I'm not a role model... wait, yes I am.

Does anyone else remember this commercial? No? Ok, moving on. 

This post is about as revealing as a person gets, so sit down, strap in, hold on, and shut up.

No, please don't shut up.

Three years ago, a former student messaged me on Facebook. She wanted to tell me I am a failure.

She intended for me to be a role model. I was a female teacher who was willing to question the establishment in public.

She was used to being treated as a higher being. She was smart and a lot like Reese Witherspoon's character in the movie Election. If you haven't seen it, you should. It's good.

She came from what was perceived as a good family. Her dad was an attorney. She planned to go to law school.

I was pregnant the semester she was in my class. I had a fairly high risk pregnancy which ended with me on bed rest for 10 weeks and a lot of drama. I don't know why this is relevant, but it's part of the story. I was under a lot of stress. It was also only my third year teaching, so I was still kind of a fuckup.

This student was in my last class of the day. I seem to remember that it was a smallish class, but it was full of personality. That's what teachers say when you have kids who are pretty wild. In this class a lot of the kids didn't like each other and were assholes about it.

This student was in the class with her boyfriend. He was a classic brilliant underachiever. Teachers typically hated him. I didn't, I found him entertaining.

One time, we had a lockdown drill. This meant that we acted like there was a threat of some sort in the building. This was an unannounced drill which also meant that we weren't sure if it was a drill or the real thing. Teachers locked their doors, covered the windows, turned off the lights, students were pushed into a corner and we were all supposed to act like there was no one in the room. This particular student started freaking out. Her boyfriend was hugging her and telling her it would be all right. Two other students in the class apparently gave her shit for freaking out. I don't know, honestly, I was busy trying not to freak out myself and I was really worried that they weren't being quiet. Anyway, she loudly called him an asshole.

I wrote her up for it. Standard disciplinary procedure. In her message, I should not have done that because they were "two of the biggest shitheads in class."

Huh. I didn't realize that justice was for the mostly good. I thought it was for everyone.

There was a student in her class who might have been new to the school. I honestly don't remember. I do remember that she did not dress like the other students. She didn't look like them. She didn't act like them. And some of them gave her crap for it. This student in particular, gave her a lot of crap for it. In her message, she asked me if I remembered accusing her of bullying a student without asking how she felt about it.

I didn't accuse anyone of anything. Which is my failing. The student and her mom accused two of the students and I supported her version of events. I should have done the accusing. I watched it happen. They taunted her daily. The student went on homebound instruction for the rest of the year because she felt like she couldn't deal with school. I feel really shitty that I didn't do anything first. So no, I don't give a fuck what she felt about it.

During this student's senior year, I took a group of students to Washington, D.C., for Obama's first inauguration. It took an insane amount of planning to get that trip together. I was told by the administration that I could only take students who were currently in my government course at the time. Since I had to take a minimum number and the trip was expensive,  they allowed me to open the trip to honors or AP students with their approval.

She asked to go on the trip. Despite what I saw as a personality conflict with her, I asked the administration anyway. I wanted to say no outright, but I went ahead and asked.

They said no. She was being criminally investigated at the time. While I know the details of the situation, I'm pretty sure she was a minor and so I'm not going to say anything incriminating. Let's just say that it was extreme bullying. It was pretty horrible, honestly.

One day, just as the bell rang, this student tried to stop me on the way out of my classroom.

I have a small bladder. I can barely make it 90 minutes of class, and there were times where I had to call over another teacher to keep an eye on my class so I could run to the bathroom.

Anyway, she tried to stop me. I had to pee. BAD.

She says I slammed the door to my classroom in her face when she wanted to know why I couldn't take her on the DC trip. Really, it was the door to the bathroom. She could have waited for me to finish. But she didn't. I don't know that things would have turned out differently for her. She wasn't allowed to go. I didn't make that decision.

I was reminded of all this today.

A friend of mine posted this amazing article on Facebook: http://thehairpin.com/2014/10/let-me-love-you/

A quote from the article:

Here’s an insanely revolutionary act: why not counter each ill thought that comes through your head with an acceptance—the acceptance that you’re not always going to agree with everything every woman does. Or an acceptance that some women will be tricky and some will be actual bitches, some of them will read Lean In and be the next Sheryl Sandberg, some women will call Beyoncé an anti-feminist, some will be walking contradictions, or some women will say that I’m a fake behind my back, or that I’m a liar, and that I don’t write well, or whatever—and just to accept that people are just people, women are just women, instead of reacting poorly and slamming them in whatever juvenile way that you see fit.


I realized that I have been accepting but not liking certain women for years. When I was being a butt head when I was a kid, my mom would say, "I love you, but I don't like your actions."

I have accepted my students, flaws and all, and there is more than one that I have not loved. But love or not, I have been fair.

I have always been fair, no matter what their age, gender, sexual orientation, socio economic background. I will not give you a free pass to misbehave because you are smart or white or rich.

And so while this student carries this viewpoint of oppression with her, I am proud. I am damn proud of what I've done and what I continue to do. I am a role model. I try to choose to do the right thing. Sometimes I fail. I'm totally human. But I believe in fairness.

I hope this student finds peace and acceptance. Believing you are oppressed when there is no reason to do so is a horrible cross to bear.

A Good Enough Mommy

I gave up today.

I am not a typical Pinterest mommy. I didn't cloth diaper. I didn't take pictures of my kids on the first day of the month. I didn't make my own baby food.

Pinterest didn't even exist until my youngest was 3, so I guess I have an excuse.

I typically use Pinterest

 to pin things that I will never wear.

To pin things that make me laugh- this one is the most repinned of anything 501 times as of this writing.

To pin tattoos that I want

and of course to pin things I want to do for the kids

If one spends too much time on Pinterest, one can feel inadequate in about 100 different ways. I don't make dessert every day. I don't have enough money/time/energy to label everything in my house with wee tiny chalkboards. I don't work out enough. When I do, I don't wear cute enough clothes that I made myself by upcycling t-shirts.

This definitely goes for moms. I don't pack my kids lunches. I don't make them into adorable shapes. My kids won't touch kale. My kids don't  have bedroom signs with adorable saying on them.

We did do bubble art http://www.pinterest.com/pin/210261876323028128/

Once, we made bubble art. I totally micromanaged it. It still hangs in the boys bathroom and looks super cute, but I was a huge pain in the ass when we did it. I didn't want it to have too many bubbles, I didn't want the boys to be covered in food coloring.

Since before my boys were even born, I have liked scrapbooking. I totally get that it's mommy homemaker, but I like office supplies, pictures, and stickers, and scrapbooking combines all those things into awesome fun times for me.

As the boys got older, I discovered digital scrapbooking, which I actually enjoy even more.

HOWEVER, it's so much work. Editing the pics. Laying out the book. Organizing them by event. Putting cute titles on the pages.  And so on... that now I'm behind about 3 years. By the time I get to even editing the pictures, I won't remember why I took the picture of Agent X with the sassy look on his face or Agent N up to his elbows in mud.

And so I've decided not to continue. I'm going to put pictures in books. I'm sure I'll edit some. But I'm done with the titles and the stickers and the ribbons and the papers. Pictures in books because they tell a story of the things we've done and they remind of of the fun we've had. The boys like to hear stories of what we did together when they were too young to remember. And that's what's important.

Thoughts on Gay Marriage

When the Windsor case decision was handed down from the Supreme Court back in June, 2013, I kept hitting refresh on my internet browser like a monkey on crack. I was at a conference in Richmond and when it was clear that DOMA had been overturned, I interrupted the speaker and announced it to the room. Most people were happy and those that weren't had the good grace to shut up about it.

Today, when the same SCOTUS declined to hear cases that overturned same-sex marriage bans, therefore making them legal, I was happy about it, but also had the overwhelming sense of well, it's about time.

Marriage is a government institution. Society benefits from it.

And now, a famous quote from Liz Feldman:

Personally, I am very excited about “gay marriage”, or as I like to call it, “marriage”.  Because I had lunch this afternoon, I didn’t have “gay lunch”.  And I parked my car, I didn’t “gay park” it.  Although, I totally parked like a fucking fag!  

source: http://www.funnyordie.com/articles/d18ead07bf/one-day-more

I'm not gonna lie...

Why Teachers Lie About Their Classrooms - at The Atlantic

I don't lie about my teaching. I'm just never going to tell you the whole truth.

Yes, there's a kid who is falling asleep/cheating/texting while another kid has an epiphany. And tomorrow, the roles could be reversed. I literally don't care about the kid not paying attention.

When I was in the classroom, and now when I have group or individual sessions, or when I'm recording a lecture, I give 100% of myself to my students. I give that 100% to the students who give me 100% back. On any given day, that student could be a different person.

I don't hold it against them. If you and your mom got in a fight before school and she took your phone, you're probably distracted and not paying attention. It's nothing personal.

In my last 2 years in the classroom, the phrase "I'm not gonna lie..." was extremely popular. It would often precede a statement not worth lying about. "I'm not gonna lie, this was the best chicken biscuit ever. "

Sometimes, it preceded a hard truth. "I'm not gonna lie, class was really boring today, L-Mar."

I appreciated their honesty mainly because it gave me an opportunity to respond. Usually, it was, "You're right, the Puritans suck and I can't wait to be done with them." This was followed by laughter on both sides- they're not used to teachers admitting that something they teach is pretty awful (sorry, dear reader, if you like the Puritans).  And secondly, they saw me as a human. Which will lead to more "I'm not gonna lie... " statements in the future, which will lead to a better teacher-student relationship, which will lead to more learning.

Other times, it gave me the opportunity to notice that while the rest of the class was heatedly discussing the evils of Commie-chasing, this student was completely checked out and bored.

"Why were you bored?" "It was dumb."

"What's going on in your other classes?" "Ugh, everything is so lame right now. I think all of you teachers decided not to do anything interesting this week."

" How are things between you and your brother/mom/dad?" "My dad moved out yesterday."
(me, silently... AND THERE WE HAVE IT.)

also applies to teaching.

When I talk to my colleagues at lunch that day, do I share how the Puritans suck? Nope. I'm going to tell them about how my 2nd block was SUPER ENGAGED and everyone was making AWESOME CONNECTIONS between the Red Scares of the 1920s and 1950s.

I'm not gonna lie, but after you've been teaching a while, you get selective memory. You remember the awesome stuff and there seems to be more of it every day. You remember the really horrible stuff. But you don't remember the stuff in between.