Sharks....

Last night as I am flipping through the channels looking for something to watch, I spot Jaws.  The Jaws movies are my all time favorite movies to watch.  I am TERRIFIED of sharks.  There is something about that fear-driven adrenaline rush that makes me always come back for more.  

Sharks are extremely amazing creatures.  To me, they are bullies.  They own the room they are in, and they know it.  They have an arrogance about them.  They are the narcissist of the sea.  They know who hides where.  They know where people swim, they know where their tastiest treat lingers.  They are the shit, and they know it.  

I feel that people being in their territory is just a mistake.  Would you step into a hungry lions den?  What about a room full of screaming babies?  But you put your legs into an ocean?  That to me is just not using that tissue between your ears!  

Sitting here in my Connecticut home, I look out the window at the thick snow coming down.  I dream of being somewhere warm.  I wish I was laying somewhere on a beach right now!  But that is all I want to do...I want to lay there and sweat.  Once I am full of sweat, and need that little cool down...I grab my handy water bottle and squirt it on myself.  There is no way you will get me in that water.  

Years ago, I went with a friend to Florida.  We went to the beach and enjoyed the sun.  After a while, she went in for a quick dip.  I begged her not to, but of course she did anyways.  As she is out in this ocean, with unknown beast swimming around her, I scream at her to come back in.  I actually see fins!  Maybe this is in my head because my fear is so strong, but maybe not.  Why would you risk it?  The Chief always says sharks go after fat people, not thin people.  “Why would they take a toothpick when they haven’t had the steak yet?”  Do I let myself fall for this?  HECK NO.  Sharks and me?  No bueno.

There are so many things about huge bodies of water that terrify me.  You never know what is swimming under your legs.  Don’t you wonder as you are out there swimming around if there is something underneath you waiting for a tasty treat?  Titanic HAPPENED.  TRUE STORY.  Your boat goes down...then what?  Why would you even get on a huge cruise ship?  Haven’t you ever seen Poseidon?  THIS CAN HAPPEN!!  What would you do stranded out in the middle of a deep black hole?  Even the mere thought makes my heart sprint and my head throb.  I can feel the fear as I am typing.  

Close your eyes for a moment and imagine yourself on a scuba trip.  Everyone has jumped in the water and your exploring.  Yeah, so fun.  Look at the pretty rocks under the water (there are pretty rocks on the shore too).  Look at the amazing plants that dance with the ocean current...(HELLO?!  Ever watched a tree in the wind?? SAME THING).  Okay back to your pretty amazing underwater adventure.  You get carried away looking at beautiful fish (that I will remind you, you can see in any doctors office), and BAM!  Where is everyone?  No one is around you!  You head to the surface to find the boat is gone.  They have left you.  Ever seen the movie Open Waters?  Yeah, true story (okay, BASED on a true story...whatever, it CAN happen).  Let’s see...no boat, no friends, no escape.  Bet those stupid fish aren’t so delightful now, are they?  What do you do?  I will tell you what you do...YOU DIE.  Well, first you pray, then you die.  The sharks will be around at sunset which is only a couple hours away.  Might as well go look at the impressive rocks below.  Hope the trip was worth it.   

Being "politically correct"...

When I was a little girl, our next door neighbors were African Americans.  They were very friendly and I waved at them while with my parents.  They had a little boy.  One day we were outside and I saw their son for the first time.  I played with him for a bit, and then while my mom was visiting with his mom, I bent down and rubbed his leg.  “MOM!” I yelled, “The dirt doesn’t rub off!”  Of course my mom was completely humiliated, but what can you expect from a child that had never seen a child with dark skin.  

A year or so later, when I picked out the doll I wanted for Christmas, I chose the doll with black skin.  It was the one I wanted, and it is the one my mom bought me.  I remember she had black skin, hair, and a sparkly blue dress.  I thought she was beautiful and my new best friend. 

As I grew up, I always saw African American babies and thought they were so beautiful.  Why?  Where did this obsession come from?  They were so different from me.  Their skin looks so soft, smooth, and completely flawless.  In high school I was part of the drill team.  The Captain was African American, I remember asking her one day if I could touch her hair.  She looked at me like I was crazy, and said, “Sure”.  Soon after that, I grew out of this obsession....but seemed to have passed it on.       

I have determined Little Man has the same obsession.  If we are walking somewhere and he sees them, he watches them very carefully.  It is almost as if he wants to memorize their every move so he can later imitate it.  

I have been wanting to write about this for some time, but struggle with being “politically correct.”  The Chief said to write it, and then let him look it over before I post it.  Of course, of all people...he knows how to be politically correct.  

When we left our home in Texas, Little Man was a student at a large public school.  This school was predominately Caucasian and Middle Eastern.  Of course you have a few scattered Hispanics and a few African Americans.  Of course, Little Man had an African American girlfriend, and both of his best friends were also African American.  I had no problem with this.  I had met his girlfriend and she was an absolute sweetheart.  I had also met her mother, who was also very kind and adored Little Man.  

We moved across the country and fell into a 99% Caucasian area.  His new school, half the size of his old school, is predominately Caucasian with one or two African Americans, and one or two Asians.  Who is Little Man friends with?  The only two African Americans in the 6th grade.  Coincidence?  I think not.  He has invited one to the house, and the kid is VERY respectful and lovable, I would want to be friends with him too!  

Now the question is, should this concern me?  My concern is not that he likes African Americans, it is that he WANTS TO BE like them.  How do I make him proud of who he is?  I never wanted to be like them, I was just fascinated that God could create something so different than me.  

Little Man wants to dress like them, and wear the type of hats they wear.  He wants to talk like them saying things like, “Wuz up bra!” (instead of wuz up bro).  The other day we were in the car and he said, “Why are there more black people in jail than white people?”  I explained to him that it had nothing to do with the color of their skin.  I told him people make bad decisions that land them in jail.  He asked why blacks make more bad decisions than whites?  Again, I said it has nothing to do with color.  

This is always a very difficult topic of discussion with my child.  I would like to think I am not prejudice...but in many ways I think I am.  I think God made African Americans more athletic than other races.  I think God made Asians more intelligent than other races.  Although we all have the same color of blood, the truth is we are very different.  If you group people according to race, you will find that we aren’t made equal.  Of course you always have the exception to these rules.  There are a few out there that are able to rise above and beyond.  If you disagree, then in my opinion, you are lying to yourself.  Why is it that prisons have more of one race over the other?  Why is it that star athletes favor a certain color of the skin?  Why is it when you look at the grades of students, Asians score higher on tests than any other race?  If you look at business owners, aren’t more of them men over women?  Why are race car drivers mostly men?  It doesn’t matter the color of your skin.  

I think society has a HUGE impact on the actions of people.  Asians for example.  Maybe it isn’t that their smarter, it is just that they have parents that put the fear of God in them.  They have no choice but to succeed.  They are expected, and know the consequences are serious when they don’t come home with a 98 or above.  African Americans and football.  Have you ever noticed the quarterbacks are Caucasian but everyone else is most African American?  Does that seem odd to anyone else?  What about Nascar.  You think men love cars, so of course this sport is a mans sport.  But have you noticed there aren’t African Americans, Asians, or Middle Eastern racers out there?  It’s mostly Caucasian.  Why?  

In a world that should be created equal, are we really created that way?  Am I looking at it all wrong?  Did God really not make certain people better at things than others?  Is it just that society sees that this is a sport for white men, so the others stay away?  Is it society that forms these groups, and we the people just follow because that is how it has always been?

As far as answering my sons question, I couldn’t.  I don’t know why there are more African Americans and Hispanics in prison than Caucasians.  I didn’t even know this was true until I looked it up.  Sure enough, he is right.   This is what I found:

"Mass arrests and incarceration of people of color – largely due to drug law violations – have hobbled families and communities by stigmatizing and removing substantial numbers of men and women. In the late 1990s, nearly one in three African-American men aged 20-29 were under criminal justice supervision, while more than two out of five had been incarcerated – substantially more than had been incarcerated a decade earlier and orders of magnitudes higher than that for the general population. Today, 1 in 15 African-American children and 1 in 42 Latino children have a parent in prison, compared to 1 in 111 white children. In some areas, a large majority of African-American men – 55 percent in Chicago, for example – are labeled felons for life, and, as a result, may be prevented from voting and accessing public housing, student loans and other public assistance." - http://drugwarfacts.org/cms/?q=node/64

I wish I had the answer for Little Man.  I wish I knew how to respond to such questions while still being “politically correct.”  I wish I knew why he wants to be like them.  I wish I could convince him that he should be proud to be who he is.  I know as a parent, this is only ONE of the tough questions I will be asked.   

Struggling Student

I know a struggling student.  He is a 6th grader.  He is average in size and looks.  He is very smart.  His problem is he doesn't care.  He doesn't have the desire to do the work.  He is fully capable, and all the teachers know it.  He would much rather socialize than learn.  This student is ADHD.  He struggles to sit and focus.  His mind is constantly racing with questions and thoughts.  He worries about what other students think of him.  When he talks to the other students he often moves his arm up to his face to cover his nose.  He is paranoid that he has boogers.  He is terrified of being called out, or embarrassed because he doesn't look just right.  He is constantly putting his hands in his hair because he is afraid it is sticking up somewhere.  He takes care in getting dressed in the mornings.  He wants to be accepted by the other students.  He wants to be popular.  He wants to be loved.  He wants kids to want to be his friend.

I have just described most 6th grade male students.  But this student in particular is my son.

Since Little Man was in the first grade I have been told he is bright.  I am starting to wonder if this is code for something else.  Little Man always has decent grades.  When it comes time for that dreaded parent/teacher conference I walk in slowly with my head down and tail tucked between my legs.  I know it isn't going to be good news.  I know the things they are going to say.  I have done this for 6 years, I know their speech better than they know it:

"Little Man is so bright.  He is such a joy, and he is so lovable.  He is one of my most polite students (most of the time).  It is obvious that Little Man knows the work.  He knows the answers.  He just doesn't want to put it on paper.  He lacks the motivation.  He worries too much about what others think of him.  He is my class clown.  When the students are told to write a paper, Little Man only does half a page.  He wants to be the first one done.  When he is given an assignment, it takes him 5 minutes to get started.  He is unorganized (this hurts my heart more than anything).  He scrambles for two minutes to find a sheet to write on.  Then he scrambles for another 20 seconds to find a pencil, only to realize it needs to be sharpened.  On the way to the pencil sharpener, he distracts other students which slows him down.  Once his pencil is sharpened and he is back at his desk, he realizes that he is missing his eraser.  He fumbles looking for another pencil.  After finding one, it too needs to be sharpened.  He remembers he has a sharpener in his binder.  He gets it, sharpens his pencil, and of course it accidently pops open and spills all over his desk and the floor.  At this point the class is almost done with the assignment, and Little Man hasn't even started.  He gets about 3 sentences on his paper, then puts it away and sits up straight as if he has worked long and hard on this very tedious assignment.  The work that he does do, is right.  It is just a battle getting him to do the work."  

After this speech, they turn and look at me as if I hold the precise answer to this very complex problem.  I then explain this is the same speech I have heard for the past 5 years.  We brainstorm...she promises to give him a little more one-on-one, and I promise to check work at home.  We shake hands and say our goodbyes, both knowing that was a waste of time.

Because I am going to school to be a teacher this whole situation kills me.  Teachers kids are supposed to be the smart ones.  If I fail with my child, how can I expect to succeed with other peoples children?  I want him to LOVE learning.  I want him to care about his grades.  We have tried everything from taking away all his electronics to simply sending him to his room.  What is this really achieving?  This morning in the shower I decided I am going to try harder to help him succeed.  I am going to start doing work with him at home.  Not school work, but work that I create for him.  I can easily look up what he is doing in his classroom, and repeat that work at home.  This may make me a horrible parent, making her child come home and do more school work.  I don't know what else to do.  Maybe if I make him so comfortable doing school work, that when it comes time to perform in the class he will think to himself, "this shouldn't take long, just did this at home last night."  I may be dreaming thinking this will be my result, but I have to try something  new.

I want my child to succeed.  I need to set him up to be a winner.  He enters the middle school next year, and I want him ready.  

One shot

So, Little Man convinced me to listen to an Eminem song the other day.  Here are the beginning lyrics:


Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted-One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs,
but he keeps on forgettin what he wrote down,
the whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's choking how, everybody's joking now
The clock's run out, time's up over, bloah!
Snap back to reality, Oh there goes gravity
Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that
Easy, noHe won't have it , he knows his whole back's to these ropes




...You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blowThis opportunity comes once in a lifetime

I started to really think about these lyrics.  Haven't we all felt this at some point in our lives?  Going into an interview, you think "this is my one shot, don't screw this up."  You have sweaty palms, you have everything written out.  You have practiced answers to possible questions, you have prepared your own questions.  Then you get in there, and you forget everything.  You go to answer your well rehearsed questions, and you stumble on your answer.  You can't think of anything to say.  You all of a sudden forget everything you have ever done for every company you have ever worked for.  

Last week I taught my second lesson to the my 7th grade classroom.  This was a lesson that I created completely on my own.  I taught all six periods.  These kids know me.  I am in their classroom every Thursday helping out.  This was the first time I had appeared in front of them as an actual teacher.  I had my presentation well rehearsed.  I had spent hours on the power point I had put together.  I get up in front of these sharks...I mean students, and go to speak.  I all of a sudden forget how I was going to start.  Then the panic sets in.  They sense my fear.  I am going to puke...no, I am going to pass out.  I am going to fall over right now, land on my face and they are all going to laugh at me.  I will probably most definitely hit my face on the desk as I fall, shooting blood all over my new shirt.  They will be so grossed out, they will never again look me in the face.  They will lose all respect they currently have for me.  The teacher will have to escort me out, and then she will go to the teachers lounge and tell all the other teachers what an idiot I am.  OMG I am never going to be able to do this.  These kids are going to eat me up.  EVERY. DAY.  I am still just standing here.  They are staring at me, I have to say something...JUST SAY SOMETHING.  

We have all had this panic moment, right?  We prepare for something so important then when the time comes, we fall flat on our face.  I think we learn from this.  We have to fall so many times before we are able to stand on our own.  If we don't have failure, how do we know what success is?

I was able to regain my composure in the classroom.  My panic only lasted about 2 seconds.  My first few lessons were a little rough.  By the last period of the day, I had these kids wrapped around my thumb.  I had easily gained the control I needed.  It took practice, but luckily I had six opportunities to perfect it.  Not everyone gets this chance.  Many times, like the song, you have one shot.  One opportunity.  Do you capture it?  

Make you or break you

In my opinion, it takes two things to make a sale: the ability to read people, and a certain amount of good old fashioned charm.

I am back in the game. To me it is a game.  I immediately, before even walking into a business, need to be able to read the business.  For instance, auto shops.  There is two possibilities that I know before walking in.  I am going to either get the owner or his wife (who is usually the bookkeeper).  If I get the owner, I usually get a man who is for the most part excited to see a woman.  He doesn't really care about what I have to say.  These are an easy, "sign here and here."  He doesn't care what he is signing, he is just happy to have a woman pay attention to him :)  On the other side, if it is the wife...I might as well get back in my car.  So before I walk in the door, I have already judged what kind of appointment this is.  I already know my chances.  My appointments are pre-set, so I know whether it is the owner or his wife.  At that point I walk in and I have about 3 minutes to either win them over, or walk away empty handed.  The great thing about this job is it is a one time connection.  I don't have to build a relationship with these people.  I only meet with them one time, I either get it or I don't.

Another appointment.  Nail salons.  I know right off the bat I am going to have a language barrier.  So I walk in with patience.  These owners don't care about charm.  About 60% of the time, they have NO idea why I am there, because they misunderstood the appointment-setters original phone call.  The only thing many of them can say in English with confidence is, "yes", or "okay."  So when they are asked if I can come in and go over their rates with them, they say "yes."  So when I get there, they don't have a statement and they don't understand why I am asking for one.  So I usually walk away empty handed.

Another appointment.  Hotels and gas stations.  These are usually owned by the Patels.  They are very friendly, but these appointments take not only charm, but I need to know my information well.  These business owners are smart.  They know EXACTLY what they are paying.  They know what their rates are.  They know what their transaction fees are.  They know they are getting different rates depending on the different cards.  You would be surprised at how many business owners don't know most of this basic information.  Hotels and gas stations know every detail, and know where every penny goes.  So my adorable smile only gets me so far.  I need to know everything, and if I make ONE mistake they immediately retreat.  It is like peeling the layers off an onion.  Once I peel back enough layers, my eyes start to tear up.  I usually tear up because they have beat me down with questions I have never heard, therefore don't know the answers too.  I am also tearing up because I have wasted over an hour and a half and I can at this point sense that I will walk away empty handed.  These business owners question you to death, then they "want to think about it."  That is code for, "don't call me, I'LL call you."

Another appointment.  Mobile companies (construction, odd jobs, window washers).  These guys are completely mobile and they work out of their vehicles.  These are always men.  My sweet smile, and nice legs come in very handy here.  These are two different people too though.  I can get one that is so busy they don't have time for sitting around and chatting.  If this is the case, I have about 5 minutes to get my information out, along with the application.  I have to be quick or they lose patience with me.  Not only do I have to be quick, but I can't seem that I am rushed.  If I appear rushed, I appear shaky.  Shaky = SHADY.  It is about balance, be quick, but don't be unsure.  Don't ask for the sale, assume it.  The other type of mobile owners are the ones that want someone to meet then at Dunkin' Donuts.  This doesn't just take a sweet smile.  To make a sale with these VERY laid back business owners, I need to go the personal route.  Ask them how long they have been in business.  Do they like it?  If I can, it is great to bring in family.  Do you have kids?  How old?  They pull out the pictures.  I convince them their child should be in modeling.  Then I pull out the application, "sign here and here".

Does this post make you lose a little respect for me?  It is a job.  I am out to make money like every other person.  In my job, if I don't make a sale, I don't make a dime.  I have about 30 seconds to win them over.  In that first 30 seconds, I have to be able to read them, and respond to their "type".  If I read them as laid back, and they are actually Type A personalities, then I can lose in the first 30 seconds.  If I read them as angry at the world (and credit card people), then I have 30 seconds to convince them I too hate stupid credit card people.  I can't appear desperate.  I also can't appear arrogant.  Don't talk over them.  Let them spill their guts.  Hold their hands.  Talk about their families or their grandkids.  Tell them how nice their office is.  Tell them I love the carpet.  The first 30 seconds can make me or break me, so my goal is to enchant them.

The astonishing thing about my job, is we truly DO have lower rates than most companies out there.  This makes it very easy to show savings, and makes it painless to sell equipment.  This job has been wonderful for me in the last few weeks.  I have been successful, and I actually love doing it.  I love meeting new people.  I love that I actually get to save them money.  What I don't love is that this is a cut throat business.  I don't like that I am labeled as "sales girl".  Sales girl = sleazy girl.  I hate that I sell terminals for more than they are actually worth.  I hate that I have to take advantage of what business owners don't know or don't pay attention to.  I am like a bully that jumps on their weakness.  On the other hand, shouldn't they be smarter?  Why should I feel bad for their stupidity?  I know I have my equipment marked up, but don't you think they do too?  They OWN a business.  They are making money on other people, just like I am making money on them.  It is an endless circle of deception.  We know when we buy bread at Walmart, that Walmart is making money off that sale...but do we care?  No, that is just the way it goes.  They are selling something I need.  I am selling something they need.  It is a temporary job that will get me to my final goal...to be a teacher.  I love this job.  I love making money.  Some days are easier than others (depending on how I am dressed).  Lucky for me, many businesses are owned by men.  I have a nice smile, and seemingly precious personality.                    

Teaching Philosophy Paper

Why I Want to be a Teacher

Ever since I was a little girl, my life long dream was to be a teacher.  When I was six, I used to line all my dolls and stuffed animals on my bed.  I would sit them all up in little lines so that I eventually had the attention of over fifteen pupils.  I would spend hours teaching them their ABC’s and 123’s.  I would pass out papers, and give them tests.  I would then pick up the papers and grade them, adding little stickers if the grade was a 100% (not caring about the work I had to do creating these papers).  I even had a pupil or two that misbehaved and got a phone call to the parents.  

Moving into high school, my dream still remained.  Directly after high school, my dream came to an abrupt halt when I became pregnant.  I gave birth to my son at the age of eighteen.  As most people know, having a baby changes your life.  I raised him on my own, and therefore had to work a full time job to be able to afford to raise my child without the financial assistance of my family.  I quickly worked my way up the ladder in the corporate world with no education past a high school diploma.  Four years ago, I landed a job as an Office Manager for a company with 30 employees.  At 29, with a little college under my belt but no degree, I was making more money than 60% of the employees that had a bachelor degree.  I was making great money, but it was a sacrifice.  I was putting in over 48 hours a week, and only getting paid for 40.  I was dropping my son off at day care when they opened, and picking him up at 6:30PM when they closed.  When I got home, we had an hour and a half to get homework done, get him showered, bedtime story, and then bed.  I not only was loosing his childhood, but I was losing my dream.  With the economy breakdown, my company closed its doors in April 2009, and I found myself jobless.  It was so hard for me; it was the first time since I was 18, that I didn’t have an 8-5 job.  It took me a couple days to gather my thoughts, and it occurred to me, now is the best time to pursue my dream.  I had two years of college already, and only had two to go, so I decided to go back to school.  Now I am back in school and learning the things I need to know to be the very best teacher I can be.  So many people take teaching for granted.  When you are a teacher, you hold many keys to so many student’s future success.  That is an abundance of pressure!  

I have had many teachers that I adored, and many that I despised.  I had teachers that cherished their jobs, and I had teachers that had no business standing in front of students holding those keys to success.  My desire is to be a middle school teacher.  When I think back, and I think the hardest times in my life were in middle school.  It takes a patient person to teach young elementary school students, but it takes an understanding person to teach middle school students.  These students are at a very fragile time in their lives outside of the school.  They began to feel the pressure of other students to fit in.  They are going through puberty and personal struggles with who they are, and who they long to be.  I can teach them to be responsible in their decisions.  I can teach them that although peer pressure seems so hard now, the right thing to do is always the best thing to do.  I will teach them to not only make the right decision, but to convince everyone else that it is the right decision.  I will teach them they can have influence on others' mistakes.  I will teach them they can be leaders, and lead struggling students to make the right decisions.  I feel middle school students are still young enough that they love their teachers, but old enough that you don’t have to hold their hands.  

I think the characteristics of an amazing teacher are absolutely necessary to achieve success in teaching middle school students.  Middle school students can’t be treated like newborns; they are preteens and want to be treated that way.  A middle school teacher should be energetic.  She should make the subject of the Civil War, or American Literature exciting!  If she loves it, they will love it!  I had a teacher in school that made my worst subject my favorite subject because of her obvious love for what she was teaching.  She transferred that love to me through her energy in her passion for teaching.  A middle school teacher still needs to have boundaries.  She needs to be strict and not let her students have control.  If the students think they run the class, they will think they run the teacher.  Students always need structure, they crave it.  Students need to know the teacher cares.  It isn’t just about teaching where a comma goes in the sentence.  Students have a whole life outside of the classroom.  Sometimes they may need guidance in that. Many students today are raised in homes with one parent, or even raised by grandparents. Teachers don’t always know the circumstances of the home life, but it is so important to be supportive and open to listening to the issues beyond the classroom.  In middle school, students are still young.  They may open up and ask for help from an adult on a situation that is going on at home.  A good teacher doesn’t turn that student away.

I want to be a teacher because I want to make a difference.  I want to teach middle school English.  So many students are wrapped up in internet and cell phones, they don’t care much about reading and writing the old way.  I want them to learn to love books.  I want them knee deep into famous classical writers, and I want them to lose themselves in the words.  I want them to learn to write with their hearts and minds.  I will teach them to love it.  

I want to be a teacher because that is what I am here to do.  My heart has always been in teaching.  Life is too short.  It is important for there to be teachers that want to teach because it is what they love.  They need to have the passion and the heart.  I am here to hold the key of students' success, and am ready for that challenge.  I believe I can reach students on a level that many teachers can’t or don’t want to.  I not only want to be the teacher they learned the most from, I want to be the teacher they trust and respect.  It is so hard being a pre-teen; teachers can have an influence in not only education but in personal growth.  I can influence them to be better people and to reach for their goals.  I can teach them they can be whoever they want to be.

It takes a special person to be a teacher.  Patience, honesty, understanding, energy, the love of reading and writing, the love of students….these are all attributes I have and will use when I reach my goal in life of being a middle school English teacher.  I will make a difference in these young students.  I will show them passion they never knew they had.  I will show them love they never thought they could achieve.  I will teach them beyond the book, and show them respect as young adults.  I will teach them diversity, and show them that everyone is equal.  I will teach them to love students in the classroom with disabilities and without, and will show them how we can learn from each other.  I will make a difference.  I will hold the keys to their success, and I will teach them to turn it in the door of their future.    

My Three Wishes

The Little Man asked me the other day if I had three wishes, what would they be.  We have all discussed this question at some point in our life.  I even think I wrote a paper in high school on this topic.  I was ready to fire my three answers, I have had many years to think and prepare these answers.  And so I began...

My first wish...I wanted to say the all popular: I wish to have endless wishes...but I knew that was really cheating.  I am given three, don’t be greedy.  Back to my first wish.  I wish I could fly.  I don’t have to have wings, I just want to be able to soar through the sky like superwoman, minus the cape.  I wanted to have the superhuman ability to lift my weight off the ground, point the tips of my fingers, and shoot up into the sky.  This ability has only been real in my dreams.  I dream I am flying above crowds of people.  Soaring over neighborhoods.  Fluttering over onlookers traffic.  Sailing over small lakes and ponds.  So, my first wish, is to make this dream a reality.  I want to fly.  

Moving onto my second wish.  I wish that adults who abused people/children would be tied up and tortured.  I know this sounds hateful and harsh, but these are my wishes, not Mother Teresa’s.  When a person beats on a child, or a spouse, in  my opinion they should get a taste of their own medicine.  They should know how it feels to be the victim.  Whatever they do to someone else, they should have done to themselves...by a 200 pound body builder named Roach.  Yes, I am a firm believer in the death penalty.  Nothing makes my blood boil more than a bully.  Why would you hurt someone weaker than you?  

Finally my last wish.  I wish that EVERY child had an exceptional home to live in.  Not just a home.  A home that they are loved and taken care of.  I want all of their needs to be met.  Children are our future.  They should be treated like treasures.  They should not only be loved, but they should be given an opportunity to walk into success.  

Those are my wishes, now where is my Genie?

Why couldn't I see her fear?

I was in the 5th grade.  My best friend was Tammy.  We were both in Ms. Peterson's class.  Neither of us really like her, but we both had each other.  We ate lunch together, we played at recess together, and we walked home together.  Life couldn't be better.

On a Friday, I went to Tammy's house to spend the night.  It was so close to summer, and she had a pool.  We giggled all night and talked about silly girl things.  We made wishes and talked about what we wanted to be when we grew up.  We challenged each other to see who could stay up the latest.  We talked about who we wanted to kiss, and who we thought was cute.  We did what little girls do.

The next day, her mom went to work while we were left behind with her brother who was 16, her stepfather, and her adorable baby sister.  I was infatuated with her baby sister.  She was just over a year old.  We played with her nonstop, following her around waiting for her to fall so we had reason to pick her up.  Her chubby little thighs wobbled as she ran from room to room screaming with anticipation of who would grab her next.  She was such a joy, and had the focus of our attention most of Saturday afternoon.  When her nap time came around, we got to read to her and put her down for her nap.  We read her a book with our very best character voices.  We sang her a song and took turns rocking her, then finally put her in her crib.

Then we went to Tammy's room and got ready to go swimming.  Her brother was already out in the pool, and her dad was laying in a chair next to the pool.  Her stepfather was very strict.  When he commanded something, Tammy didn't ask questions.  He never talked to me, but I knew to keep my mouth shut when he was around.

We jumped in the pool and played games with the cheap little pool rings.  Half of them floated, and half of them sunk.  We didn't care, we were just happy to be in the pool playing with each other.  We played for what seemed like hours.  Her brother kept to himself on one side of the pool, and her stepfather just sat in his chair quietly watching us.

Then we heard the baby crying.  The baby monitor was sitting on the table outside beside her dad.  We both glanced at it, then smiled at each other.  We quickly jumped out of the pool.  We couldn't wait to run up and get her.  Then her dad spoke.

"Tammy, go ALONE and get the baby, change her diaper, and put her swimsuit on."

"Yes sir," she responded as she frantically began to towel dry herself off.

I felt awkward as I stood there watching her rush to dry herself.  I understood him clearly when he said she was to go alone.  Do I get back in the pool?  I decided I would sit out on the chair and wait for her and the baby's return.  I took a seat, laying back soaking in all of the sun.  I closed my eyes as I heard her brother start to swim laps.  Then I heard her fathers chair being pulled across the patio.  I opened my eyes to see him coming towards me with his chair.  My body grew a little tense.  Was he going to talk to me?  Did I do something wrong?  Why did he want to sit so close to me?  He now had his chair right next to mine.  I sat up, assuming he wanted to talk to me.  

He placed his hand on my thigh.  I froze in fear.  Should I get up?  I was too petrified to move.  I stared at the house praying Tammy would come out with the baby.  I knew she was minutes away from appearing.  I looked at her brother in the pool.  He was still swimming laps.  I watched him, wishing I were swimming next to him.

His hand inched up slowly.  His finger grazed the lining of my swimsuit.  I looked back at the back door.  Should I get up?  My body was tense with fear.  His finger went underneath the lining of my swimsuit.  I could feel tears coming through my throat.

The back door flung open.  I jumped up and ran for Tammy and the baby.  The baby saw me and stretched her little arms out.  I picked her up and swung her around, my stomach still turning with anxiety.  Her pink arm floaties stuck to my hot cheeks.  We headed for the edge of the pool.  For the next thirty minutes we played with her on the steps taking turns trying to convince her to jump to us.  She was so happy.  She shrieked with excitement as we yelled her name.  Then it was time for me to go home.  I packed my overnight bag up, and left.  I didn't spend the night with her after that.

After that summer, Tammy's dad forbid her to see me anymore.  When we started school in the fall, she wouldn't even look my way.  I didn't know what I had done wrong.  I was only eleven.  I had lost my best friend.  I tried to slip her notes.  She wouldn't even acknowledge my presence.  I never forgot that.  To this day, twenty years later, I have tried to find her on facebook and myspace.  I would never tell her what happened that day at the pool, I just want to make sure she is safe and okay.  I always felt I was responsible for letting that friendship end.  I now know she probably wasn't safe in that house.  I never did anything.  I didn't help her.  Deep down I know she lived in a prison.  As an adult, I recognize the signs I missed as a small child.  She lived in fear.  She was terrified of him.  She never so much as blinked when he spoke to her.  I let her walk away.  I should have forced her to talk to me.  I should have made her reach out for adult help.  She grew up trapped and never had anyone save her.  I could have saved her, and I didn't.      

Special Education

Interesting thought.  Each school not only has your typical average child, but it also has children with learning disabilities.  When I moved to Connecticut, I went the Education Department.  I planned on substituting while I was finishing my degree. As I am filling out the paperwork, I realize it is asking what my degree is in.  Since I haven't yet finished my degree, I stood up and asked the woman what I should do.  

"Oh, you don't have a degree yet?"

“No,” I responded, feeling very minimized.  She then proceeded to tell me that to be a substitute, I had to have a degree.  She then told me that I didn't have to have a degree to be a Special Education teacher.  "How much does that pay?"  I asked.  

"Eight dollars an hour," she barked.

Knowing that substitute teachers make $90.00 a day, I was a little taken back.  I found out that this is very typical.  Teachers that don't have a degree, get to teach the special students.  Does that throw anyone else for a loop?  Shouldn't teachers have special training to work with these special kids?  It is hard enough with your typical student, to get them to sit through a 50 minute lesson.  Try doing that with a student that has a learning disability.  They let just anyone that walks off the street work with these students...and they practically pay them minimum wage.  Does that scare anyone else?

I think if I am the parent of a special needs child, I would want my child to get the best education possible.  I think I would be a little mortified to learn that the people that are teaching MY child didn’t even have a degree.  Not only do they not have a degree, but they also don’t have any specialty training.  

I feel like this is so twisted and backwards.  It really blows me away.  I see these students when I am in the school.  They can have outburst at any second, it can be like pulling teeth to get them to sit up and do a worksheet.  If you think teaching is hard, try teaching someone that doesn’t have the desire to learn.  Many of these kids don’t want to be there.  Do you think it is easy trying to get a kid to do something they don’t want to do?

It breaks my heart that some kids face this challenge every day.  Mix that with a teacher that doesn’t have experience or a degree.  Do you think that is going to be a successful learning experience?  I think not.  

Rain Man

Yesterday, I met Rain Man.  I walked into one of my appointments.  It was a lawn mower shop.  It had all sorts of gadgets for fixing your lawn mower, and it had lawn mowers for sale.  It was a disaster.  The store had no order to it what-so-ever.  This can be a really good thing for me.  Disorganized working environment means they aren't really the "book keeper" type...which means easy sale.  I walked up to the counter and asked for the owner.  He said quickly, “Showner Owner, that’s me”.  I knew immediately that something seemed a little off.  In some of the cities I visit though, "off" is normal.  So I didn’t look too much into it.  

I asked for his statement and he quickly handed it to me and said, “Ummm yeah, here is my statement.  Right here is my statement.  This here is my statement.”  I smiled and took his statement from him.  I started to do my cost analysis. 

The cost analysis I do is in an excel spreadsheet.  I put in the monthly amount he does in Visa cards, and what he paid out.  Then I put the amount he sold in Master cards, and what he paid out.  Simple right?  Then I add his miscellaneous fees together and put that on there too.  Some companies have like four different miscellaneous fees.  This guy had a monthly statement fee, a monthly maintenance fee, a monthly access fee, a debit access fee, and a batch fee.  So the total ended up being like 67.53 for miscellaneous fees.  So I have my calculator out adding all this stuff up so I make sure to put it in my cost analysis correctly.  Then I show the customer what they are currently doing, and what they would be doing if they were with us.  

So I go into my presentation.  I show him on his statement his total Visa, then I turn to my cost analysis and show him that I put that same number in my spreadsheet.  Then I do the same for Mastercard.  Then I turn back to his statement and say, “these five fees here added together are your miscellaneous fees.”  Without hesitation he says, “sixty-seven dollars and fifty-three cents.”  I turn to my spreadsheet where I put in the total (after using my handy calculator) and noticed he had the number right.  “Okay, I think to myself.  He saw the number on my spreadsheet.  There is no way he added those up that quickly in his head right?”  

I continue with my presentation.  I told him,  “You are currently paying 2%.  If you were with us, you would be paying 1.7%.  So the total fees you paid on this month, including your miscellaneous fees, with your current 2.0%, ended up being $642.39.  If you were with us on the 1.7%, with the $5.00 miscellaneous fee, you would have paid-”   

“Six-o-one twenty-one.”

“Hugh?” I asked?

“Umm, six umm six hundred and one dollars and twenty-ummm twenty-one cents.”

I looked back at my spreadsheet.  He had the right number.  I KNOW he didn’t see that on my spreadsheet because I had to scroll down to the very bottom in order to get that number.  “Holy cow!  How did you know that?”

“Six-o-one twenty-one.  At 1.7%...umm..that would be six-o-one twenty-one.  That would be a monthly savings of forty-one eighteen.”

My mind is completely racing.  Have I just met Rain Man?  Should I continue?  I didn’t know what to do.  He threw me off.  I was stunned.  Completely speechless.  I stumbled over my recovery.  “Ummm, do you understand all this?”  Of course he understands all this!  He knows this shit better than I do!  

“Yes, I have a $250 cancellation fee.  Fee shpee fee.  I also am under contract with this machine.  $79.99 a month for 48 months...that is $3,839.52.  I have only paid two payments, so that is umm, $3,679.54 left.” 

I think I had to manually bring my jaw back up to meet my upper lip.  I was stunned.  At this point, I don’t know how to talk to this guy.  Luckily, he has no desire to make eye contact with me, because I think he would have laughed me out of his business.  I tried to register what he said.  First of all, someone KILLED him on that terminal lease.  Bastard, I think in my head!  Can’t believe someone would take advantage of someone like this!  Then again...how the hell would someone this smart that knows math like I know Walmart, agree to sign off on a lease that big?  I thought to myself, okay, two choices here.  I can a.) probably talk him into switching over to me and signing a new lease (which is COMPLETE robbery on my part) or b.) walk away from this guy and pray no one behind me comes in and takes advantage of him.  I decided to take the high road.  I told him I appreciated his time and went to shake his hand.  He said, “Are you umm going to sell me a shiny new machine?”  I said, “No, not today.  You have a new one, you don’t need another one.”  He said, “Okay girlie whirlie!  Thanks for coming by!”   With that I walked out, got in my car, and drove off.  

What an amazing gift and an amazing curse...all in one. 

Each time, it gets a little harder

I flew to Texas to take an exam (which I made a 93 on!!).  I was able to stay for 5 days.  It was wonderful.  After a long flight there, I stepped off the plane onto Texas ground.  I exited the very familiar airport to look up at the beautiful Texas sky.  The warmth hit me like a blanket fresh from the dryer.  I felt...Home.  I was picked up by one of my besties.  It was so wonderful to see a familiar face.  I don't want to be misunderstood here.  I love being with The Chief and The Little Man in Connecticut, but it doesn't feel like home.  So being in Texas I felt as though I had never left.  As the week flew by all too fast I realized my time in Texas was coming to a quick end.  I made sure to soak every bit of it in the best I could.  I made sure the sunroof was open and the windows were open.  I made sure to stop by all my favorite restaurants that no longer exist in my new hometown.  I went by my jewelry store to get my ring checked.  I drove a little slower than the speed limit to just be a little longer with the sun shining on my head.  I saw all four of my friends, my sister, and my wonderful niece and nephews.  I couldn't have asked for anything more...except time.

I am very protective of my friends.  As I said goodbye to one, I found it very difficult to walk away.  I wanted to hold her just a little longer.  I looked at her and the kids and wished that I had another week, or even another day.  She doesn't have any siblings, I have always felt like I was the closest thing she had to a sister.  I didn't want to leave her again.  As I stood there and looked at her and her eyes tearing up, my mind searched for a reason to stay even a moment longer.

This trip was especially hard.  Leaving another friend as she took me to the airport, was also gut wrenching.  As we chatted on the way there, I watched the all familiar signs fly by.  I knew I was getting closer to goodbye.  As we pulled up to the airport, I opened the back door to say goodbye to the baby.  As soon as I looked at him, he grinned at me.  With an infant, it is almost as if they don't yet know how to smile.  He just opens his mouth so wide with the smallest upward curve of both sides of his mouth.  What an amazing feeling that gives me.  Such a beautiful way to say goodbye.  Little does he know, the next time I see him, he will be walking.  He won't even know me.

As I land in Connecticut my excitement starts to build again.  I can't wait to see Little Man and the Chief.  Then I step outside.  Ugly. Dirty. Snow. Coldness.  I began to long for the Texas sun as I search for my car.  I wonder, will this state ever feel like home?

What is she thinking?

Do you ever wonder what dogs are thinking?  I am sure you do, we all do don’t we?  I hear people talk for dogs, so I know they think for them.

When we moved into our house, there was an electric fence already put up.  The wonderful previous home owners, left behind the collar that goes with it.  After one shock, our mutt was trained...or so I thought.  The other night, I let her out and sat down on the couch to watch a movie with my husband.  Three hours later, we both woke up to the credits rolling on the television.  We did our usual, I go upstairs, and The Chief (husband) turns off all the lights and locks all the doors.  The Chief comes in the room and says, “Where is Molly?”  I looked under the bed, yes she is about 90 pounds, but she squeezes her large body under our bed.  She wasn’t there.  He goes back downstairs and opens the back door and whistles for her.  No response.  Normally, if she doesn’t respond at the back door, we walk around to the front.  Because our house sits on a hill, she likes to sit in the front because she can see the whole neighborhood from there.  He goes to the front...still no Molly.  So then we both head outside.  We know now, that she has gone passed the electric fence.  We also know that she has been MIA for about 3 hours.  The Chief takes the back and I take the front.  He has a flashlight and is headed towards the woods.  Our house backs up to about a mile of open woods.  I go down the front of the house thinking she has decided to check out the neighbors a little more closely.  We are both yelling her name.  Deep down, I am terrified I am going to see her laying down somewhere dead.  When I was 16, our dog growing up died.  We came home, and mom found her dead in the backyard.  I carry that fear, that it will happen again.  So I am yelling, he is yelling.  Then I hear him yell my name.  I head back up the driveway and see Molly running like Seabiscuit on the last stretch towards me.  The Chief said she was on the other side of our rock wall (that divides our backyard from the woods).  I stood there and watched her in awe.  She was running like CRAZY!  I wondered what was going through her mind?!?  The Chief had to take the collar off her because that was the reason she wasn’t in the yard.  She was too afraid to come back through the fence because she was shocked so bad going out.  Was she running like that thinking, “I’M FREE!  NO MORE POKEY COLLAR!”  Or was she just excited that we found her and thinking, “The idiots finally found me!  What am I, chopped liver??  Didn’t even notice I was missing for THREE HOURS!”  

When our dog poops she does the same thing!  She runs around the backyard crazy fast.  What is she thinking then??  “Wow, I feel like a new woman!”  Or, “I must have dropped 3 pounds with that deposit!”  Or is she thinking, “WAHOO!  Something more for that kid to pick up later!!”

In the morning on the weekends she gets up with The Chief.  When I come down stairs (hours later), she immediately comes over to me and wants to smell my breath.  WHY?  What is she thinking?  “Just checking to see if you brushed yet mom?”  

When The Chief and I are standing in the kitchen talking she sits up next to us and stairs at us.  When I look at her, she looks like she is struggling to keep her eyes open.  What is she thinking when she sits there?  “Hello?  Keep the conversation entertaining, I am falling asleep here!”  Or, “Will you two quit your jabber and mosey on over to my treat container?”  Or, “Dear God, if I have to hear one more conversation about what he said or she said, I might just put a kitten on my friend request list.”  

When she meets another dog, like most dogs, they go straight for the butt.  “What did you have for dinner last night?”

I am sitting at the kitchen table and she sees a squirrel in the backyard.  She immediately starts barking like she is going to break down the door.  So I open it, she takes off after it.  The squirrel of course, runs up a tree.  She stands there staring up.  I can only assume she is thinking, “Just so you know, I LET you climb that tree!  If I was even a little hungry I would have you for my afternoon snack.  Actually, earlier I ate a deer.  DID YOU HEAR THAT?  A DEER!  One with lots of sticks coming out of it’s head!  I used those sticks to clean my teeth with.  So I am a little full now.  You just stay up there.  We will meet again later, when I am hungry...and not feeling so bloated.”  

The other day, she saw two deer standing just beyond the rock wall.  She ran towards them, and they didn’t move.  She got close enough and stopped.  She stood there and barked at them.  They continued to stand their ground.  It looked like a momma and her baby.  They just stared at her.  Is she thinking, “What the hell are those things?  Aren’t they missing some sticks coming out of their heads?  Why aren’t they afraid of me?  Am I loosing my pit look?  I KNEW I should have rolled in the dirt yesterday, my fur is getting too light.  That makes me look like a pansy!  Well, if I keep barking they will know that I am here.  Wait a minute, I wonder if I could play with that thing!  I don’t dare swat it around like I did that little squeaky thing the other day.  Why is that thing still staring at me?  Wait, where is it going?  Yeah, you BETTER run!  I was going to come after you if you stuck around another 5 seconds.  Consider yourself lucky, I drop turds the size if you!  I could take you down with my back left leg tied to my tail!  You keep on running buddy!  Now, where did that squeaky thing go?”

It is fun to wonder what goes through a dogs mind.  It is almost as tough as a man trying to figure out what is going through a woman’s mind!    

New Start

I have decided to start a new blog.  Now that I am getting used to the idea of this, I have decided to protect myself and my family.  I am going to be a teacher very soon, and need to be careful about pasted my private life all over the internet.  I obviously don't want to take any chances.

So, starting new and fresh.  I have started a new life.  I lived in Texas for 28 years, then moved with my husband, who I will refer to as: The Chief; and my son, who I will refer to as: Little Man.  We moved from Texas to Connecticut.  The Chief got a job promotion, which forced us to make the big move.

Going from Texas to Connecticut has been quite a life-changing experience.  I only had a handful of friends in Texas (I am not one of those people who has this HUGE circle of friends).  I miss my friends dearly.  I have a sister that I also left behind.  When you grow up with someone everyday...it is tough walking away.  I have learned quickly that I took relationships for granted.

On the bright side...moving across the country with The Chief has only improved our relationship.  He went from being out of town Monday through Thursday, to being home every night.  I know woman who would pay big bucks to have their husbands out of the house four days a week.  It worked for us.  I was naturally worried about how him being home every night was going to change the dynamics of our relationship.  I can honestly say, it has made our relationship stronger.  We have grown so close.  I can't wait to see him every night.  I love that I am not "single parenting" the Little Man anymore.  I feel like we have a normal family.  It has been wonderful.  I hope I am not "tooting my horn" too quickly :)

So this blog is going to be my thoughts, my feelings, my vents, and my thoughts on some very sticky situations.  For the most part, this will be clean.  My name or title of my blog is Lady in Pink.  I chose this, because Pink is my favorite color.  I feel that the world can't function without the color pink.  Pink means we are breathing.  In order for me to live, laugh, and love...I must breathe.  Pink is my color.