It's been a hard semester.
I'm not really sure how else to describe it.
Just...
...Hard.
I feel like there's been a lot more pain with my students this year. For confidentiality sake I can't get too into it, but I can say that spiritual warfare has been strong.
I've had days where the best thing I can do is just tell them that I am praying for them. As much as I want to suck out every single bit of darkness from their lives,
I can't.
I
Just
Can't
But honestly, through the hurt that's been happening I have to say God has continually shown me how much I belong in my field of work.
My job picked me.
Not the other way around.
Two skills God has gifted me with are the ability to listen and the ability to observe, and I don't think that was by coincidence. I've found that part of my job description is to be a sounding board. Working with mainly middle and high schoolers, a good majority of the time all they need is someone to talk at. No input, no objective view, they just need to let the word vomit flow. Honestly though, I think that's one of my favorite parts about this job. My students confide in me. I know them better than anyone in the school.
Our department is unique.
I've seen students walk into our doors and you can feel their energy change.
It's almost like a sigh of relief.
Now, educational therapy is by no means an easy undertaking. The minds of students are poked and prodded in the most challenging ways. Lethargy and tears are not uncommon occurrences.
After all, these students are learning how to learn.
But here, they know they're safe.
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Friday, January 15, 2016
Bubble Wrap
For the first time I really felt the protective desire it is to be a parent.
Now keep in mind I'm 26, engaged, and very not pregnant or currently the mother of any sort of child.
But I have 9 kids.
Each of them with their own story.
Their own horribly, beautifully, tragically, wonderfully, amazing story.
Each of them with their own learning deficits.
Their own inhibiting, creative, out of the box, frustratingly, unique deficit that allows them to see the world in a different way. A deficit that tests the limits and shows that students aren't meant to fit into the cookie cutter shapes of education that so wrongfully pierce the dough that are these learners.
As strong as each of my students tries to be, they are all, in some way fragile.
Fragile like the crystal vase you saw in the store that caused your mom to constantly remind you of how careful you needed be. The vase that, when taken out of the box filled with packing peanuts, was wrapped ever so carefully in bubble wrap.
Bubble wrap.
Sometimes I wish I could wrap my kids in bubble wrap. That way I could protect them from any outside force that would prevent them from breaking.
But I can't.
Like the vase, sometimes these kids will break and all I can do is be there to help pick up the pieces.
Now keep in mind I'm 26, engaged, and very not pregnant or currently the mother of any sort of child.
But I have 9 kids.
Each of them with their own story.
Their own horribly, beautifully, tragically, wonderfully, amazing story.
Each of them with their own learning deficits.
Their own inhibiting, creative, out of the box, frustratingly, unique deficit that allows them to see the world in a different way. A deficit that tests the limits and shows that students aren't meant to fit into the cookie cutter shapes of education that so wrongfully pierce the dough that are these learners.
As strong as each of my students tries to be, they are all, in some way fragile.
Fragile like the crystal vase you saw in the store that caused your mom to constantly remind you of how careful you needed be. The vase that, when taken out of the box filled with packing peanuts, was wrapped ever so carefully in bubble wrap.
Bubble wrap.
Sometimes I wish I could wrap my kids in bubble wrap. That way I could protect them from any outside force that would prevent them from breaking.
But I can't.
Like the vase, sometimes these kids will break and all I can do is be there to help pick up the pieces.
Friday, January 1, 2016
Sshhh...This is a Library
I think one of the more intimidating aspects of writing in a blog is, well, writing. What does that mean? I guess I'm not 100% sure. It's just something about seeing the blank document in front of my face and my brain suddenly going blank. Or perhaps the thoughts of, What if they don't like what I write? What if they don't agree with me? What if....Then I remind myself that this is the internet and hardly anyone agrees with anybody (commence debate about how that's not true in 3...2...1...you just had a disagreement with me about not disagreeing. It's like disagreement-ception). So here we go.
For the first time in a while I'm writing this post from a place other than my own personal space. At a sea of library computers I sit as I listen to the voices of males in their late teens to early 20's (maybe later, I've gotten to the point of having a hard time deciphering people's ages...says the woman in her late twenties who can still pass as a high school student) make exploding noises as they fist bump with their headphones on. Why the change of scenery? Well, let me tell you. With my laptop slowing due to age, and my tablet keyboard awaiting me at my parents' house (feel free to make any sort of #firstworldproblem remark you like...it really is a minute issue. Did I just hashtag in a blog? Someone please stop me.) I figured using my outside resources would be my best bet and I can do anything but complain. For the library in itself is almost like a different world. The most interesting of humans reside in this public building.
If you've read any of my non-education related posts before, you'll find that observation is one of my most beloved past times. The human race fascinates me with all of our quirks, gimmicks, and relatively beautiful weirdness. Our desires, emotions, judgments, and beliefs are what set us apart from animals ("But Michelle, Animals have feelings too!" I recognize that...but that's a discussion for a different time). As I peek over the wide screen of my PC, four teenagers walk across the room. Two styling bright, pink hair with part of their heads shaved. To me, I see this as a way of expression. I love it when people use the canvas of their bodies for art such as this.
My eyes pan to the 75+ year old man quietly reading a magazine at the table with his cane propped ever so gently against his side. He looks up, furrows his brow a bit, and watches. Perhaps he's uncertain as to why anyone would choose such a style. Perhaps the girls remind him of his granddaughter who sports the same look. Or perhaps he longs to have hair like that on his nearly bald head. It's not my place to judge, but I suppose the best thing I can say is that there's clearly a generation gap.
Those things are funny, generation gaps that its. They can create both a a sense of interest as well as blindness. With the changes in society and the advances in technology those gaps are only going to widen.
I believe a lot of it has to do with the whole nature and nurture ordeal. Personally, I believe nature is secondary to that of nurture. Yes we all have specific traits that we're born with, but how those traits are brought about have to do with the way we're raised. (Now remember, I'm not a specialist in this area, merely an observer.) I'll use the simple example of make-up. If you've ever met me, you'll know that about 90% of the time I keep a natural face. Natural as in no make-up (granted, I also have extremely sensitive facial skin...but still). I was raised in a home where make-up was not considered a priority. If you want to wear it great, if not that's great too. Now, if I was raised in a home where it was considered taboo to go outside without a painted face, well, that would be a whole different issue. The idea that, in order to be socially accepted, my eyes must be lined and my face must be powdered would be instilled in me and habits would be formed. There of course are also exceptions to every theory. Not everyone will follow the way that they have been nurtured growing up. I will raise my future children differently than my parents raised me and my children will raise my grandchildren differently than I raised them. We're all humans who can make their own choices, we're not robots.
Well, that when in an unexpectedly fantastic direction.
For the first time in a while I'm writing this post from a place other than my own personal space. At a sea of library computers I sit as I listen to the voices of males in their late teens to early 20's (maybe later, I've gotten to the point of having a hard time deciphering people's ages...says the woman in her late twenties who can still pass as a high school student) make exploding noises as they fist bump with their headphones on. Why the change of scenery? Well, let me tell you. With my laptop slowing due to age, and my tablet keyboard awaiting me at my parents' house (feel free to make any sort of #firstworldproblem remark you like...it really is a minute issue. Did I just hashtag in a blog? Someone please stop me.) I figured using my outside resources would be my best bet and I can do anything but complain. For the library in itself is almost like a different world. The most interesting of humans reside in this public building.
If you've read any of my non-education related posts before, you'll find that observation is one of my most beloved past times. The human race fascinates me with all of our quirks, gimmicks, and relatively beautiful weirdness. Our desires, emotions, judgments, and beliefs are what set us apart from animals ("But Michelle, Animals have feelings too!" I recognize that...but that's a discussion for a different time). As I peek over the wide screen of my PC, four teenagers walk across the room. Two styling bright, pink hair with part of their heads shaved. To me, I see this as a way of expression. I love it when people use the canvas of their bodies for art such as this.
My eyes pan to the 75+ year old man quietly reading a magazine at the table with his cane propped ever so gently against his side. He looks up, furrows his brow a bit, and watches. Perhaps he's uncertain as to why anyone would choose such a style. Perhaps the girls remind him of his granddaughter who sports the same look. Or perhaps he longs to have hair like that on his nearly bald head. It's not my place to judge, but I suppose the best thing I can say is that there's clearly a generation gap.
Those things are funny, generation gaps that its. They can create both a a sense of interest as well as blindness. With the changes in society and the advances in technology those gaps are only going to widen.
I believe a lot of it has to do with the whole nature and nurture ordeal. Personally, I believe nature is secondary to that of nurture. Yes we all have specific traits that we're born with, but how those traits are brought about have to do with the way we're raised. (Now remember, I'm not a specialist in this area, merely an observer.) I'll use the simple example of make-up. If you've ever met me, you'll know that about 90% of the time I keep a natural face. Natural as in no make-up (granted, I also have extremely sensitive facial skin...but still). I was raised in a home where make-up was not considered a priority. If you want to wear it great, if not that's great too. Now, if I was raised in a home where it was considered taboo to go outside without a painted face, well, that would be a whole different issue. The idea that, in order to be socially accepted, my eyes must be lined and my face must be powdered would be instilled in me and habits would be formed. There of course are also exceptions to every theory. Not everyone will follow the way that they have been nurtured growing up. I will raise my future children differently than my parents raised me and my children will raise my grandchildren differently than I raised them. We're all humans who can make their own choices, we're not robots.
Well, that when in an unexpectedly fantastic direction.
No two people have the same way of thinking or the same approach to life. Every person has a different perspective about life and its problems. We all take things differently and we are all affected at different levels. We can't expect others to understand us. Some things that may not hurt one person could be enough to break another.
-Neena Gupta
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