On days like today, I wonder what will happen to them.
I wonder if they'll ever realize - they command destiny. Will they grow to be people who make excuses? Is it too late to lose their memorized mantras? (i can't do this because... it isn't my fault... blame my mom...i don't have to think - i'll just shoot my mouth off - or i'll shoot my gun...)
I wonder who will tell them they're loved.
I wonder if they will learn. Will they soak up knowledge or will they drop out - of school, of life? Will they reach their young arms to the sky to gather a new spark, a new idea? Will they imprison themselves in ignorance? When they are gray and aged, will their eyes reflect passion or death?
On days like today, I want to open the doors to their future - say, "wake the hell up and know yourself" and tell them that it is okay to fail, as long as they know they can succeed. Look in the mirror - who are you in 5 years? By the time you are 30?
They laugh - they'll never age. They think teachers are old, were never young. We never did stupid things like steal the car and pick up our friends for joyrides even though we didn't have a license. We never drank alcohol from shampoo bottles smuggled from some mom's liquor cabinet. We didn't ditch school, dye our hair, or tell the world to fuck off at the top of our lungs. We never did anything. We were born old. Yeah, right.
We laugh - enjoy your youth. Embrace it. Remember it. But plan for tomorrow. If you don't learn and grow and take responsibility for yourself, your gut will burn with rage and any hope you have will die in the dust.
On days like today, your teacher wants to remind you to make a better tomorrow. Believe in your future, no matter what is held in your past.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Go Lou!
I'm sitting in my classroom watching Lou Dobbs and the update on the Minuteman Project. Are the people who volunteered to guard our borders from illegal activity vigilante?
According to GW (my hero!) they are vigilante. Perhaps, however, they are only viewed that way because they are trying to solve a problem that our government is ignoring. Let me tell you, Bush, in the absence of true leadership, chaos ensues and new "leadership" emerges. Don't you preach that same message with regard to Iraq?
True leaders actually lead. They provide the vision and then put the right people in place to implement strategies. They communicate clearly - they don't throw around carefully crafted words to terrorize and invoke fear. Leaders solve problems, they don't ignore them. Unfortunately, our political system is surprisingly void of true leaders. And because no one has come up with a successful strategy to deal with the problem of illegal immigration, the Minutemen were born. I don't think that their strategy is the best, but they are at least addressing and attempting to deal with this toxic social issue.
Perhaps because I said this I will be labeled racist. I'm not anti-Mexican, anti-Hispanic, anti-Canadian, anti-French or anti-Martian for that matter. I don't care what skin color sits next to me on a subway or moves in next door to my suburban stucco homestead. And yet, I wish that something would be done about illegal immigration. It is a problem for every party involved.
Many of my undocumented seniors (who are amazing, wonderful, driven students) are finding out that they can't go to college in the United States. I have one girl who has been here since she was 2 months old. She is perfectly capable of handling a college career but will have a hard time pursuing one because her parents came here illegally, looking for a better life. I have another undocumented student who openly says that he hates the US and the only reason he stays here is to make money. He doesn't want to go through the immigration process, but wants US citizens to pay for his schooling, medical bills and career training.
The point is that it doesn't matter that both of these students are technically from Mexico. It doesn't matter that their skin color is darker than mine. It really doesn't even matter that they are here because their parents came here illegally. What does matter is that this problem won't go away by ignoring it (like our government does) or turning it into an agenda of hatred. We consistently let down American and Mexican citizens by choosing one of these two options.
In actuality, we need to deal with our issues instead of glossing over them and letting them morph into new situations for chaos. But that would mean everyone would have to take responsibility for the problem and work for a solution. How many times in politics (or in real life) does that really happen? It infuriates me that our government can't weigh in on any domestic issue (except for private, family issues) and then criticizes the masses when they attempt to address the problem that the government ignored.
According to GW (my hero!) they are vigilante. Perhaps, however, they are only viewed that way because they are trying to solve a problem that our government is ignoring. Let me tell you, Bush, in the absence of true leadership, chaos ensues and new "leadership" emerges. Don't you preach that same message with regard to Iraq?
True leaders actually lead. They provide the vision and then put the right people in place to implement strategies. They communicate clearly - they don't throw around carefully crafted words to terrorize and invoke fear. Leaders solve problems, they don't ignore them. Unfortunately, our political system is surprisingly void of true leaders. And because no one has come up with a successful strategy to deal with the problem of illegal immigration, the Minutemen were born. I don't think that their strategy is the best, but they are at least addressing and attempting to deal with this toxic social issue.
Perhaps because I said this I will be labeled racist. I'm not anti-Mexican, anti-Hispanic, anti-Canadian, anti-French or anti-Martian for that matter. I don't care what skin color sits next to me on a subway or moves in next door to my suburban stucco homestead. And yet, I wish that something would be done about illegal immigration. It is a problem for every party involved.
Many of my undocumented seniors (who are amazing, wonderful, driven students) are finding out that they can't go to college in the United States. I have one girl who has been here since she was 2 months old. She is perfectly capable of handling a college career but will have a hard time pursuing one because her parents came here illegally, looking for a better life. I have another undocumented student who openly says that he hates the US and the only reason he stays here is to make money. He doesn't want to go through the immigration process, but wants US citizens to pay for his schooling, medical bills and career training.
The point is that it doesn't matter that both of these students are technically from Mexico. It doesn't matter that their skin color is darker than mine. It really doesn't even matter that they are here because their parents came here illegally. What does matter is that this problem won't go away by ignoring it (like our government does) or turning it into an agenda of hatred. We consistently let down American and Mexican citizens by choosing one of these two options.
In actuality, we need to deal with our issues instead of glossing over them and letting them morph into new situations for chaos. But that would mean everyone would have to take responsibility for the problem and work for a solution. How many times in politics (or in real life) does that really happen? It infuriates me that our government can't weigh in on any domestic issue (except for private, family issues) and then criticizes the masses when they attempt to address the problem that the government ignored.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Millennium
I sit here, at my teacher desk, scanning my bedecked classroom. Today, one of my Drama students took notice of my classroom during a discussion about the impact of color vs. monochromatic schemes.
"Ms. M," he said, with a slight cool drawl and a cock of his head, "your room has flair. I like all the color. Color shows that people are alive, not just breathing." I nodded my head as other students agreed and continued to challenge each other's opinions about how to create visual impact in dramatic scenes.
Later, I thought about what was said. It was my intent from day one to exude the eclectic, to be comfortable in my environment and to help my students become less conventional so that they could expand and grow into unbigoted, enlightened entities.
I want my students to learn. I want them to feel safe. I want to be mama bear and protect them. It's only intermittently I want to give up... or shake sense into them.
I came here to make a difference--- to tell them that there are people in this world who want to open their eyes and souls so that they can see the fresh new day and be prepared for hard cases and conundrums. They have so much fire, my students. Their eyes burn, sometimes with hatred for me - though not really for me - but for the institution of life. They need the wisdom to harness their fervor and possess it so they don't explode. They need to find their inner mercy to manage the calamaties to come.
They are all brilliant, and I tell them so. They all have choices, as I so remind them. I tell them that their youth is slippery, like a thumb against satin. I want them to cherish any childhood they have left. They never will - they are all obstinate, just like I was at their age, and determined to not need anyone or anything.
But they need. And they express that need at times. And sometimes, I was there to help fill that need and give them the push toward a better tomorrow. Many times I wished I could impart more knowledge and opinion, challenge them to defend their beliefs - their teenage cores. Many times I listened and said the minimum, knowing they had to discover their own truths and pick their own paths.
I have two weeks left of teaching high school.
I wonder if they'll miss me as much as I'll miss them.
"Ms. M," he said, with a slight cool drawl and a cock of his head, "your room has flair. I like all the color. Color shows that people are alive, not just breathing." I nodded my head as other students agreed and continued to challenge each other's opinions about how to create visual impact in dramatic scenes.
Later, I thought about what was said. It was my intent from day one to exude the eclectic, to be comfortable in my environment and to help my students become less conventional so that they could expand and grow into unbigoted, enlightened entities.
I want my students to learn. I want them to feel safe. I want to be mama bear and protect them. It's only intermittently I want to give up... or shake sense into them.
I came here to make a difference--- to tell them that there are people in this world who want to open their eyes and souls so that they can see the fresh new day and be prepared for hard cases and conundrums. They have so much fire, my students. Their eyes burn, sometimes with hatred for me - though not really for me - but for the institution of life. They need the wisdom to harness their fervor and possess it so they don't explode. They need to find their inner mercy to manage the calamaties to come.
They are all brilliant, and I tell them so. They all have choices, as I so remind them. I tell them that their youth is slippery, like a thumb against satin. I want them to cherish any childhood they have left. They never will - they are all obstinate, just like I was at their age, and determined to not need anyone or anything.
But they need. And they express that need at times. And sometimes, I was there to help fill that need and give them the push toward a better tomorrow. Many times I wished I could impart more knowledge and opinion, challenge them to defend their beliefs - their teenage cores. Many times I listened and said the minimum, knowing they had to discover their own truths and pick their own paths.
I have two weeks left of teaching high school.
I wonder if they'll miss me as much as I'll miss them.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Just notes...
Only three days left of blissful Spring Break. Monday will be filled with tanned, talkative teenagers all revealing their alcohol-filled adventures. Of course, the teachers will be talking about the same thing, just not in front of everyone.
Life on break is euphoric. I'm going to miss these mini-respites when I am no longer a teacher...
Happy weekend and Merry Easter!
Life on break is euphoric. I'm going to miss these mini-respites when I am no longer a teacher...
Happy weekend and Merry Easter!
Monday, March 14, 2005
Thank you Greg
For having a link to this site on your blogspot.
This entertained me for a good hour or so. Start with the January 9th post and read forward.
Heather, Sally and Aki - do you think this person is rooming with Miriam?
http://ihatemyflatmate.blogspot.com/
This entertained me for a good hour or so. Start with the January 9th post and read forward.
Heather, Sally and Aki - do you think this person is rooming with Miriam?
http://ihatemyflatmate.blogspot.com/
Saturday, March 12, 2005
What do people do in Suburbia?
As of late, I find myself wandering around my house in my pajamas muttering about the slow, spiritless world of suburban Surprise. I peer out my library windows and surreptiously spy on my neighbors, wondering what they are doing in their little stucco sanctuaries. Are they bored like me?
How long can I hide in my garage going through truckloads of "boxed things" that connect me to my vibrant past? Is it wrong to stand in my shower, gaze up through the skylight and wonder what would happen if a tornado struck the barren desert? Would my Solatube go before the rest of the ceiling? Would I be sucked up through the hole?
Elvis even looks bored here. His big puppy eyes roll heavenward hourly as if to say, "I can't believe we are here. Perhaps we can take another road trip and I can pee on the world's largest ball of twine once again."
Years ago, my friends predicted that I'd rack up college degrees, move to Manhattan, storm Corporate America and have some boys-as-toys to keep me occupied on weekends. How did I end up in the place where people go to reproduce and mow lawns? How come those colorful tri-fold brochures for new housing developments never feature a truthful slogan such as "Suburbia. A vortex of nothingness."
I've come to the conclusion that if I don't figure out how to liven this place up, I may have to schedule a prison break.
Anyone in?
How long can I hide in my garage going through truckloads of "boxed things" that connect me to my vibrant past? Is it wrong to stand in my shower, gaze up through the skylight and wonder what would happen if a tornado struck the barren desert? Would my Solatube go before the rest of the ceiling? Would I be sucked up through the hole?
Elvis even looks bored here. His big puppy eyes roll heavenward hourly as if to say, "I can't believe we are here. Perhaps we can take another road trip and I can pee on the world's largest ball of twine once again."
Years ago, my friends predicted that I'd rack up college degrees, move to Manhattan, storm Corporate America and have some boys-as-toys to keep me occupied on weekends. How did I end up in the place where people go to reproduce and mow lawns? How come those colorful tri-fold brochures for new housing developments never feature a truthful slogan such as "Suburbia. A vortex of nothingness."
I've come to the conclusion that if I don't figure out how to liven this place up, I may have to schedule a prison break.
Anyone in?
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Swamp Ass Cooler
Have you ever been in Phoenix, dead August, no AC, your only hope a metal box on the side of your house? If so, you know that the only so-called substitute for AC is a pathetic "swamp" cooler that doesn't do much to cool your festering house and rid you of that not-so-fresh-feeling.
But alas! There is hope! Someday, my friend Ericka and I will own and operate a chic-chic, uber-cool coffee grotto near Arizona State University. Our mission, aside from caffeinating college co-ed's, will include keeping a cozy, comfy,clothes-minimal establishment called Java-n-Jammies. You show up in somewhat tasteful jammies, and we'll provide a venue for you to hang out (figuratively, at least).
We bet our business will have year-round appeal. In the winter, visit in your flannels and hoist a cup of steamy Joe. In the summer, buy an iced-coffee and avoid the sweaty, smelly clubs that crowd the Mill Avenue strip.
This brings me back to my original point. Summertime in Arizona is damn, frigging hot. Not just warm. Not toasty. Ridiculously over the top crockpot hot. Even with the AC blowing, you will accumulate beads of perspiration which eventually will travel downward and settle in your buttocks region. People know this syndrome as "swamp-ass."
Ericka and I have decided (with a little help from Bettina) that we need to tackle this sticky situation. Therefore, in all bathrooms at Java-n-Jammies, you will not find a typical hot air hand dryer. Oh no. We at JnJ want to go above the call of duty to dry out your drawers. Every bathroom will have an AC-like blower known as a "Swamp Ass Cooler." Aim the nozzle at your nether-regions and blow.
We figure if it blows your skirt up, it's gotta be good.
But alas! There is hope! Someday, my friend Ericka and I will own and operate a chic-chic, uber-cool coffee grotto near Arizona State University. Our mission, aside from caffeinating college co-ed's, will include keeping a cozy, comfy,clothes-minimal establishment called Java-n-Jammies. You show up in somewhat tasteful jammies, and we'll provide a venue for you to hang out (figuratively, at least).
We bet our business will have year-round appeal. In the winter, visit in your flannels and hoist a cup of steamy Joe. In the summer, buy an iced-coffee and avoid the sweaty, smelly clubs that crowd the Mill Avenue strip.
This brings me back to my original point. Summertime in Arizona is damn, frigging hot. Not just warm. Not toasty. Ridiculously over the top crockpot hot. Even with the AC blowing, you will accumulate beads of perspiration which eventually will travel downward and settle in your buttocks region. People know this syndrome as "swamp-ass."
Ericka and I have decided (with a little help from Bettina) that we need to tackle this sticky situation. Therefore, in all bathrooms at Java-n-Jammies, you will not find a typical hot air hand dryer. Oh no. We at JnJ want to go above the call of duty to dry out your drawers. Every bathroom will have an AC-like blower known as a "Swamp Ass Cooler." Aim the nozzle at your nether-regions and blow.
We figure if it blows your skirt up, it's gotta be good.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Food Porn
I was online looking for barbeque clip art (don't ask - something for Prom committee) and I ran across this site.
http://www.house-of-sins.com/food/
This site was created to help people not crave food. I, however, would like some of the chocolate covered strawberries.
http://www.house-of-sins.com/food/
This site was created to help people not crave food. I, however, would like some of the chocolate covered strawberries.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
The Rain in Spain
My poor friend Greg is bored at home with only his lovely wife and beautiful daughter to keep him company (pobrecito). He is looking for a job right now as he has been taking care of his little one this past school year. Today, he comes to my classroom to deliver two pieces of information. The first is that I don't write on my blog enough to keep him happy, hence this post. The second, I found worthy enough to share with my public.
The Arizona Republic (aka "The Rag" and "The Repulsive") published an article last November that originally ran in the Wall Street Journal. If it hadn't run in the Journal, it wouldn't be appearing on my oh-so-superior blogspot.
The article, "Some talk ain't cheap," highlights the problem of poor grammar in the workplace. According to the article, a person can be overlooked for potential job promotions due to how he or she sounds.
I always believed this fact to be common knowledge. Presentation is everything, right? In fact, concise communication is so important that many companies are paying speech and image consultants thousands of dollars to play Professor Henry Higgins for their junior and senior execs.
This led me to think about my current workplace environment. Every once in a while, I slip in a “y’all” to get my students’ attention or I throw out some gangsta-speak to connect with my homies in the classroom. They need to identify with this almost 30-year-old white girl somehow.
I can’t tell you, however, how many times a student has looked at me and said, “Ms M., you talk way too smart for us.” When that happens, I correct his grammar. And then I reflect about my teaching style because I know if I “talk too smart” that my students will tune out.
The writer of the article warns me that I can’t sound like a teen, use poor grammar, use an abrasive accent, curse or talk tentatively if I want to succeed. In most workplace environments, these are words to live by. But to play communication coach in the high school environment, I sometimes have to display 4 out of the 5 above listed characteristics just to get my stubborn, smut-speaking students to “talk pretty” so that they can succeed after graduation day.
Sadly, the clever consultant’s check is worth so much more than my own.
The Arizona Republic (aka "The Rag" and "The Repulsive") published an article last November that originally ran in the Wall Street Journal. If it hadn't run in the Journal, it wouldn't be appearing on my oh-so-superior blogspot.
The article, "Some talk ain't cheap," highlights the problem of poor grammar in the workplace. According to the article, a person can be overlooked for potential job promotions due to how he or she sounds.
I always believed this fact to be common knowledge. Presentation is everything, right? In fact, concise communication is so important that many companies are paying speech and image consultants thousands of dollars to play Professor Henry Higgins for their junior and senior execs.
This led me to think about my current workplace environment. Every once in a while, I slip in a “y’all” to get my students’ attention or I throw out some gangsta-speak to connect with my homies in the classroom. They need to identify with this almost 30-year-old white girl somehow.
I can’t tell you, however, how many times a student has looked at me and said, “Ms M., you talk way too smart for us.” When that happens, I correct his grammar. And then I reflect about my teaching style because I know if I “talk too smart” that my students will tune out.
The writer of the article warns me that I can’t sound like a teen, use poor grammar, use an abrasive accent, curse or talk tentatively if I want to succeed. In most workplace environments, these are words to live by. But to play communication coach in the high school environment, I sometimes have to display 4 out of the 5 above listed characteristics just to get my stubborn, smut-speaking students to “talk pretty” so that they can succeed after graduation day.
Sadly, the clever consultant’s check is worth so much more than my own.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Big Chicks Rock
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I want to lose weight. Who doesn't? But dammit, I'm still sexy. And I found a great site to share with all my sexy, not-so-size-six friends.
I found this website while in search of vintage style dresses in not-so-vintage style sizes. Curvy chubbies unite!
http://venusimaging.com
I found this website while in search of vintage style dresses in not-so-vintage style sizes. Curvy chubbies unite!
http://venusimaging.com
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