Mobile Minutes: No Shutdown


Gears are spinning, laying here, searching for rest to find me. It is another silent night with chaos in my head. Pondering futures, ignoring pasts, and attempting to forge ahead.

I’ve learned that I march to my own drum because stepping in rhythm to anyone else’s deprives myself of unique opportunities; constructing my own destiny.

I cannot focus on what was; the temptations to overflow the heart of petty history blocks out my potential, inherent responsibilities.

-D-

XXXI: First Batch


Teaching is hard.

I have made so many mistakes.
I have created so many stressful situations.
I have said so many incorrect things.

Teaching is hard.

I was fortunate enough to go on a field trip with some of our students today. This landed me in an amusement park from 10:30 AM to 4:30 PM on possibly one of the most gorgeous days of the year. However, as it turns out, we were not the only school inside the park on this day.

After releasing our students I sat at a table for 45 minutes; that was my job for the morning in the event something happened to one of our darlings. Nearing the end of my shift a man sat down at the next table. His shirt was blue and read the follow…

East Buchanan Bulldogs

I knew this man! He was the assistant basketball coach while I was in high school. I sat down next to him, incredibly he remembered my name after ten years, and we started talking. I learned that two individuals I graduated with from high school now teach 7th grade students in the middle school we grew up in. I found them all in the park today. The man I compared notes; I suppose like teachers do. We talked about expansion, testing, demographics, and just how times have changed.

Man, times have changed.

After speaking with him for a few minutes I wandered the park. I road five roller coasters, overcame my previous fear of going upside down, ate three cheeseburgers, and thanks to the air from the coasters, my beard is extremely ‘poofy’ this evening.

School ends next Friday.

Heading home this evening I watched my students. They were my students this year. I had to be responsible for instructing them about the social sciences for nine months. I attended countless meetings, several observations, training sessions, and many sleepless nights. I learned new languages, discovered different cultures, and researched just about everything I could think up about these strange 12-13 year old children.

Today is started to settle in that after next week…they’re gone. Now I do sound like a true teacher. Even though I gained wrinkles, lost weight and sleep, and they frustrated me to no end on several weeks; my kids are leaving*.

This is the part of teaching they try to warn you about, but you refuse to listen. You will be heartbroken when you realize that your students are growing up and they are no longer yours. From the selfish perspective that is a really hard pill to swallow.

Besides, they’re just going to 8th grade. They will all just be a hall below me next year. It is an easy thing to think until after the trip today I found an 8th grader standing by themselves, alone, waiting for their ride to pick them up. They were one of my cross country runners and they were one of the first students I met, when they were in 6th grade and I was a new substitute in the building. We spoke about their attitude, their brain, and the fact that they have such a bright future. What I didn’t realize, in such pathetic nature, was that my voice started cracking when I started talking about their future.

I already know that I struggle talking and interacting with my peers. It is so, so much easier to communicate with students. However, those students are leaving. and even though I get a new batch next year, that realization is so saddening.

Today was a hard day for me. I thought I was ready for the summer, I thought my mental countdown placed me in with all the teachers in the state, but at second glance…I want to be selfish. I want to hold onto my kids. I want to watch them grow and I want to be there to guide them. Is that the wrong thing to think in the month of May?

Tomorrow, in my classroom, will be the last ‘in class’ day as next week consists of field day, field trips, career day, assembly events, etc…This means that at 3:00 PM my normal class schedule is done for my first year of teaching.

In the normal, adult working world my brain couldn’t handle the day-to-day activities.
In the strange, student-centric world of education my heart is really struggling to the handle the realization of the end.

Is that fair for a first year teacher to say?

Teaching is hard.

I have learned so many new faces.
I have created so many relationships.
I haven’t said enough to show that I love my kids.

Teaching is hard.

-D-

*I’m going to be an emotional mess when I’m a parent.

Mobile Minutes: Running Cravings


So…had some races this weekend…
How can you tell?

Food Consumption Since 12:01 AM 04/30/2016:
-32oz Water
-12oz Carmel Popcorn
-12oz Iced Vanilla Latte
-Mushroom, Egg, Rice, Goat Cheese Burrito
-16oz Water
-1 Cantaloupe
-2 Corn, Black Bean Quesadillas
-Chicken & Steak Pad Thai
-Fried Rice
-4 Crab Rangoon
-32oz Water
-Sleep-
-32oz Water
-4 Gummy Worms
-1 BBQ Brisket Sandwich
-12 Pancakes
-20oz Iced Americano
-Biscuits & Gravy
-Cranberry Italian Soda
-3 Corn, Black Bean, Bacon Quesadillas

No regrets.

-D-

XXXI: Decades Lost


Blinking and understanding that life that once was is no longer, and will shall not be remembered, must be forgotten, and memory is an intolerable sin of humanity’s fall.

Did any of that make sense?

It’s 2016. The modern world is alive and well, my generation has taken over the voting booths, polling places, and work force. We are everywhere, it is an infestation on levels that I would have never been able to imagine even in the darkest recesses of my mind.

Why do I not fit in?

It is to the point of frustration. I don’t understand the connotation of potentially lying one’s way through life in order to appease the public and the masses, and for that action to accepted as a cultural norm. Why? The people I was taught to be like, Paul, John, Jesus…none of them conformed, none of them fit in, so why is it wrong when I still struggle to do the same?

Sometimes you come off as arrogant and pretentious.

Your body language gives people the sensation that you know more compared to them.

The tone of your voice indicates that you are defensive.

Have you looked at your body posture? Stop crossing your arms at church, you look like you don’t want to be there.

You don’t have to say that you’re miserable. The way you act says that without the words.

How did life become so complicated and difficult to translate? Why do we spend so much time and energy trying to find second meanings, real meanings behind people’s words? Why does a pastor’s words cause me think that I need to see a behavioral specialist because I struggle working with other people? Am I that sinful? Am I that flawed? Am I truly designed incorrectly by God?

Did He make a mistake?

Something that I don’t think people take into consideration with their words (irony) is that eventually those burdens are overbearing to the individual receiving them. Eventually they get to a point where they believe they are so rotten that they truly should be discarded by the enjoyment of societal gains. We use words, assuming they mean little, and focus so hard on the actions that we don’t ingest the meaning, the passion, the potential truth of the words. We treat conversations like whispers and pretend they never happened until we feel offended, we feel threatened, we feel that someone doesn’t like us.

We scrub our soul, trying to understand what toxicity exists within the pores of our mind’s crevices. We are frequently, passive aggressively, informed that we are wrong and flawed. However, even when desired, remedies are never provided. When humanity cannot provide the needed resources, it only makes sense that many consult historical, religious texts for guidance. When happens when the text conflict with the behavior of the present majority. Who is right? Who is wrong? Who budges and who accepts the problems that fall within their own realm of responsibility?

I stay out of election news, I avoid politics, and I rarely discuss the military. I try to avoid all conflict when possible, and I don’t go into conversations looking for a fight. I’ve spent, what feels to be decades now, trying to resolve the ongoing social issue that states that I can’t avoid chaos. That I have to go against the grain. That I have to be different.

When does society, if they ever do, begin the accept the idea that I do not dream at night of the tumultuous points of action that I can partake in? When does a culture begin to actual practice what they preach and accept a person because of their unique identity?

Our greatest lie at this point is announcing that we’re adoptive of all people, yet still ensuring that those who don’t measure up, are made very well aware of their failures to be measured by our stick.

-D-