A Novel Idea...pun intended

My American Literature classes have recently begun reading The Great Gatsby; as expected, there are students who are resistant to read and complain about it being boring or too hard to understand.

Upon seeing their failing grades in my class, two students (in two different classes) have commented: "Hmmph...I guess I really do have to read that book."

The only appropriate comment (in my head, of course): "Well, duh!"


Just an extra tidbit:
The third quarter comes to a close next Friday, so students are NOW (not the seven weeks prior, but now) very interested in their grades and all the work they are missing.

If Reincarnation exists...

(Daly...where she shouldn't be...but oh, so cute...damnit!)

This I know. If reincarnation exists, I want to come back as a house cat! What a life: eat, sleep, eat, sleep, be pet, adored, and loved unconditionally because I am so damn cute...eat, sleep.

Daddy's Little Girl, With a Broken Heart

I am my father's daughter; I have his sense of humor, we share several physical characteristics, have many of the same interests, and we are both a bit guarded and yet very tenderhearted. For years I also thought I received my strength, sense of responsibility, and dedication to family from him...it has been in recent years I have learned these are qualities that come from my mother.

My dad has always been the most important person in my life. While growing up, there wasn't anything I wouldn't do to be in his presence: beg, plead, cry, purposely piss off my mom, skip outings with my friends, etc. Although a very social person, my father is a bit of a loner. He always had friends, but few of them would be considered close. It is because of this trait that I had to work really hard to have more than just a surface relationship with him.

Every decision I made was first sifted through the filter of what would disappoint my father. My interests were often determined by the things my father enjoyed, in hopes that we could bond over the experience. I was proud of my father and for him to be proud of me was all I ever desired. Pats on the back were few and far between, but those few were magical, and I can remember every detail of the moment.

In the last few years, I have been forced to see and accept the flaws that lie within my dad. While I was never naive enough to believe he was perfect, I realize now I had devised a different set of rules for my father...much different from the standards everyone else in my life was expected to follow. My father devastated my family by straying from his marriage vows. After thirty-five years of marriage, my parents divorced and I found myself making excuses for his transgressions.

I grieve the family I lost (age does not make divorce any easier), but more than that, I miss the rose-colored glasses that were stripped from my eyes in regards to my father. It has been painful to realize his disrespect toward my mother, my siblings, and myself.

Despite the choices my father has made, I love him and I want him to be happy. It is this undeniable love for him that also pains me. I find that as he moves in a different direction in his life the relationship I have worked so hard to build, for so many years, has also begun to deteriorate. I am forced to face the possibility that this relationship has always been more one sided than I ever wanted to believe. I hate feeling like I wasted years of my life chasing something that could never be obtained...I want him to do the chasing for a while. So much of who I am is wrapped in who I thought he was and the relationship I thought we had...there is a part of me that really needs him to prove to me that it wasn't all a lie.

The pedestal on which I placed my father has come crashing down and the splinters of reality have embedded themselves deep within my skin, quite possibly my soul. Never before have I been faced with the question: which is worse, disappointing my father or being disappointed by him? Right now, I'm not sure if I am strong enough to handle the answer that is staring back at me.

Valentine's Day Humor

I received a Valentine's Day wish from one of my college friends via myspace. Although the sentiment is heartfelt, I still laughed out loud at the message.

"Hey Jodi,hope your VD is better than mine!"

Does anyone else find this as funny as I do?!

Who says sarcasm has no place in the classroom?

A conversation that took place in class while students should have been finishing an assignment:

Student A: So, let's say that you have been dancing at the club with this girl all night and at the end of the night she turns around and her eyes are crossed. What do you do?

Student B: (Quizzically looks at A)

Me: (from across the room) A...I don't think that is relevant to the assignment you are supposed to be finishing.

Student A: Come on Miss D...what are you supposed to say when you've danced with a girl all night and then she turns around and she's ugly?

Me: (Astonished...I'll just leave it at that) A...I don't know what you say, but this conversation sure says a lot about you.

Student A: (speechless...)

Rest of class: (smiling and nodding in appreciation before resuming their work)

A Stressful Day at School

After a morning of helping break up fights, rumors of weapons being brought to the school in the afternoon, and the fire alarm sounding as the final bell rang, I decided to stop at the nearby grocery to purchase a few stress relievers.

Note: The M&M's were opened before being purchased...and a small bag just wasn't enough.

Reminiscing

Here's to those men in my life who taught me even more about who I am and what I want. Each relationship was a lesson...some better than others, but nonetheless, I took something positive from each experience. Please note while reading that I have no misconceptions about my role in the demise of these relationships.

E...a.k.a...The Heartbreaker
The first boy I ever dated. I was young, naive and fell head over heels for him. The bliss lasted about three and a half months before he decided he "wasn't being fair to me." I was devastated and unfortunately a little pathetic in dealing with my heartache. (It now makes me shake my head and smile.) E is in his second marriage and oddly enough we have remained friends for about fifteen years.

F...a.k.a...The One I Should Have Married?
The first boy to take an interest in me at college...I brushed him aside in order to date E.
Despite my rejection, we remained close. He made me laugh hysterically, he made me feel safe, loved, and beautiful. He was four years older and seemed way too intelligent and too sophisticated to ever be happy (in my mind) with the likes of me...he also seemed to know what he wanted while I was just beginning to seriously think and dream about my future. He equally scared and excited me; fear won out and we went in different directions. If soul mates exist, F is one of mine. F is married and we too remain friends.

D...a.k.a...The First Boy I Ever Really Loved
He transferred in my junior year of college...I noticed him in the student union and was really surprised when he suddenly started contacting me. We had so much in common: upbringings, interests, sports, friends, etc. I fell in love with his family soon after I fell in love with him. I experienced things with D that I now find myself looking for in the new men I date. We dated for three years before breaking up. It was ugly, it was painful and unhealthy for the both of us. We remained in contact...ocassional contact; I remained in very close contact with his family. D and I still relied on each other in our most difficult moments. We tried it again...he was planning on proposing; I had no idea. I'm still very close to his family, but haven't spoken to D since last April...there was a blow-up; he was hoping for things I couldn't give him. He has since cut off/declined all communications with me...I miss him a lot, but know that no matter how much I love him, we are not meant to be together. I wish him all the happiness in love and life and I will always appreciate, love, and respect him for allowing me to remain close to his family.

S...a.k.a...The Bait and Switch
We met through a mutual friend and hit it off instantly. He was supportive and loved that I was a teacher and a coach. S saw me at some of my weakest moments and was great about just hugging me tightly and not trying to say the right thing. He was ready to settle down and he began to make me think that I was also. He was instrumental in a decision to further my career at a different school...he suddenly became less supportive. S began telling me that when we got married I could no longer coach because I would have to be home to take care of our children. I ended things, realizing that I was not ready to settle down, nor was I going to allow anyone to make decisions for me. S is married...I have not talked to him since the breakup.

S...a.k.a...The Confused Half-Truther
Our first face to face meeting was over a cup of coffee where we had great conversations about books, life, love, and the world in general. As we readied ourselves to go, S anxiously asked if he could take me out for dinner the following weekend. I accepted and so began a whirlwind courtship of about four months. S said he was divorced...I found out he was actually separated and that papers were about to be filed. S said that he was ready to move on with his life...he insisted I meet his ex (or soon to be) wife. I did after much hesitation...she was lovely and in different circumstances, I imagine that we could be really good friends. While I pursued the relationship at a steady speed(much to his chagrin), S mentioned me moving into his house. S and I had some wonderful times together, the last being a trip to spend Thanksgiving with his mother. A couple weeks later the history on his computer showed that he had been visiting a singles website...when confronted with this truth, S said he hadn't given himself enough time to grieve his divorce and that he thought we were just too different. He wanted to remain friends, to continue to hang out...I said no.

Inspiration

Inspiration comes in many shapes, forms, sizes, and ages. One of my greatest inspirations is my seven-year-old cousin Avery. Down's Syndrome, open-heart surgery, developmental delays...and yet, always a smile, a giggle, and ready with a hug. She is my reminder that no matter what life throws at me, I can overcome...and a smile always makes it easier.

Pats on the back

So much of our time is spent tearing ourselves down...we notice the few extra pounds we carry, we tell ourselves we aren't smart or pretty enough to deserve what others have, we beat ourselves up for not being a good enough friend, lover, parent, teacher, sibling, daughter/son, etc. Unfortunately we also live in a society in which everyone else points out our faults if we happen to overlook them.

It's time to break the cycle...what are five things for which you should receive a pat on the back?

MY FIVE (in no particular order)

1. I am a great friend. My friends and family know that if they need me I will drop whatever I am doing and I will be there for whatever reason.
2. I have had a positive influence in the lives of many of my students. I remain in contact with former students and their families; because of this, I have been asked to speak at graduations and (unfortunately) funerals.
3. I am a reliable employee and I have never been fired.
4. Despite hardships and tragedies, I remain optimistic about people and life.
5. I am not afraid to admit my mistakes or apologize for my words or actions.

A lack of suitable lyrics or a lack of respect?

When Tom Petty began singing 'Free Fallin' during halftime of the Superbowl, I was reminded of a boy I went to school with who would daily sing the first verse of that song to me. How I dreaded going to my locker outside of Mr. Rohr's room, knowing that Jeff would be waiting to serenade me, and the remainder of the day would be spent at the butt of others' jokes for the 'crush' Jeff may have had on me.

This experience is not solely unique to me; I see the same thing happen in the hallways of the school I teach every single day. The difference is that, to me, Jeff sang 'she's a good girl, loves her mama', the boys now serenade the girls with lyrics like: "Hey, you're a crazy b****, but I love the way you f*** me!"

While I was, in many cases, "one of the guys" during my school years (and heard my fair share of vulgar remarks), I could never imagine one of the boys in my class, much less my school, ever saying something like this directly to me...even if it was all in fun.

It makes me wonder:

Were high school boys more respectful fifteen years ago, or was it apparent that I had
enough self-respect that I wouldn't have allowed them to speak to me in that manner?
Most importantly, I hope the second is true.

Maybe it boils down to the difference in music played then and now?
No. While music has changed, we all still make conscious decisions about what we say
and how we treat others.

What effect do these references have on high school girls now and then later in life?
Words have power, especially to vulnerable young girls who are already struggling with
who they are and where exactly they fit in this world.

Jeff may have embarrassed me a few times in the hallway at school, but never did I feel that he thought I was anything but, "a good girl who loves her mama."

Beginning to practice

For years I have written in journals; on my closet shelves live the memories of my youth, my present predicaments, and my future hopes and dreams. Writing has always been my way of decompressing, of dealing with my anger, my fear, my insecurities, my stresses, and all the things over which I seem to have little control.

I imagine that part of the reason I began writing in journals was because it was easier to have an internal dialogue, purged on paper, than it was to speak those feelings/frustrations to those who evoked them. It was easier to cry on the crumpled pages than it was to express my pain to those who loved me...and would later blame themselves for my tears. I realize now that it was easier and, it was learned. I grew up in a tight-knit family who never really expressed their deepest pains, fears, struggles, etc. I was neither told nor felt that I couldn't share those feelings, I just never wanted to burden anyone else.

Recently, a man I dated several months ago contacted me and in a conversation he told me that I had always kept him at arm's length, that I would never let him get close. I have really struggled with this comment because I feel that I am an open book. I will share any part of my life with anyone who asks...I have no secrets. It is upon further consideration of this comment that I realize, maybe he has a point. I still resort to the journal to express the day to day frustrations, and irritants...are these the things that he wanted me to share? While I considered these matters to be trivial in the broad scheme of things, are these the items that he needed me to share in order for him to feel close to me? Is it really the little events in our daily lives that eventually have more bearing than those major events that come so few and far between?

So, here I am. I have toyed with the idea of blogging for quite some time and I now think it is time to begin. It is time that I share those day to day thoughts and musings with the world...or at least give the world the opportunity to see/hear them. Maybe it is a bit selfish on my part to practice here, but I've seen no better place to begin. While I know that I will never completely give up the journaling, maybe I'll cut down on the storage space needed to house all those memories.