La Noël et autres détails de la vie

Christmas was lovely. I'll treat you to this pic of my brothers and I. We are so old but still act like brothers and sisters. And my brothers never want to smile for the camera.

So, tomorrow I'm headed to the NYC provided there are no further flight delays. One of my grad school buddies is a new daddy and I can't wait to hold his little one.

I've been knocking things off of my to-do list. All is done except for number 5, which I should be able to polish off tonight. And God please let my absent-minded professors send in their recs before the deadline. And if they don't, God please let the department be merciful. Amen.

Speaking of grad school buddies, another one of mine came down this week with his sweet little sis and we had a grand old time. I laughed A LOT. Boy, I needed it. I will never tire of the story where he awkwardly encounters one of our least-favorite professors in the men's room. Ah, I can't even think about it without chuckling.

I've also been enlisted as a Spanish tutor to . . . ahem . . . a certain tall, dark chocolate, handsome man. Perhaps he will join my professional development Beginning Spanish class when it starts back up next month. Nah, it's not like that for real. I still don't really know the dude. He's gorgeous, but looks aren't everything.

I've always been a last-minute packer. I'm going to try to be a little better and not wait until 12 a.m. this time.

Calm down.

But there's this manic little me that wants to explain, that wants to make sure I'm not perceived as not the way I want to be perceived because if I were then I'd be misunderstood and feel insecure and I don't want to put myself into a position where I am looked at as immature and eager and naive because I'm trying to make sure that I come across as the way I want to come across and

Please, do yourself and everyone else a favor and calm down.

In your vain attempt not to be annoying and too much, you are being annoying and too much.

Breathe.

Unashamedly accept the unchangeable fact that you are yourself and calm down.

The Nutcracker

The best moment: The first few dainty plucks of the strings before the sugar plum fairy tiptoes and pirouettes across the stage.

Today I woke up and made pancakes.

I felt like being a housewife. To accompany the pancakes I made bacon and scrambled eggs. My dad and brothers were quite pleased.

Now I must . . .

1. Start Christmas shopping. Christmas is Saturday. Geez.

2. Mail an English Bible to a friend in France. (It's not going to get there in time, but c'est la pensée qui compte.)

3. Send some Christmas cards in French. Gotta practice. Madame sent me one like 2 weeks ago.

4. Finish writing my statement of purpose and get the rest of the application sent off. The deadline is January 1st!

5. Finish watching training videos for my new gig.

Please God, please let my stars align. I know that I am an underling and that the fault lies not in them (quick explanation), but please . . . last night we sang "You Give Us Life" at church, and it suddenly hit me that I've been given the gift of life. I felt positive, refreshed, forward-looking. I don't want to lose it. There's an itsy bitsy hope buried under layers and layers, incubating, lying patiently dormant. Don't let it die.

Miss Señorita Says Adiós

I was a little surprised during my goodbyes yesterday. More of them cared than I thought. One student who gave me constant problems begged me not to go. "Please, Miss Señorita, please don't go. I am so sorry for everything I've done. I promise to do better if you please don't go." A few of them wrote me notes telling me how great of a teacher I am and how much they're going to miss me. When I made the announcement that I wouldn't be back next semester, a common refrain was, "Why you leaving us?" That really got to me. I hate the idea of leaving people behind.

A friend of mine made me laugh harder than I had in a while by telling me that I invent new reasons to beat myself up. Maybe she's right, but I have to be honest and say that I feel like a failure. I do. I gave up. One of my students even said, "Quitters never win and winners never quit, Miss Smith. And you're a winner. So you can't quit." It made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

So many of my students come from broken, desperate situations. It's in the air at the school. You can smell it and breathe it in. And I allowed it to drag me down. I got tired of fighting. Of feeling ineffective and inept. Of feeling powerless for not being able to exert enough authority to control my classes. Of helplessly watching the future get carried off in handcuffs and totter down the hallways pregnant. Of hearing vile language everywhere I turned. Of feeling disregarded and rejected and taken for granted.

I am in this world. I am charged to be a light in this world. And if I start making a habit of quitting, how can I say that I truly believe in a God who strengthens me?

Maybe the disappointment and frustration that I felt is just a minuscule fraction of what Jesus felt every day during His life among us. Broken and desperate people.

Now I'm Facebook friends with a few. I told my pregnant students to give me a call when the baby comes so that I could go visit them. Maybe I can still be a positive influence even if I'm not in the classroom.

I'm fickle and emotional.

I'm not proud of it, it's just that fickleness and emotionalness are a couple of the building blocks of me that cause me a little bit of heartache and get me into a little bit of trouble and cause me to make a little bit of impulsive decisions.

No amount of cheerleading and scriptural exhortation could get me to change my mind. With a stubborn mind and a tear-streaked face and a sob-wracked heart, I'm quitting I can't do this anymore it's taking a toll on me I won't come back.

But enter a tall, well-built, dark chocolate co-worker. Oh, hold up . . . where did he come from? I didn't even know he existed because he was sequestered over in the 9th grade academy. He comes strolling into my room with his class during my planning period because they were using his room for testing that week. The kids adore him. He's funny, tall, handsome, down-to-earth, tall and tall. The kids loved his little charming ways to try to get my attention while I was putting in grades or whatever. Ooh Miss Señorita are you gonna go out with Mr.___? He sweeps into my room after school one day after I used "I'm not coming back next semester" as a deterrent. But no you can do all things through Christ you have a beautiful smile and your laugh is contagious the kids need your positivity you have a glow about you you're a light you have to believe that God is bigger than this He'll give you strength you'll come out on the other side and your test will become a testimony. Which of those words hadn't been said to me already? They just hadn't come out of the mouth of a gorgeous Hershey man. Hey maybe it's not that bad maybe I can tough it out he's right I have to have faith Wait a minute . . .

Okay. Maybe I made an emotional decision to quit. But wouldn't I be making another emotional decision to stay? Based on heart flutters and chocolatey tallness? He probably felt like the man because I was all emotional and I can't do it and he was all tall and passionate and strong and comforting and yes you can.

The Bible says a doubleminded man (or woman) is unstable in all his/her ways. I just need to accept that I made a decision (word is already getting around . . . why do I have a sense of déjà vu?) and now I need to stick with it and move on. Plus I wouldn't want Hershey to think I would stay because of him.

La Hamburguesa

Tonight I taught my Beginning Conversational Spanish professional development class about food, ordering from a restaurant and expressing likes and dislikes. Next week is the last week of the session and I'm planning for us all to meet at a Mexican restaurant to finish it out with a fun outing, maybe do a Christmasy thing or two and give them to have a chance to order their food in Spanish and test out what they've learned. Should be fun.

Anyway, one the food items I taught today was la hamburguesa, and I got an overwhelming craving for a hamburger. Suddenly, all I wanted in life was a big, fat juicy cheeseburger with the works. It was all I could think about for the rest of class. As soon as class was over, I made a beeline to Hardee's.

Ketchup and mayonnaise and mustard oozed over the edges every time I took a bite. The lettuce was crunchy, the tomatoes juicy, the onions and pickles zingy, the cheese melty. I relished it with fries and washed it down with a cherry coke. And I sat there in a mellow, greasy languor, feeling for the first time in a while something close to contentment.

This is the thing:

I complain about not having any stability, about wanting this itinerant life of "gigs" to be over, but then I continue to jump around with the mantra "It's just temporary" propelling me on.

So, I did it. I broke down and turned in a letter of resignation to my principal this week. I won't be continuing with my most recent incarnation of "Miss Señorita" next semester. I didn't do it with relish at all. I did it tearfully, feeling like a quitter, feeling like an idiot for rejecting more money than I've ever made + benefits, feeling like a weakling for not being able to tough it out, feeling like a loser for leaving the kids behind who really are trying, feeling like a weasel for considering deucing out without saying goodbye. How would I say it? I do have a back-up plan. (I'm not entirely insane.) And, yes, the back-up plan's pay sucks. Here's something I've learned about me: I'm willing to accept sucky pay for peace of mind. At least temporarily. There I go again.

And then there's another situation which will only persist as long as I allow it to. Words mean so very little to people when they aren't followed through with respective action. No more reliance on words. No more saying, "I'm not going to do ______ anymore." Instead, I have to just not do it anymore.

I don't have a great sense of direction. Anyone who's ever driven with me can tell you that. I always inadvertently end up taking the long way. There was always a better, shorter, more efficient way to have gotten where I eventually ended up. But at least I eventually got there.

It's crazy. In some areas I'm an overachiever, supposedly ahead of the game. In others, I'm quite the late bloomer. It's a maddening combination.

Or perhaps I'm just realizing that I'm more like everyone else than I'd like to admit. It's not a bad thing.