It's been a while.

I feel as though a lot has changed over the semester.

For example, after taking a class all about implementing technology in education, I've become more resistant to it. That's probably because it requires lots of group work and mixing little sticky creatures with expensive equipment. So many of our activities seem useless--or at least inefficient--after discussing in my Psychology class that research points to Direct Instruction is the most effective teaching method. That means the teacher serves as the leader of the class and not just a casual guide. A lot of the activities we discussed in my Tech class were about letting children explore technology.

There's something to be said for exploration, but in a class day there's so little time. A lot of the projects and software we talked about would be more effective after some learning took place. Why not put the information in a neat--but still interesting--package and hope that your teaching has inspired them to explore in their own time? Isn't that part of what makes someone intelligent? They seek knowledge even when it's not mandatory.

The closer graduation looms, the more I start thinking about how to spend my time in the classroom as efficiently as possible. That doesn't mean I'll be boring, but why stick the kids in front of a computer and demand that they learn when that's supposed to be my job? It feels too much like a parent relying heavily upon developmental baby DVDs and then spending no time with the child.

I still wonder how I'm going to attract attention to my lessons in the first place. So many teachers in my past have served as inspiration, but I don't want to steal anyone's act. I'll have to let that question brew when I go back to tutoring and observation next semester.

There you are.

I want to get better a little bit every day. I also want to learn to be content every day.

Unsure so far of how to juggle these two in a healthy fashion, but I'll figure it out.

Trees

If I ever moved, I'd miss all the great oaks here. I noticed today how drawn I am to them--not in a hippie way. I don't hug them or anything. But I do love to watch them in the wind and wonder what's under them.

They seem to promise that, miles away, there's something interesting to see. The funny thing is that sometimes I drive towards them and end up in an ordinary neighborhood or a shopping center. So I just stand around for several minutes and try to come up with an interesting story about where I am.

Snobby

I lost a tiny bit of faith in my English teacher when she said two classes ago that she found to be a "compelling tale." Opinions aren't fact. I keep telling myself that. Still, there's a nagging pain in my head that seems to ask, "why can't everyone accept that book sucks?" During the holiday this week, Jake overheard a girl complaining about her school's reading list. "Why can't they have good books, like Twilight, instead of this old stuff?" Jesus.

I wish I could get in touch with my old high school English teacher. He gave us a great article to read by a professor who stated that everyone has the right to create a story and try to sell it. But not everyone makes good art, and there are definitely ways of telling good, well thought out literature from the bad or just plain mediocre stuff. It doesn't mean you shouldn't read it; it's just helpful to know what's art and what's simply a beach book. God, that was a good article.

And speaking of poorly-used language, if I hear one more person saying "wtf" or "jk" or "lol" instead of talking like a normal, at least moderately educated person, I might just quit the human race, rob a bank, and buy an island.

Sudden memories

When I finish brushing, flossing, and swishing Listerine at night, I inhale quickly through my teeth and then smile big at the mirror just like my grandpa used to. He lost half of his teeth because he didn't take care of them. He passed on his lesson to us by making the process fun when we slept over. He'd hum songs and tell us about how fresh breath made people want to kiss us when we got older.... that one didn't win me over when I was little. But brushing my teeth still brings back memories. I make Papa Charlie faces when I'm practicing good oral hygiene.

Mom scanned an old letter from our babysitter and housekeeper, Ms. Linda. She was a lean, beautiful woman with curly hair, a deep, joyful laugh, and unending warmth. Mom and Dad had gone out of town, and she kept us for about a week. She left a note on the fridge telling them how nice it was. I've noticed a lot of people find it distasteful to call a housekeeper "one of the family," but she absolutely was. She died of complications with her kidneys; that was all anyone told me. But I remember how empty I felt when I knew I'd never hear her laugh on this earth again. I remember now that I've written about her before, but I can't think about her enough. I hope she can see me. I hope she's still proud of us.

I remember when Papa Charlie died, she came to my grandma's house unannounced, apologizing. "I'm sorry if I shouldn't have come," she began. And everyone protested. Someone helped her to a seat. "You're family," my mom and my mimi both said. At this Ms. Linda wiped her eyes and started to talk about my grandpa. Sometimes when I'm sitting in my parents' den, I imagine the ironing board up by the doorway to the kitchen. I imagine her watching TV with me as I heard steam escape quietly from the iron.

I saw a picture of a Daisy on google. I looked them up, because I miss them. I had them in my neighborhood back home, and now there are none anywhere. I should buy some. Once when Jake gave me some of those flowers, he said I reminded him of them. He said there was a reason they were my favorite. "Bright, beautiful, and tough as nails," he said, smiling. I don't know about that last one, but it made me want to be more resilient.

Strange power

When you're in the Actors' Guild, or whatever it's called, you cannot have the same name as someone else. There has to be some difference. If there are two Jake Smiths, one of you has to go by "Jacob Smith" or "Jake E. Smith" or "Jake Smith III" in the credits.

I guess that's why a lot of celebrities have a middle initial. The only other reason I can think of is because they want to see if people will actually take the trouble to say it. It's annoying to say "Samuel L. Jackson," but I do, because he's such a badass in his movies that I'm scared he'll somehow know when I say it wrong. Then he'll come to my house and yell at me. John C. McGinley? I say John McGinley, because the worst thing that happens there is that he rattles off about Hugh Jackman and calls me girls' names. And that's fine, because I'm a girl.

But don't they have a strange power? Their issues become our issues. Their fashion opinions become ours. And we say clumsy-sounding things like "Samuel L" even though it's kind of a pain to stick those two l's together. I suppose it varies. I can't think of anyone Bjork fans who own a swan dress.

Trolling

I recently had to use a men's restroom out of pure urgency, and I hated it.

There's always so much annoying stuff written on the walls. On this one in particular had anti-Islam statements, anti-Christian statements (not just "I don't like religion," but more of a "we should ship these people away on a boat that's sure to sink" vibe), and lots of nihilistic whiny crap that you can expect from upper-middle class kids who are becoming acquainted with the cruelty of life from a comfortable, safe distance.

Then it hit me: I'm looking at the work of early Trolls--jerks who wandered the Earth before the web hoping for an outlet for their ignorance and hate. I guess bathroom walls are still more cost effective. At least I saw one thing that wasn't drivel: A weighted companion cube. If i didn't have a problem with defacing property (even property that's already gone to seed) I'd have written that the cake was the truth... just to try and bring some positivity to the old WC.

The only prank I know I'll remember forever:

The Old Gargoyle is a blogger that I strongly recommend to all....5 or 6 of my followers (I'm counting the unofficial ones). He's responsible for my favorite April Fool's joke ever. I didn't fall for it, but it was fun to watch.

It's April Fool's day about in 2003.... and a test day in dear old Gargoyle's class. We're all sitting with out pencils out, a few students trembling. He never made Theology a "gimme" course, God bless him.

"Students," he declared in that even, yet mischievous voice, "Happy April Fools Day. There is no exam today."

There were actual sighs of relief. People started taking out their notes.

"Students! Surely..... April Fools!" Then he passed out the test.

This is one of the reasons he was my favorite high school teacher--that and he's practically responsible for me getting together with The Fellow (Brother Jake). You are invited to the imminent wedding.