In the Roman Catholic Church, absolution is gained through the act of confessing sins or problems to a priest. The idea is that if Catholics ever expect to get to heaven, they first must let go of their conflicts and burdens, ask for reconciliation from God, and then promise that they will never ever commit those sins again.
Growing up in Catholic household, I participated in this rite several times. There were two ways in which we could go about wiping our souls clean: facing the priest and honestly revealing ourselves and our transgressions as we sit before him, or remaining anonymous by hiding behind a thin partition of intricate woodwork. In the few times I had confessed my sins or let go of my troubled mind, I chose to remain nameless and concealed myself behind that screen.
Forgive me, World, for it has been seventeen years since my last confession. Since that time, I have strayed from my spiritual roots and chose to confess my sins and express my mind through the Internet.
Hmm… I guess not much has changed.
Oscar Wilde wrote, in The Picture of Dorian Gray, "It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution." When we confess, we really just need to let go of our inner conflicts, whatever they may be. Wilde even assumes that confession does not have the religious connotation as it did in the past, for the priest does not absolve us. In today’s technological world, the Internet is the modern day confessional, and the confession ranges from secret sins to blatant rudeness.
When it comes to confession, there are some people who find strength behind an alias. We have this false sense of courage because we tell truths that we would not openly say to a person's face. We say that we are “being honest,” but does it count when we hide behind the screen? There is no honesty when we still hide something. When we discharge our hateful thoughts, proselytize our radical ideas, and eject offensive words, we do not always filter what escapes from our lips. Why filter the words when we have filtered our identity? We sit behind a computer screen and then justify our behavior by lying to ourselves that we have not broken any rules of social decorum.
Many of us--Catholic or not--have chosen this great technology as the vehicle for testimonials, yet continue to hide behind the computer screen or some false identity. We unleash a horde of confessions--sinful or not--because we look for absolution or affirmation from a network of cyberspace strangers. Just like in the Church, we seek for conformity and acceptance with other Catholics; we certainly don't want to burn in hell while everyone else has cleansed their souls to get to heaven; whereas in society, we seek that comfort when we know that there are others "like us." We divulge our opinions and feelings because we hope someone will listen and accept us for who we are. For some, to be accepted by the world or by anyone is simply heaven. The Internet has become the new Church, where everyone worships only themselves and confesses their indiscretions and animosity towards each other.
I begin to wonder how much I have confessed or shared my life on this blog. I do not seek acceptance or absolution, so what am I confessing? What am I sharing to you? Although I've opened up on some personal matters, I feel anonymously safe because I'm behind the screen. For so many of us who have impersonalized blogs, like mine, ones that have very personal thoughts and stories, we are comforted by the fact that we have not stripped to our bare identity and then asked to step out from behind that technological partition. We would be completely naked without our alter-ego and our computer monitor; in essence: we would be facing the priest. That is a frightening prospect: when the world knows of your sins and can put a face to them, the revelation is the apex of vulnerability.
Whether you are a coward or a hero, confessing openly is sharing everything about yourself—all your goodness and your iniquities—and then trusting someone to care and accept you while you're still vulnerable and exposed.
For many of us out there, that's still hard to do.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
Widening My Horizons
I got an email from the Department of Defense last month, asking that I update my application if I still wanted to be on their database. As I clicked on the link, logged into my account, and reviewed the application I wrote in 2001, I thought of the possibilities that could have happened in my life.
I love teaching and traveling. Working for the Department of Defense would have merged these two things--teaching overseas in military bases. I wanted to live in Japan for a couple years and then in Germany, too. I would have lived on base, gained civilian-military status, paid off all my debt while enjoying the luxuries of diverse cultures and societes.
Although my parents and friends say that I'm at that age where I need to settle down and start establishing roots--the genealogical kind--I feel that I need to accomplish as much as I can while my roots have not yet taken root, so to speak.
With that, I updated my application. As I wrote more paragraphs to describe my skills, clicked on all the qualifications that applied, and revised my references from college professors to colleagues and supervisor bigwigs, it made me realize just how much I have grown and developed professionally in my career. I may not have established genealogical roots, but my professional roots seem to be firmly planted. Do I really want to leave all that to start over in another country and in another educational environment?
It was a question I pondered for five minutes, and my final act was clicking on the "SUBMIT" button... for the 2009-2010 school year, the school year after next. I can't leave this place just yet. There is still some major ass-kicking to do at the district.
I'm going to play this by ear. I don't count on being hired; after all, my first application was back in 2001 and they interviewed me three years later. Although I would love to have a job with the Department of Defense, I wouldn't be disappointed if they overlook my application again. But if I am hired this time around, I'm ready for a change.
I love teaching and traveling. Working for the Department of Defense would have merged these two things--teaching overseas in military bases. I wanted to live in Japan for a couple years and then in Germany, too. I would have lived on base, gained civilian-military status, paid off all my debt while enjoying the luxuries of diverse cultures and societes.
Although my parents and friends say that I'm at that age where I need to settle down and start establishing roots--the genealogical kind--I feel that I need to accomplish as much as I can while my roots have not yet taken root, so to speak.
With that, I updated my application. As I wrote more paragraphs to describe my skills, clicked on all the qualifications that applied, and revised my references from college professors to colleagues and supervisor bigwigs, it made me realize just how much I have grown and developed professionally in my career. I may not have established genealogical roots, but my professional roots seem to be firmly planted. Do I really want to leave all that to start over in another country and in another educational environment?
It was a question I pondered for five minutes, and my final act was clicking on the "SUBMIT" button... for the 2009-2010 school year, the school year after next. I can't leave this place just yet. There is still some major ass-kicking to do at the district.
I'm going to play this by ear. I don't count on being hired; after all, my first application was back in 2001 and they interviewed me three years later. Although I would love to have a job with the Department of Defense, I wouldn't be disappointed if they overlook my application again. But if I am hired this time around, I'm ready for a change.
Monday, April 07, 2008
State of My Affairs
While doing my taxes, I always complain how much money the government takes from my paycheck, and sometimes I still end up paying more on April 15. I don't understand how a teacher--who still spends $1000+ on yearly school supplies (books mostly)--still has to pay. I mean, I practically donate my money back into the classroom, and all I get a $250 deductible. It's true that I don't have any kids of my own to spoil, so my money goes back into my work where I use it for the students anyway. Tax time makes me realize the futility of my job and that it really is a thankless career to the government and to the politicians.
Then I realized this ugly thing about taxes--which has nothing to do with my job. As my brother-in-law breathes a sigh of relief at how easy his taxes are, especially since he's married, I begin to realize that married people have it easy with their finances... and how Christian values have influenced the machinery of economics and government. Married couples--people who have dual income--get less money taken from them, but a single person like myself is squeezed dry like a broken piggy bank. I think that's our government's way of promoting nuclear family values: "Get married, procreate, and we take less money from you because you are ensuring the security of American morality." But if you're single, the government will punish you: "We'll take more money because you are living the hedonistic life and promoting immorality and breaking down family values."
I'm not poor, but when my money is taken from me, I really feel cheated and unappreciated. Not to mention that I feel like that half the year already from the shit I have to deal with from school district bureaucracy. I'm a teacher and unappreciated. I'm single and I'm scolded financially. I live in California, the most progressively backward state in the Union.
Then I realized this ugly thing about taxes--which has nothing to do with my job. As my brother-in-law breathes a sigh of relief at how easy his taxes are, especially since he's married, I begin to realize that married people have it easy with their finances... and how Christian values have influenced the machinery of economics and government. Married couples--people who have dual income--get less money taken from them, but a single person like myself is squeezed dry like a broken piggy bank. I think that's our government's way of promoting nuclear family values: "Get married, procreate, and we take less money from you because you are ensuring the security of American morality." But if you're single, the government will punish you: "We'll take more money because you are living the hedonistic life and promoting immorality and breaking down family values."
I'm not poor, but when my money is taken from me, I really feel cheated and unappreciated. Not to mention that I feel like that half the year already from the shit I have to deal with from school district bureaucracy. I'm a teacher and unappreciated. I'm single and I'm scolded financially. I live in California, the most progressively backward state in the Union.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Life Is Like an Essay
Life is like the five paragraph essay that I teach in class. I tell my students that their audience will always remember the introduction and the conclusion, so they need to start off strongly and end their essay just as powerfully. And like life, you will be remembered most by how you came into this world and how you leave it.
The introduction is birth: people will remember how you hooked them with your cuteness, your baby feet, and your little fingers. Everyone will start to make plans and dream big things for you. Their goal and their hope is that your life will be free of troubles and imperfections. You didn't define how or what your life would be like. Instead, other people have defined it for you.
The three body paragraphs are benchmarks of life: childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. They are the parts of your life that you struggle with--the construction of your foundation and beliefs, the development of your identity, the improvement and expansion of your independence. Nothing will be perfect as you try to organize these parts of your life. As you rewrite your paragraphs, you keep asking yourself about your goals. Are you struggling to support your own thesis or someone else's? Whatever you decide, this section is where most of the revision takes place. You're never sure if you got it down or not.
Then there is the conclusion. Everyone fumbles over the conclusion. Do we summarize everything we already mentioned in the essay? Do we repeat our main points? How do we close and end gracefully and thoughtfully? What do we want our audience to remember most? What do we want our loved ones to remember of us? The conclusion is accidental, like most of life itself. Sometimes we can end that essay with grace and wit, and everyone will remember the perfection of it that they will forget the errors of your life and forgive you for your faults. But death is unexpected, so that concluding paragraph does not always come out as you had planned. The conclusion's short and abrupt ending does not give the audience the closure that they seek, so it leaves them confused and puzzled.
As they search for answers, they will reread the conclusion and maybe the entire essay all over again, combing over the stages of your life and criticizing your imperfections. They will ask themselves, "What was the thesis in the first place?" and then reread the introduction. They will realize that you never really had one... not your own, anyway.
A conclusion that doesn't give closure, body paragraphs that are not organized, and an introduction that never defines who you are make a weak essay. And that's all you will be remembered for. The conclusion can be that exclamation point that gets everyone to applaud and leave the auditorium with echoes of your accolades, or it can be the ellipsis that confuses everyone to silently boo you off the stage with their disappointment.
No matter how hard you tried or worked on your essay, that conclusion will be the defining paragraph that sings your praises or negates your life.
The introduction is birth: people will remember how you hooked them with your cuteness, your baby feet, and your little fingers. Everyone will start to make plans and dream big things for you. Their goal and their hope is that your life will be free of troubles and imperfections. You didn't define how or what your life would be like. Instead, other people have defined it for you.
The three body paragraphs are benchmarks of life: childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. They are the parts of your life that you struggle with--the construction of your foundation and beliefs, the development of your identity, the improvement and expansion of your independence. Nothing will be perfect as you try to organize these parts of your life. As you rewrite your paragraphs, you keep asking yourself about your goals. Are you struggling to support your own thesis or someone else's? Whatever you decide, this section is where most of the revision takes place. You're never sure if you got it down or not.
Then there is the conclusion. Everyone fumbles over the conclusion. Do we summarize everything we already mentioned in the essay? Do we repeat our main points? How do we close and end gracefully and thoughtfully? What do we want our audience to remember most? What do we want our loved ones to remember of us? The conclusion is accidental, like most of life itself. Sometimes we can end that essay with grace and wit, and everyone will remember the perfection of it that they will forget the errors of your life and forgive you for your faults. But death is unexpected, so that concluding paragraph does not always come out as you had planned. The conclusion's short and abrupt ending does not give the audience the closure that they seek, so it leaves them confused and puzzled.
As they search for answers, they will reread the conclusion and maybe the entire essay all over again, combing over the stages of your life and criticizing your imperfections. They will ask themselves, "What was the thesis in the first place?" and then reread the introduction. They will realize that you never really had one... not your own, anyway.
A conclusion that doesn't give closure, body paragraphs that are not organized, and an introduction that never defines who you are make a weak essay. And that's all you will be remembered for. The conclusion can be that exclamation point that gets everyone to applaud and leave the auditorium with echoes of your accolades, or it can be the ellipsis that confuses everyone to silently boo you off the stage with their disappointment.
No matter how hard you tried or worked on your essay, that conclusion will be the defining paragraph that sings your praises or negates your life.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Guilt and Death
A student of mine passed away this weekend. I hate emotional moments like this, when I'm taken by surprise. Of course, that's what happens when Death pays a visit. He is an uninvited guest that people hope would leave.
I took a moment away from the students in the morning, but I couldn't stay away from the class that knew her. The grief counselors came in, but none of the kids wanted to talk to them. Although the counselors suggested that I take the afternoon off, part of me just felt it wasn't right to leave the students alone with strangers either. After the counselors left, the students opened up a little; apparently, they didn't want to talk to them. The students wanted to talk amongst themselves. They wanted to remember their friend with laughter and funny stories, not with cries and tears, like the counselors expected them to. They even got me to talk about it. It helped a little to talk about it in a happy way rather than with sadness.
I did leave school early, but I didn't want to go home right away either. When it comes to grief, I'd rather just bury myself in work so I won't think about it. I felt guilty for some reason, like I didn't have the right to go about my normal day. I went to the bank and did some laundry when I got home, but the whole time, I kept thinking of my student.
Some people will say that burying yourself in work or denying that death happened is not how to handle grief, but who cares? Doesn't everyone handle their grief in their own way? I dislike it most when people try to analyze it and try to rationalize what I feel. When I want to remember my student in my own way, and someone tells me that there are five stages of grief, do I really care what stage I'm in? I do know that I'll get through this, and so will my kids... I guess I just really hate grieving in public.
I feel selfish now. I can't stay home tomorrow because I need my work to give me a sense of normalcy and routine; yet at the same time, I don't want to be around people. I feel guilty if stay home, and I feel guilty if I'm not there for my kids either.
I took a moment away from the students in the morning, but I couldn't stay away from the class that knew her. The grief counselors came in, but none of the kids wanted to talk to them. Although the counselors suggested that I take the afternoon off, part of me just felt it wasn't right to leave the students alone with strangers either. After the counselors left, the students opened up a little; apparently, they didn't want to talk to them. The students wanted to talk amongst themselves. They wanted to remember their friend with laughter and funny stories, not with cries and tears, like the counselors expected them to. They even got me to talk about it. It helped a little to talk about it in a happy way rather than with sadness.
I did leave school early, but I didn't want to go home right away either. When it comes to grief, I'd rather just bury myself in work so I won't think about it. I felt guilty for some reason, like I didn't have the right to go about my normal day. I went to the bank and did some laundry when I got home, but the whole time, I kept thinking of my student.
Some people will say that burying yourself in work or denying that death happened is not how to handle grief, but who cares? Doesn't everyone handle their grief in their own way? I dislike it most when people try to analyze it and try to rationalize what I feel. When I want to remember my student in my own way, and someone tells me that there are five stages of grief, do I really care what stage I'm in? I do know that I'll get through this, and so will my kids... I guess I just really hate grieving in public.
I feel selfish now. I can't stay home tomorrow because I need my work to give me a sense of normalcy and routine; yet at the same time, I don't want to be around people. I feel guilty if stay home, and I feel guilty if I'm not there for my kids either.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The Ice Cream Girl
When I was ten, my father came home from military deployment from South Korea and returned with a strange book called “The Melting of the Ice Cream Girl,” which is a how-to novel for novice teenagers dating in high school. This funny how-to manual had a story woven between its technical pages about a boy who had a crush on a girl at his school, but she barely noticed him. She wasn’t a snob at all, but she just had a crush on another boy who didn’t give her the time of day either. She and Boy #1 were in a class together, so they actually became friends, much to Boy #1’s happiness. Throughout the novel, Boy #1 laments as the girl of his dreams longs for popular Boy #2. The girl suddenly realizes that Boy #2 wasn’t worth her time, and then Boy #1 slowly makes his move. He sends her a secret message “IHATCOY” which puzzled her; and he then revealed at the end of the novel that IHATCOY meant “I have a tremendous crush on you.”
That novel seemed to set the standard for my romantic ideal notions of relationships. Girls want the “happily ever after,” but the real work of relationship is after the so-called happy ending. The question is: do we want that post-storybook happy ending?
“The Melting of the Ice Cream Girl” ended when Boy #1 got the girl of his dreams, but there was never a sequel about their lives after. Romance novels are the same way. We all have this notion that love will always be a happy journey of two people who are meant to be together, but as I got older, that notion is blown out of the water.
I hung out with friends about two weeks ago, and we openly discussed our lives—career, latest events… and dating. Sometimes I hate the topic of dating. Talking about dating opens up other topics connected to that, like relationships, ex-significant others, and sex. I don’t have much experience when it comes to any of those, so I still cringe or gasp when friends describe the latest practices of the dating scene: hooking up, breaking up, jerks who play around, ditzy girls who sleep around, dishonesty, hidden truths, and other things that just turn me off.
When friends asked me if I had dated anyone since my last boyfriend, I said no and that I was “done with dating.” Immediately, my three friends cried out, “NO!” Their tone was strange: it wasn’t a “NO!” of incredulity and disbelief, but a “NO!” that meant “some guy will be so deprived if you pull out of the dating pool now!” It was really complimentary how they adamantly tried to give me hope that there is someone out there, but as I've said before: I don’t care anymore.
When I think about the previous relationships I’ve been in and what the dating scene looks like now, I realize that I’m too old-fashioned to try dating the modern way. I’m not ready to settle down, but at my age, I’m not a spontaneous mid-20’s spring chicken either, which means I can be quite boring. There are times when I have that “been there-done that” attitude, but I think that kind of mentality comes with age. I’m not into clubbing, drinking at bars, or wild parties—never have been—yet people suggest that I should find a man in those places. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll find a man who has anything in common with me when he’d rather party and I’d rather stay home to watch a foreign film or cozy up to Earl Grey tea and a good book.
Yet the pressure of finding a mate always looms before me. People constantly ask me why a BITCH (Beautiful Intelligent Talented Caring Helpful) woman like me is still single. I’m pitied because I have a career I love but no Mr. Right, as if my life is incomplete; but I’d still be pitied even if I had a Mr. Right without a meaningful raison d’etre; after all: a modern woman needs something other than her man. Why is life’s success measured by relationships? I could have everything I want, except the trouble of a relationship, but I’m considered a failure just because I’m still single. I know I can’t compare myself to anyone of the cleric, but no one criticizes them for choosing the single life. It’s not a waste when a man or woman of the cloth decides to dedicate his or her life to helping others, but when the common layman decides to do the same, it’s a horse of a different color.
Do I think about spending my life with someone forever and forever? No, not anymore—not when everything I learn about men ruins any idealistic or realistic notion I had. Do I even think that I’ll ever meet the man of my dreams? I don’t wonder anymore; like I’ve said before: I’m resigned. If the man of my dreams enters my life when I’m 50, so be it. Until then, I’m not actively going to search in a club or bar, nor am I going to put myself out there in the booby-trapped jungle of modern dating. If you think I’m just a bitter single feminist, I’m not. I’m a single and very happy semi-feminist. I’m very content with my independence and everything else that I currently have that fulfills me. I always tell my students that my life is ice cream: I’ve already got peanut sprinkles and chocolate syrup. Men are just the cherry on top. Some cherries are just too tart, too soft, rotten, or not ripened enough. At this point in my life, cherries are optional. The ice cream is still good without them.
That novel seemed to set the standard for my romantic ideal notions of relationships. Girls want the “happily ever after,” but the real work of relationship is after the so-called happy ending. The question is: do we want that post-storybook happy ending?
“The Melting of the Ice Cream Girl” ended when Boy #1 got the girl of his dreams, but there was never a sequel about their lives after. Romance novels are the same way. We all have this notion that love will always be a happy journey of two people who are meant to be together, but as I got older, that notion is blown out of the water.
I hung out with friends about two weeks ago, and we openly discussed our lives—career, latest events… and dating. Sometimes I hate the topic of dating. Talking about dating opens up other topics connected to that, like relationships, ex-significant others, and sex. I don’t have much experience when it comes to any of those, so I still cringe or gasp when friends describe the latest practices of the dating scene: hooking up, breaking up, jerks who play around, ditzy girls who sleep around, dishonesty, hidden truths, and other things that just turn me off.
When friends asked me if I had dated anyone since my last boyfriend, I said no and that I was “done with dating.” Immediately, my three friends cried out, “NO!” Their tone was strange: it wasn’t a “NO!” of incredulity and disbelief, but a “NO!” that meant “some guy will be so deprived if you pull out of the dating pool now!” It was really complimentary how they adamantly tried to give me hope that there is someone out there, but as I've said before: I don’t care anymore.
When I think about the previous relationships I’ve been in and what the dating scene looks like now, I realize that I’m too old-fashioned to try dating the modern way. I’m not ready to settle down, but at my age, I’m not a spontaneous mid-20’s spring chicken either, which means I can be quite boring. There are times when I have that “been there-done that” attitude, but I think that kind of mentality comes with age. I’m not into clubbing, drinking at bars, or wild parties—never have been—yet people suggest that I should find a man in those places. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll find a man who has anything in common with me when he’d rather party and I’d rather stay home to watch a foreign film or cozy up to Earl Grey tea and a good book.
Yet the pressure of finding a mate always looms before me. People constantly ask me why a BITCH (Beautiful Intelligent Talented Caring Helpful) woman like me is still single. I’m pitied because I have a career I love but no Mr. Right, as if my life is incomplete; but I’d still be pitied even if I had a Mr. Right without a meaningful raison d’etre; after all: a modern woman needs something other than her man. Why is life’s success measured by relationships? I could have everything I want, except the trouble of a relationship, but I’m considered a failure just because I’m still single. I know I can’t compare myself to anyone of the cleric, but no one criticizes them for choosing the single life. It’s not a waste when a man or woman of the cloth decides to dedicate his or her life to helping others, but when the common layman decides to do the same, it’s a horse of a different color.
Do I think about spending my life with someone forever and forever? No, not anymore—not when everything I learn about men ruins any idealistic or realistic notion I had. Do I even think that I’ll ever meet the man of my dreams? I don’t wonder anymore; like I’ve said before: I’m resigned. If the man of my dreams enters my life when I’m 50, so be it. Until then, I’m not actively going to search in a club or bar, nor am I going to put myself out there in the booby-trapped jungle of modern dating. If you think I’m just a bitter single feminist, I’m not. I’m a single and very happy semi-feminist. I’m very content with my independence and everything else that I currently have that fulfills me. I always tell my students that my life is ice cream: I’ve already got peanut sprinkles and chocolate syrup. Men are just the cherry on top. Some cherries are just too tart, too soft, rotten, or not ripened enough. At this point in my life, cherries are optional. The ice cream is still good without them.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
To Protest or Not to Protest?
A co-worker once said, "shit floats to the top," to describe how some people are just not fit for management duties. When my students often lament that presidents or leaders are inept, in their target's defense, I often say that leaders do their best within the parameters of their job. People can promise many things, but when certain rules or limitations are difficult to overcome in order to achieve a goal, leaders will look inept because nothing has been tangibly accomplished for all to see.
I'm beginning to feel that way. As a department chair, my priority now has been to revise curriculum and defend my colleagues in the professional decisions we all make. We have many ideas and goals, and I had hoped we would accomplish them while I was department chair. But it's difficult to achieve anything when management conflicts with the ideas we want to try. In real life, I begin to see that there are situations that really demonstrate how some things are easier said than done. I feel like I hit a dead end no matter what I do.
When I took on this position, I just wanted to implement ideas and procedures that I felt would benefit my colleagues and benefit the students. While everyone in my department has been supportive of the decisions I make, there is also a division amongst us: those who want to make change, and those who just want to stay in their classrooms while change happens around them. I guess I'm a radical when it comes to my beliefs, and in the past two weeks, I've opened up my big mouth too much that my department is getting a spotlight of unwanted attention from district management. And as I step up to the plate to defend myself and my colleagues, I'm also getting a full frontal of an ugly beast called "political micromanaging." I hate being told what to do, but when I'm being told to do something just because some inept leader said, "I said so," it is even more aggravating and frustrating; they want me on a leash. I don't like being the mediator for their dirty work.
In the midst of all this, I'm teaching students of American literature--a body of work which is full of patriotism and protest and ideals of nonconformity that shaped America. I'm inspired by this and in my own small way, I want to protest against the district of how teaching to a test isn't really teaching, nor are students really learning. As I read all this protest literature, I also have to think about how much am I willing to suffer for the sake of what I beleive in. Am I ready to be hated? Am I ready to get sent to the office for constant reprimand? Am I ready for embarassment and vilification as my name gets touted as the rebel English teacher from that school? Most importantly, as a leader at my school, am I ready to bear that burden if my department falls down with me, whether they supported me or not?
Upper management is an obstacle that I have to overcome, and at this point, I'm feeling the limitations slowly surround and restrict me. That being said, I find it difficult to do my job--whether it's teaching students or defending colleagues or revising curriculum--when shit floats to the top.
I'm beginning to feel that way. As a department chair, my priority now has been to revise curriculum and defend my colleagues in the professional decisions we all make. We have many ideas and goals, and I had hoped we would accomplish them while I was department chair. But it's difficult to achieve anything when management conflicts with the ideas we want to try. In real life, I begin to see that there are situations that really demonstrate how some things are easier said than done. I feel like I hit a dead end no matter what I do.
When I took on this position, I just wanted to implement ideas and procedures that I felt would benefit my colleagues and benefit the students. While everyone in my department has been supportive of the decisions I make, there is also a division amongst us: those who want to make change, and those who just want to stay in their classrooms while change happens around them. I guess I'm a radical when it comes to my beliefs, and in the past two weeks, I've opened up my big mouth too much that my department is getting a spotlight of unwanted attention from district management. And as I step up to the plate to defend myself and my colleagues, I'm also getting a full frontal of an ugly beast called "political micromanaging." I hate being told what to do, but when I'm being told to do something just because some inept leader said, "I said so," it is even more aggravating and frustrating; they want me on a leash. I don't like being the mediator for their dirty work.
In the midst of all this, I'm teaching students of American literature--a body of work which is full of patriotism and protest and ideals of nonconformity that shaped America. I'm inspired by this and in my own small way, I want to protest against the district of how teaching to a test isn't really teaching, nor are students really learning. As I read all this protest literature, I also have to think about how much am I willing to suffer for the sake of what I beleive in. Am I ready to be hated? Am I ready to get sent to the office for constant reprimand? Am I ready for embarassment and vilification as my name gets touted as the rebel English teacher from that school? Most importantly, as a leader at my school, am I ready to bear that burden if my department falls down with me, whether they supported me or not?
Upper management is an obstacle that I have to overcome, and at this point, I'm feeling the limitations slowly surround and restrict me. That being said, I find it difficult to do my job--whether it's teaching students or defending colleagues or revising curriculum--when shit floats to the top.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Sad Revitalization
I find it disappointing and almost pitiful that most musicians and actors I admired or liked in the '80s are now fodder for the reality shows that plague television. What is the point: our nostalgia for our past, or our eagerness to see our idols fall?
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
This Is a Test
Six years ago I wrote about how my car guages the perfection of my life, and each time I think too highly of how my life is perfect, I get into a car accident.
As of 7:45pm this evening, I became a victim of a hit-and-run accident. My emotions are running a bit high, from anger to relief. I'm angry because the other [teenaged] driver said he would help me out, and then he got into his car and drove off. I hope karma bites him in the ass. My car withstood the impact; I hope he and his passengers get whiplash, or his car will break down, or he'll get into another accident (because he drove away pretty fast).
But now I am left to ask myself: is my life perfect that God or fate had to send me another accident to remind me of how life is not always perfect? I'm not upset that my car is damaged; maybe that says that I'm not upset too much about the impact of this accident on my life. I'm relieved I'm not hurt. My car is still taking beatings for me. I'm content. Life is okay.
I still hope that teenager gets some karma back at him though.
As of 7:45pm this evening, I became a victim of a hit-and-run accident. My emotions are running a bit high, from anger to relief. I'm angry because the other [teenaged] driver said he would help me out, and then he got into his car and drove off. I hope karma bites him in the ass. My car withstood the impact; I hope he and his passengers get whiplash, or his car will break down, or he'll get into another accident (because he drove away pretty fast).
But now I am left to ask myself: is my life perfect that God or fate had to send me another accident to remind me of how life is not always perfect? I'm not upset that my car is damaged; maybe that says that I'm not upset too much about the impact of this accident on my life. I'm relieved I'm not hurt. My car is still taking beatings for me. I'm content. Life is okay.
I still hope that teenager gets some karma back at him though.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Five Year Reflection
When I first started teaching, I never believed that I would have lasted this long. I wanted to give up because I truly thought teaching was too hard. Five years later, I'm still here. I can honestly look back at my first year of teaching and laugh at it; I can laugh at my immaturity and my neophytic perspective that almost made me want to kill myself.
As a first year teacher, I would get all kinds of advice and inspirational aphorisms from veteran teachers who wanted to keep me in the field and keep me motivated. All the while, I used to silently think, "You have no fucking clue what I'm going through." It was colossal adjustment--trying to teach something when I did not know what I was teaching, grading work when I did not understand my own philosophy about measuring intellect, accepting the fact that my weekends would never be truly mine, disciplining kids when I never had my own, and feeling guilty when I needed a moment for myself. In a span of three weeks, I was emotionally drained and mentally pushed to the limits, stretched thin in between that I lost my balance and made a decision to leave the teaching field. I'm glad I did not leave. I'm glad that I discovered my own strength in determination and pride: my pride never would have let me accept that I failed at something I have always wanted and loved; my determination kept me afloat in, what appeared at the time, Sisyphean waters. If I hadn't known these two things existed within me, I never would have stayed in this profession.
During these five years, I've learned so much more and discovered new things about myself. I may not have as many epiphanous moments, but I have rejuvenating episodes with my students, and every year, I know that I am growing professionally, mentally, and even spiritually. I'm at a point where I no longer wish to know my future and have the wisdom of old age. As I grow comfortable with my life, I've learned to be patient and embrace each day: the future will always be there waiting for me, but the acquisition of wisdom and experience is what makes life worth living slowly.
As a first year teacher, I would get all kinds of advice and inspirational aphorisms from veteran teachers who wanted to keep me in the field and keep me motivated. All the while, I used to silently think, "You have no fucking clue what I'm going through." It was colossal adjustment--trying to teach something when I did not know what I was teaching, grading work when I did not understand my own philosophy about measuring intellect, accepting the fact that my weekends would never be truly mine, disciplining kids when I never had my own, and feeling guilty when I needed a moment for myself. In a span of three weeks, I was emotionally drained and mentally pushed to the limits, stretched thin in between that I lost my balance and made a decision to leave the teaching field. I'm glad I did not leave. I'm glad that I discovered my own strength in determination and pride: my pride never would have let me accept that I failed at something I have always wanted and loved; my determination kept me afloat in, what appeared at the time, Sisyphean waters. If I hadn't known these two things existed within me, I never would have stayed in this profession.
During these five years, I've learned so much more and discovered new things about myself. I may not have as many epiphanous moments, but I have rejuvenating episodes with my students, and every year, I know that I am growing professionally, mentally, and even spiritually. I'm at a point where I no longer wish to know my future and have the wisdom of old age. As I grow comfortable with my life, I've learned to be patient and embrace each day: the future will always be there waiting for me, but the acquisition of wisdom and experience is what makes life worth living slowly.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Watching From the Mountaintop
Sometimes I think I stand on the verge of a cliff, just watching the slow decline of humanity and the fall of civilization.
Or am I the only teacher that feels this way?
Or am I the only teacher that feels this way?
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Affirmation
As the semester ends, procrastinating students have been coming to me after school to ask for help on essays--college essays, final essays, writing tutorials, letters of recommendations, etc. I was feeling burnt out as students asked me to read their essays one more time.
Yesterday, while reading an essay, two students conversed about the difficulty of writing. They kept saying that my class was challenging and tiresome because I made them write too much. In a strange complementary way, they said that taking my class was like a "slap in the face" because they didn't learn much about writing essays in their previous English classes. My class was a "harsh reality," and that my Nazi-English teacher reputation was almost accurate--the fact that I'm not a Nazi makes the moniker partially true.
And here I thought I was losing my edge.
Yesterday, while reading an essay, two students conversed about the difficulty of writing. They kept saying that my class was challenging and tiresome because I made them write too much. In a strange complementary way, they said that taking my class was like a "slap in the face" because they didn't learn much about writing essays in their previous English classes. My class was a "harsh reality," and that my Nazi-English teacher reputation was almost accurate--the fact that I'm not a Nazi makes the moniker partially true.
And here I thought I was losing my edge.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Pushed to the Limit
There's a saying that goes, "The reward for hard work is more work. "
Two years ago, I was left alone in my classroom so I could actually focus on teaching, planning, and grading. I connected so much with my students that they still come to me as seniors when they need help on essays. I can write a recommendation letter for them because I feel that I have known them solidly for two years. When I see those seniors, I feel proud that I did a good job. I get so many compliments from other teachers about how Class of '08 has a bunch of talented writers. They are living proof of my success and hard work.
That was two years ago. Hard work led up to leadership duties. I don't feel as successful teaching this year. I know this curriculum like the back of my hand; I've taught it for four years. Because I have so much on my plate this year, my focus has shifted to multi-tasking for various committees, clubs, and teaching. Some of the seniors noticed that I'm losing my "edge," and that I'm gone all the time. The juniors hate it when I have to go to a conference and leave them with a substitute. My current sophomores totally lack in writing skills--and I feel to blame for that because I'm not there to focus on teaching them.
I'm not feeling burnt out, but it's bothering me that I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed anymore either.
When Class of '09 graduates, I wonder if they'll prove to be another success story or a mediocre one.
Two years ago, I was left alone in my classroom so I could actually focus on teaching, planning, and grading. I connected so much with my students that they still come to me as seniors when they need help on essays. I can write a recommendation letter for them because I feel that I have known them solidly for two years. When I see those seniors, I feel proud that I did a good job. I get so many compliments from other teachers about how Class of '08 has a bunch of talented writers. They are living proof of my success and hard work.
That was two years ago. Hard work led up to leadership duties. I don't feel as successful teaching this year. I know this curriculum like the back of my hand; I've taught it for four years. Because I have so much on my plate this year, my focus has shifted to multi-tasking for various committees, clubs, and teaching. Some of the seniors noticed that I'm losing my "edge," and that I'm gone all the time. The juniors hate it when I have to go to a conference and leave them with a substitute. My current sophomores totally lack in writing skills--and I feel to blame for that because I'm not there to focus on teaching them.
I'm not feeling burnt out, but it's bothering me that I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed anymore either.
When Class of '09 graduates, I wonder if they'll prove to be another success story or a mediocre one.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Resigned
I realized that as I get older, I get more set in my ways. This becomes an obstacle when it comes to relationships and dating.
As I observe young couples, from teenagers to college students, they have an advantage that older couples don't have: flexibility and growth. As these young people grow, they mold and develop their ideas and emotions around people and experiences. In a relationship, there is so much discovery about oneself and about one's partner. They learn to compromise and grow together if they want to stay together.
But as people get older and develop their own ideas and self-worth, it becomes difficult to compromise who you are when someone new comes into your life. This is probably why I am still single. It's becoming difficult to find someone who has anything in common with me. I cannot make someone change, and he cannot make me change. The only thing left is to argue about who is right and who should bend to the other's will.
It never bothered me that I was single for a long time, but it did bother me that it left me to wonder if anyone out there was right for me. I think I am resigned to be single for the rest of my life, and I'm going to stop wondering about Mr. Right. At my age, they are either married or too set in their own ways that we would never work out anyway.
C'est la vie.
As I observe young couples, from teenagers to college students, they have an advantage that older couples don't have: flexibility and growth. As these young people grow, they mold and develop their ideas and emotions around people and experiences. In a relationship, there is so much discovery about oneself and about one's partner. They learn to compromise and grow together if they want to stay together.
But as people get older and develop their own ideas and self-worth, it becomes difficult to compromise who you are when someone new comes into your life. This is probably why I am still single. It's becoming difficult to find someone who has anything in common with me. I cannot make someone change, and he cannot make me change. The only thing left is to argue about who is right and who should bend to the other's will.
It never bothered me that I was single for a long time, but it did bother me that it left me to wonder if anyone out there was right for me. I think I am resigned to be single for the rest of my life, and I'm going to stop wondering about Mr. Right. At my age, they are either married or too set in their own ways that we would never work out anyway.
C'est la vie.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Best Day
I have been a fan of his since 1998, and I never saw him perform until he came to Long Beach on June 29, 2007. Oh, baby! I was so happy to see him in concert--finally!
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Graduation
Graduation has passed and school has finally ended. As a teacher, it's always my proud moment to see a student march and cross that stage for the graduation ceremony. Although there are some students who do not deserve to graduate, due to their own lack of work ethic, it's more heartbreaking when a student doesn't march because of adult responsibility. A student informed me that he will not participate in next year's graduation ceremony because he has enlisted in the marines.
I have great respect for our military, but this one hits me hard: depriving me of a moment I always look forward to. I only hope this changes sometime in the next year and that my student will still get to march in the 2008 procession.
I have great respect for our military, but this one hits me hard: depriving me of a moment I always look forward to. I only hope this changes sometime in the next year and that my student will still get to march in the 2008 procession.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Rekindle
An old internet friend found me after a six-year absence. It was odd to see an email from him. Through the power of Google, he searched my name and it was linked to the website of the school where I am employed.
I used to depend on the high population of the internet community to remain anonymous, but search engines are suddenly making that impossible. Not that I was trying to avoid him, but it was such a surprise to hear from him. It's an unexpected reunion, and it's such an odd thing that could ever happen in my life: a guy made an active search for me just to tell me that he misses talking to me.
I used to depend on the high population of the internet community to remain anonymous, but search engines are suddenly making that impossible. Not that I was trying to avoid him, but it was such a surprise to hear from him. It's an unexpected reunion, and it's such an odd thing that could ever happen in my life: a guy made an active search for me just to tell me that he misses talking to me.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
TA
Sometimes I learn the most sensible things about life from my teacher's assistant.
A year ago, he came into my classroom after school, needing to talk to someone about his girlfriend and the complications and hassles of a relationship. Before I started to silently scoff about "teenage relationships" and drama, I listened to him and tried to understand his problems. His frustrations and opinions made me reflect about my relationship with an ex-boyfriend and the similarities of my relationship and the TA's relationship--regardless of differences in experience and age. My student did not ask for advice; he just needed to vent. But if he was seeking counsel from me, I would have to think carefully before saying anything, for I faced my own hypocrisy at that moment. In retrospect, I finally realized that letting the ex-boyfriend go was necessary, like conquering an inner demon. I have no regrets now. I learned something about relationships from my TA.
Another incident arose again. He came into my class to vent about another teacher who is screwing him over about assignments, and he's a bit stressed about his grade. We talked again for about an hour and the end of our conversation was about hobbies. He said he needed a new hobby in order to de-stress, and as he slowly observed my desk with a sarcastic eye, he flat out told me I needed to get a hobby, too.
I thought about all the hobbies I used to have: mountain-biking, reading fun books, writing fantasy stories, playing the cello... He's right: I need to get into a hobby again, maybe even a new one, like archery, knife-throwing, or shooting. I eat, breathe, sleep, and live my work, and he makes it known to me all the time. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if I had something else to occupy and cultivate my mind besides the decaying quality of my students' essays. *sigh*
My TA certainly lives up to his job description.
A year ago, he came into my classroom after school, needing to talk to someone about his girlfriend and the complications and hassles of a relationship. Before I started to silently scoff about "teenage relationships" and drama, I listened to him and tried to understand his problems. His frustrations and opinions made me reflect about my relationship with an ex-boyfriend and the similarities of my relationship and the TA's relationship--regardless of differences in experience and age. My student did not ask for advice; he just needed to vent. But if he was seeking counsel from me, I would have to think carefully before saying anything, for I faced my own hypocrisy at that moment. In retrospect, I finally realized that letting the ex-boyfriend go was necessary, like conquering an inner demon. I have no regrets now. I learned something about relationships from my TA.
Another incident arose again. He came into my class to vent about another teacher who is screwing him over about assignments, and he's a bit stressed about his grade. We talked again for about an hour and the end of our conversation was about hobbies. He said he needed a new hobby in order to de-stress, and as he slowly observed my desk with a sarcastic eye, he flat out told me I needed to get a hobby, too.
I thought about all the hobbies I used to have: mountain-biking, reading fun books, writing fantasy stories, playing the cello... He's right: I need to get into a hobby again, maybe even a new one, like archery, knife-throwing, or shooting. I eat, breathe, sleep, and live my work, and he makes it known to me all the time. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if I had something else to occupy and cultivate my mind besides the decaying quality of my students' essays. *sigh*
My TA certainly lives up to his job description.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
The End of Teaching
In the wake of the Virginia Tech massacre, apathy and inhumanity swept across our campus. I hate to generalize, but why do the few bad apples at our school ruin it for everyone else? In the past week, we've had fire alarm pulled, an object thrown at a teacher, and a lockdown because of a possible weapon-threat. When I asked my students why they don't care about taking care of their school, one student replied that it wasn't their job.
It was the most heartless and apathetic thing I have heard in my life. If there is one thing that will drive me from teaching, it's the inhumanity and immorality of the students. I feel like I bash my head against the wall trying to open their eyes about ethics, responsibility, values, and morality. I'm trying to teach them life skills about what it means to be part of a community and a larger society, but they could care less. That attitude affects me. One day, I'm going to be as numb and cold-hearted as they are, and I'll leave teaching before my work is done.
I'm still holding on for now.
It was the most heartless and apathetic thing I have heard in my life. If there is one thing that will drive me from teaching, it's the inhumanity and immorality of the students. I feel like I bash my head against the wall trying to open their eyes about ethics, responsibility, values, and morality. I'm trying to teach them life skills about what it means to be part of a community and a larger society, but they could care less. That attitude affects me. One day, I'm going to be as numb and cold-hearted as they are, and I'll leave teaching before my work is done.
I'm still holding on for now.
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