Blissful Ignorance

A few weeks ago David and I were sitting on the beach together. It was the warmest evening in months and as the sun set we noticed a group of people in their early twenties throwing a Frisbee around. The guys showed off their "skills" to girls who perched themselves on towels. Each lady seemed more interested in her phone than her coed's failed attempts to impress.

I couldn't help but smile and joke about the situation though. Granted, not all early twenty year old humans act this way, but I laugh because I've been there. Now, at age 26 some of you may be thinking Well, you're not that much older, what do you have to say about it? I'm glad you asked.

I remember what I was like 5-7 years ago.
I thought I knew everything.
I thought I owned the world.
I thought that because I was "out on my own" (hahaha not even close) I was free.
Yet, looking back, I was nothing more than naive.

That's not to say that I didn't have life experiences that shaped me, but in the end I still had parents that took care of me. Even in college, a time of what I thought was complete independence, I was still very much dependent. It wasn't until post college that I truly found that my knowledge of life is more limited than I thought.

In fact, I've found that as I grow older, there's less and less I know and a question of why is not uncommon.

Like...

Why are people so comfortable posting scantily clad pictures of themselves, while things like mental disorders and illnesses are still so hard to openly discuss?

Why does the ability to hide behind the screen of social media bring validation to people being disrespectful to each other?

Why are we so concerned with things like bathrooms when starvation, poverty, racism, persecution, etc... run rampant not only across the globe, but in our own cities?

Why do some of the most important jobs cause employees to live pay check to pay check, while anyone in the entertainment and sports world make millions over night?

Why does time and money have such an unhealthy grasp on our society?

The list continues, but you get the idea. I can only predict that as the world grows in population, my questions will expand and with them my knowledge will begin to shrink.

Now that I think of it, throwing a Frisbee in a fantasy world of blissful ignorance and naivety doesn't seem so bad.

Infectious Musings Part 2

The pain has subsided and I'm left with only a few more antibiotics to take, but I know that there's more to be received from this experience than an increased count of white blood cells.

God revealed a lot to me through this experience, I mean he's present in every aspect of life...so perhaps it shouldn't be that surprising. However, sometimes it takes three infections to give you a spiritual wake-up call.

First of all, it's OK to ask for help. People care about you more than you realize.

I'm a pretty independent person. I take pleasure and pride in figuring things out on my own and doing things myself. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it's important to realized that life isn't meant to be lived alone. Without the help of my co-workers, fiance, family, doctors, nurses, receptionists, imagining techs, etc...my experience would've been, to say the least, a disaster.

Second, if something hurts or doesn't feel right, go to the doctor.

Perhaps a more painfully (no pun intended) obvious statement, but I have to say that this was definitely a kick in the rear of a reminder. I have a pretty high pain tolerance and tend to figure things will go away on their own, but that's apparently not always the case. Prolonged pain, or any sort of severe abnormality should probably be brought to the attention of a doctor sooner rather than later.

Third, take time to stop.

Honestly, one of the first things that I said to my mom after we got back from the doctor was "I don't have time for this! I need to do testing with my kids!" I wouldn't be surprised if God laughed a little at my frustrated fit. Though work is definitely a priority, there's no way I could have gone back right away. I go about 100 mph during the week and don't always take time to take care of myself. It's important for anyone to take time to breathe, pray, meditate, what have you. Not just for the physical health, but mental, spiritual, and emotional health as well.

I'm not sure what else to say about the experience, but that I'm glad it's over. Despite a bit of occasional soreness, I am much better.

Praise God for lessons
Praise God for people
Praise God for medicine
Praise God for healing

Praise God

Infectious Musings Part 1

Ok, so let me start by saying that for the past 6 days I've been battling an infection. This isn't any sort of play on words or deep analogy, the bacterial universe gifted me with an actual infection. Three to be exact: bladder, urinary tract, and kidney. A triple threat trifecta that has kept me under house arrest. Yet, as I waltz towards the effervescent light of recovery I have placed a whole new pair of spectacles on my face. They're not so much rose colored, as they are reflective.

I suppose I should start at the beginning, as stated before, I've heard it's a very good place to start  ("...when you read you begin with A,B,C when you sing you begin with doe, re, me..." Sound of Music anyone? No? Ok moving on...)

Flash back to last Thursday.
I walk into work.
Our department secretary greets me at the door asking how I'm doing today.
My answer?

"I think I need to go to the urgent care."

As if to be a hive full of bees, my coworkers swarmed in from their offices with concern.
After a quick discussion of who would drive me, our secretary grabs her keys and we make our way to the car.

Walking had never been so difficult before.

Fast forward to the doctor's office.

My mom comes into the examination room holding my baby niece (who was very well behaved and brought much comic relief through this whole experience. Thanks Peaches.)

Soon the tests began
Blood test...CHECK
Urinalysis...CHECK

From there we head to the hospital

Ultrasound (to check for kidney stones)...CHECK

Ultrasound band...so fashionable.

The whole time my mom and I are trying to keep my dad, sister, and fiance in the loop about everything. I've never been more thankful for the cellphone.

At last we are free to go...kind of.

My mom graciously took me back home with her to be in her care and I was ready to lay down and never get up (in a non-dead sort of way). Until I got a call saying that I needed to go into a CT scan. Apparently there was risk of blockage and if they found something it could mean a trip to the ER.

So we went back to the hospital the next day.

I don't know if you've ever had a CT scan before, but it's kind of like being sucked into a giant doughnut. It talked in a kind of robotic voice too...telling me when to breathe and what not. So it had that going to for it.

Once I stepped off the machine the tech told me that it would take 24 hours to get the results.
Back home we went to become pawns in a waiting game.

David (my fiance) came to be with me that evening (and the one following as well). I opened the door and he walked up with a bouquet of lilies, a card, and a balloon. Definitely a sight for sore eyes :)

The next morning my phone rang bright and early. Attached to the other line was the voice of the doctor with the results of my ultrasound. (Dun, dun, dun...too dramatic? Yeah, probably).

Everything was clear. No stones, no blockage.

Praise God.

I'm happy to say I'm on the mend and am cleared to go back to work soon. The power of prayer, antibiotics, and support of loved ones is strong. Yet, I can't leave this experience without seeing God work through all of this.

He tends to be good at that.

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