I’m lucky to say you, Love, have always been in my life. Every day since we’ve become acquainted, I’ve felt obligated to nurture and protect you –not without some struggles of course. See, you’re the fickle child no mother can please. Without any promises of reciprocation, I offer you my most valued possession to satisfy your hunger. Hunkering down at my kitchen table, you begin to eat, and I begin to wonder when your ravenous appetite will cease. I’ve witnessed what happens to the others like me. You follow them –making sure to trace every step with care so they will praise you. Then one day, you leave. Sometimes they won’t notice for a while, until they eventually glance over their shoulder only to find an empty road. Nevertheless, people always want you.
More recently, I hear you clacking at my bedroom window. Since I figure myself smarter than the rest of the names on your list, I urge you, “Not tonight, not again”. Regardless, you find your way in anyways cleverly unscrewing the locks I put on the pane yesterday. But nothing annoys me more than when you watch me as I climb into bed. You sit there beaming, your bright eyes glowing in their sockets as if you’re plugged into the electrical outlet, your sweet and sinister smile engrained in my mind. My bedside prayers replaced with pleas to the heavens to give me peace from the brilliant torment, but rest would only allow my unforgiving subconscious wild pursuit. To any onlooker and even in my own introspection, I had become insane, all thanks to you.
Then you gaze at me with those innocent blue eyes, entrancing me within your words, “I need you; the night is lonesome and frightening”. I think of all the wonderful hours we spent together and start to shed tears. You hold my hand hesitantly, quite unaware and naïve of how to proceed. Despite how much I’d like to be rid of you and your chaotic nature, I will never be able to. So instead, I settle down in my bed and learn to appreciate you in the present. All I can do is hope you will not get hungry any time soon for I have nothing left to offer.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Teaching Means Never Having to Say "I Got Old"
Recently, I started volunteering at an elementary afterschool care program. Usually, people only need to hear the words “elementary school” and “volunteer” to respond with a sigh of sympathy. In other cases, I’ve received a skewed brow and a why-on-Earth-would-you-do-that grin. Feeling the need to justify my little exploit, I explain, “It’s for the A plus scholarship”. Then, his cavalier smirk turns into a smile- this is something he can relate to. He nods his head, “Oh!” and college talk ensues.
Honestly, I wouldn’t expect the sympathizers and grinners to ever understand, mostly because they have forgotten what youth felt like. I’m not implying the types mentioned are condescending fun-suckers by any means, only that they have come to expect logic. The life they live is supplied by sequence and patterns; they are a product of our teachings.
In elementary school, kids mostly don’t communicate using logic. They ramble off from topic to topic, they frequently burst out in song and dance, they greet you with a hug after learning your name.
I find myself having to remember I am their tutor, because in a matter of two weeks they have taught me everything from witch’s broom to social conduct (ironic, I know, since most nine year olds can’t hold a conversation without interruption). Although I wish I could include every one, here are some kids that truly touched me:
Meghan O. –She is probably one of the smallest girls in the third grade. Her features are delicate and her sunken blue eyes epitomize her sweet demeanor. She studies hard; even on the half day when everyone was directed outside Meghan had me sit on the benches and help with math homework due at the end of the week. She also made me a card the first day I arrived. A simple and thoughtful gesture to the nervous girl in the corner uncertain where to go.
Jayden- He is an incredibly bright kindergartener and exceptionally outgoing. The moment I introduced myself he immediately tried to climb into my lap. Jayden craves attention and physical reassurance of belonging. However, he can focus on an activity for twice as long as kids his age. In other words, the kid is going to be extremely smart. He once played a word association game with me for an hour- until I had to quit.
Haleigh- Whenever I think of her, I can’t help to think of my cousin Jenna. Both fourth graders are energetic like tomboys but sassy like girly girls. What intrigues me most about down-to-Earth Haleigh is her variety of interests. “I’m going to be a cheerleader and a wrestler!” she always says. When everyone leaves the homework room, Haleigh teaches me cheer moves. We perfect high kicks, and I hold her arms while she does a herkey. Then she turns around and nails me with an air jab, my head does a matrix roll back and we laugh hysterically.
Megan C. - She’s one of the Quad of 5th grade girls I find particularly interesting. Megan appears to be the leader of the group. Smart, cute, demanding; seemingly all the qualities of a drama queen in the making. At first, her overbearing personality put me off. Then, I noticed she is quite unlike any of the other members of the Quad after talking with her. Often, I enjoy sitting with Megan at the homework table and having some of the most intellectual conversations. She’ll ask me questions about the book I’m reading (Slash, for those interested) and quiz me on why I picked it, where I got it, what is happening, how much I’ve read since yesterday. Also, what I share in common with Megan is a love for writing. Every time I see her, she has a new story for me to read sometimes about her sister or a complete fabrication. I love reading them; it reminds me so much of myself at that age scribbling down stories in a notebook during class.
Kendall- Unfortunately, Kendall is on all the teachers’ trouble list. Even her 5th grade peers don’t seem to accept her. Maybe she doesn’t fit in because she is so small and petite. I could connect my index and thumb around her wrist easily. In fact, the first time I met her I thought she was a 3rd grader. She never struck me as interesting; she wore her blond hair in a tight ponytail every day and struggled to sit with the Quad during homework. However, today I saw a different side of her. Ms. Abraham was about to close the homework room, and she was working with Kendall who was resisting to focus on her science work. The battle went on until Kendall moaned, “I can’t do this!”. Then, Ms. Abraham went off…again. The first day I worked at the program, Ms. Abraham was first to warn me of Kendall’s “outbreaks”. She said Kendall had a bad attitude. To be honest, she was right. I noticed Kendall’s defeatist nature as Ms. Abraham tried to direct her to find the hypothesis. Kendall got more insolent, she slid under the table, her face a puffy red. Ms. Abraham shook her head and yelled in front of the whole classroom, “Kendall, you are acting like a 2 year old. Grow up and focus on your work. This is why your parents bring you here instead of letting you go home. You act like an irresponsible child!”. I was appalled. Ms. Abraham stormed out of the classroom and I noticed Kendall trailing behind, face blotched with spots of embarrassment and eyes filled with tears. I pulled Kendall aside and helped her finish the homework. Kendall wasn’t dumb, but people like Ms. Abraham have deemed her a “problem child” so she hasn’t had a chance to achieve. I praised her every time she understood something, and in no time she completed it without any disruptions or outbursts.
From the moment I began third grade I knew I wanted to be a teacher. But after recieving so many sympathetic sighs and strange looks, I had second thoughts. It's not a good salary and sometimes repetitive, I warned myself. However, this experience has brought me back to my instincts. I am sad to report I only have 25 hours left of my A plus program, but I still hope to enjoy many more.
Honestly, I wouldn’t expect the sympathizers and grinners to ever understand, mostly because they have forgotten what youth felt like. I’m not implying the types mentioned are condescending fun-suckers by any means, only that they have come to expect logic. The life they live is supplied by sequence and patterns; they are a product of our teachings.
In elementary school, kids mostly don’t communicate using logic. They ramble off from topic to topic, they frequently burst out in song and dance, they greet you with a hug after learning your name.
I find myself having to remember I am their tutor, because in a matter of two weeks they have taught me everything from witch’s broom to social conduct (ironic, I know, since most nine year olds can’t hold a conversation without interruption). Although I wish I could include every one, here are some kids that truly touched me:
Meghan O. –She is probably one of the smallest girls in the third grade. Her features are delicate and her sunken blue eyes epitomize her sweet demeanor. She studies hard; even on the half day when everyone was directed outside Meghan had me sit on the benches and help with math homework due at the end of the week. She also made me a card the first day I arrived. A simple and thoughtful gesture to the nervous girl in the corner uncertain where to go.
Jayden- He is an incredibly bright kindergartener and exceptionally outgoing. The moment I introduced myself he immediately tried to climb into my lap. Jayden craves attention and physical reassurance of belonging. However, he can focus on an activity for twice as long as kids his age. In other words, the kid is going to be extremely smart. He once played a word association game with me for an hour- until I had to quit.
Haleigh- Whenever I think of her, I can’t help to think of my cousin Jenna. Both fourth graders are energetic like tomboys but sassy like girly girls. What intrigues me most about down-to-Earth Haleigh is her variety of interests. “I’m going to be a cheerleader and a wrestler!” she always says. When everyone leaves the homework room, Haleigh teaches me cheer moves. We perfect high kicks, and I hold her arms while she does a herkey. Then she turns around and nails me with an air jab, my head does a matrix roll back and we laugh hysterically.
Megan C. - She’s one of the Quad of 5th grade girls I find particularly interesting. Megan appears to be the leader of the group. Smart, cute, demanding; seemingly all the qualities of a drama queen in the making. At first, her overbearing personality put me off. Then, I noticed she is quite unlike any of the other members of the Quad after talking with her. Often, I enjoy sitting with Megan at the homework table and having some of the most intellectual conversations. She’ll ask me questions about the book I’m reading (Slash, for those interested) and quiz me on why I picked it, where I got it, what is happening, how much I’ve read since yesterday. Also, what I share in common with Megan is a love for writing. Every time I see her, she has a new story for me to read sometimes about her sister or a complete fabrication. I love reading them; it reminds me so much of myself at that age scribbling down stories in a notebook during class.
Kendall- Unfortunately, Kendall is on all the teachers’ trouble list. Even her 5th grade peers don’t seem to accept her. Maybe she doesn’t fit in because she is so small and petite. I could connect my index and thumb around her wrist easily. In fact, the first time I met her I thought she was a 3rd grader. She never struck me as interesting; she wore her blond hair in a tight ponytail every day and struggled to sit with the Quad during homework. However, today I saw a different side of her. Ms. Abraham was about to close the homework room, and she was working with Kendall who was resisting to focus on her science work. The battle went on until Kendall moaned, “I can’t do this!”. Then, Ms. Abraham went off…again. The first day I worked at the program, Ms. Abraham was first to warn me of Kendall’s “outbreaks”. She said Kendall had a bad attitude. To be honest, she was right. I noticed Kendall’s defeatist nature as Ms. Abraham tried to direct her to find the hypothesis. Kendall got more insolent, she slid under the table, her face a puffy red. Ms. Abraham shook her head and yelled in front of the whole classroom, “Kendall, you are acting like a 2 year old. Grow up and focus on your work. This is why your parents bring you here instead of letting you go home. You act like an irresponsible child!”. I was appalled. Ms. Abraham stormed out of the classroom and I noticed Kendall trailing behind, face blotched with spots of embarrassment and eyes filled with tears. I pulled Kendall aside and helped her finish the homework. Kendall wasn’t dumb, but people like Ms. Abraham have deemed her a “problem child” so she hasn’t had a chance to achieve. I praised her every time she understood something, and in no time she completed it without any disruptions or outbursts.
From the moment I began third grade I knew I wanted to be a teacher. But after recieving so many sympathetic sighs and strange looks, I had second thoughts. It's not a good salary and sometimes repetitive, I warned myself. However, this experience has brought me back to my instincts. I am sad to report I only have 25 hours left of my A plus program, but I still hope to enjoy many more.
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