It’s summer time, but my weird and wonderful interactions with children never seem to cease!
I spent the better part of today having a great time helping friends paint their new house. But when I was practically home, this wild child of a girl ran out in front of me as I was pulling into our parking lot. She smiled an apology, I smiled an ‘it’s alright.’
She found me again, bare-foot with her white-blond curls dancing in the wind, as I was walking into my building. “Do I know you?” she asked, hands on her hips. “No, I don’t think so,” I answered with a smile.
“You’re going to die tonight,” she stated. I tried not to look surprised. “You’re going to die tonight. I’ve been telling everyone that today, but no one believes me, but if they’ve been playing with the ouija board with me then they’re going to die, I know it.”
I think I said, “Oh, ok.” and then she ran away to play with her friends.
The Daily Post: Daily Prompt – Who’s your hero? Tell us a story about why that person plays such an important role in your life.
My current unit, as many of you already know, is over “Beowulf,” but we’re reading Michael Crichton’s Eaters of the Dead first. We’ve been talking a lot about monsters and heroes and I’ve assigned an essay for the students to write about their heroes. So it’s only fair that I stumble upon this prompt and write about my heroes.
There was a time in my life when I only looked up to people who weren’t related to me, or at least, people who didn’t like my parents. If you asked who I wanted to meet, dead or alive, when I was a teenager, I would’ve chosen historical figures, like Abraham Lincoln or Osceola or Sacagawea or Eleanor of Aquitaine. History consumed my life: articles, textbooks, documentaries, novels… there were worlds that were so different from my own, preferable even.
But now that I’m older, my grandparents have passed away, and my parents have retired and live far from me, I’ve come to value family more and more. I guess the adage is true, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s moved away. Because of this, I think, I respect my parents more than I ever dreamed possible. We don’t talk that often, but I always go to them first when I have a crisis or need “life” advice. Dad more so than Mom; not that she isn’t equally wise – she is! – but Dad is very direct, he cuts through the emotional garbage to the bare naked truth. And I need this. I can be extremely emotional.
For this reason and sundry others, Dad is my hero. He doesn’t wear a cape and looks shockingly like a mountain man, but he has done everything in his power to be a good man, a good husband to my mother, and a good father to me and my siblings.
Because the internet is a beautiful, wonderful place to find awesome teaching apparel! 😉
Dear Attractive Man in the White Sedan:
The gusto in which you gouged your nose gave me pause, but as the red light continued so that you could accomplish your goal, I could only be impressed by your perseverance. This dedication is a quality that must endear you to the ladies; however, I noticed you don’t wear a ring… Weird.
A Fellow Motorist
I have red hair, therefore I am a mermaid. I would argue the logic, but the little girl at the grocery store made a very convincing and extremely passionate argument.
I was just told by a six year old that I need to get a husband. I hope she has good taste, ‘cuz she’s volunteered to find me a good one!
♪♫ Where have all the socks gone? Long time passing… ♫♪
I don’t get it. I live in the tiniest apartment ever. Only one drawer – ONE DRAWER – contains socks. And yet, I am constantly finding only one freakin’ sock. One Sock! But I have two feet! Is there some elf or goblin or fantastical creature that sneaks around and steals one sock from every pair while my back is turned?!
Matching these buggers is for the birds.
The Daily Post-Daily Prompt: “Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.” — Sylvia Plath Which do you find more dangerous: wanting nothing, or wanting everything?
Wanting nothing is by far more dangerous than wanting everything.
Each day I encounter a student or parent that has no hope, no plan, no motivation to do something different. They’re not lazy, they’re not stupid. They just want nothing because they believe they deserve nothing.
To them, hope is an expensive luxury.
This apathy and depression is prevalent in poverty-ridden communities where the daily grind is so overwhelming there is no time to want anything other than the very basic necessities (many of which are as elusive as hope).
For this reason, it is so incredibly important to encourage community growth through building up the family and supporting education at every level. This is more than just throwing money at individuals and organizations. Reawakening hope takes grit, passion, perseverance, and time.
Without this, we’re fostering a system that spits out young men and women who create nothing because they want nothing.
“I’ve seen the heartbreak and anxiety of children whose mothers might be taken away from them just because they didn’t have the right papers,” the president continued. “I’ve seen the courage of students who, except for the circumstances of their birth, are as American as Malia or Sasha; students who bravely come out as undocumented in hopes they could make a difference in a country they love. These people – our neighbors, our classmates, our friends – they did not come here in search of a free ride or an easy life. They came to work, and study, and serve in our military, and above all, contribute to America’s success.”
I cannot express to you how this quote from President Obama in particular resonates with me. It is unbelievably disgusting that a country built on the backs of immigrants, supported by the dreams of immigrants, and populated almost completely by the descendants of immigrants should be so selfish and cold to those who actually make the “American dream” possible.
The Daily Post Prompt: You’re asked to recite a poem (or song lyrics) from memory — what’s the first one that comes to mind? Does it have a special meaning, or is there another reason it has stayed, intact, in your mind?
The first poem that comes to mind is actually a section from Lamentations 3, verses 19-25.
Remember my affliction and my wandering, the wormwood and bitterness.
Surely my soul remembers
And is bowed down within me.
This I recall to my mind,
Therefore I have hope.
The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,
For His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
Great is Your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“Therefore I have hope in Him.”
The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,
To the person who seeks Him.
This has a very special meaning to me; for several years, it was my mantra and a constant source of comfort to me after I lost everything. It felt good to acknowledge the pain and anger and lean on the promise that no matter how long I wandered in affliction, God’s faithfulness is eternal. There is always, always hope.