Miss Kitty Teaches Math

This week I took over the math instruction in the classroom where I'm doing my student teaching. I chose to take on math first because that's the school subject that I'm least comfortable teaching and for very good reason. Teaching math to 4th graders is so hard! I was trying to reinforce what they already knew about multiplication and division through tactile and visual activities. My mentor teacher and I hoped that more "hands-on" activities would make starting long division easier for them, but after every lesson I felt like they weren't really seeing the big picture of what I was trying to do. It's really, really hard for me to break down what I consider to be really easy math concepts into terms that children will understand. On the plus side, the students were always really excited to hear that I was going to be teaching math. I like to think that they were responding to my teaching awesomeness, even though deep down I know it's because they liked playing with cubes.

It's really kind of strange being like a "teacher." I know I'm not a real teacher yet, but it feels like I am. Yesterday I brought home a stack of papers to grade and I'm teaching lessons every day. My mentor teacher also asked me to put together a new seating chart because he wants them to change seats next week. I'm putting together seating charts! I've also basically been given the freedom to do whatever I want when I teach. Next week I'm going to start teaching reading and social studies, in addition to teaching math. And the week after, I'm going to start teaching all day for four weeks. AHHH!!! It's crazy! Who would have ever thought that I would be a teacher?

Like Having Your Dad Pull Your Teeth

Actually, it's more painful than that. It's like a serious emotional blow. A task quite impossible to complete unless it is under the most dire of circumstances. The task of which I am speaking is, of course, cleaning out my room.

I am in the process of moving back in with my parents. However, despite technically not living with them (although I still spent at least 40% of my day at their house), I still had a closet and bedroom full of crap. Well, not crap. But clothes, shoes, letters, to-do-lists, calendars, etc. I'm not really a pack rat. I just never got around to cleaning out my room after I moved back home after college. So, all the junk I brought back with me (although I mean junk in the most endearing way possible) from school, got added to all of the stuff already there. At the time, I was too caught up in the excitement of graduating that I never really committed myself to cleaning up my life.

Now, as I'm returning to live with my parents, I see how absolutely necessary it is to rid myself of excess. I have the ambition to do it, but the fact that I'm hopelessly sentimental makes this a very difficult process. I mean, I have probably all of the cards I have ever received in my life because they mean too much to me to throw away.

As I began to clean I found that I couldn't throw away an old calendar because it was filled with significant dates that I might want to remember, plus the pictures could be useful for something some day. I couldn't bear to part with a shirt that has strong memories associated with it. Some things I hated to see go just because I've had them for so long, although I hadn't needed them for several years. Plus, with everything I put in the "donation" pile or the garbage I couldn't help but wonder, "But what if I need this again one day?"

I made tremendous gains in creating more room in my life this weekend, but I was only able to accomplish it by temporarily turning into a cold-hearted, emotionless shell of a person. I guess during times like these, the only thing to do is not dwell on all the memories that were thrown into a black garbage bag like pieces of moldy bread, but rather, to acknowledge that they had fulfilled their purposes in my life...and move on. In a few years, they will have been replaced by new artifacts from my life that will inevitably suffer the same fate.

And so the cycle begins again.

The First Day... (dun, dun, dun or some other ominous tune)

Today was my first day as a student teacher.

I'm so tired. So sore. So in over my head.

What was I thinking?

To Attain Chopstick Proficiency

I love New Year's. The day, not the eve. Sure, many of us spend most of New Year's Day recovering from the night before...exhausted...possibly hungover...perhaps still drunk.... Actually, New Year's Day can be a bit of a bummer if you think about it. You know, I like to think that the New Year actually begins on January 2, at least in spirit. I can hardly imagine beginning the many new year's resolutions that I set for myself right on January 1. I'm just not emotionally or physically prepared for self-better-ment after the traumas that tend to occur on New Year's Eve.

But none of this is really the point of this very scatterbrained post. The point is that I love the beginning of the new year. I have never really paid much attention to it before, but at the beginning of the year (meaning January 2, of course), everyone just seems so refreshed. They have a new resolve to accomplish the things that they believe will lead them to a happier life. Attitudes are positive; politeness reigns supreme. People really believe that they can do anything and behave in ways that will help them accomplish their goals. If only this feeling could last throughout the year. I imagine our lives would be a lot happier if we didn't give in to our old habits but, rather, persevered through the inevitable slumps along the way to personal fulfillment. (Hm, Andy, I think your idea about discipline beginning when inspiration ends is finally making sense to me. Thanks, dude.)

On that note, I have a few resolutions of my own. Some of them are a bit "whimsical" and may not happen this year, in which case I won't feel too disappointed. Others mean a lot to me, and I hope I can attain them, although I fully anticipate them to take a lot of commitment and many tears. Among my resolutions are taking an art class, exercising 4 times a week, becoming financially independent from my parents, and, of course, learning to eat with chopsticks. I have several others, but these are the ones that stick out in my mind right now AND that I'm willing to disclose to the "public." So, far they are coming along nicely, which is the best I can hope for with it only being the third day of the new year.

Now What?

So, I think I need a hobby. After all that time I spent complaining about how busy I was and suffering nervous breakdowns because I didn't know how I would get everything done before the end of the semester, it turns out that I actually need school in my life. I have been done with finals since Thursday, and I feel like I don't know what to do with myself. I've hung out with friends. I've started reading a couple of books. I've gone Christmas shopping. But I just feel like that isn't enough, like I need to be doing something else...or something.

Perhaps I just got too out of the habit of having nothing to do. I mean, it's been a long time since the carefree summer days filled with nothingness that I grew used to in junior high. Back then, none of my friends had anything to do either. So, we did nothing together, which is much better than doing nothing by yourself. A few months from now, I'll be done with school, have a full time job like everyone else I know, and I'll probably never be bored again. But until then I need to find a way to pass the time...until next semester begins.

So, hobbies. I could get back into baking. Or start exercising again. Maybe I could play around with all the art supplies I had to buy this semester (I am, after all, convinced that there is an artist inside me that is dying to come out). I just need to find something to keep me entertained until my last semester begins because, really, I just don't know how to relax anymore.

Signs of Aging

I think I'm getting old. I remember the good ol' days, not even two years ago when I could handle finals week like a champ. I studied hard, had no fun, and kicked finals butt. I remember one year in particular where I got about 6 hours of sleep from Sunday to Tuesday. (Cake for some people; really, really hard for me.)

And now, my body just can't do it anymore. I have had at least five hours of sleep a night, since the week began, and I am struggling big time. For instance, at this moment, my eyelids actually feel sore from being forced to stay open. And the really sad thing is that I actually had time to take a 3 hour nap today. I've become such a wimp. What happened to handling all nighters? What happened to OD-ing on caffeine and 9:00 PM coffee runs so that everything would get done?

All I know, besides the fact that this entry is completely incoherent, is that, at 23 years-old, I am showing signs of aging. And that can't be good.

(At least I only have 1 final project left before the end of a very demanding semester. Woohoo.)

Snowed In

So, the weather man tells me that I can expect up to five more inches of snow in addition to the several inches that have already fallen. Any other winter except for this one, I would be very depressed to hear such a prediction. I've spent many years of my life absolutely loathing snow. Sure, it's pretty when it covers the mountains. It's always welcome on Christmas. And it's fun to ski in. Up to this point in my life, these have been the only exceptions.

This year I find myself actually craving snow. Much of this has to do with my fear that global warming will shrivel up our cool little planet into nothingness. But there is something else leading to this attitude shift, too.

Stepping outside tonight to watch the snow fall on to my parents lawn, I noticed how quiet everything was. It was almost as if time had stopped and nothing existed beyond that moment. Everything was so peaceful and still. Not too mention that when I looked up into the sky to watch the snow fall down around me, I felt like I was stepping outside of myself and away from the complexities of life around me.

I remember on one of my favorite TV shows, Everwood, the narrator talked about the magic of snow (although I'm sure he didn't use those words). He talked eloquently (much more than I could ever do) about how snow has the power to cover up even the biggest messes to make everything seem calm once again. What a way to look at snow.

I've said it before: It's been a hell of a year. And just when I thought it was going to end on an up note, everything crashed down around me once again. In order to maintain my own sanity, I will take any opportunity I can to revel in stillness and serenity. I may be spending a lot of time in the snow this winter because, for right now, I want to believe that snow has the power to heal the soul.