Different

I feel deep tonight. Like the type of deep you get when you can finally take some time to think about life and all of it's meaning. The who's, what's, when's, where's, and why's that spiral around in an ominous orb that floats above our heads constantly causing us to question what the next movement we make will be. A fortuitous bubble that only God can pop, or grow.

Or something like that

To do such a bold thing would take much more than a simple dance of digits across an idle keyboard into a parallel world of words and thoughts.

It takes time, something I've found that I take for granted. Especially now as my life fills with arrangements, priorities, and incessant things to do. Is that necessary bad? No, I enjoy staying busy. Yet, I wouldn't say a lack of reflection time is all together grand either.

But tonight, the quiet came.

I was walking home from a coffee date with an old high school friend (I hadn't seen her for years, but I'm happy to say we picked up right where we left off) and came across this house.

It catches my eye every time I walk past it. So beautifully out of place it sits facing a line of suburbia type townhouses. An unkempt lawn with a chain link fence that winds it's way around the the perimeter. I'm not sure if it's inhabited (if so, it's probably weird that I'm posting a picture of their house on the internet....eh, oh well), but I hope the owners never change it.

It's a reminder to me that, as a human race we aren't meant to be the same. I never understood why people made fun of others for their differences, especially the ones that they are gifted with from birth. I don't say it as something they can't help, because I don't see why we should have to help the"differences" we're naturally born with. As if each little imperfection required an apology.

I'm left handed. Now, was that something I was born with? I'm not sure, all I know is that my mom has a picture of me eating yogurt left handed in my highchair when I was little. But it's something I was definitely made fun of for. On top of that I write with a left-hander's hook so it wasn't uncommon for kids to look at me and ask me why I write so weirdly. I know that this is nothing compared to racial persecution or homosexual harassment, but nonetheless it made me question myself. As if a specific hand could define me as a person, but because I broke the right-handed mold I was different.

Normalcy, in my opinion, is a relative term. What is normal for one person can be completely outrageous for the next dependent on lifestyle, beliefs, cultures, what have you. Everyone has different needs, and we must recognize that there is no such thing as a human cure-all.

Besides, what's the fun in having a million copies of the same person?

We are beautiful because we aren't alike.

ET Phone Work

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.

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.

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.

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

Ready or Not

The beginning of the school year has always hit an interesting note for me.

Not to say that I don't like it, it's actually kind of an adrenaline rush. Students have an overflowing amount of anticipation. Whether or not it comes from reuniting with friends, nerves about classes, teachers, what have you...a sense of calm seems absent on the first day of school. This over looming shadow of uncertain excitement creeps its way into the feelings of teachers as well. What will my class be like? Will I have so-and-so? Did I plan enough? What do I do on the first day? Am I ready?

Am I ready?
Am
I
Ready
?

As an educational therapist, it's obvious that I have stepped away from the lifestyle of a classroom teacher. My office is soon to, once again, become my second home and I look forward to working with my students one-on-one. However, this question couldn't have come up more often this past week. The hours seemed to slip away as I typed countless emails, wrote up paperwork, and simply made time to breathe. That being said, what does it mean to be...ready?

I suppose that is a relative question. It's kind of like asking, what is normal? Normalcy is dependent on the person. What's normal for me is extremely foreign to someone who lives a life different than my own. In this same way, readiness is proven based on a person's necessary preparation for his or her own journey. It can range from traveling to a different country or simply embarking on a new school year. (Simply? Hah! I say that like it's an easy feat.)

In reality though, not matter how prepared we may think we are...we will never be ready. On paper everything may look put together, but I guarantee anything and everything may and or will pop-up.

But that's ok.
We're human.
If our lives followed everything exactly, there would be nothing to build from and no lessons to learn.

Even in the education field it's ok to make mistakes and disprove the belief that we have to be perfect. It's ok to step out of our glasshouses and admit that we're wrong. I've found that students are able to relate better to teachers who think differently and break the mold of the "perfect" teacher. (Or what one person might think said educator might be.) Students, no matter how old they are, are smart enough to know when you're trying to be something that you're not.

As we begin another chapter of school remember...

Our jobs bring meaning
Our jobs bring growth
Our jobs bring influence

Most importantly, our jobs aren't about us...they're about the students.
No matter how ready we (or they) are.

"Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants"

-Deuteronomy 32:2

[You Are] More Precious than Rubies

As I was getting ready for bed this evening I took a long look in the mirror. Pressing my hands against my abdomen, I attempted to flatten out the small amount of pudge that stuck out from what would otherwise be a completely thin figure. Inside my head I pictured the endless number of movie stars, singers, and basically any media involved female whose figure appeared almost breakable due to their overly petite size. I took my hands off of my body and and let my stomach relax. For, unlike (many...I guess not all of) them, I am healthy, happy, and not forced to be a specific size.

I think for a lot of women, including myself, physical appearance is something that we are constantly aware of. Such awareness can be both good and bad. I find fashion to be an artistic outlet and enjoy piecing different styles together. Rarely will a day go by where over-sized earrings don't hang from the sides of my head. However, I specifically remember that a pressure to beautiful became most evident when I played Barbies with my sister as a child. Looking at the Doll's smooth plastic figure, clear complexion, and painted face made me wonder why I didn't look like that. In my mind, my tomboyish self would never come close to the beauty that was portrayed in this inanimate object.

What's wrong with this picture?

Now am I saying that Mattel should be run out of business for putting unrealistic expectations of physical beauty on an 8 year old? Well, no, that's not really a rant I want to get into right now. I do believe that as a society we really need to think about how we portray beauty. When did we get to the point of deciding that over-sized breasts and backsides, complimented with a tiny waste, was the most desirable figure?

According to the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, 14.6 million cosmetic surgeries happen a year. Keep in mind, many of those are probably for reasons other than "self-improvement", but still. All of this because of an imperfect idea of perfect beauty. Knowing that one's body will never be good enough.

1 Peter 3:3-4 states
Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight. 

Inner beauty.
Inner
Beauty

What a concept.

In all honesty everyone will eventually become physically "ugly" (or what the world might it find to be), it's inevitable. There is no amount of Botox, make-up, implants, creams, or nip-tucks will save you from aging. Instead, focus on how to be a light to others and let your inner beauty overcome that of the outer. I have found that the most beautiful people I've met aren't those who look magazine cover worthy, but have a spirit that radiates the love for those around them.

God has given everyone the ability to show compassion, care, and love. So use it.

Disney Equality

When it comes to feminists, I suppose you could say I'm relatively one. Not one of those hardcore, let's burn our bras type of one, but the type that knows women deserve respect and should rightfully be given it. However, it seems that nowadays in the land of sitcoms, Disney especially, inequality between men and women has gone polar opposite.

I grew up watching shows on Disney channel and as I got older I noticed a common trend. The dads gradually got dumber.

One of my favorite show has been, and always will be, Boy Meets World. Ask anyone in my family and they'll be quick to agree that I've probably seen every single show and can quote almost every line while watching said episodes. When I found out that Disney was making a spin off, I was hesitant to watch because I didn't know if it would taint one of my favorite sitcoms. Nonetheless, I decided to give it a go. Without shame, I admit I watched the whole first season. However, as in basic Disney trend, I noticed that Cory, the father, was portrayed as much less intelligent and more of a pushover than his wife, Topanga. There was even an episode where Topanga flat out said, "My husband is a dope."

What kind of message is this sending? I'm all for women being strong, but think if it were the other way around. If Cory were to say, "My wife is a dope." I can guarantee media and lawsuits (or whatever) would be all over that.

Let's bring it back to the 90's shall we?

In the original Boy Meets World the parents were equal partners and had an equal amount of intelligence. Alan and Amy (parents) were both respected by not only their children but each other as well. The point is they were both portrayed as mindful adults not mindless children.

Now I know the social norms of society have changed. Women have more of a voice and in some cases are much more strong willed than they used to be, which is great. However, if we want our boys to grow up to be respectful, intelligent men, good fathers, and supportive husbands, isn't it important that they're portrayed that way on Television?