Remember

Sadly, as teachers I think we tend to forget how true this is. I urge you to remember, and I use this as a constant reminder, that we have no idea what our students are coming to us with. A girl's mother may be missing, that boy may have lost his best friend to drugs..don't let them get lost in the sea of interminable faces.

Please remember what high school was like. Not the fantasized version we like to tell ourselves we experienced--remember the real version where you were scared to reveal who you really were because of the gossip and backstabbing.

Creative Writing

I've been in a teaching assignment for the past 3 weeks, and at the end of each week this class shares their writing. This may be something they are proud of or something that is really hitting them at the moment. This is what I wrote for sharing for this week:

When History Repeats

My great grandmother is the only person I resemble in my family. Up until her 100th birthday I thought I didn't look like anyone; the outsider who didn't quite belong. At her birthday party there were pictures of my Nana in her youth and then it hit me--I have her round face and short body. Thanks a lot Nana. Combine that with the fact my real mom's sister informed me I have the Jackson thighs when I was 16, and I'm not quite sure what to make of my inheritance.

We call her Nana Peanut because she used to call me her little Peanut and I would revolt strongly against it, now I love it. I used to think Peanut was her name because anyone who knows her refers to her solely as Nana Peanut. You can see my young confusion. I love the times she scrunches her nose and presses it to mine, my face oiling her glasses. She always says in her shaky old lady voice, "Ohhhh Jessica! You bit me once you know, but I bit you back because the same thing happened with Aldis when she was younger. You bit me on the wrist so I bit ya back! And you know what? You never bit again!" I always have to stop myself from telling her that actually, whenever I've been play fighting with anyone my first impulse is to bite. I'll give her that victory. As her surprisingly strong grip tightens on me she'll say, "Love you little, love you big...love you like a little pig!" and then she will cackle adorably and snort in my ear.

I love this woman.

I watch her shrink and shrivel every time I see her, but her mind never seems to wither, even though she rotates her fingers into her palm. This is her signal that her mind is "mushy". While her details from 80 years ago are just as vivid as they were twenty years ago, she has moments of confusion.

When my father's dad was dying of cancer a few years ago, we went and visited my great grandmother, who was my grandfather's mother-in-law once upon a time. Nana had been sitting with my dad, brothers and I for about ten minutes before she rolled her chair up to me, bumping the hard metal on my knee and rolling on my toes. She pressed her silky face to mine, as is her sweet custom, and extended her hand for me to see bits of crushed, stale pretzels. "Here you go! Eat them!" she generously offered as I tried not to laugh. She so resembled a fairy tale witch, offering poisoned candy to Hansel and Gretal, only instead of candy it was rock hard and covered in germs. She must have had those pretzels in her sweaty palm for AGES, even before we had arrived. After I took the pretzels from her, she turned to my father, "So, Brad, how's your father doing?" My dad kept his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he rocked back on his heels and said loudly so she could hear, "Not good, Nana. He's lost a lot of weight". I watched Nana as she nodded, as though processing the information before declaring, "That's too bad..he used to be so tall!" I exchanged a look with my youngest brother, Tyler and decided to let my dad handle that one, "Oh..he's still the same height Nana!".

She's adorable, but the most adorable thing about her is that she is still in love with her husband, my great-grandfather, Johnny. They met at a dance when my Nana was very young, and when he asked her to dance she turned him down. He convinced her by saying he was the brother of her best friend; this always seems to make Nana smile as she wonders what would have happened had she stuck to her guns and said no? Secretly, I think my Nana loves my dad more than anyone in the world because he resembles Johnny both physically and in personality. I don't know how many decades Nana has been without Johnny, but for over ten years she has telling me that she has put in her time and she just wants to be with Johnny.

From what Nana has told me of Johnny, I believe that I have found the same personality in my husband. Nana and I are both stubborn and strong-willed, so for any man to try to share a life with us is an act of pure bravery.

I have had two rules when it has come to finding a husband: first, I have to find a husband who will love me as much as my grandfather, Larry, does. Secondly, I have to find my Johnny.