If you really knew me ...

My students completed a project not long ago as we began a new unit. They had to answer the following question:

If you really knew me, you'd know ...

They couldn't write about the simple things - like, "my favorite color is blue. I like hockey" It had to give insight to them as a person. I thought I'd answer it today.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I try to be optimistic but lately I've been failing miserably. I live way too much on the what if's, to the point that they consume me. The biggest question of all being, "what if I was thinner?"

You'd know that there are moments I think I should just move back to the one place I said I'd never return. "Home." Sometimes, I don't think I deserve to be where I am. I came to chase a dream but somehow, though once strong and unstoppable, I have become one that sits on the sidelines, watching everyone else.

I love, love teaching but I'm pretty sure I need a break for awhile. I don't want to lose what it is that sets me apart from what I fear I'm becoming. I am passionate about what I do - and I want to continue being so - even if I have to step away for bit.

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I planned to write more but it's 1:30am. Time for bed for this girl that you'll know even more about soon ...

The Art of Being Happy

I wish I was 5 years old again, holding on to my dad's pinky finger. We'd go across the big main street a block away and visit the amazing, beautiful, peaceful place we simply called, "The Trees."

It was magical. Weeping willows fell low enough to grab on, hold tight and swing - without a care in the world. Weeping ... willow. At 5, why would I bother pondering the name this lovely tree was given? The tree that still holds some of my favorite childhood memories. She couldn't be sad ... she made me so happy.

It was so easy then. That was before my ears knew that mouths could spur loud and hateful words. It was before I knew what hurt was and what pain felt like. I lived and breathed happy. Little did I know the weeping that was occuring and the weeping that would come.

Happiness came with such ease. And even more so, with such acceptance. I didn't fight happy. It was there. We were one. Little girl ... with blue eyes and only innocent tears, dreams yet to be dreamt, long brown hair left untouched, a creative mind only beginning its journey.

I can't be her anymore. Being happy has become an art form. At least right now. It seems unnatural but surely not unwanted. No, I don't spend my days moping around. Life is okay. But, I've hit another brick wall. No, I didn't hit it. I ran, top speed staring straight into it and decided not to stop. Happy is sitting beside me, holding me tightly and I just want to push it away. Give me the weeping. Not the willow.

I didn't think this would be so difficult, but it is. If I'm really honest with myself, which I'd definitely rather not be, I'd know it's not about any one, it's not about any thing, it's me. 100% me.

Sometimes ...

just sometimes ...


I'm really stupid.


But, I don't regret it.


Except that it hurts. A lot.

Education

What education is for me ...

School was always a safe haven. Other than being in my sister's presence, it was the only place I could go and know that I would be okay. School for me was an escape. It doesn't matter what I was escaping from - maybe it was just into creativity, away from ignorance and into a world of knowledge and endless possibilities. Not everyone feels that way, I know, but I was the kid crossing my fingers and praying unceasingly that school would not be closed on those snowy days. Yeah, that was me. A total freak. But I loved it, everything about it. We were a family not connected by blood but by something that was nearly just as unbreakable - education and all that goes into it.

I'm not too far from that very same little girl ... I still value education. I am a teacher. It is not a job. It is my livelihood.

But, it may be time to take a break before I lose the very passion and faith that I had in teaching and in education as a whole when I was sitting in front of the TV crossing my fingers.

I'm just pretty angry right now because for as much as I'm far from perfect, love gossip and have way less than 100% days, I see someone else in this same building who doesn't seem to give a shit about the students, about the idea of a school family, about being cohesive, about communicating effectively, about much of anything except for image. How can one thrive in such an environment?

Education is not and should not be treated like a business. Because it isn't. It's a service profession. We serve. We aren't to be served. Not our pockets, not our egos ... It's not about us. It's about them. How is that so easily forgotten?

Why I'm not a Godmother ...

I have this friend. I use that term loosely. You see, once upon a time, I considered her a BEST friend - that kind of friend who you would trust with every secret, every promise, every sin ... everything.

You know how life is ... people change. Sometimes you firmly believe that there are bonds so strong that nothing will get in the way. That's what I thought about me and her. I figured our bond was unbreakable. But, apparently, it wasn't.

We've had a roller coaster of a friendship and there are so many things that I could share to explain it but in one of our many ups and downs, we had a conversation where she told me why I wasn't her son's Godmother. See, I was supposed to be. I knew that. But when she told me who would be, I didn't flinch when it wasn't me. It wasn't a surprise because we weren't currently super tight - this happened three years ago with her first child, too.

For whatever reason, during a 5 hour conversation, she told me why I wasn't. Okay. Thanks. Here it is ...

I voted for someone she didn't. Who you vote for, according to her, shapes and tells everything about you. And she was disgusted by my choice. I wasn't the same person anymore, she said. I was different. The way she emphasized that word I knew she thought it was all horrific. Apparently I was less of a Christian now, too. And I have gay friends. God forbid I socialize with such repulsive sinners. And I make poor choices and my morals and values are just different (again, read "bad") than hers. She doesn't want her child to be like me.

She went on. And on. I said nothing. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, though it couldn't have been more than ten minutes. She just stopped. She said, "well, can you say something?"

I cannot tell you how much this hurt. When someone you think loves you unconditionally has the capacity to say such things, it doesn't matter how ludicrous it might seem, it tears you apart.

What gets me most is she failed to focus on things that have changed that are good ... it's been several weeks and we have not spoken. I can't bring myself to do it. No matter what I say, I will be wrong. Because I'm different. Because I've changed. Apparently for the worse.

I know it isn't true. But it just kind of sucks.

Damn that Cinderella.

Before the boy ... well, well over a year ago ... where the text came from ...

It was a ticket I never paid. Back in Chicago. I had forgotten about it. I packed up my boxes - ticket enclosed in some box, somewhere ... I figured I'd get to it at some point.


He beat me to it. I got a call from some bill collector. I had moved to Nashville three days before and was driving around getting a feel for my new, wonderful surroundings. My new life.


My ticket was turned into some collection agency and some guy, MM, just happened to have my name cross his desk. He called. My world was changed.


He was a total jerk within the first few moments. I suppose it's a tactic that works - but I am fiesty. I told him off, then realized I was lost. Wouldn't you just know it that this man used to live in Nashville. So, from his chair in the south suburbs of Chicago (mere minutes from where I just moved from), he told me how to unlose myself. I got back on the right track. Little did I know that some form of the word lost would come up again. And again. And again.

Now, it would only be me who'd start talking to some random person, quickly strike up a friendship and fall fast and hard. But, it happened. There is very little I'd change about the situation ... I take that back. I'd never get as lost in the idea like I did. Though it was lovely, ridiculous, perfect. It made me feel good.

Or, rather simply, it made me feel.

We started to find reasons to call. Like, you know, I wouldn't pay when I said I would. (stupid, I know). And then, it turned into talking just because. Then it was every day. It was about the little things, the big things. It was about life, fears, hopes, the future. Oh, and we flirted. A LOT. Some people thought I was silly. Other friends would ask every day what the newest MM news was and couldn't wait to hear. I had a smile on my face that couldn't be changed. He had that kind of voice that with the start of a "hello" could send chills to every part of my skin. He was smooth, funny, intelligent and the kind of smart that you get when you choose to learn from what life offers. I was entirely lost in this man and whatever hope he stood for. He seemed to "get me" like no one else could. I knew that it may not turn out the way I wanted, but in those moment, I wanted to become the very best version of myself. Not for him. Just because.

He wanted to visit but I was too scared. Because of my "secret." Here I was on the journey of a better me - I was done hiding behind the weight of difficult years, sadness and the inability to cope with a difficult past. The last thing I wanted was for someone to meet me, take one look and despite whatever relationship was created, walk away and pretend I didn't even exist. I wanted someone - him - to accept me for who I was at that moment, who I had been before, and for the person I had yet to become.

I never even got to that point.

One fateful day (that I think I always knew was coming) he stopped calling. Stopped texting. Stopped communicating. He, apparently, got lost.

Damn Cinderella stories. I wanted a happy ending.

And, boy, did it hurt. I guess the signs were there. He was just getting out of a 2 year relationship with a woman he was still living with. I still don't have his reasoning. I'm assuming it has something to do with that. That I was some fill-in fun. Some random, faceless girl who meant not enough to matter.

Yeah, sometimes I'm that stupid. But, I was coming off a rough year where there was way too much self-realization. Too much loneliness and emptiness. A few broken relationships - I was ready for my big change. And how perfect it would be that amidst my life overhaul, I'd find someone good. What I thought was really good.

So, that's where the text came from. We stopped talking just before Chrismtas '07 and then, nearly a year later, I get a text in the middle of the night. It said he was in town. He did it because he thought I'd "get a kick out of that."

No, not so much.

The same girls that had listened to every last story of MM with earnest ears, took me out for a milkshake that day. Thank God, yet again, for friends.

Oh, and in case you're wondering. Yeah, I responded. But I guess he just wanted to say enough to resurrect the dead. It's just taking a while to put it back to rest.

And yeah, I do have a great guy. The best. It just sucks when old ones decide to find their way back ...

a text

Really??

After all this time?

You're gonna send me a message now?

Not fair. Not fair at all.

Here's to another stupid boy.

Thank God I have a good one.