I don’t drink.
It’s not for religious reasons; even Jesus drank wine,
It’s because I know myself,
and it’s because there are parts of myself that I really don’t want to know,
It’s because I am socially awkward and quiet and I don’t want a scapegoat for it,
I want to be who I am, change what I can, and own up to my faults without a beer in my hand,
I’ll adjust,
This is the only promise I’ve ever kept to myself, so no matter how much I like you,
When I say no, that was not an invitation for your permission,
You see, I’ve already made my decision,
Because I know I can get depressed, and I don’t need another shadow to turn to, to curl up in,
And if it runs in my blood to look for things to make life blurry,
Then I don’t want it, and I’ll stop before I start,
I am sober, and when you see me make a mistake and my humanity is leaking from my pores, you know I was sober, and I own up to it,
I don’t need another excuse,
to be a wreck is to be alive, and I’ll do this sober,
So when you make an offer and I say, “No thanks, I don’t drink,” that was not a maybe.
This coming year will be my fifth year in college, and in all that time, this is the is the first semester that it’s felt like real college. I’ve never had to work like this. My heart is a bit confused about all of this pressure; it hates school on the upbeat and by the downbeat it’s in love - that awkward moment when you realize your relationship with school is just like a Jane Austen novel… Anyway, If I could only say one thing about this semester (don’t worry, I’ll still say more things), it’s that every semester that follows this one will be so easy in comparison; I feel that after this is over I’ll be able to handle anything. This may be grossly off base, but it’s getting me through this week and will hopefully keep me going through the next four weeks as well. Mr. Wonderful visited me while I was studying today, brought me two bouquets of flowers because he couldn’t decide which to get me, and just gave me both. I think it’s sweet that he appreciates my first world struggle.
The past three days have been consumed with reading and writing. I actually have to say that to my own surprise I’ve found that I love everything about this; the only downside is that I can’t find time to do the little things I was hoping to spend my summer time on. I’ve never had to manage my time so strictly before. Also, it’s made me anti-social.
Seriously, I join discussion in my Ethics in Schools class for the full 2.5 hours because I need to talk to a human face. Granted, I love the conversation, and my professor is crazy in a good way, but it’s sad that I considered class today as my break from studying. I was thinking that the class would be boring at the start, just going over things we should do as teachers, but it’s actually never touched on that at all; so far we’re reading through a book called The Shame of the Nation, which is about inequality in schools, socially, racially, and financially – let me tell you, the discussion in that class is really awesome. Unfortunately, I only got my copy of the book in the mail yesterday and so I’ve been rushing through it because I have to have finished reading it by this Thursday because I have a 4 to 6 page paper to write on it by Tuesday. I have three papers in this class, and four text books that we’re supposed to read all the way through. I’ve been eating it up, but it’s killing my social life. It’s such a weird kind of stress for me…
My other class is the one that is a swirling vortex of children’s literature and death. It’s about teaching reading to children. I love it. I hate it. I love the content, but the work load… wow. In the past three classes I’ve read probably 12 chapters all the way through in four different textbooks, I’ve written three reflection papers, have done three worksheets, and made six ‘word cards’ (three per week), all of which were based on the readings so I wasn’t really in a position where I could fake read, which is how I’ve slid through college the past four years. I had to resubmit one assignment because my handwriting was less than satisfactory for my professor so I had to type it up and print it. We have a mini-lesson and a guided reading lesson to do in the next couple of weeks, we also have to prepare our professional reading notebook and TESOL notebooks for notebook checks, do all of the assignments in the class to the satisfaction of the teacher otherwise we’ll have to redo them because they are required for both notebooks and one assignment will go in the online portfolio. We have a reflection paper due for every class, minimum 2 pages based on the readings, which means that between every Monday and Wednesday I have to do that plus our Text Strategy assignments, plus the three word cards, all while preparing the mini-lesson and guided reading lesson. I’m also supposed to have read 30 children’s books and record them in a book log for my professional reading notebook.
The reading log has actually been pretty fun; I’ve located a few of the books that were my favorites as a kid and have had the chance to read them. I’ve filled in some that I actually haven’t read in a long time, but the point of this is to have a reference for when I one day put together a class library, so I don’t think it matters if not all of the books in the log are new to me. Also, to explain the ‘notebook’ thing; the two notebooks I mentioned earlier are binders filled with information and artifacts from my classes, each are required for graduation. In each notebook I have to keep graded assignments with certain reading or ESOL standards written on them, depending on which notebook it is, and by the end of my college experience I have to have met all of the standards for each. It’s a little stressful. Typically my classes have told me which assignments would meet the ESOL requirements at least, but in this one my teacher gave us a list of the standards for ESOL and REC and apparently we’re left to pick them out on our own, write them on our reflection papers and assignments, and try to meet them; if she decides that we didn’t meet them, then we don’t get signed off; she’s left it as our responsibility to figure out what to write in our reflections on our own, and if it doesn’t meet her criteria, which she so kindly will not ‘spoon feed to us’ as she put it, we will lose points. I’m going to do this though. I don’t know how I know this, but I just do. When I finally get through this class, I’m going to feel so good about it.
As a side note, I just have to say, that when I was sitting in that class on Monday, I began to lose it a bit. After I put what was left of my Poptart into my professional reading binder after our 15 minute break (which I later found and laughed about), the professor resumed class and began to tell us about all of the things we’d have to do in the span of a few weeks. Class seemed to drag, and considering that it starts at 8am, by about 11am I was ready to leave; but she kept talking. The more she spoke, the more the walls seemed to close in. I felt my brain begin to short circuit. Well, maybe not, but for a moment around 11:20am, I considered suddenly standing up in the middle of her lecture and just remaining there until she’d stop speaking and look at me, and then, after a quiet moment, in a burst of passion I’d shout: “Every minute longer you drag out this class A LITTLE PART OF MY SOUL DIES. ” and then I would walk out of the class, leaving behind a room of shocked faces. Of course, I thought better of this and just sat through the last 10 minutes of class. She’s actually a nice lady; she just expects too much of us in six weeks. I wish she’d throw us a little slack with those grades. We’re trying.
Regardless, I’m getting through. I found time to shower today. It was so so so nice. I’m also trying to write a more serious blog post on a topic that’s kind of important but also kind of touchy… soon though. And I want to work on art. And write a novel. And learn a language. And read books for pleasure (which I sometimes do between studying…). But I have school, and moving out, and folding laundry, and bills to worry about.
The grown up life… But hey, there are always flowers: