2004-01-08
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I�m a study in contradictions. I�m high strung, but I�m laid back. I�m a drama queen, but I hate dramatics. I worry about almost everything, but I let bothersome little issues roll off my back. I�m a living, breathing Alanis Morrisette song.
This week, Tony got EXTREMELY excited about Joe Gibbs returning to coach the Washington Redskins. A dream he had for nearly twelve years had become a reality and he was absolutely out of his mind with joy. I remarked that I would never understand the workings of the sports vault in a man�s brain, and, in an attempt to bring this experience into my girly girl world, he explained, �This is like walking into Jimmy Choo's and seeing a sign that says "All shoes, 99% off!" My heart stopped a little when I read that. Still, I didn�t get that �jump out of my skin� feeling. I thought about this some more. I considered the idea of the original Broadway cast of �Les Miserables� reuniting for one night at Carnegie Hall and I�d have front row seats. Ooooooh, tingly. I was getting closer to understanding the Joe Gibbs frenzy.
Then I began to seriously consider what makes me truly passionate. I'm a very intense, passionate person in general, so almost everything I do is met with great enthusiasm. I experience everything with all my senses, under my skin and in my bones. Even if I'm quiet, I'm drinking it all in.
So how do I identify myself? I do LOVE shoes and theater, but I can�t rattle off every Manolo Blahnik design, nor can I remember what production won the Tony Award for Best Revival of a Musical in 1995. I don�t have a mind for facts, although I do kick major ass at Pop Culture Trivial Pursuit. I�m fangirly to the nth degree and I�ll always carry around a serious obsession (or three) for sexy crooners, deep voiced rockers and effeminate pop singers. I read voraciously. I write a little. I play the flute, tap dance and sing. I paint and I�ve been known to make a mean latch hook pillow. I speak French and love to travel. Board games seriously turn me on and I know my way around a kitchen. I can figure skate, I practice yoga, and I think with a little practice after my arm ligaments heal, I could remember some of the nifty gymnastics tricks I used to be able to do. I�m a makeup whore and computer geek in the making. Movies and television are my drugs of choice. I love the eighties. I�ve a myriad of interests. I know a little bit about a lot of things. But what is it that makes me feel that life is worth living?
And I realized what makes me passionate. Teaching. I�m head over heels in love with my career. I�d jump in front of a truck for any one of my students, past or present. Once this thought solidified, a few of the passionate moments flooded my mind...
I�ve been tutoring Alex for six years. We were working on a geometry assignment recently, and he turned to me and said, �This is why I like working with you. You explain this so much better than my math teacher. I get this, now. Thank you.� And the �too cool for anything� preteen threw his arms around my neck and hugged me.
Amy�s mother was living with an alcoholic boyfriend. Amy had trouble concentrating in class and didn�t eat breakfast most mornings. I received word that Amy�s brother arrived at school with a huge bruise across his face and Child Protective Services had been called. I needed to be prepared for anything. It wasn�t unheard of for irate parents to storm the school after abusive behavior had been discovered and called out. Ironically, the same parents would storm the school if their child had been disciplined in any way. �I�m the only one who can abuse this child, he�s my property,� kind of mentality. Fucked up. CPS came to school and I talked to the case worker who informed me that Amy and her brothers would be taken from the home immediately since the mother refused to kick the asshole boyfriend out of the house so she could KEEP HER FUCKING KIDS. I nearly vomited. I became so nauseated by this idea that I felt my throat begin to close up and I had to keep swallowing to keep the bile down. I talked to the social worker about taking Amy in, but she had already secured a foster home with one of Amy�s relatives. I would have adopted that child THAT VERY SECOND if the social worker had allowed it. Nothing to think about. She�d have been my daughter and I would have made sure she�d never experience another day of suffering or abuse for the rest of her childhood.
I found out Sarah was attending Boston College. I burst into tears of joy.
I�m having trouble articulating what it is about working with children that makes me so passionate, because as much as I love to say, �It�s all about me,� that�s not what drives me to be a great teacher. It�s nice to be appreciated and I love to hear former students say, �You were my favorite teacher,� or, �I remember when you read this book to me in second grade.� I like when parents say, �I requested you because I heard you were the best teacher on this grade level,� or, �My child never liked school before he was in your class.� I love when kids come up to me to hug me spontaneously or when they call me �mom� by mistake. There�s no higher compliment.
I take my responsibilities as a teacher very seriously. Adults have an enormous impact on the lives of children every single day, and many adults take that privilege too lightly, in my opinion. The spoken word, chosen without care, can leave scars for life. School is a social domain, and the place where we develop as social creatures. An apathetic or indifferent teacher can (directly or unknowingly) foster an environment that encourages counterproductive relationships among fellow human beings. How many people do you know that absolutely despised high school because it was a painful, raw experience? I know lots. I also know the experience could have been somewhat, if not extremely, different if the majority of the teachers gave a shit about how the kids treated each other instead of chalking it up to �teen angst� or �boys will be boys� or �it�s the parents� responsibility to know what�s going on with their kids, not mine� or the rest of the bullshit cliches that permeate the faculty rooms of schools across this country. It�s the teachers� way to excuse themselves for looking the other way while the kid who eventually showed up to school with a semiautomatic weapon was tormented relentlessly by his peers. This is why I go home for lunch.
In my personal life, I�m a study in contradictions. I�m all over the map. As a teacher, I have the opportunity to go to school every day, appreciate the individuality of each of my thirty six students and consistently treat them with the love, respect and kindness they deserve. I make that choice and I NEVER falter.
I�m jumping out of my skin.
joeparadox at 8:24 p.m.