Monday, April 19, 2004
SIX
There are only 5 more weeks of regular school left. Yay! Then comes summer school, which will hopefully fly by like a breeze. I am really looking forward to spending time at home, with Mr. S, in the gym, and by myself. I feel like I could squeeze tears out of my cheeks right now (both the ones on my face and the ones below my waist line! haha)- this is how happy I am with the idea of free time.
Working as a teacher is a lot like going to the gym. When one is at the gym, working on the machines or lifting weights, or cardio is never going to do one good unless the body is disciplined, pushed, strained, and maybe even punished again and again. A fit and tone body takes a beating voluntarily and is better for it in the long run. This is how I see teaching at this time in my life. I have learned many things in the last two years of 9th grade. I am a glutton for punishment; I only want to learn more... about the teaching process, how to write better curriculum, how to make my lessons more exciting and relevant to things in every day culture, society, and things of that nature. I want to be a grammar maven, perfect at speaking my mother tongue- total command when writing, as well. Like working out, my mind and my being must be committed to that finished product. My work each day must be as perfect as it can be, or else, like daily reps with weights, if done poorly, I will not build the "muscles" necessary to provide support (experience) to my teaching and curriculum vitae. Even worse, the kids might suffer.
I know I complain about teaching, but really I am a better person for slaving each day like this: in a thankless job, where someone as educated as I am could really just be called a glorified babysitter. It's a humbling profession, but a noble one.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
In other news, I went to the Kid Rock concert on Friday. Normally, Kid Rock would not be my cup of tea, but let me tell you....
the man can rock.
There is a line in one of his songs that says, "You never met a motha fuckah like me."
Preach it!
Truly, this man is creative. Not only does he SINGLE HANDEDLY command the attention of the crowd, he virtually has them eating right out his hands. He not only sings, bebops (raps or whatever the kids call it these days), but he also plays the guitar, slide guitar, drums (like an animal, I might add), he can scratch records like a D.J. (which he did, by the way), play the piano (they pulled out a grand piano for one of his closing numbers), and dance like nobody's business.
That night, I told Mr. S that I had found a new love, and that he could get lost.
I did feel a mite bit uncomfortable when the pyrotechniques went on and off at various intervals...although they were breathtaking, several flags were unfurled at various points to match the beat and rhythm (sp?) of the pyro-works. One flag was the Confederate flag. Folks, I just haven't made up my mind about that, yet. What does it symbolize? Clearly, Kid Rock isn't racist (his drummer is black AND a female), but it wasn't like there was a healthy ratio of interracial couples like Mr. S and I.
I dunno...still chewing on it.
Either way, might I suggest that you all check out Kid Rock, the man the mystery the magic- when he comes to your town next. He's truly something to talk/ see/ drool about.
Later, taters.
GG
There are only 5 more weeks of regular school left. Yay! Then comes summer school, which will hopefully fly by like a breeze. I am really looking forward to spending time at home, with Mr. S, in the gym, and by myself. I feel like I could squeeze tears out of my cheeks right now (both the ones on my face and the ones below my waist line! haha)- this is how happy I am with the idea of free time.
Working as a teacher is a lot like going to the gym. When one is at the gym, working on the machines or lifting weights, or cardio is never going to do one good unless the body is disciplined, pushed, strained, and maybe even punished again and again. A fit and tone body takes a beating voluntarily and is better for it in the long run. This is how I see teaching at this time in my life. I have learned many things in the last two years of 9th grade. I am a glutton for punishment; I only want to learn more... about the teaching process, how to write better curriculum, how to make my lessons more exciting and relevant to things in every day culture, society, and things of that nature. I want to be a grammar maven, perfect at speaking my mother tongue- total command when writing, as well. Like working out, my mind and my being must be committed to that finished product. My work each day must be as perfect as it can be, or else, like daily reps with weights, if done poorly, I will not build the "muscles" necessary to provide support (experience) to my teaching and curriculum vitae. Even worse, the kids might suffer.
I know I complain about teaching, but really I am a better person for slaving each day like this: in a thankless job, where someone as educated as I am could really just be called a glorified babysitter. It's a humbling profession, but a noble one.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
In other news, I went to the Kid Rock concert on Friday. Normally, Kid Rock would not be my cup of tea, but let me tell you....
There is a line in one of his songs that says, "You never met a motha fuckah like me."
Preach it!
Truly, this man is creative. Not only does he SINGLE HANDEDLY command the attention of the crowd, he virtually has them eating right out his hands. He not only sings, bebops (raps or whatever the kids call it these days), but he also plays the guitar, slide guitar, drums (like an animal, I might add), he can scratch records like a D.J. (which he did, by the way), play the piano (they pulled out a grand piano for one of his closing numbers), and dance like nobody's business.
That night, I told Mr. S that I had found a new love, and that he could get lost.
I did feel a mite bit uncomfortable when the pyrotechniques went on and off at various intervals...although they were breathtaking, several flags were unfurled at various points to match the beat and rhythm (sp?) of the pyro-works. One flag was the Confederate flag. Folks, I just haven't made up my mind about that, yet. What does it symbolize? Clearly, Kid Rock isn't racist (his drummer is black AND a female), but it wasn't like there was a healthy ratio of interracial couples like Mr. S and I.
I dunno...still chewing on it.
Either way, might I suggest that you all check out Kid Rock, the man the mystery the magic- when he comes to your town next. He's truly something to talk/ see/ drool about.
Later, taters.
GG
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