I got that snow... Man!

A few weeks ago, I was talking with a student of mine... a respectable enough young man (he has since been expelled from school) who told me that people on the street called him the "Jeezy Snowman." He said he would go around the hood in his Jeezy Snowman t-shirt. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I sensed it was important to him so I nodded my head and pretended to be interested.

That same night, I was reading the news online when I saw an article like this one, which said that this t-shirt that my student was talking about is being banned at schools across the country. Supposedly, this "Snowman" symbolizes a coke dealer and anyone who wears this shirt is (of course) promoting the distribution and consumption of this illegal narcotic.

I really couldn't care less about Young Jeezy and his stupid ass music, but I really had to have this shirt the second I was made aware of this controversy. The fact that schools would be banning a shirt that bears such a harmless symbol just because it just might have some sort of drug-related innuendo is really shocking to me.

I have worn this shirt out on two occasions, and NOBODY has asked me to sell them coke. Putting on this shirt does not make me feel like a coke dealer at all... it makes me feel like an opponent of censorship and a friend of the First Amendment!

When asked about the shirt, Jeezy himself says, "Snowman is a cool dude. He's a gangsta, too. There's a snowman in every 'hood, several snowmen in the 'hood. You gotta be that dude to look up to with the car and the girl. Whatever you do, be the best at it, because that's what the snowman is going to do."

I've got a car and a girl and a Snowman t-shirt and I'm taking a stand. That's gangsta. I suppose that makes me the snowman in my 'hood.

With The Lights Out...

Let there be light... soft, natural, brain-friendly light, that is!

When Dr. Tate was speaking to us the other night, she spoke to us about brain-friendly classroom conditions - one of these conditions being lighting. While most schools use fluorescent lighting, this lighting is actually the least friendly to the human brain. Experiments have shown fluorescent lighting to be a cause of both migraine headaches and hyperactivity. The latter has been a big problem for me lately, as it seems nearly impossible to get kids to sit down and listen to instructions. Since Dr. Tate was giving her lecture in my classroom/computer lab, I reflected for a moment on how obnoxious the lighting scheme was.

As a private joke, yesterday I turned off half the lights in my classroom. First off, nobody complained about any lack of lighting; furthermore, I noticed things were a little less hyper than usual. Maybe it's in my head, but then maybe I really had too much obnoxious light in my classroom.

Maybe I will survive the year... with the lights out!

Dispassion Doesn't Grow Dendrites

This evening, I had the pleasure of hearing a lecture by the famed Dr. Marcia Tate, author of the bestseller Worksheets Don't Grow Dendrites. Indeed, a brilliant woman with an amazing stage presence. I can only hope to captivate audiences in this fashion, someday.

Sometimes, when you hear someone speak, you take something away from it that you didn't expect to take out when you went in. This happened to me today while Dr. Tate was talking about the ten factors that contribute to long life. One of these things was being passionate about one's work. That used to be me. I remember telling people scarcely a year ago that I didn't think that I, as a teacher, was underpaid at all - in spite of the countless hours that I spent every evening planning my lessons. I survived on 5-6 hours of sleep a night my first year teaching, and never got sick to the point that I had to miss work. I wondered how that was possible... but then I remember the teacher who wrote comments as he graded his first year final exam as if the students were going to read them. I never cried over that first year being over, but looking back, I should have. A the time, I was in denial about the fact that I was looking at three months without the pursuit that I loved most in the world: teaching. I suppose that's why I didn't wear myself down that year.

Fast forward to this year. Throw teaching out the window and replace it with correcting inappropriate behaviors, trying to track down parents through a list of wrong and disconnected numbers, and writing behavior referrals for students who will more than likely, be returned to your class ASAP while you are berated at the next faculty meeting for writing the referral... this cycle can make one dizzy! By and large, my job is a source of stress that I have chosen to deal with by becoming dispassionate about my job. For an admitted workaholic, it is not an easy thing to do. Dr. Tate put a new perspective to this for me, which I could not stop pondering throughout the rest of the lecture: With every passing work day, I am actually making my life shorter. I am stealing from myself every day... or am I stealing of myself since I am taking from my very life? A grave thing (note the pun) it is to steal from oneself that which cannot be replaced.

I suppose that tomorrow, I'll be thinking about all of the bingo games, hip replacements, senior catfish dinners, and bus tours that I'll be missing out on... simply because I went to work today.

Holding Out My Hands...

Lately, I've tried to start the day with a bit of scripture reading. I managed to get a daily reading e-mailed to me from the Greek Orthodox archdiocese. Sure, I could just pick up a Bible and read from it, but that would be too easy, wouldn't it? The readings tend to help sometimes as I contemplate them during a hard day of teaching. For those unfamiliar, my "teaching" job more resembles the job description of a general (or common foot soldier) than an educator.

Anyway, as I read today's epistle reading (from Romans 10), I came across this:

“All day long I have stretched out My hands to a disobedient and contrary people.”

It's funny how the Scriptures can sometimes read like an autobiography. As I read this, I thought, "That's my job, in a nutshell." I continued my morning routine, not thinking about the passage again until I was driving to work. Then, as I stared into the sunrise, I thought, "Wow... imagine how God must feel, since that was Him talking and all..." It was a sobering moment. While I've spent the last three months putting up with an endless stream of nonsense, discord, and chaos, God has spent thousands of years putting up with our shit!

And, all the while, He is still holding out His hands, while I have nearly given up. Quite sobering.