing I gave 100%.

But this is safe. I’ve done this long enough and now I’m comfortable. And that comfort is a little disconcerting. I need change. I want change. So I’ve decided to change some things. I’m looking for some new novels to teach my Honors students. But even that doesn’t make up for the real change I want.

So I’ve decided to make other changes. This year is my last semester as Riverside’s yearbook advisor. With a lot of thoughtfulness, prayer, and pro/con lists I decided to step down from The Helm. I jumped into becoming the yearbook advisor five years ago because I wanted a job. I had no idea what exactly I was getting into when I started and now I can’t imagine what the last five years would have looked like without yearbook. I didn’t work on the yearbook in high school; I was “the newspaper girl”. But by taking on yearbook five years ago I learned about art, creativity, design, layout, Photoshop, and a myriad of other useful, creative elements. I’ve had the opportunity to build relationships with students that typically aren’t built within the standard confines of a 90-minute English class. I’ve learned how to run a $60,000 business. I’m incredibly grateful for this education over the course of these last five years.

Leaving yearbook was hard to decide, hard to tell my students, and hard to face when thinking about next year. But it’s the best decision for my sanity, my professional career, and me. To be a yearbook advisor it takes a lot of work, extra energy, and a lot of pressure and while I was happy to do it, some years without the measly extra pay, I didn’t want to get burned out or begin to resent something I’ve loved.

On this journey I call Change I’m also getting Advanced Placement (AP) certified this summer, hopefully in Boston or San Diego or someplace equally thrilling. In doing so, I can take on teaching an AP English IV class next year, if available, at RHS. After teaching American literature for five years, AP would mean teaching British literature. British literature: where my heart truly lies, where I fell in love with reading, where I was able to escape into a life completely unknown to me.

Dropping yearbook and picking up an AP class helps in this walk with Change. I know I want more out of this life. More than being a teacher. More than coming home with stacks of papers. More than spending countless hours after school. More than making phone calls to parents who don’t care or aren’t available. In this change I’ve advocated for and sought out, I’m hoping that it will be enough. That I’ll get excited again. And if not, then I’ll change again.