Tag Archives: Thoughts

03/5/12

{365.65} I Channel My Inner Pioneer Girl

I can safely say that I never run out of reading material. My Amazon wishlist is essentially a glorified To-Read list, a running log of every book I’ve decided I need to experience. And then there’s my Nook library, which looks like I own tons of e-books but actually is just a giant digital bookshelf full of samples. I hoard them, vow to read them, all of them, in the fullness of time. The truth is, the act of reading is mostly a reflex to me. It’s as fundamental as breathing. I use books as medicine, as tickets to elsewhere, as hiding places. Books, and the characters who dwell within them, have always been my friends.

In my stack of library books at the moment is Wendy McClure’s The Wilder Life, which I just finished this evening. The author, having been a fan of the classic Little House on the Prairie series by Laura Ingalls Wilder, reaches adulthood and makes the decision to explore “Laura world” in every way she knows how. This includes churning her own butter, sleeping in a covered wagon during a prairie hailstorm, visiting all of the “Little Houses” scattered throughout several different states, and even encountering the equivalent of a creepy End Times cult while trying out homesteading on a real working farm. The book is terribly funny, especially for someone like me, who also grew up loving the series and feeling a kinship with Laura, the little prairie girl who has been the companion of so many others like me since the first book in the series was published in 1932. I can understand why Wendy McClure felt the need to embark on this epic foray into the world of Little House, to establish this connection with a semi-fictional character and to walk in Laura’s shoes. I’ve always kind of wanted to do the same thing! I guess I never realized that there were other people like me who thought Laura Ingalls was their very best friend. (There are TONS of us psychos out there, run away now while you can~)

Continue reading →

01/22/12

{Project 365.22} I Have An Odd Relationship With Clocks

I can’t believe January is almost over! You may argue with me that there’s still time left in the month, but my sense of time operates on fast forward. I think I got this from my mom. She used to set all our clocks five minutes ahead so that we always scrambled around thinking we were 5 minutes later than we actually were. (If that isn’t Asia at work, I don’t know what is.) The upside of this was that we ended up being 5 minutes early to most everything. The most extreme example: when we were flying from San Diego to the Philippines in my sophomore year of high school and we arrived at LAX a full 6 hours before our check-in time. Since this preceded an eighteen hour flight, it all added up to a whole lot of boredom. Also, I got to know all the gift shops at the airport really well.

But anyway, by the time it gets to be around the 20th or so, I’m already flipping the calendar page over in my head. In the spring, I start bracing myself for the multitude of insects that are sure to plague me all summer. And when summer rolls in, you better believe I’m already wishing winter didn’t exist. (One thing you can always be sure of is that somewhere, somehow, I am huddled in a sweater complaining that it’s cold. LOL.) For some people, an hour may seem like plenty of time, but to me it’s the equivalent of roughly five minutes. The funny thing is that my husband has a very blurry view of time — he’ll say, “Oh, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” when he’s driving home from work, but really those few minutes = a 45-minute commute from the middle of the desert to our apartment. Don’t even get me started on my sister, for whom half an hour before it’s time for school translates to I’m-going-to-take-a-two-hour-shower. Yes, somehow, we were raised by the same parents. Hahaha.

But really, the point of all this rambling was for me to say that January is almost over, meaning I’ve almost managed to write one blog entry every day for an entire month.  Yay for small victories~~

P.S. Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark was really kind of a suckfest… we were rather disappointed. Not recommended!

01/17/12

{Project 365.17} I Fervently Wish For a Time Machine

Yeah, okay, so hindsight is 20/20 and time machines are not available at Target. WHATEVER. I still wish, after attending a presentation on teaching at the Airman & Family Readiness Center on base today, that I could warp myself back to 2006 and switch my concentration to grades 4-8 instead of elementary. And you know what, I might even be brave enough to make that 4-8 Math.

— I am pausing here to allow the people who know & love me to recover from the initial shock. —

Back in December 2009, when I got my student teaching assignment for the coming final semester of college, you really should’ve seen my face when I saw “Fourth Grade Mathematics” in the second half of my schedule. I mean, WHAT?? Are you kidding?? ME, teach MATH??? This is the child who had to stay in from recess every day for like two weeks in 1st grade when we were supposed to be learning about “borrowing” in subtraction. (“I don’t want to borrow numbers! I don’t want any numbers at all!!” *rage-crying*”) My first ever D in a school subject was in freshman year when the only thing I could process about geometry was proofs because it involved writing WORDS. So, I was seriously dreading getting assigned to this 4th grade math class for 2.5 months.

The first half of my student teaching, btw, was in 1st grade and I spent 5 days a week working from 7:15am until nearly 7:15pm getting materials and lessons ready for 6 subjects a day. (For free!) I thought this was still preferable to 4th grade math because teaching how to count by fives for roughly half an hour a day is not anything like teaching fractions to multiple classes over and over again. (Also, OMG EEW FRACTIONS.) Really, on my last day in 1st grade, I wanted to cling to all twenty-four of my adorable 7 year olds and just weep for dear life. It was certainly a highly hysterical cosmic joke to place someone as math-phobic as I am in a situation where I would be tasked with subjecting myself and many children to math all day long. HILARIOUS. TERRIFYING. Same thing.

But! What happened was a total surprise to me. After my first week teaching fourth grade, and my first week teaching a content area subject to a grade level that would have to go through standardized testing during my time with them, I realized that I was okay. I WAS OKAY! I really have always wanted to share this story with my 7th grade math teacher, Mr. Lanehart (who is actually my Facebook friend, hahaha), because when I was in his classroom glaring skeptically at his “MATH LOVES YOU!” banner and listening to him tell me that, even though I detested math, math would always love me unconditionally… I would never have imagined myself actually enjoying myself being a math teacher. In fact, if time machines went on sale at Target right now and you warped yourself over to 7th grade me just to declare that I would someday consider teaching math, I would’ve laughed hard enough to rupture the space-time continuum. I’m fighting the urge to crack up at myself right now, even. Life takes such unpredictable paths. I firmly believe that the universe conspired to put me in that 4th grade classroom just to prove to me what I was capable of.

No, I still don’t *like* math in the slightest. That may be too much to hope for. *cough directed at Jason cough* LOL.

However, I had fun teaching math. I LOVED fourth grade. If I could choose a grade to teach, I would go for 4th in a heartbeat. I taught four periods of math every day, plus I did after school tutorials for the upcoming standardized tests, and it was math math math all the time. I was fortunate to have a mentor teacher who was amazing, but what really made this experience unforgettable was the discovery that I, the opposite of a mathematical genius, was able to help kids who felt the same way about the subject. Kids who had been introduced to math in all the wrong ways, leading to a bad first impression that perpetuated itself over time. Math was the equivalent to a monster under the bed. Like me, they had nursed the theory that if they just stayed under the covers and didn’t go LOOKING for math, it would leave them well enough alone. (If only!) I met children who were like me in that they interpreted a math problem in roundabout, not necessarily standard ways. And I found out that, while I was able to reach the majority with the lesson plans given in the book and the strategies recommended by my mentor teacher, I was also able to reach kids who were afraid of math simply because I was also afraid of math. We shared a language. I’m sure any teacher will tell you that connecting with a student is a moment of glory. I had many of those moments, while I was teaching math.

How did I get on this subject today? Well, when I went to that presentation earlier, the main recommendation to me was that I work on adding endorsements to my existing credentials. And you know, I thought about math. Maybe. Which is a definite improvement over my default answer of NEVER/OVER MY DEAD BODY. (I am a fan of small victories.) I’m not saying that I see myself acing Calculus or transforming into a math genius EVER, but I am interested in the possibility of teaching math to kids during that window of time when they will either decide that they can do math, or that they can’t. I know about this, because it happened to me. Somewhere in elementary school, primarily in 4th grade, I made up my mind that I was horrible at math and couldn’t do it. This, after a stellar career as not only the 3rd grade Around the World champion, but also the 3rd grade multiplication-table-memorization Queen. I never hated math until I got to 4th grade. True, I did NOT have a good teacher that year. She basically taught from her desk and never gave us anything but worksheets. My attitude towards math took such a downturn that year that my mom actually scheduled a parent-teacher conference. (In the world of Asian moms: an intervention. Hahaha) When I asked her about it years later, she told me it was because she had a theory that if I’d never had such an awful math teacher in 4th grade, I would’ve felt very different about math as a result. Seriously, she still talks smack about that lady!

So really, I guess what I learned about myself while student teaching in math was that I could be a math-phobic person who could convince math-phobic children that math loves them. And that, even if they never love math back, they can at least look math in the eye and say, “Math, you’re okay.” And because of this revelation, I am looking at my future in teaching from a different perspective.

01/16/12

{Project 365.16} I Feel Very Strongly About Princesses

 

“My daughter (3)  is very princess-oriented despite our best efforts to the contrary. She asked if she could live in Prince Charming’s castle one day. I told her that was a possibility. She contemplated it for a moment before asking, “Is there a Starbucks in Prince Charming’s castle?”
—- From the February issue of Parents Magazine

That’s the spirit, I like a girl with her priorities straight. Hahaha.

Though, I do have to protest against the mom’s efforts to make her daughter less “princess-oriented.” So what if your little girl likes princesses? What little girl doesn’t have at least the tiniest inborn wish to be like one? I don’t think this is a problem at all. Sure, you can argue that I’m biased, considering my undying love for fairytales, Disney, and Kate formerly-Middleton, but I feel that loving princesses doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a fan of impossibly pretty heroines with fantastic hair and weak knees. Although princesses have traditionally been portrayed as damsels in distress in folklore and stories, have you noticed the dramatic changes in the Princess role and in the female role over the past decade? The modern woman isn’t a pushover. It makes sense that this modern woman would want to keep her child away from imagery and role models that might convince her it’s best to rely on a man for everything she needs, whether she’s wanting a little pocket money or needs saving from a ferocious beast with twelve heads. But, I contend that this isn’t what Princesshood means. (Yes, I invented that word right now for my own purposes.)

My own mother encouraged me to be as independent as possible, perhaps because she herself hadn’t really been raised to be independent. And this idea, that girls and women should be strong and confident, has become so prevalent today that the latest addition to the Disney Princess pantheon is spunky Rapunzel, who uses her 70 feet of hair as a lasso, holds her own with her male counterpart in action scenes (there’s more than one use for a frying pan), and made arrangements to get herself out of the tower and into the wide world outside. The last one before her was Tiana, the first African American princess to be added by Disney, whose dream was to become a restaurateur and business owner, not to marry Prince Charming. Have you seen the trailers for Disney’s upcoming Brave? Well, you should, because it’s only further evidence that the future of Princesses no longer involves sighing and waiting for true love to appear. This is an archaic idea. The Princess, and the heroine in general, has evolved.

This is true for more than just Disney. It’s everywhere in culture today, a revolution taking place across a broad range of mediums. Even in real life, the modern Princess doesn’t just float around in a ballgown and bat her eyes at people. Diana, Princess of Wales remains one of the most beloved figures in history, whose devotion to charity and philanthropy and dedication to positive change for those less fortunate has never been forgotten. To be a princess no longer means sitting in the backseat, or watching the world go by from a tower room.

So, I think it’s perfectly okay for any little girl to wish she was a Princess. It just means she wants to become a strong woman with responsibilities, who is also poised and compassionate. Someone that others look up to. Someone with the tenacity to lead a country (because don’t Princesses eventually become Queens?), but with empathy for those who follow her. And okay, having ahhhmazing hair is always a major plus.

Oh, by the way, today’s photo is of Malcomn, who is a glass rabbit that my sister found in a thrift store and gave to me as a gift a few years ago. He sits on my desk looking elegant and adorable, all at the same time. (He would make an excellent sidekick for a Princess.)

11/29/11

Ye Olde Job Hunte

I was reading an article on some sort of military support website not long ago when I came across this sentence (or thereabouts): “Now that you are married to the military, you have become the trailing spouse.” And as I sat there, taking this in, I felt like I was akin to a sad puppy trailing behind a boy wearing flight goggles and pulling a little red wagon. You are the expendable one! You are just baggage! You must follow this man around, be uprooted every four years, and when you have children you get to uproot them too! Career? Ha! Bachelor’s degree? Irrelevant! And so on, so forth.

Well, typically I’m not depressed about being an Air Force wife. I’m extremely proud of my husband, he has a really cool job which also happens to be extremely important, and he serves our country. What’s more, he puts food on the table and buys me silly things that I don’t really need, i.e. a new camera, and more Christmas decor. No one in the world could accuse me of not fully appreciating everything he does for me and what he will continue to do for our family as the years go on. However, I’m often caught here in this place where I wonder what’s to become of me, really.

I come from a military family, too. But growing up, my mom never worked. Our family of four lived on my dad’s E-6 salary, and while we didn’t have all kinds of fancy things, we lived well. We had good food roughly three times a day. We had two cars and video games and computers. I couldn’t have the $200 prom dress that I coveted beyond reason, but in the end, it was okay. Now, there’s only two of us and we seem to cost more than what my own family ever cost in all the 22 years I lived in my parents’ house. It fairly boggles the mind. There is no question about it: I have to work. I have to find a job, and I need to do it soon, because we need the money to support our way of life. We just had this talk in the car on the way home from dinner tonight. So, now I’m depressed all over again.

It’s not that I don’t like working — I’ve had a job since I was 13, handing out commissary coupons door to door in the humid Florida summers. I started babysitting, technically, when I was only 11. I’ve been working for my money for a long time. I like to stay busy and I like to feel as though I’m a functional adult in society, just like (most) everyone else. Equally important to me is the sense that I have my own money to spend. Therefore, we can conclude that I certainly wouldn’t mind a job. The problem here is that I don’t want just ANY job, because I have a degree in education and I’m certified to teach. Teaching is my passion. And yet, here I am, in a new city and with all these fresh possibilities, searching for Human Resources jobs because I can’t teach in this state. My Texas certification means nothing to Nevada until I pay them loads of money, do miles of paperwork, and jump through hoops. And it’s this way in every single state I could go to. It’s probably going to be this way every single time we move. I may never have my own classroom, I may never feel fulfilled in my career, or even have a real career. If the moving around wasn’t enough, there’s also the fact that teachers are just not in demand right now. Hiring freezes and lay-offs prevented thousands of people like me from working in schools. In the small town where I come from, and in the Texas small-town mentality, they were only really hiring people that they knew already — girls whose mothers and grandmothers had taught for the district, girls whose uncle or aunt or something or other were already employed there. It’s been ridiculous and also extremely painful to face rejection in this way, to be prevented from doing what I love to do by all these outside forces that I have no control over.

And so, the question now is, will this be my life forever? Will I be the one who tags along, who finds any kind of job possible in whatever new place we are living in, because we need my income and there is no choice but second best? I sit here, fretting and worrying over the fact that we’ve been here 2 weeks and I still haven’t found a job, even continuing the job hunt in my DREAMS while dead asleep, and I’m horrified that this is going to happen over and over again. Everyone and their mother told me that teaching was THE thing to do, teachers would ALWAYS be needed, DEFINITELY go with that degree. I spent 4 years of my life in college, went thousands and thousands of dollars into debt for a piece of paper that proves I did, and it all essentially signifies nothing. Useless. I’m by no means the only person on this sinking ship, but that’s hardly comforting. Even less comforting is the thought that millions of people live their entire lives hating their job and yet continue on, every day, because they have to. Is this it, for me? Becoming an expert at searching for dead-end jobs? For menial office work, for everything BUT the field I actually trained for? There are so many obstacles. It’s like fighting a rising tide.

…Anyway, now I have to go back to job hunting so I can find a job to help pay bills and foot the cost of all the re-certification fees required by the Nevada Board of Education, which I will tack on to the 26,000 I spent getting certified the first time.

Bitter much? YES.

11/25/11

Thankful

It’s the day after Thanksgiving and my Christmas tree is up, right on schedule despite the craziness of the past few days. We finally decided on an apartment last Saturday, David started in-processing on Monday, and then had to work every day until Thanksgiving. Which meant that we had to reschedule signing our lease until Tuesday night, then I had to wait for the movers on my own the next day. I was really pretty surprised that our stuff was already being delivered, but it’s a good thing because I was really getting tired of living in a hotel. I mean, we were only actually there for 6 days, but it’s felt a lot like I never stopped traveling since I did so much of that this year. What with the trip we took in February for our honeymoon, followed by the long weekend in San Antonio for David’s BMT grad, then the times I went down to visit him during tech school (three endless drives to San Antonio, followed by three drives back to Wichita Falls), and then our 2 day pilgrimage to Nevada… whew, I am TIRED. But, we got rid of the last boxes today and really all that’s left is to tidy up and invest in some new furniture.

It’s that time of year when we’re supposed to reflect on what we’re grateful for in our lives, and while others choose to do marathon Facebook posts of daily “Today I’m thankful for…” status messages, I’m more inclined to just be grateful and give thanks in my own way. It’s been a rough year, full of huge changes and grown up decisions, as well as blessings of all kinds and in many disguises. Most of all, I’m thankful for my husband, who is my best friend, and who decided to make a sacrifice for our future by enlisting in the Air Force this year. It isn’t going to be easy, and he already has to go away again in March after only getting home at the end of October, but this is our story and we’re living it regardless of the obstacles. I’m thankful for both of my families, the old and the new, because they’re always around for me through good and bad. I’m thankful for friends who write me letters, send me text messages, and reach out to me in whatever way they can, no matter the distance. I’m thankful for a new home and a fresh start. It’s hard to believe 2011 is ending after how eventful it’s been.

In any case, I’m ready for the holidays!