Reminiscing

I was trying to use my time wisely yesterday by actually cleaning and organizing the catch-all bureau that is in our dining room. For only having four drawers, I was amazed at the amount of crap my husband and I have stuffed inside ... Pads of paper, pens and pencils, rulers, rubber bands, miniature novelty license plates, pocket knives, a Magic 8-Ball, an address book, address labels, blank "thank you" cards, to-do lists, calculators, old folders and notebooks, a dissection kit ... The list could go on and on.

Even though I was able to rid our lives of piles (and piles!) of needless stuff, I did find a little gem that I hadn't realized was there at all.

Take a look:


This page from an assignment planner (from my senior year of college) is pretty much unassuming and unnecessary for keeping except for one little thing.

Do you see it?

I'll give you a hint ... The heart drawn on the 25th.

If you look closely, that metallic heart says "9:56" inside of it. That marks the exact time my husband proposed to me, on one knee in my dorm room, and asked my in no uncertain terms to be his wife and make him the happiest man alive (his words, not mine).

It has been more than four years since that day and, hopefully, I'm still keeping up my end of the bargain. :)

Baby Boom

Practically everyone around me of child-bearing age is having babies.

My friend from college, my sister-in-law, two of my cousins ... I know that measly little list may not sound like "everyone" to you, but for me, that is a lot of people in my small circle of friends and family.

I, personally, (for now we'll leave the husband out of this) have felt ready to have a baby for a little a while now. That biological clock that everyone talks about has certainly been ticking a little bit louder. However, being the ultra-logical person that I am, life has, up until this point, always gotten in the way.

• First, it was the education program that I was a part of ... I wanted to finish so that I could make the career change from scientific research to science teaching.
• Then, it was finding that first teaching job.
• Then, it was completing (scratch that, surviving) my first year and all the various tests that go along with it.
• Then, it was making sure I'd be able to go on my family's first ever out-of-the-country Christmas vacation to Mexico ... Without a newborn baby in tow.

Now, I don't really have any excuses.

I am looking for that new job (and a spring baby would certainly cut my school year a little bit short) but I'm starting to see that, if I wait for life to settle down to a point where it seems ready to accept a child into the mix, I'm fooling myself.

Or am I just speeding up the natural process of things because "everyone else is doing it?"

I've never been one to follow the leader, I always was the leader, but it seems that, with babies, there's that little voice (or is it the ticking?) that gets louder and louder when other people are where you'd like to be. As a first time mother, I'd imagine that you need all the help you can get, so what is better than an already established support group of family and friends toting around kids of their own?

But, there I go being logical again.

It is all very strange to me that I'm even spending parts of my days thinking about this (and, believe me, I have way too much time to think on my summer vacation). At 25, I don't necessarily feel like I'm old and mature enough to even have a baby, but, somehow, I just feel ready. I felt ready to get married at 22 and I feel ready now ... And the marriage is working out pretty well so far, maybe the baby stuff will too.

All that said, the whole thing is null and void if the aforementioned husband isn't on board ... He's much more afraid of giving up his little freedoms than I am, and he's concerned about how being back at school and looking for a new career will fit in to the picture. I hear him loud and clear, but we would be waiting forever if every little detail had to be ironed out first ... And then we'd be too old to have kids! Of course, all this is assuming that conception happens without a hitch ... And who knows how that will go? All the statistics that I see, say that 9 out of 10 couples of child-bearing age that are trying to conceive will be able to do so in the first year ... But what if we are that 1 out of 10?

You truly never know.

Life just contains so many "ifs" that it's impossible to really plan anything. It's funny that I even give this any thought because, deep down, I know that what is meant to happen, will happen. Current baby boom or not, my (our) time will eventually come.

Maybe we should just keep doing what we're doing until that margin of error eventually catches up to us and ... POOF ... Hello unplanned pregnancy!

On second thought, that might create more problems than it solves. I don't think my husband would ever recover from the shock. :)

Lazy Days

Whoever coined the phrase, "It's a dog's life" certainly did not have cats!



I mean, how could anything but this be considered the life of luxury?

The Gully and the Bridge

After arriving home from work today, my husband had an interesting analogy for me. He is currently back at school, trying to find a new career, and is (needless to say) a little nervous and apprehensive as to how things are going to work out.

He's not what you would call a risk-taker ...

"Pretend that this is a map, a very old map," he began, holding up one of his horror movie magazines for me to look at. "The winding road starts here, way down at this corner, and eventually progresses across the page ... Until it gets to the middle. Right here."

My gaze followed his finger to a picture of a creepy-looking guy holding a shotgun.

"Right here, is where there's a gully. It's big and wide and there is supposed to be a bridge that crosses it ..."

"But it's an old map," I interrupted. "And it might not be there?"

"Exactly. Who knows if it's still there? I could have driven all this way. Gone through all of these different obstacles to get there and ... Nothing. I'm stuck with no way to get across."

"Or, even worse," I replied with a smirk, egging him on, "it's still there, but it's old and rickety ..."

"Yeah," he nodded. "And then when the car is about halfway across, the bridge will fall and I'll die."

He's quite the optimist, as you can see ... I don't doubt that he's got a huge gully in front of him. Heck, I stood at the edge of a similar gully about a year ago. All I can say is that, hopefully, the bridge is still there (and it's strong enough to carry him across).

Inspiration

People often ask me why I wanted to leave my comfortable research job and become a teacher.

"Summer break," is usually my reply, but there really is more to it than that.

While I believe that teaching is a vocation that I have been called to do, I don't have a long history of wanting to do it. Even so, I have always loved to learn and immerse myself in academia, no matter what the discipline. I like the challenge that each day brings and enjoy that teaching is, ultimately, a very family-friendly profession. I consider myself to be every enthusiastic about science and like spreading that enthusiasm on to others that might not otherwise think twice about it ... But, underneath all of these reasons, there is one that keeps cropping up more and more in my mind.

My Uncle.

Today would be his birthday if he was still with us (he died last summer of cancer that spread from his prostate to just about every other area of his body).

Before the cancer took over, he was a teacher, through and through. A high school business and keyboarding teacher, to be exact ... Subjects in which he barely scraped by when he was a teenager (believe me, I've seen his report cards). From the stories he told and from the stories I've heard from his former students (my father, my best friend, my cousins, and my sister being some of them), he was not the type of teacher that was heavily focused on content, although it was important. He was the type of teacher that built solid relationships with his students and did the unexpected to keep them interested.

For example, in a business law class he "tripped" over a student's book bag (and, let me just point out, my uncle was a large man) and threw himself to the ground to show that lawsuits can crop up anywhere. He wrote reference letters for high school drop outs, kids that he believed had potential even if it wasn't academic. He was an inspiring individual and touched many lives ...
More and more, I see that I have a greater connection to teaching than I even realized.

When he died last summer, I was just finishing up my very first week with students. In my tizzy of being overwhelmed and nervous and scared that I made the wrong career decision, I never did call him to let him know how things were going. Looking back, I wish I would have picked up the phone that one last time. I wish I would have called and let him know how important his support and guidance were to me and how I hoped to be as successful as he had been over the years.

Only time will tell if I even begin to fill his teaching shoes.

I just hope that I can (and did) make him proud.

Other-in-laws

Yes, you read that title correctly. It is not a typo.

Often, when a couple is engaged and planning to get married, most people offer warnings about the dreaded "mother-in-law." I have been lucky in this respect, because my mother-in-law is a wonderful woman. She's not without her flaws, of course, but things could certainly be worse!

The thing you are never warned about, however, and the thing to which you have absolutely no control, are the "other-in-laws." I'm talking about the extended family that becomes related through the marriage of one of your in-laws. In my case, my sister-in-law. This group of family is slightly removed, and most of the time you don't even have to deal with them, but, when you do, it is like treading into some crazy, new territory.

This past weekend, I had the extreme pleasure (please note the sarcasm) of attending a birthday cook-out for my sister-in-law's husband. Being that they had reason for celebration as well, the entire group of other-in-laws was there. As I've mentioned in a previous post, I'm not the most social of beings, so making small talk with these strangers isn't the easiest, and/or most pleasant, thing for me to do. Even so, I tried to make the best of it.

For example, coming up the driveway and into the house, I noticed one of my other-in-laws and her husband signing their card in the car.

My husband and I had just done this ourselves, so I smiled and made the passing comment: "I guess us oldest siblings have the same idea," as I held our card in the air.

I was met with a mostly blank stare.

I just kept walking.

You see, it is things like this that seem to define this set of other-in-laws. With the exception of the other-in-law mother (my sister-in-law's mother-in-law for those of you trying to keep track), they don't like to make any effort to strike up a meaningful conversation. They sort of sit there, talking with each other, and pretend that you aren't even in the same place. Just like my brother-in-law (it must run in the family), the most contact you get is a look and maybe a smirk or smile ... Or a "hello" or "good-bye." Nothing in between. It's this standoff-ish attitude that makes me wonder if they're just shy, too, or if they are actually stuck-up.

Unfortunately, I'm not the type of person to throw caution to the wind and make the first move. Especially after my little comment about card-signing didn't even warrant a smile or a chuckle. I guess only time will tell how our relationships progress ... And as my sister-in-law brings her new baby into the picture, I'm sure we'll have many more opportunities to figure things out.

Thank Heaven ...

The father of all daughters (especially one that lives in a house with only one bathroom) deserves a very special place in heaven.

My dad is one such father:


No matter what was going on in the house during any stage of our female lives, he was always there for us. No amount of drama was too big.

When I was fourteen I started my very first period (I was a late bloomer). My mom was out of town on business at the time, clear across the country in California. With no cell phone to reach her (we didn't have one back then), I nervously went to my dad with my dilemma. He was surprisingly calm, now that I think back about it, and simply asked me what type of product I wanted him to purchase ... Tampons? Pads? Wings or no wings? I guess he had been waiting for this to happen, sooner or later, and he made the situation that much easier for me to deal with.

The above example is just one reason why the father of all daughters deserves that special place in heaven. He deals with much more than any man should have to deal with ... For all he knew, he'd only have to learn the little idosynchracies of one female, and here he ended up with three more! He knows when to just sit there an listen, and when to offer his well-seasoned advice. He knows when to enforce a curfew (usually when boys are involved) and when to let his little angels have an extra hour here or there. He knows the value of blatant honesty, especially when it comes to clothing (or the lack thereof), and isn't afraid to speak his mind on typically "girly" topics.

I am tremendously lucky to have grown up with the father that I have ... And, in my humble opinion, he is tremendously lucky to have "grown up" with us!

Who needs a bunch of boys, anyway?

For Sale

Interviews are all about selling yourself, and, apparently, I'm not doing a very good job.

I've been on just under ten interviews so far this year. Thinking back to the five I went on last year, as I searched for my first teaching position, this general increase is, in itself, an improvement. At least, now, employers are seeing my qualifications and history and actually giving me a chance to come in and talk with them. If only these "talks" proved to be more beneficial. If only they would lead to a job offer.

I can't begin to describe how sick I am of the tired: "We appreciate your time and really enjoyed meeting you."

Or the: "It was a very difficult decision but..."

(Always a but, isn't there?)

Or the: "We hope you'll think about being on our substitute list this fall."

It reminds me of the "always a bridesmaid, never a bride" stuff. I'm good enough to be a part time substitute in their school district, but I'm somehow unworthy of getting a stable, full time position. They like me and see some potential there, they just don't want to hire me for fear that my inexperience will do me, and their district, in. I just wish someone (other than a Catholic or urban school that has nothing to lose) would take a look at my unique science background, my success of just finishing this school year with a smile on my face, and my desire to learn and continually improve myself and my teaching abilities ... And hire me!

I know that I can do a good job if given the chance.

I guess that I'm not letting them know it, as well. ;(

Social Butterfly

I'm awkward, there are no two ways around it.

It is just part of my personality.

Put me in an overtly social situation and I clam up ... Guaranteed! I'm only half way comfortable when I'm with family or very close friends, and, even then, I have some trouble. I consider myself to be an intelligent individual, but, sometimes, when I open my mouth, I feel so irrelevant and so ... Well, dumb.

I think that is why I got a really good laugh out of this MSN ad when I saw it the other day.

I'm just like that guy, only female.

I've got a weird fashion sense, glasses not much unlike those, a need to look good and feel accepted in front of others, and I'm not up-to-date on the "must know stuff" that is spoken about in the clip:

Basketball scores? Please.

Celebrities currently in rehab? I could care less. Truth be told, there are actually instances where I secretly laugh at how people with money have more messed up lives than people without it.

Compact cars with the most horsepower? No thanks. I'm not in the market for a new car, especially with gas costing around $4.00 a gallon!

The "perfect Bahama Mama" ... Hmmm. That might actually come in handy.

Especially on a 90-degree day like today! ;)

New Eyes

I just picked up a new pair of eyeglasses yesterday.

My vision is pretty terrible, so this routine of seeing the doctor and then dropping over $300 on some eye wear has been a part of my life for many years. I've always loved the idea of "updating" my look with some new frames and picking out something completely different from my previous pair. This year, I actually made the switch from wire frames, to more nerd-worthy plastic ones. They are thicker and more noticeable, but cute, and are very comfortable because they don't have those annoying little plastic pads that dig into your nose and trap sweat, dirt, and other nasty particles.

Anyway, being that these glasses are new, the prescription is also stronger. Much stronger. I've always enjoyed and dreaded that first moment when the store clerk gives you your new purchase and you switch the old frames for the new. Anyone who needs vision correction knows what I'm talking about ... That moment where you put the new pair of glasses on and suddenly feel all cross-eyed and discombobulated, yet you can see 100% clearly for the first time in who-knows-how-long. It is probably one of the strangest feelings that I've experienced. It's like being drunk and dizzy, but not quite ... Completely tuned in to every little detail ahead of you, yet somehow aware of the increased blurriness in your periphery.

If only life was this way ...

Wouldn't it be wonderful to just put on a new set of eyes and see things clearly after a lifetime of haze?

Wouldn't it be wonderful to be eerily aware of everything and yet completely clueless to the meaning of it all ... All at the same time?

What if you could truly erase past judgements and make "first impressions" all over again?

What if the wrongs of the past could just fade into the background while the future became ever clearer?

The world would be a much better place if we all just got a new pair of glasses!

Overworked and Undermined

Today was the last day of school ... My last day as a first year teacher.

In celebration of that fact, I would love to post about how I learned and grew so much ... Which, I'm sure, I did. Instead, however, I will be ranting about how things came full circle. How the tired, worn habits of my principal left me feeling unaccomplished (and like one of my sixth graders) when I should have been celebrating.

Hold on to your hats!

Let me just begin by saying that my principal is a nun.

Yes, my inner city school just happens to be a private, Catholic institution that accepts vouchers from the city instead of tuition from the parents. Catholic or not, the school is pretty typical and encounters problems similar to those of the public schools in the area ... Money is tight and good behavior is in short supply.

I have learned to live with and love the kids and I now realize that their erratic behavior is a mirror of their erratic and hectic home lives. I have also learned that Sister does not bend or flex for anyone. She doesn't let up, not even on the very last day of school.

When I started my year, Sister always came across as very curt and condescending. She has a strong personality, to say the least, and she likes things done "her way." So, as you can probably imagine, no matter what I did during that first week, I was (inevitably) wrong. I was reprimanded from the doorway as I taught a class for speaking too "loudly." I was embarrassed in front of the entire school during mass one morning, when Sister approached me for sitting by the wrong aisle and beckoned me to follow her to the correct seat! I was told to arrange my desks differently, to pass out papers differently, and to address the students differently. Being new, I tried to take all of these "suggestions" in stride and use the criticism constructively. I tried to learn from Sister's unique management style and essentially expect it from her. I tried to push away the feelings of incompetence and self-consciousness and just do my job ...

Fast forward nine months to this week.

I am a school-year wiser, and a school-year more experienced. I am more in tune to my students and have a better understanding as to how to get them motivated. In this instance, motivation for cleaning and preparing the room for summer came by way of a movie and ice-cream party ... If we could get all of Sister's cleaning tasks completed (which there were many, an entire page's worth to be exact) we would watch a movie and eat some ice-cream on the last day of school.

Armed with the list Sister gave to each homeroom teacher, I set about making a plan of attack. Coming from a scientific research background, I made sure to budget my time and put certain tasks in sequence for ultimate effectiveness. I gave each student jobs to perform and supplied them with rags, buckets, and cleaning solution.

Unfortunately, Sister's plan did not coincide with mine.

At about 10:00 this morning (the last day of school, mind you), she entered my room, approached me, and whispered, "What are you doing?"

"We're cleaning the room," I replied numbly, knowing where this was headed. She must have visited my room a dozen times this past week alone to tell me how to do my job and change around the schedule that I thought was more than appropriate.

"You shouldn't be cleaning the room until after morning break. You should be teaching lessons now."

For once, I think my students and I felt exactly the same way ... Frustrated and confused.

Morning break was only fifteen minutes away! And, besides, we were working! We were doing a good job! Why was Sister insisting on making us stop and look at a "Say No to Drugs" coloring book made for first graders? Couldn't she see that things were under control?

I honestly can't imagine that anyone else had as much of a problem as I did this week. Things got done, the kids were under control the entire time, but somehow that wasn't good enough. It wasn't "her way" or in "her order" and therefore it was wrong.

As a teacher I am used to improvising and changing things up at a moment's notice, but this was ridiculous! I've never felt so stupid in all of my life. Why was she lurking outside of my classroom anyhow? What satisfaction does she get from telling me what to do in front of thirteen sixth graders that are looking to me as an authority figure? How does she think that makes me look? I honestly can't wait to get out of this school and rid my life of this unnecessary stress! I don't know if future principals will be any better (or worse) as my teaching career continues. I don't know if I'm in an uncommon situation where I am needlessly picked and prodded over every little detail. I do know, however, that as I search for my next teaching job, I will seek slightly better wages, but more importantly, an administration that does not treat me like just another student in the classroom.

Middle School Lessons (#4)

In honor of my eighth graders' graduation tomorrow, I want to present another "Middle School Lesson" that solely revolves around them and their (shall we say) interesting way of thinking ...

Lesson #4: Being single is sad

On many occasions, either before or after class, the topic of dating would come up with my eighth graders.

Who is dating whom? Who hasn’t dated at all? Who is “lame” for not having a boyfriend?

I was never very surprised, but I still wanted to rip my hair out!

“You’re too young to be dating,” I’d say. “Be a kid. Have fun and hang out with your friends. You don’t need to worry about dating yet!”

Then, as if to catch me and block me in some corner, I would inevitably get the following question: “Okay … Then how old were you when you started dating?”

Wonderful! They practically played into my hands without even knowing it!

“I was seventeen,” I’d say.

And this isn’t a lie. I was the type of girl that didn’t want a boyfriend. I was the type of girl that enjoyed playing sports, acting in drama club, and hanging out with her friends. Now, don’t get me wrong. I crushed on just about every young actor and/or singer that was out there: Chris O’Donnell, Leonardo DiCaprio, Ryan Phillippe, Justin Timberlake … I had (have, I should admit) a long withstanding crush on Matt Dillon too, but that’s for another day. So, yes, while I liked boys (men!?), I just didn’t want them to complicate my life.

Sometimes the questioning would continue. “Well then … How many boyfriends have you had?”

I’d smile again. They probably don’t expect what’s coming next: “One … And I married him.”

Again, this is completely true. I’ve only had one boyfriend. I won’t pretend to be completely lily white, because I did have many male friends throughout my life, but I never got around to dating any of them. I didn’t have the whole “friends with benefits” nonsense either. A friend was a friend in my book.

But, what is so wrong with that?

Some people may look at me and think I’m too young to be married or that I haven’t experienced enough to have made that decision in the first place. To them, I’d say that I don’t need to sleep around with multiple guys to know when I’ve got a good thing (and I’m not talking about sex, I’m talking about much more than that). While society and the “celebrity culture” that we see on TV and in magazines may indicate otherwise, it is possible to go against that grain. I’m a complete nonconformist when it comes to popular culture and to “the crowd.” So, in that sense, I am very unique. I stick to my beliefs and ideas with a ferocity that many lose over time. I don’t care who is doing what … If I don’t want to do it, I won’t. Underage drinking, drugs, casual sex … You name it. I’m a walking public service announcement.

I only hope that some of this spirit will be passed to my own, biological children … If not to some of those "children" in my classroom. Lord knows, with the things they face each and every day, they could use it!

I wish each and every one of them the best.

Good luck eighth grade class of 2008! I will always remember you and think back fondly of our time (and many candid conversations) together! :)