Friday, June 26, 2009

Random Blogginess


You know you are chugging through some serious laundrage when you have a load of wet stuff waiting on the dryer while another load washes. Oh, to have one of those ginormous washers/dryers like in the commercials. Some day.

Smelly Superb Teens

I became a high school English teacher on some misguided notion that I could change the world by teaching poor kids how to read. I did an 'urban' student teaching experience (the toughest choice I could have made at my little state school). I drove kids home so they wouldn't get in a fight with their gangs. I took in a kid to class who was recently parolled and still had a few months before he turned 21 and phased out of school. I meowed with a 300 pound girl when the class got too tough (she was one of the first of the 'crack babies'; that is children born to crack addicted mothers). That particular young lady had a habit of becoming a cat when times got tough. I, in my Laura Ingalls dress (yes, it had lace on the collar) would dutifully sit on the floor with her and meow until she was ready to read again.

Quickly, the system, the union, seniority, Vice-Principal antagonism and standardized testing ground out all idealism. It was replaced with a resignation to do what I could. If told no, there was no money, I would write the grant and get the money myself. I did exactly what I was directed to in the ubiquitous 'scope and sequencing chart of objectives and outcomes' just in my own way. Then Columbine happened.

I was Mama Ro to the same kind of kids who shot up their school. My classroom was the one the kids came to when they wanted to "f*ck up" another kid. My room, and I, were their haven. Once, when the crazy Vice Principal yelled at me (for the hundredth time) in front of my class, a young man offered to go to his truck, get his gun and take care of things for me. Things had definitely changed in my teaching world.

I left. I worked for one of the worst school systems in the country, DC Public Schools. I got away from directly dealing with kids. Until now.

I just chaperoned a group of 12 smelly, rude, loud, stupendously gifted and wonderful teens to a Christian Youth Conference. ETE Metamorphosis. (Empowering The Extreme).

I watched young people throw away years of pain, oppression and silence. They raged through the worship at their circumstance, much out of the unfortunateness they were born to. I saw some smile, for the first time in a long time.

I fell in love, again. I fell in love with the potential, the power, the rawness of adolescence. (Though I did not love the smell in the boys van...ew.).

We'll see where this love will take me and them.

Big Bertha

I am on a pseudo-health kick. Pseudo, in that, I am exercising but haven't significantly changed my eating habits. I know, not a recipe for success. I just want to make one small change at a time.

I've decided to adopt Ruby's term for the 'junk in my trunk'. Henceforth, it will be called Bertha. My son used less femininely friendly terms when discussing my rear self. He told his Pap that while he had a skinny backside that his mommy had a 'gigantic backside'. Thanks Bug. Really. Thanks.

I said something similar to my mother when I was a bit older than my son. I asked my mom how her 'big butt' fit on the little seat of the bicycles we were riding. She cried, yelled and didn't talk to me for days.

When my life came full circle and I heard my son's comment, I laughed. I laughed because it's true...hold on...gotta finish the last bite of this chocolate no-bake cookie....okay, now I can finish this blog. I laughed because it's true and because nothing could keep me from talking to my little guy, even a little pain.

Extreme Internal Makeover Edition

I ended up facilitating/preaching/teaching a session to my entire Wednesday bible study on sexual restoration. Take the minute you need to digest that then I'll blog on. You good? K.

After that study, I got to talk and pray with some dear friends who are also, conveniently, my Pastors. When we prayed (as common as ordering dessert when we have a night out together) they shared something I'll chew on for the next coupla weeks. They said that I was in the middle of a quick "Extreme Internal Makeover Edition" in my heart, mind and spirit. They said soon I'll say, "Move that bus!" and won't believe the awesomeness of who I will be.

I've blogged about my struggles to find the 'authentic' me underneath layers of depression, masking and other yuckiness. I know things are changing at a warp speed pace. I can't wait to see what's behind the bus.

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