I'm growing increasingly overwhelmed as I head into this next week. I've started a online masters program and I'm worried that I'm a) too far removed from being in school that I'm out of practice and b) that I'm in over my head. I have four ball games... Monday, Tuesday & Thursday nights. My assignment for the last week is due by Monday at midnight. On top of that I have 40 lesson plans due for the week, teaching full time & the other responsibilities & obligations that my students require. On top of that, there's so much going on in my head that its hard to pin everything down. So many thoughts from Sam and the sense of failure that I have with him. I still wish I could wring his neck for putting us through that. I wish that I had been here when he came by that last time. I wish that he felt that I had cared about him enough to be there and support him when he was in his darkest hour. I feel like, as his friend, I failed him. Its combined with the continual failure as Josh's friend ~ what crappy decisions I made so many years ago continue to haunt me. I know that I should let it go, but there's something in me that isn't geared to do so. I can't stop thinking about him - about what he's doing, about his friendship, about how I am not allowed to see my friends because of Meghan and her irrational hatred of me... why must people act like that? And, more importantly, why do I give a crap?

Then this thing with this boy... God, that probably works on my mind the most. So many thoughts & questions - the why's and wherefore's and what-the-hells... I can't get a read on him. I don't know what he's thinking. I know what he's thought in the past - all the way back ten years or so. But what he thinks now? I got nothing.

On the upside of things ~ Brandon comes home in February and I cannot wait to see him. Its been 2.5 years (it'll be 3 by the time he comes home) and we haven't ever gone without seeing each other for that long. I mean I know we're just friends, but he's one of my best friends. I miss him. I can't wait to see him. He'll be home for a little while & then off to his 2nd placement. Hopefully this time a little closer to home than in Japan.

High School Blues

Tonight, my old friends from high school... the ones who I laughed with, played with, cried with, drank with, ate with and partied with, excluded me from a reuinion at Chef Lees, where we spent a great amount of time during my senior/their junior year. Everyone from our little group will be there. Kenil. Josh. Sam and his wife. Toby. The last four I haven't seen in eight years.

I wasn't invited. Well, actually, thats not accurate. One of my dearest and oldest friends, Kenil, actually had the gumption and the balls to ask if I could come, for which I will always be appreciative. He was told "umm... ahh... egh... well... um... I don't think Meagan would be totally comfortable with that." Meagan is Sam's wife, who, by the way, I have never met, but has managed to hold a grudge against me because I was (once upon a time, almost ten years ago) friends with her husband. Friends with him. Not dated him, not had a crush on him, not anything but was friends with him.

Okay sure. I can't see my friends from high school, the people who meant the world to me then and who I have some of the greatest memories of, I'm not allowed to see because Sam's wife doesn't like me.

Does anyone else see a problem with that? Or maybe its just me.I know that high school is in the past but when the past is keeping me from enjoying an evening with my old friends... isn't that a little, well, crazy? I just think its wrong that a woman who I've never met, never even had a conversation with, somehow has this power over this group of people, who were some of the most important people in my life.

It hurts my feelings. Oh, sure, I know that it probably shouldn't. I should probably get over it. I mean, afterall, I caused all of this mess eight years ago... and maybe I shouldn't let it bother me. But as long as I'm excluded from a group of people who meant the world to me, I don't think thats going to happen. Its going to bother me, because its wrong, on many levels.

I miss them. I miss Sam and how he used to carry my backpack for me, and how we talked about our siblings and being the oldest. I miss Toby and how he was so goofy and funny and had a comment for everything. I miss Kenil, even though I see and talk to him, because he's in New York being all doctor-ey and I don't get to see him often. And I miss Josh, because Josh was my best friend. I miss his conversations and his laughter and his eyes. And how he knew I was upset by looking at my face, and being on the outside of them and their group is upsetting, quite honestly. They were a fantastic, amazing group of friends and I am lucky to have had them in my life.

So here's to you guys, even though I can't be there with you.
Thanks for everything.Much love,~Brooke

Wednesday's... PTC's... & group therapy

I think that Wednesday is my favorite "teaching" day of the week. Its our designated "writing" day and even though that includes grammar (which is, quite easily, my least favorite part of English/Language Arts), it's the day when I get to do mostly writing with my students, which I enjoy. Sometimes, depending on the schedule we switch it up, like last Friday when I gave a writing assignment to my 7th-9th graders. They were to choose an ethical topic, such as abortion, marriage/divorce, suicide, war, etc. etc. and to write an in-class "essay" taking a stand either yes or no and supply Biblical evidence to defend their stand. Its really fun, for me, to watch their personal opinions taking shape and being able to defend their decision. So I'm thinking that we're going to do more of those... like coming up with Robin Hood (which we're in the middle of), I think I'll have them write a short little essay on whether or not the Robin Hood mystique (robbing the rich to give to the poor) makes him a thief... and if that's bad thing. Tee hee.

PTC count to date: 10

Group therapy -- instead of typical English class today, in the 8th grade, we had a group therapy session. They're drama-ridden, nit-picky, hormone-filled, teenagers. I'd forgotten what it was like to be 13, or 14. Thank God I'm over that age. I don't envy them... thats for sure. I tried to talk to them about holding grudges and life being too short and I told them that I prayed for them, and I do. It was fun, actually. There's so much more to an education than just the classes they take. I think that if I can talk to them on their level... get them to focus and pay attention that they'll learn more from that than forcing ancient and medieval lit down their throats. It's so strange... with a school the size of Veritas you literally know every kid's name (I mean, I think I have 40 students total +-) and there's not but like 11 girls TOTAL in the 5th-9th grades. Good odds, I suppose, for the boys in the school. There's already been about 5 "couples" who've come and gone, and some even switching partners. Drama. Bah.

It sure is an education though, for me. I don't really like to play the politics game, but I guess I'm better at keeping my mouth shut and defending myself and my actions when necessary. I definintly don't like having to censor my thoughts though. That bugs me, on a personal level and on a professional level. Censorship... of thoughts, of books, of the written word... thats so offensive to me on a writer's level. I struggle with that. Sometimes, I really want to throw things, because I'm so frustrated at something I can't do anything about. Its like what I've said before. I'm afraid of making the parents angry, because I do personalize and internalize everything. Making it personal. My boss says that I shouldn't do that. I don't know. I think that when my work becomes impersonal, thats when we have a problem and I should get out of teaching... because if its not personal, its not me and I'm then not doing what I was called to do.

And I know that I take my work home with me because I worry about these kids.. I stress over these kids and care about them. I still hate PTC's... even though I should be used to them by now. I think they're my least favorite part of the job. No... no think... I KNOW they're my least favorite part. I'd rather be in the classroom, talking to my students about life. They know so much and yet... at the same time... so little. At least they think they know alot. Its so funny... their respective personalities.

I probably share too much of myself with them but thats how I relate to them and they to me.

I think its funny though, people who automatically assume that thoughts or comments are directed at them. I always thought that meant you felt guilty.

Oh well. Different musings for a different day, I suppose.

.. I got nothing..

Sometimes, the need... urge to write is so strong that I can't do anything but, and yet, I never feel satisfied with my writing. I rarely consider my short stories "finished"... but more like continual works in progress. It literally makes my heart ache because I wish that I could write with depth and grace and understanding and somehow evoke every feeling that I'm feeling into my characters but I fail, miserably at it. I have so much to say and yet... can't.

It's like with teaching. There's this great passion in me to teach. I know it. Its been there ever since I can remember wanting to be a teacher -- no, being CALLED to be a teacher. It manifests itself through literature, the lessons of the great writers of the past merge with the writers of the present and I'm, floundering, somewhere in the middle.

How can I make them understand? And by them, its not the students that I want to listen to me... its the parents of the students I teach. I... it makes me cry, great buckets of tears because I can't do my job effectively and passionately for risk of ticking people off. Making parents angry with me. Is that something I'll struggle with forever and always? God, help me if it is.

Literature isn't weighed and measured and studied and chewed, the way some folks chew a piece of meat. I think it should be breathed in... invested... drawn in. And teaching literature - if only I could teach what I truly WANTED to teach... My Sisters Keeper would be first. There is so much emotion, so much love, hope, despair that just the words evoke thoughts, ideas, and develop the overall person.

So why can't I teach how and what I want to teach? Is it because I'm "young" and a first year? Is that why I am being persecuted for what I stand for? My God, I'm only trying to help... teach. Instead I'm getting hit and cornered and blasted from every side. If its not one thing, its another. If its not the vocabulary, its the essay assignment or the fact that I punished your precious baby boy by excusing him from my classroom for uncalled for rudeness. I don't get it. Just because the school that I teach at is founded on classical Christian principles, that somehow means that I have to teach only Christian literature? I'm sorry, but thats crap. How can my students be expected to stand for God when they can't even tell me where in the Bible it says that adultery is wrong, or gluttony is a sin. How can they be warriors for Christ when they don't know how to witness and to be a warrior?

I get that you want to "protect" your child -- but, as his/her earthly father, I know that its your responsibility to do that. And I am okay with that. But at the end of the day, isn't it God who protects your child from harm? Isn't HE the one who knows the plan, has written the plan, knows the words that you'll say before you even think them? Isn't it God who holds His children in the palm of His hand and protects ALL of them? Yes, He has given you earthly children, which are gifts no matter what form the come in, but isn't He the all-knowing protector of all his children? Do you honestly think that I would be here, in this school, if it weren't preordained by God's holy plan? Maybe you should consider that I might be young, and I might be a first year teacher but this is my God-given gift. And if I don't do as He has told me to do, then am I not doing what Gods plan is for me and thumbing my nose at Him? I think so. Which is why I can't sit idly by and allow the parents of my students to run all over me because they pay for the education their child recieves. I have to grow a backbone and stand up for my own beliefs.

"But its too hard." Life's hard. If it weren't hard, everybody would do it. And, I'll add this. I've got students who other teachers in their respective public schools didn't give a rip about, because they either had too many students or didn't have time to care or for whatever reason... they got lost in the shuffle. Their grades dropped. Their confidence dropped. They started to believe they were stupid. People, either by words or actions or by the grades they recieved, told them that they were stupid, which personally is a tragedy. Those same students that failed public school have B's or A's in my class. MY CLASS WHICH YOU SAY IS TOO HARD. How is that possible? Its not because they were given their grades, I'll guarantee that. You work for what you earn in my class. Students who came from the area public schools are doing better in my class than they did in public school... why is that? Is it because they have a teacher who cares? Or maybe its because the students who want to do better, to be better, are willing to work at it. They come after school, and during study hall and email me at all hours of the afternoon because of what -- because I care, or because they do? I don't know, but apparently my class is too hard. I require too much.

I just hope that when those children who say its too hard don't wake up 20 years from now at their 9 to 5 job at AFLAC and say to their boss... "its too hard. I don't want to work that hard to do my job, so would you mind changing the assignment so its not too difficult?" I just don't get it. Oh sure, and get to college, or even high school and tell your teacher/professor "um, this paper assignment is too long. Would you mind shortening it? Okay thanks." Ha. Yeah right. Its just all absurd to me.

I will never understand the apathetic youth of America -- God help us -- those same youth that will be running this country in 20 years, producing children, raising families. And I don't understand how parents can produce children and coddle them to the point where they are 12 and 13 years old and don't know how to do anything productive. How do you expect them to survive in this world without you? They won't -- so you're raising children who will stay perpetually mama's boys and daddy's girls (nothing wrong with that) but shouldn't there be a point where the madness stops? What if one of them is called to be a missionary in South Africa, but you won't allow them to go because 1) they'll be away from you and 2) it might be too hard. Thumbing your nose at God's plan for your child's life is not something I'd personally want to be accused of doing. How can you expect your child to live his own life? Don't the strings have to be cut at some point? Stop doing FOR them, and let them learn on their own. They are good children, responsible children (for the most part) who need to know how to type a paper on their own, without mama's help, or how to construct sentences without starting with "and" or "well." These are valuable skills.

Unfortunately, we live in a society where its less about character and more about "what can you do for me" - a kind of selfish, egocentric attitude that the world and sun revolves around you and your problems.

Let me just say also as a side note, that just because I show emotion does NOT mean that my emotion is about YOU. I do have a life outside of school and there are things that happen that make me cry, like one of my best friends being deployed to Afghanistan (God be with all of our men and women in uniform), or my own financial problems or just whatever. Its not always about you.

But its this wholly selfish attitude among Christians and non-Christians that "its all about me" which really isn't very Christian either. Neither is sowing seeds of doubt and mistrust and dislike. Aren't we supposed to lift each other up, to sharpen each other and help our brothers and sisters in Christ, rather than tearing them down, belittling them or questioning God's plan that brought those people colliding together?

I would rather have a teacher like the fictional John Keating, or like Julia Roberts character in Mona Lisa Smile than a teacher who had no passion, no fire, no life for what she chose to teach. But I can see why teachers like that can get burnt out on the hypocracy of it all, on the sheer exhaustion of always having to explain yourself, of why you've required certain things to be done a certain way. Of being questioned and contained in a neat little box. I won't fit inside your box. I can't. Not only would it destroy my foundation for what I believe, and have me question my place here in this world, but it would destroy my soul and that... that is something that I won't allow you to take away from me.

The Secret Life of the American Teenager

I started watching this tv show, "The Secret Life of the American Teenager," I think in the desperate hope that it'd give me some kind of insight into my students, the crazy, drama-infested ones at least. I don't think its working. It just reinforced, kind of, that my kids are crazy and this is the tv show that they're watching.

The dialogue, right now, really, is "you're so desperate to get a boyfriend. No you're desperate! No you look like a washed up teenage porn star...." Oh. My. God. Seriously.

And then I got hooked... and I've sat here, most of this Tuesday watching the marathon in preparation of the finale. And, while I realize that the likihood of a 15 year old boy finding his "soulmate" at age 15 is somewhat skewed by Hollywood... it's really sweet in a way. I don't like how they portray Christians (Grace) on the show. They make us out to be completely guilless and naive.

My Wishes...

I wish that I could be courageous and brave, like the characters in my stories.I wish that I didn't care so much about people I love being angry and upset with me, even to the point of apologizing and internalizing all of that fear at being abandoned by the people I love most.

I wish that I didn't expect people to walk out of my life as easily as they walked in and I wish that I didn't allow myself to feel hurt when it happens.

I wish that I was a better writer, able to express the thoughts and opinons of my characters onto paper and woven intricately into storylines.

I wish that I had learned at an early age to speak my mind instead of being afraid all of the time.

I wish that I had listened instead of ignored, thought instead of followed and valued the love of good people who I took for granted.

I wish that I were more engaging, social, active; that I didn't constantly internalize and analyze everything in my life.

I wish that I knew how to stand up for me, to say enough is enough, and to throw caution to the wind; to just be. I wish that I could see more of the world, to be on staff with ACMNP again, to look for joy in everything.

I wish that I was able to duel with words instead of quietly accepting whatever is said to me with grace and a quiet way.

I wish that I knew how to knit. I wish that I could say all that I really wanted to. I wish that I didn't automatically shrink into the back of a crowded room. I wish that I never grow tired of not being the center of attention.

I wish that people would forgive me for my mistakes; that I could accept my own failure; that I allowed people in easier. I wish that I never stop believing in unconditional love. I wish that my friends find happiness in all that they do.

I wish that it wasn't so easy to settle for what might be availible even when you know it isn't right. I wish that I wasn't easily duped; that I wasn't as naive, that I wasn't treated like a child.
I wish that it didn't bother me.

(work in progress ~B)

What a difference a year makes...

last year, on this date, I had my heart broken. Ripped into a million pieces and scattered about the ocean. What a difference a year makes.

I am so non-confrontational that I'll do anything to avoid it. I'll accept total blame where it should be partial; ignore in the hopes it'll go away; pray that my temper doesn't blow when it finally reaches that breaking point.

you know, its so ironic how last Thursday night the Greys Anatgomy episode was centralized around a woman with a brain tumor. Her family thought that she had made up this man; that she was crazy because she had fallen in love with someone she'd never met. Turns out, she wasn't. And the man showed up. She didn't give up hope. What a difference a year makes.

Lots on my mind tonight. Lots of frustration and aggravation.

I'm leaving tomorrow on a jet plane....

peace.