Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Days like these help me sleep so hard.

I woke up one morning and found an extra glove and a door that opened too easily. What I did not find was my stack of scratched-up, old CDs or my registration.

I called the police. They suggested that I report the issue online. I decided to do this at school as I was already late. Upon my arrival we went into lock-down and I was stuck in the choir room with 100 students and a few other faculty for a disaster drill.

We were evacuated to the fairgrounds. What does that look like, you ask? 600 students crammed into buses and a police escort to a giant cement room that smelled like animal and disinfectant.

It's hard to call insurance companies and file police reports from a barn filled with hundreds of students.

Mr. _____ was watching a door so students couldn't leave and he asked me to grab a water for him when I went through the food line, and yes, we had to eat lunch in the barn during our 4 hour stay. I asked for a second drink, and the lunch women told me I couldn't. When I mentioned it was for Mr. _____, I was told he could get it himself. When I said he was guarding the door, they made a face at me. I then said "My name is Ms. Hering," and showed my ID, "and I would like to grab a drink for Mr. ______." Fantastic how quickly things happen for you when you're not assumed to be a student.

My favorite person at my school has been there for 50 years and is the kindest soul I've ever met. I ask if they needed anything and they looked me in the eye and said "I'm madder than hell." I don't think I've ever heard this person utter an angry word before this day. Ever.

The bright side of all this? I got out of my lease early by claiming that I "don't feel safe," which is a farce. Scary things constantly happen in the hood. I'm aight.

I wanted out of my lease to purchase this:

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Words fall through me.

I just wanted to quickly document the reactions I've experienced since I got my hair did.

  • People occasionally rub the right side of my head. Without permission. What is this, China?
  • One guy looked at me and asked if I liked Britney Spears. When I discussed my students' fund raising project, one of his friends hugged me.
  • An intoxicated individual - whom I've never met before - continuously kissed my head. When I moved to avoid this, he kissed my eye. Ew. Stopit.
  • One of my friends was sitting a room away from me in a coffee shop. He texted me to inform me girls sitting around him were discussing the state of my hair. When I inquired as to what they were saying he texted "One wishes she could do that and say 'yeah, I'm a badass.' " I find this humorous because she can do it. It's not as if I have magic razor or that this is some insurmountable feat.
  • People - magnet coordinators, colleagues, students - STILL stop by my classroom just to look at and comment about my hair.
  • It has been stated that I am not attractive due to my hair.
  • It has been stated that I pull this hair off well.
  • "You're the f___king hottest girl in this f__king place. You have to be so confident to rock a hair style like that. You're so f__king gorgeous" -- to which I responded "Uh..." and walked away.
  • People I don't know kiss my head. Even girls. One person mentioned it 'must feel like kissing down there.'

There are more, but it's time to be responsible and devote energy into PHENOMENAL Geometry lesson plans.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

How do I fix my head?

When I'm honest with myself I'm able to communicate better with others and accomplish things. There's a huge portion of my thoughts that I've neglected. I would say I've 'left out' these thoughts, but they've always been there - just intentionally muted.

I arrived in Tulsa freshly single like fish chum in a tank with starving great whites.

I was heartless towards those who tried to date me because I was just that: heartless.

I buried myself in work to fill the empty spaces.

I made rules about not dating - that I did not follow - until February when I'd have more time. Now that February is fast approaching I'm realizing that I'll feel the same way next month as I've felt since July.

I dated within TFA, within Tulsa, with an open mind. Nothing made it different. It's not like I didn't try. I faked it hard enough to please people, but not in an intimate way.

I had an Irish friend in China do a pointing dance move towards me any time this song came on:

While humorous, I don't want it to become a reality. I told "every girl's ideal" guy I dated a few months ago that I like my coffee how I like my soul, (black). He replied "Starbucks has a heartless, masochistic blend. Maybe you should switch to that."

It's a little sad because he's A. correct and B. handsome/smart/funny/notforme. Sometimes it makes me feel like damaged goods.

Please don't misinterpret this internal ramble.

*I don't feel sorry for myself. I think we walk around as if we have a hole in each hand while we never really know sacrifice.

*If we don't talk about things we forget them faster, but if we bury things they fester. This is me lancing the boil.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

What I'm trying to keep straight.

Tomorrow starts a new semester of graduate classes, Monday - Thursday 6:00 pm to 8:00 pm. The circles under my eyes don't stand a chance. Exhaustion.

One of my cheerleaders brought me a card, a blanket to represent warmth from her family and a $15 Starbucks card. Her mother signed the card with "Your loss, God's gain!" Precious.

I'm not giving my students a semester final exam because I want them to catch up with the other classes and I am required to incorporate broadcasting themed lesson plans to keep our funding for the magnet program. These topics aren't on the End Of Instruction Exams. Frustrating.

I've applied to multiple summer jobs with Teach For America. If I get one I will put grad school on hold for the summer semester, continue to work towards ending educational inequity, and earn some monies. Excited!

Vipe Magazine - a local sports magazine that typically uses photos of OU cheerleaders - took pictures of my squad at an away game, and not the home squad! Proud.

I taught myself how to do a flip turn in the pool! Chicka chicka.

One of my friends knitted this for me for Christmas! Blessed.

Exhaustion. Precious. Frustrating. Excited! Proud. Chicka chicka. Blessed. It's just the tip of the iceberg my friends.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Clif bars and hospital floors.

This is how I spent my New Years Eve. They told me to tell my grandmother goodbye because the pump was the only thing keeping her alive, despite her surgeon's proclamation that he was a "kick-ass surgeon." I forgot that I could cry like that until I saw her.

I told her goodbye and I loved her.

I told her my scarves look like shit and I need her to rip the knots out.

I said the Benediction with her.

Two hours later my grandma became responsive. I read Psalms to her. When she mouthed the word water the RN brought a sponge on a stick. I couldn't help but think of Christ and "I thirst." I told her stories about my students. I told her I'm going to do her hair for her, (my aunt suggested purple, that was quickly rejected with a vigorous head shake). We upgraded to spray bottles. I held her hand. I tried to read a little non-fiction, but she wanted a romance novel! I sprayed water into her mouth when she mouthed the word "thirsty." I watched her mouth the words "I love you, too" around her breathing tube to people as they came in and said goodnight. I told her "I'm sorry, but we can't yet" when she mouthed the word "drink." I saw the hole in her chest the size of two fists. We watched the ball drop in New York. I played with her hair. I sprayed water into her mouth when she mouthed the word "thirsty." I kissed my grandma. The RNs "strongly recommended" I leave the room.

It's funny how my mom needs a cigarette when she can't breath.

I felt like I was left to suffer hope.

"The only infallible truth of our lives is that everything we love in life will be taken from us."

We all got to hold her while they turned the pumps off. We told my grandma she looked pretty. We lied. She looked beyond beautiful. My grandpa told her he was taking her dancing when she got better, that she was his baby, that he loved her more than anything. We said the Lord's Prayer and I said the Benediction one last time.

I didn't cry until her heart stopped and we left the room. I erupted. It was volcanic - violent and hot. I made people uncomfortable.

Happy New Year