Mar 22, 2012
Today I helped a friend grade essays for her 9th Grade English class. In between our coffee drinking and chattering to get caught up with each other, we managed to get through about one-third of the pile. I finally took a small stack home with me; knowing I could better serve her if we’re not in the same room.
It was pretty shocking to me to discover how many students are willing to fail just through lack of effort. It was easy to decipher who paid attention and who didn’t. It had nothing to do with English, and everything to do with communications.
April had set a strict, yet easy-to-follow, set of requirements for the papers: Title page. Outline. Thesis. Five-page essay with cites. Works cited page. Drafts.
And yet I graded papers that were two pages, barely. With large font. And indented margins. There were papers with nothing but quotes and no original thinking whatsoever. Papers that had no thesis, no clear introduction, no summary conclusion.
And it made me sad. Because I know these students are bringing down the statistics in April’s class, and it’s not her fault. I can tell these students just aren’t trying. They’re trying to get by, to manipulate, to pretend.
And that’s a way of life for them.
But then I graded papers that had all the necessary elements and were grammatically correct. Those are the ones we jumped for joy over: the students who listened, who read the notes, who tried.
I learned so much about governments, economics, life expectancy rates, and healthcare. I learned that the more people have decisions made for them, the less inclined they are to strive for themselves. And the more students get passing grades without doing real work, the less inclined they are to try to do better.
It makes me sad. And hopeful. Because it only takes one candle in the darkness to cast away shadows. One coin in the fountain to start earning interest.
April thought she was asking me to do her a favor. When in fact, she was still teaching.
I can’t wait to go back to class.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Mar 21, 2012
There are three of you I love like my own (well, one of you is). Each of you has enriched my life in ways you may never know. I’m blessed to be your mother, your friend, your partner in crime (or atleast, in writing about them).
I’m honored that you love me in return. That you share with me your families, your hopes, your dreams, your sorrows. We have goals. We have memories. We have fun. We work well together.
And there are times, oh so many times, that I pray for you. How I want to be a good example for you but I know sometimes I fail. Sometimes I’m immature and selfish. Sometimes I can’t give as much as I should, and sometimes I want it to be all about me.
But then I hear you’re hurting, and all I can do is cry for you, for your heartaches. And this is where I step up to the plate and offer what I have to give you: experience and (hopefully) wisdom.
In some way, each of you is suffering a broken heart. Maybe not completely; and not in the same way. Your hurts are yours. Your sorrows are individual, personal, and private. In real life, you put on a secure mask and you go through the automated functions of daily living. But something inside feels broken, damaged, or just out of sorts.
That’s okay. It’s okay to feel confused, and sad, and angry. It’s okay to wonder if your dreams will ever be reality.
But please … don’t live there. Don’t live in a fantasy land; holding out for something that might not happen, waiting for the Knight in Shining Armor to come rescue you. It’s okay to rescue yourself. It’s okay to be your own person. It’s okay to be You.
It’s okay to send yourself flowers to brighten your day. It’s okay to be disappointed and it’s okay to change your mind about what you thought you wanted in life. It’s okay to still want what you want, but don’t stop there. Don’t let the shadows throw you over. Don’t let the roadblocks stop you. Don’t dream so high that you lose sight of reality and forget to live.
There are many paths, many directions. And just because one isn’t working out the way you thought/hoped/planned… you can still get there. You can take a detour. You can take another path.
Just don’t stop.
Don’t stop believing that you’re worth everything. Everything. You’re worth attention. You’re worth flowers. You’re worth hugs and conversations and coffee dates and smiles and … everything that makes you, You.
You’re worth knowing. And sharing. And loving. And growing. And being.
And if I could make your life perfect, I would. But I’m not magical. I’m just me. I’ve been where you are. You may not think so. You may think you’re alone. You may think I’m just an Old Maid who hasn’t a clue. But you’re wrong. That’s okay, too.
Because whether you believe me or not, I’ve been there. And I’m still here.
For you.
Because I love you abundantly.
And no matter what, no matter what, YOU are worth knowing. Just as you are. But I also know you’re still growing. And I really look forward to knowing the person you’re going to be.
I love you with a Mother’s Love. A Friend’s Fierceness. A passionate, loyal, do-anything, protective, Godly love. I love you. Abundantly. No matter what.
And I always will.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Mar 20, 2012
It’s 10:30 p.m. and I just now realized I don’t have a post ready for tomorrow.
Well, what can I say? I’ve been busy today.
I played the Wii.
I ate birthday cake.
I snuggled with my cat.
I spent a lot of back-and-forth with my graphic designer for the new company logo.
I watched some TV.
I ate pizza.
I fed the birds.
And I had a friend do a drive-by hugging.
Dot cleaned the house in such a wonderful fashion. She really did herself in. Because now I know she’s totally capable of this kind of cleaning. *Insert evil-Mom laugh here.*
And I planned my grocery list. For my dehydrator. I’ll start with apples and bananas. And grapes. Then move onto tomatoes and beef jerky. And once spring truly arrives, I’ll play with herbs. I might even try some potatoes.
I’ve crossed a lot off my To-Do List lately; but I’ve also added to it. It seems that’s always the case. Just when I think I’m done, there’s another task. Even when I’m close to finishing a project, I find a reason to not quite get there. It’s a little infuriating.
But this year, so far (and it’s only March!!), I’ve been doing better at finishing what I start. Little by little, I’m learning what it feels like to set more than one goal, and take it one step at a time; and cross that finish line one foot in front of the other.
I’m also learning that there are many different ways to reach goals. And success has many definitions.
I figure as long as I’m breathing, and learning, and living, I’m doing okay.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
