A TEACHER OR A NURSE?

I posted a while back about my neighbor Robin and her amazing bullshit meter. Before that I posted about my interest in becoming a truck driver due to movies like SMOKY AND THE BANDIT and CONVOY. It was Robin who gave me the excellent advice that dissuaded me from pursuing those career paths. Over the next few years, I would present her with MANY new career ideas.

Of course, before all of this began, I distinctly remember when I was in elementary school, and living in Florida, that there were really only two career options for a young girl: teacher or nurse. That was what the other girls asked you if you wanted to be. Do you want to be a teacher or a nurse? Well, this was a no-brainer for me. I definitely wanted to be a teacher, because a nurse was out of the question. I remember sitting on the floor in my room and studying the bottoms of my feet. Just looking at the veins or arteries, or whatever those blue lines were, made me ill. I couldn't walk on my feet after that. If I had to go anywhere I had to do it on the sides of my feet, or I crawled around until the feeling passed. During health class, anytime the subject of blood came up, my hand fell asleep while I was taking notes. That was bad. My hand went numb and I quit writing so I could thump it against my chair. Sometimes I persevered but my writing was AWFUL. The only "C" I ever got was in Health and it was in the 5th grade. I think that there is a direct correlation to that bad grade and my inability to take notes whenever the subject matter went even remotely "bloody." I found the photo above here.

So, being a nurse was not an option.

Fast forward to junior high. I am trying on new careers every other week, or month, or whatever. This continues into high school. I am an avid reader, TV watcher, moviegoer. So, pretty much any time I watch or read anything gripping, that becomes my new career obsession. The other thing that "living" half my life at Robin's house did for me was turn me from a GENERAL HOSPITAL addict into a DAYS OF OUR LIVES addict. I know you were wondering how that happened, and now you know. Of course, that was back when DOL was good. In the summer of my junior high school days I was also an AS THE WORLD TURNS addict. Say what? Yes. I got reeled in by Betsy and Steve. Quit judging. Betsy was played by Meg Ryan. She was brilliant. You would have been reeled in, too.

Anyway, I career-hopped like mad and Robin never said a word. I think she was on to me. I saw FLASHDANCE and I suddenly wanted to be a dancer. Please. Of course, the TV show FAME had me on the hook for a long time. I wanted to be a rockstar. I wanted to be a singer. And I wanted to play every musical instrument, even though my mother forced me to practice piano daily. I just wanted it to "come it to me magically." Halfway through the book RAGE OF ANGELS, I was sure I wanted to be a lawyer. At the end, I definitely did NOT want to be a lawyer. Let's see... there was teacher (it did get back on my list again briefly), therapist, minister (not sure if that was before or after THE OUTSIDERS sermon, but I think after), writer, lawyer again (but not criminal law), and I know there were more. I suffered from indecision.

One day I said, "I have NO IDEA what I will be. Maybe the answer is just to marry someone rich."

Robin finally had something to say. "That is the stupidest thing you have ever said. It doesn't matter what you do, but do SOMETHING. If you want to be rich, if that is what is important to you, then you make it happen, but for the love of God, don't expect some man to support you. You support you. Other people let you down all the time. The only person you can rely on in this world is you." She had my attention. I had to pick my jaw up off the floor.

She didn't say it exactly like that, but that was the gist. And, once again, she nailed it. And, in my own way, I nailed it, too. I didn't really want to be any of those things. I just wanted to pretend to be them for a little while. What I really wanted to be was...an actress. Or a writer. I like the idea of trying on other people's lives and then shedding them. Of course, being a salesperson was okay, too, because it is kind of like acting, but that is another blog.

So, why didn't I move to Hollywood and try my luck? Well, I was always a bit too practical to do it. But, let's say I had thrown caution to the wind, I always knew one thing: I didn't want to be too famous. Even in high school I was aware of all of the crap that getting too famous does to your life, and I didn't want that. I think that it was Agatha Christie who said, "And for everything you love you have to pay a price." So, what would I have done? I would have wanted to be on a soap opera. A soap opera, you say? Yep. It's a steady gig with a loyal fan base and you're famous, but not too famous. You get to practice your craft and get paid to do what you love.

If you want a peek at this life that I would have chosen in an "alternate universe," you can click here to watch one of my all-time favorite scenes. Or you can just imagine me as a soap opera diva. That works for me, too.

THE POWER OF A TEACHER

Last night I had a conversation with my ex's son, C-Man, who is in the 6th grade, about math. Sort of. C-Man goes to a magnet school for fine arts, which is wonderful. This school places high expectations on the students, and so it should. C-Man has always been book-smart and prone to dramatics. In other words, I knew that this would be a good fit. C-Man's biggest problem in public school was being a big fish in a little pond. In other words, C-Man was too smart for his own good, and was bored. This has been an ongoing hurdle for C-Man to bear. A few months ago, everyone found out that C-Man hadn't turned in any homework, for any of his classes second semester, and might flunk out of school. The good news was that his test scores were great. This was strictly a homework issue. C-Man was smart, just not doing his homework. The irony was that C-Man would do academic, but non-homework related projects at home. The only thing that came to my mind was that he was bored by the homework. However, he really loves his school, and is now sufficiently frightened that he is doing it anyway.

Did you know that kids are doing algebra in 6th grade? I took algebra in 9th grade. I liked it and did well in it, but there is a huge difference between a 6th grade mind and a 9th grade mind. C-Man's teacher is going to start tutoring him on Thursdays after school in Math. C-Man is not happy about this. C-Man doesn't think he needs tutoring. C-Man gets all of the answers right. Why does C-Man need tutoring you ask? C-Man won't show his work. The teacher wants C-Man to write down all of the steps to solve the problem. My response is, "Well, do it."

C-Man says, "I know the answer just by looking at the problem AND he has more steps than I do. I can solve it in fewer steps and he doesn't like it. He says that my way is wrong. He wants me to do it his way, which is longer."

And here lies the quandary for every parent or parental role model, which is the category I fall into. Has C-Man shown him his steps and hit this wall already? Or is he assuming that the teacher will not like what he sees? What if C-Man shows him his steps and the teacher sees that C-Man is a brilliant mathematical mind in the making? The teacher already knows that C-Man can just look at the problem and solve it IN HIS HEAD. How do I make C-Man feel good about himself and still respect his teacher? Right now, C-Man is convinced that he knows MORE than his teacher and is giving his teacher attitude, which is not a good thing.

So, I take out some paper and put two dots on it. Each represent a specific place. Point A and Point B and then I draw lines. One line is the shortest distance between the points. The other line is slightly more curved. The straight line is the teacher's way of solving the problem. And the curvy line is C-Man's way of solving it. He disagrees. He thinks his line should the straight line. I mark an area on the teacher's line with xxx's, and tell him the reason he doesn't take that line is because it's under construction, and it slows him down. Therefore, the curvy line is faster. However, until he shows the teacher his curvy line, and explains to the teacher about the construction going down on the teacher's straight line, the two of them are not going to understand how the other one thinks. I followed that gem up with, "C-Man, your teacher went to college and majored in Math."


The whole time I'm thinking, "Please Mr. Math Teacher, don't be one of those people who squashes a child because he can. If the only real problem here is that C-Man is smarter than you and has found a faster way to solve a problem, don't penalize him. Don't break his spirit or make him feel small or less than or stupid when he isn't. I know that it must sting, him being twelve, and you being a grown man, if he's already surpassed you, but you can choose to help him flourish. Please choose that."

I am reminded, once again, by the great power that teachers wield. This one man, right now, has the power to boost the self-esteem of a young boy and, perhaps, light a fire that could make this world a much finer place. Or, he can blow out a candle, and we will never know what could have been.

KEEP THE CHANGE

I've already devoted an entire blog to Miss Fishcher, my English teacher in 11th grade, over a month ago (see THE FISCHER QUEEN) because she was an amazing teacher. Today I was reminded of this letter that she had us all write to ourselves at the end of the school year. Try as I might, I couldn't recall what mine said. I do remember Miss Fischer saying that it could appear in our mailboxes, unexpectedly, at any time in our futures, just to remind us of who we are "right now." As I write this blog, I cannot help but wish that letter would appear in my mailbox today....or tomorrow... or next week. I already know that if I ever receive it, it will make me say things like, "I can't believe I wrote that! What was I thinking?" On the plus side, it will also make me say things like, "I remember that. I miss that. That was THE BEST DAY, THE BEST TIME, THAT WAS SOOOO FUNNY. I had the best friends."

I already know that it won't sound remotely like anything I write today. I have moved enough times and gone through enough boxes of "old stuff" to have discovered that. Each time I come across a box of high school memorobilia (i.e. notes and yearbooks and play/concert programs), I can't bring myself to throw any of it out. Instead, I read it all. That one box takes three hours to go through and I pitch nothing. The notes are the best. They are all about stuff I mostly don't remember. Sometimes there are references to "major" things, but usually there is a lot of talk about clothes/shoes and should I or shouldn't I cut my hair and crushes on this boy or that boy. It all makes me laugh. Those "problems" seemed so big at the time. I would love to have should I or shouldn't I cut my hair be topping my Things To Think About List.

Miss Fischer knew something that we didn't: life was going to get more complicated after high school. Grown ups get perks, but they get matching acccessories (aka problems). I started to wonder if maybe I shouldn't take a time-out today and hand write a letter to me for five, ten, fifteen, or twenty years from now. Maybe there's something about this living thing that I could still learn from Miss Fischer right here in the present.


The more I thought about Miss Fischer, the more I remembered how much she loved Henry David Thoreau. In fact, if my memory was at all accurate, I think she was inspired by him to spend some solitary time in the woods herself, just to see if there was anything to that whole business. I think there was, because she really admired the man. I didn't trot off to the woods this morning, but I did google H.D.T. and all of that time in the woods gave him clarity. I would be happy to have just ONE stellar quote in the history books. He has pages. I went through and picked some of my favorites (okay, I picked more than I planned on, but you wouldn't believe how MUCH there was to choose from!), but this is what spoke to me today. What is amazing is that if I had looked it up tomorrow, you could be looking at an entirely different set of quotes. Isn't that kind of awesome?




I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.

Friends... they cherish one another's hopes. They are kind to one another's dreams.

Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant?



Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?

As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives.

Ignorance and bungling with love are better than wisdom and skill without.

It is usually the imagination that is wounded first, rather than the heart; it being much more sensitive.



Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.

Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.

There is one consolation in being sick; and that is the possibility that you may recover to a better state than you were ever in before.

The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.

~Henry David Thoreau



So, I ask you, dear reader, must we go to the woods for clarity? Can we learn from another's trip to the woods? Or, perhaps, maybe ~ just maybe ~ can we set aside enough time daily for introspection within city limits that makes that trek unnecessary? Of course, each person much decide how much time is enough time for them. For some, that ten to twenty minutes in the shower and they are good to go. For others, well that is just the tip of a mighty big iceberg. But as ole HDT said, "The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it." How much is peace of mind going for these days?

THE FISCHER QUEEN

Every Tuesday night my mom, step-dad, and I go out to eat at The Pizza Joint. A couple of weeks ago my mom mentioned my 11th grade English teacher, Miss Amy Fischer. I thought Miss Fischer was one of the coolest teachers ever and my mom knew it. She then told me that back in the day she worked with someone whose son was my age and apparently hated Miss Fischer, so his mom was always telling my mom what a terrible teacher Miss Fischer was. I was stunned that anyone with a working brain could think Miss Fischer was anything less than extraordinary. When she told me the source of the story I understood the problem: this student defintely was not a rocket scientist. But I still didn't get how he didn't find Miss Fischer fascinating.

This conversation took place more than two weeks ago and it is still simmering on the backburner of my brain, so there must be something unresolved here for me. Miss Fischer dropped out of high school because it bored her. She got a GED and went on to college. There were days that we didn't discuss anything concerning literature or grammar or anything related to "English" at all. I do remember a discussion of what you would do if you found out that this was your last day to live. There was also an entire period devoted to proving that God was real. Miss Fischer wanted us to think for ourselves and not spit up a rehash of what our parents thought because their parents thought it before them and so on. Things sometimes got rocky in her class. And I imagine that all those people who liked everything to be "comfortable" were very uncomfortable when Miss Fischer stood on her desk or swung from the ceiling beams to get unruly students' attention. She also brought in her record player and played things like Alice's Restaurant and Simon & Garfunkel so that we could have a better sense of what the 60s felt like.

Last, but certainly not least, the summer before my junior year, Miss Fischer donated her summer to a program called Outward Bound. Outward Bound is for teenagers who are facing jailtime. They can do the time or do Outward Bound. So the first day of school was a recap of this trip spent on a boat catching your meals, dropping your pants and doing your business over the side of a boat (the worst of horrors to a 15-year-old girl), then being dropped on an island for four days to survive with a partner at the end. I kept saying I'd pick jail when I retold the story, but I secretly admired Miss Fischer enormously for doing this. What I understand now is she was telling us right from go how much she cared without telling us how much she cared.

There are teachers and then there are teachers. Most of them are not Miss Fischers. Most of them are not interested in challenging your personal beliefs or your thinking process. Most of them don't think about the fact that they can impact the person you will be after you leave the institution known as high school. Most of them don't care like she did. Most of them don't see those 45 minutes a day as teaching moments every day. Most of them don't make you better people when you leave their classroom as opposed to just smarter. I have toyed with the idea of teaching off and on since graduating college. It would mean going back to school for education classes, but that isn't why I don't do it. I would only want to do it if I could teach like Miss Fischer. I'm not convinced that in today's society of rules and regulations that Miss Fischer can teach like Miss Fischer.