Catching up day

I worked a 2-9 yesterday at Staples so I spent much of today getting caught up on homework. I did it! I managed to read 6 chapters for American texts and contexts before class, then I wrote a 2-3 page essay for my Poetry class for tomorrow and did about 60-70 pages of reading for that class. I read a packet for my Content Lit class tomorrow. I'm telling you this in order to explain why I haven't posted until now. I was busy trying to get everything done.

Anyway, onto my random thought for the day. In my Special Education class that I am taking we talked about labels and how labels affect how students feel about themselves and how teachers view their students. Through all of it I didn't say anything. For the most part I did agree that as a teacher I am afraid of stereotyping a student based on a disability or special need. I also agreed that labels can be hurtful and down right mean. But I also see something many people overlook. Labels can be powerful when we embrace them. I have been called many things before in my life and by embracing those things (when they were true) as parts of myself I owned them and was able to stop others from using them against me.

In school I was called "The Walking Encyclopedia" and instead of letting it hurt me I embraced it. Yeah, I was smart. Yeah, I knew a lot of random stuff about a lot of different random things. When I was being particularly nasty to my mom and brother my mom would call me on it and say I was a bitch. I own this two. Yeah, I can be mean and spiteful sometimes. Yeah, I can say hurtful things sometimes. Later, in high school, I was told that I was an angry feminist because I wrote about men in all aspects of my life who had done me wrong and I denounced them for it. I own this too. I admit that I believe in the empowerment of women, in equality and yes I am angry for being treated like less than equal.

By claiming these labels, hurtful or not, as my own I take all power of them away from the people who wish me harm and instead place all power in myself but recognizing the many different parts of me. As a teacher I do not want to encourage students to label each other but as humans we naturally place people and things into neat little categories. Therefore, I want my students to embrace every true aspect of themselves and recognize that they are many things, many labels. Labels don't need to be confining or hurtful. Labels, like all words, are powerful.

I Am More Than

I am tired of being angry and poor.
I can not blame Gail Wynand for wanting power
With power comes a voice
And the poor have no voice.
I’m gonna go all Howard Roark on your asses.
I have nothing I can say to you
But plenty to show you.
I am somebody
I am a force to be reckoned with
I deserve a voice
So sit up and listen
Stand up and take notice
I am more than the lint in my pocket
Or the holes in my shoes

Special thanks to Ayn Rand and her novel, The Fountainhead for inspiring this poem.

Literacy as Power

Hello to my few faithful readers. As you can see from this post I survived my Monday. I made small talk with my roommates and I would say that in general no one hates me. That's good... right? My mom keeps telling me that I need to just let it all roll right off my shoulders and be, As my grandmother would say, the bigger person. Honestly though, I really have been being the bigger person and I don't want to do that anymore. I want to be that girl back in Orland who didn't take crap from anyone. It feels good to be that girl. It feels powerful.

Anyway, moving away from the past and into the present, Orland reminds me of what I really wanted to talk about today. I had my Content Lit class(at the ungodly hour of 8 am)and in class we talked about Literacy as three metaphors in an attempt to describe it. It seems like defining literacy and what it means should be easy but it really isn't. It isn't just who can read and who can't because that definition fails to include why people read and what reading is used for.

During the discussion and the reading I really connected to one particular metaphor, Literacy as Power. I grew up in a small town in a fairly small house that had a well built on sand. This means that there was almost never enough water. I remember spending a year sponge bathing and carefully planning my showers so that the majority of my hygiene happened at my father's house. Literacy is powerful for me because it is how I will keep from returning to that. My mom did a good job raising my brother and I but we always worried about money. It was hard not to. Literacy has provided me with the wonderful opportunity to better myself by going to college and establishing a career for myself.

Now, I know that teacher's, especially first year teachers don't make a lot of money but they make more money than I ever had growing up. I am excited to be entering into a profession that will not only make me more financially stable but also help to better the world. I will be affecting the lives of hundreds of children and helping to guide their thinking. I want to show them that passion, hard work and respect can get them out of their own worries and fears. Literacy is just one key to rising to new heights of freedom. To reaching dreams that people in my family and many people in families like mine never thought could be possible for them.

Help

Walk down the street
My head held high
Careful steps move quickly and confidently across the sidewalk
Never let them see you shaking deep down inside

The man who might as well be my brother
Turns his eyes away from my inquiring gaze
Says its not a big deal and changes the subject

I know his world is one of fear
And a hatred so deep it keeps him silent
I watch his mother drink beer after beer
And ride home with a man our family doesn’t trust

Walk into their house and feel the tension of a distant fight
See the boy I grew up with ready to kill
A look I know
Has to do with his mother’s heavy make-up.

Swagger a little on the street
I own this world
Smirk, a look of confidence
When deep down inside I want to escape

Come home on a warm summer’s night
The dogs are outside on the porch
They run excitedly to the car
We’re home

Home to a house with the backdoor broken open
Change jar missing
Medications gone
I guess they knew what they wanted

I know what I want as I saunter down the street
Hips swaying to my silent anthem
Escape from here, from this place.

Monday

It's Monday and this Monday comes with more than the usual dread of returning to the week. I usually don't mind Mondays. Since I have been at school they are almost a break. I work on weekends at Staples. All weekend and being able to get away from there and return to a normal week of school is usually a relief. However, this semester I have taken on quite a bit more. Since taking practicum, a fourth class and working weekends last semester I have developed this sense of "I am Woman" and this feeling that I can do anything.

Unfortunately, it has driven me to pick up two extra days a week of work at Staples and to think that I can handle living with 3 roommates. The pitfalls of having too much confidence my friends. The good news is that the new work habits I picked up in practicum have kept me from drowning in the very heavy reading load that I did not expect an English class on Poetry to come with. 120 pages of reading assigned Thursday and due Tuesday is a little much even for someone who doesn't work all weekend like I do, don't you think?

Anyway, back to my point. This Monday is especially dreadful because not only did my obsessive work habits drive me to completely ignore myself again but they caused a major fight with everyone in the very tiny apartment I am living in. The fight happened Saturday night and I worked all day Sunday so I haven't yet had much interaction with everyone. Frankly. I'm dreading it. I'm sure they must all hate me. Even I hate me a little bit. But can I really blame myself for trying to keep ahead so that I don't drowned under the massive weight that has become my life once again? Can I really blame them for not working as tirelessly as me? It just seems like it all comes so easily for them while I'm here exhausted all the time. I work 30 hours a week, and take 4 classes. They can't say the same. Why does it bother me so much(and it always has) to see others have things more easily?

The Good Kind of Tired

This Blog is called Of Love, Life, Writing and Everything in Between so I thought it needed some more writing. This seems appropriate after my last post.

The Good Kind of Tired

I’m getting tired again
But not my usual tired.
Not tired of the world
Not tired of people
Not tired of hatred and pain.
But the kind of tired that fills your bones
And makes you want to stay in bed late.
The kind of tired that seeps into you slowly
Because you’ve worked hard
And you’re almost at the end.
The kind of tired that makes you smile
Because you are proud of what you have accomplished
The kind of tired that also makes you sigh
At how far you still have to go.
I’m so happy to be this kind of tired for once.

Today is a New Day

I am getting ever closer to my final goal, being a High School English teacher. I only have 3 semesters(including this one) left until I am student teaching. Many of my professors here at UMF have stressed the importance of reflecting on what I am doing and things I can do to improve. I figured since I already have this wonderfully laid out blog with this beautiful color scheme that I should take advantage of it.

This will be my chronicle of what it takes to get my dream job.