tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35503912845225951182023-11-16T02:48:50.732-08:00I would give anything but up.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-16615304804863392402011-05-30T18:19:00.000-07:002011-06-08T11:03:48.059-07:00When Preparation Meets Opportunity<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Networking. This is how I spent my nearly last day of May. I was required to meet with the magnet director for my school district. During the meeting, I discussed facilitating a Diversity Competencies Awareness session for 20 + TFA teachers, (as this is aligned with the magnet goals.) One of the lead directors sug</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">gested that I contact those coordinating DCA competencies for a</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ll of the district where I work. I am now helping develop employee resource g</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">roups!</span></span></div> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "></p><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuYkyvoVZu1CLssJZrVcwAujXb6pVj3LUJCQa2qf-5m0PD3jB1FgRTjb1ZTL50tIWqPt1YP0HKJaDMnZiRcG2yIraHUuD5eXviz4wwxNbDcTbGNR9b91MbcoDRnEYb4uasXP9mGsz0bsl/s320/networking.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615910935916520626" /></div><p></p><p></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I went to QuickTrip to get coffee, (I sleep 6 or less hours a night - I’m trying to hold it together here people, do not judge my 24 oz of coffee consumption).</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In line to pay for the coffee I hear “Ms. Hering?”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">One of my former students was behind me in a firefighter’s uniform! He is now working with me so that </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">we are able to have a fire truck at our next pep rally and helping a current student of mine who is interested in becoming a firefighter... Let’s get fired up!!</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQZJze1tk4C5geVancEeGcbqlb3ufBK5_pi7IS5mWCIAQRpyxnF5m7-4wf8fiMTji7C3LiNfZ3i6dlzpDa_mX28puBbfdVvrj9s4xnezWPT3YVKN_VSfb1geXAkQYTLA8pG3rFUAdH2UxM/s320/firetruck.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615910583667230866" /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I have made it to the in-pe</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">rson interviews with</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> a </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">charter school. If I am offered the position, I will be helping to start a new charter school in my city next year working 10 hour</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">s a month and receiving a stipend.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC9A02V_ciQfqQHEroIkPTUlryJKSzLzXv0bBdQVv8Bb7n2Ie-9p8sNzeWOn6O7P7DXuNDe7DUStw0LszgeJMaovebIjRpAegzvPTZqulI0YnG7hg7sIxjcGX90KyUwZtRE0nNuQaiNhBG/s320/charterschoolsrock.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615910440973155442" /></p><p></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In the evening I checked my e-mail to fin</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">d that I was recommended for an internship position for the summer that would help me develop as a professional and pay more than what I make as a teacher’s salary. I would also be in one of the following four locations:</span></p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH1yfJRCuJNQEgzUoFeJCXNiQtOek6cVD0UrTp0pBk6yAfcnNdrMD9WQ-M0yEReXdFCNbDUcZNwwlldwpa9YK34iKOMXar3gXMg1kULkgfC9bmYjyGk_Dq4fKBtywqFPgZpW2mrWawWTH4/s320/san+fran.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615910291275367586" /><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 278px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9twdhrWK71mB5dSFdMgwNgsIV9h8Lly4pg1zqLo-9BBlsZxaqwd32dKKJBg-wvucy7t6QrEwv1AEWEl-CBwjApz1gq31JoDnRZb1VGTD-KGdrZPULwzHBFTnCpFZBA5NI_C4Lx1XnHol6/s320/boston.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615909684266389634" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3cR8toUF1Ae_qyK8nvhTsCyUFy2xPkN_RWrAf3DtM4t-4vqRv6s3MNK5pc0Rm4Rhot7b1bRtvOe1KnTClED9SxYa7hoHC8Xp-MIFjCUDODFEcrk-BOcvb6VtIOvUROr7Xyujx07ihkcP/s320/chicago.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615909491995520210" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj68MUZhztKelqvHD9AbOCnN9G5wt38DeqNXkINYsi86xuTvibMzZYPnLOiIpPJxpgT50fLMfhQd92ewEaXVqBlnOPZ75cAg_yRee4rkYftOK1zFqdNHny6rn3sKvbjVa9Wh6LoTjw3iT-s/s320/new+york.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615909285755446642" /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My 6:15 meeting was cancelled, I bought a tent for Backwoods Bash this weekend, and I ate some Takis. Great day.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"> </p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 209px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinVmy4O5c0U1I66MH1EdWjO5y4SsmfllsLPCtnMGkasbDNvu6P8277HDKcc0enPzX72y1riO7QHntT_Xh8Z6lbJcFJFEWdqLFvlXl8al3OgQjRLcxJCtn34fMpOj8yfCw6DO2QNUmo7bfD/s320/takis.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615908953438026146" /><p></p>TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-69519442833256723962011-05-25T10:12:00.000-07:002011-05-31T07:30:21.563-07:00Boo<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My students are very invested </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">in my personal life, (and as it turns out, incredibly intuitive).</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br />The student who asked what would happen if he showed up to my house with a bottle of wine asked if I'd come watch him play in his game. YES! Not even a question until I found out his motive. He wanted me to meet his coach. The student was actually trying to sell him to me... "He's really good with kids, he works at the shelter, he has braids. Do you mind braids?"</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br />I refused to come to a game until I had the student's word that he would NOT try to introduce me. Arriving at my first game, I immediately regretted that decision. His coach was not only incredibly attractive, but he had such a calm and sweet demeanor. I didn't talk to him at the first game. I spent most of the game talking to another male teacher, (a friend), who I later found out the coach jokingly mistook for my boyfriend.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br />The second game I attended with a female teacher. I was waiting to say hi to my student when I noticed the coach leaving. I was a little sad and started walking out. The coach was walking kind of slowly and as I approached a narrow walkway he stopped to let me go through first. He noticed me. Game on. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">"You're the coach, right?" </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">"Yes." </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">"I'm Tera. I'm ____'s math teacher." *shakes hands, typical introduction conversation* </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">"I just wanted to tell you what a positive impact you have on these students. _____ always talks very highly of you and you can see that he really looks up to you."</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">"Thanks, that means a lot." </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">"I know this sounds facetious, but could I get your e-mail? _____ doesn't have a lot of parent involvement and if I could maybe e-mail you when he isn't behaving I think that would be helpful because he really does respect you." </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">(While this was a very honest conversation, I didn't realize I had that much fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants game.)</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Boom. He asked for my e-mail as well, but I just said I would e-mail him. Which I did immediately. When his e-mail read that "these things were better to discuss in person," all I read was </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">DATE</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> in big bold letters.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He is such a kind and considerate soul with ambition that matches his arms and abs. I'm incredibly picky. This happened a month ago and I'm still not tired of seeing him every day.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFCC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My students give me so many great stories that it's hardly comprehensible.</span></span></span></div>TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-73593887003568341022011-05-06T10:30:00.000-07:002011-05-06T10:39:06.440-07:00switcherooI will only see my students 16 more days until they are off for summer break. I can't imagine what it would be like knowing I wouldn't be working with students next year. I've decided an MBA is not my career path.<div><br /></div><div>I am enrolling at OU in the Masters in Education program to become an administrator and changing my professional trajectory. I am going to Orlando, Florida this Sunday for a teaching conference for literacy. I am taking the Praxis to teach secondary English and Calculus. </div><div><br /></div><div>I want to impact as many students as possible and I would give anything to do so.</div>TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-52744089051831730422011-04-14T20:00:00.000-07:002011-04-14T20:51:16.680-07:00It's a lightening bolt of hearts.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I want to talk about Ty, a student who was defiant from the moment he walked into my classroom. He came to class high. I made him focus. He tried to talk the entire class period. I made him move. He yelled at me. I kept him after class. I set up a meeting with his father. His father never showed. These interactions, seemingly meaningless, demonstrated my desire for Ty to be successful and he began to rise to my high expectations. Ty came to class on time and wasn't even high most days. He actually let me see how smart he was and really caught on to inequalities. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(Example of Inequality Ty can solve: -3x + 8 < 17)</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The only inequality he's going to see now will be from inside his jail cell... for at least 4 years longer than the white kid. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(Example of Inequality Ty won't have to solve to understand: 10 > 6)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They were both caught stealing while possessing drugs. My second hour informed me that it's just different if you're black. I felt as helpless as when a kid asked me if I could braid his fro. My skills are severely lacking in many capacities. Luckily, one of those lacking skills is crying in public.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have such a fleeting amount of time with my students. Today I was organizing archived folders of class work. I threw away 15 students' folders because I know I'll never see the people they belong to again due to expulsion, drop outs, or jail sentencing. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Watching this Oklahoma storm makes me realize what a brief flash </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> will be in most of these students lives. The most pressing issue on my mind is the approach I can take to really change trajectories for my students and help them find their path to the life they deserve.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I want to make my flash last longer.</span></div></div>TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-761226518232077992011-04-02T19:01:00.000-07:002011-04-20T09:58:53.060-07:00I smashed my glass slipper to build a stained glass window.I don't get a fairy tale, but I get a beautiful pane with which to view the world.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Flashbacks to Freshman Year</span><br /><br />I had lunch today with my, (get ready for a removed sequence), roommate's sister's three-year-old son. He was so legit! He loves spider man, eats fruit, and can tell you the exact life cycle of frogs and caterpillars and which animals are herbivores and carnivores - he also knows he's an omnivore.<br /><br />Me: "Give me a high-five. Isaac, you're SO awesome."<br />Isaac: "You're so a... cute. And awesome."<br />Me: "Well, aren't you precious."<br />Issac: "And you're tease."<br />Me: "A tease?!"<br />Internal Conversation: Dear Lord, did this child just call me a tease? Where did he learn that? Man... that's not the first time I've heard that...<br />Isaac: "Yes. Tease. And your eyes."<br />Internal Conversation: Whew. He was trying to point out features of my face, not accuse me of turning him on and not fulfilling my 'womanly duty.'<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I Promise I Don't Shower.</span><br /><br />I wrote the curriculum for our advisory class last week. Generally there is a counselor who does the lesson plans; however, I offered to help her. The lesson was on resumes and I've had some experience entering resume and interview competitions back in the day. I supplied the counselor with a two-page lesson plan, PowerPoint, and a copy of my resume (with my address, phone number, and e-mail blacked out), to use as resources for planning the lesson. She handed out all materials - including a copy of my resume for every student in the school - to all of the teachers. I gave her the items hoping for an edit, but I think she thought the material sufficient.<br /><br />My colleague, (who I had taken to the hospital last semester), had an advisory class that was actually holding my resume up to the light to see if they could see through the blacked out parts to get my number. What the?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Malfunctions: Round 3.</span><br /><br />I had blood work, x-rays, and an ultrasound taken last week. 2 years ago it was kidney failure and an intestinal infection. Last year it was Pancreatitits. This year they thought it was Gallbladder disease, which was infuriating as the disease is usually a result of poor diet. I can't eat without it hurting. After the ultrasound of my gallbladder showed no signs of malfunction, the doctor took more blood. Currently I can't eat gluten or dairy. I'm just going to be vegan with the exception of honey... I'm still not sure how I feel about agave nectar.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-10475293096598168832011-03-19T21:57:00.000-07:002011-04-14T20:47:58.378-07:00On the wall.Talking with my friend tonight was like looking in the mirror. Our childhoods were incredibly similar. Our family member's actions mirrored each other: physically abusive fathers, depressed suicidal mothers, dependent siblings, (yes I realize how incredibly trite these sound and no, please don't allow them to evoke pity<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 102);">*</span>). Our lack of shame for our past, our blatant approach to communications, and our ever-positive perspectives on the impacts our pasts have made. All mirrors. And not the contorted fun-house kind either.<br /><br />My friend mentioned that his sister wasn't around and constantly receives credit for being the strength in his family. He feels hurt by this as he knows he was the one who was there to take care of his mother. I'm afraid that this is how my own brother feels as I moved away... twice, and am constantly referred to as the 'strong' one. I - and literally no one else - was asked to finish my grandma's eulogy in the event that my aunt could not, (it was her mother's ashes in the box two feet from her, anyone would have shaken too badly to speak). My aunt's husband hugged and thanked me for being his wife's strength. <span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">Where does this 'strength' come from?</span><br /><br />I saw my grandpa for the first time today since my grandma passed away. It felt like I was wearing a heavy led jacket that was crushing my rib cage. There was no one there to crochet with, or brush half of my hair, or laugh hysterically at Elf with me. My grandpa cried as soon as he hugged me and cried when I left. I drove 7 hours in one day because he was lonely and I love him and want him to be happy. But he was sad. I didn't cry in front of him.<br /><br />Oh Tera, why oh why would you ramble on about these things? I am petrified that I have a<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">disconnect</span> with things to p<span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">rotect myself. This is frightening for two reasons. </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">One</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">: you can't protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness. </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Two</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">: I want to live in the present and experience things as they are. Huh? Today I took a deep breath and said "focus on the present" to myself. The moment I did that I burst into tears. I spend a good portion of my time in hyper awareness. Yes, I teach Special Education. Yes, I now analyze myself. Hyper awareness means I move through life pu</span>shing onward not really experiencing the things around me. On occasion.<br /><br /><br />Mirror mirror...<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">*</span>I ask for no pity because I have none unless I feel that someone has really, truly struggled. <span style="font-style: italic;">Many people walk around like they have holes in both of their hands while they never really know sacrifice.</span></span>TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-17321243790180472682011-03-12T06:16:00.001-08:002011-03-14T17:34:20.553-07:00LaJenn and I were cutting through HIT's main campus, (in the heart of Harbin), to get to our favorite French cafe - inexplicably the best espresso and crepes in all of China. We just had hour-long massages at a place that cost roughly three U.S. dollars and we were lazily seeking sustenance from receiving the beating that is a good Chinese massage.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifUlroFg3TP9-0-ET0FrLcl9j__H0lavR53jGSYISw3sPPG93W-0L7cOzo46Q_WzUMuYIo2DovIko2TjahncZ2EJiCRJXackZPHRGKST4BlbkDe_gIofLDi-aDhsm7MsWxl9rufgFDjAKO/s1600/teraandjen.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifUlroFg3TP9-0-ET0FrLcl9j__H0lavR53jGSYISw3sPPG93W-0L7cOzo46Q_WzUMuYIo2DovIko2TjahncZ2EJiCRJXackZPHRGKST4BlbkDe_gIofLDi-aDhsm7MsWxl9rufgFDjAKO/s320/teraandjen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583213137543264898" border="0" /></a>(this is my little La, Jenn)<br /><br /></div>In Harbin Spring-fashion, the heavens opened up and dumped an entire lake's worth of water on our heads in less than 30 seconds - which was exactly how long it took us to realize that running was futile. There's no need to run when you're wearing a jacket and your bra is already soaked through. I stopped at a little store on campus, (where many students were huddled under the awning), and bought a plastic bag in which to wrap my computer. Jenn and I put our things with the students and began kicking the water from the quickly flooded streets onto each other.<br /><br />Brazilian Jujitsu. Jenn and I had joined a bjj class during the winter months to avoid being cooped up as Harbin's weather plummeted to a brisk -30. I'd specify if it was Celsius or Fahrenheit but honestly, around that point, the numbers actually start to equal each other.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjwqlq5PAvXMN-2MSYZdwp_rLrSkZyavtLiC03mDGyWc3B_g7PBkpQsDuAMQaOWAylHhuSxYmNd3nzRTobWRJ5MA4xygBex8IlriERcxeV9PqYJCYhYrgfWEGnwYOOX0ME6cy6fHtt5F7/s1600/throughtheice.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjwqlq5PAvXMN-2MSYZdwp_rLrSkZyavtLiC03mDGyWc3B_g7PBkpQsDuAMQaOWAylHhuSxYmNd3nzRTobWRJ5MA4xygBex8IlriERcxeV9PqYJCYhYrgfWEGnwYOOX0ME6cy6fHtt5F7/s320/throughtheice.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583213472119125922" border="0" /></a>(through the ice)<br /></div><br />Knowing this side fact, it's easy to imagine that kicking water at each other could quickly turn into a full-on throw down. Which is good. Because that's what happened.<br /><br />Jenn and I literally wrestled in a flooded street. When I say flooded I mean at least 7" of water in any given point of where we were picking each other up, tripping each other, and dunking each other. All the while the spectators under the awning looked on with perplexed expressions. I'm sure they were thinking "crazy foreigners..."<br /><br />3 years ago we fought in a street in China, grabbed our things got some Boba tea and hopped in separate taxis.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQX_FCs_27ICAeybutueZBaVjofqz8CcgqcSm50wXFugDjqQP8wIT42nVqDU4wg_NRBjRLodiXyEDaJOn2WS08YGEHjACyP1QBpuBa5aQ6ATPgW7ShgF53wEEW4RByuzmmQWgMvyWvbmdx/s1600/lastdaywithla.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQX_FCs_27ICAeybutueZBaVjofqz8CcgqcSm50wXFugDjqQP8wIT42nVqDU4wg_NRBjRLodiXyEDaJOn2WS08YGEHjACyP1QBpuBa5aQ6ATPgW7ShgF53wEEW4RByuzmmQWgMvyWvbmdx/s320/lastdaywithla.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583213839275162146" border="0" /></a>(the day you left)<br /><br /></div>Today I will be picking Jenn up from the Tulsa airport. Life is such a blessing and words can not fully express my euphoric feeling.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ALnhEhPry1dlptwAN3BxaH63gpA1Yo0xvuU5YY4xFbUmweedsLeZh6MASBpuUkU7FYmJVR6AXfTlVaeZep16Wjx6DEzqurf8GcEBJflgyhgBCC-we1lx0FmguRWSPa7IbRz9avtSv1DV/s1600/1.25years.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ALnhEhPry1dlptwAN3BxaH63gpA1Yo0xvuU5YY4xFbUmweedsLeZh6MASBpuUkU7FYmJVR6AXfTlVaeZep16Wjx6DEzqurf8GcEBJflgyhgBCC-we1lx0FmguRWSPa7IbRz9avtSv1DV/s320/1.25years.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583214113043262914" border="0" /></a>(The last time I saw Jenn... 1.25 years ago)<br /></div>TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-8790756353204033162011-03-07T04:46:00.000-08:002011-03-08T13:41:23.874-08:001 and 2 and 3 and 4 and7. 35. 100.<br /><br />7 of these:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs2Bspu3OFHzQgrJqsX7U9RR8454WLdpyqV7tzU4b3glHy-5BsZl_bHfpmhvusKfj3DaAVv_5Q8q-CwUyW6yAfJMmhP_9QbQvcksVUbmphPi0F_ESU9XKfFQARqaG1Aa7kMNrqxVu7bgAz/s1600/ball.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs2Bspu3OFHzQgrJqsX7U9RR8454WLdpyqV7tzU4b3glHy-5BsZl_bHfpmhvusKfj3DaAVv_5Q8q-CwUyW6yAfJMmhP_9QbQvcksVUbmphPi0F_ESU9XKfFQARqaG1Aa7kMNrqxVu7bgAz/s320/ball.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581321460758696738" border="0" /></a><br />$35 a piece.<br /><br />100% class participation.<br /><br />My 5th hour class typically looked like this:<br />A student with Asperger's stabs a student with Cerebral Palsy with a pencil and he screams "MUTANY!" They argue over who's going to shake whose hand first while I try not to look perplexed as to why they are even shaking hands to begin with.<br />A girl with emotional disturbances yells "shut the f* up" and throws her calculator because the child with Cerebral Palsy is ticking.<br />One student talks loudly out of turn because the girl with emotional disturbances is trying to borrow his paper.<br />Two other girls bicker over who can get the kid that keeps on talking to the other girl pay attention to them.<br />I bring everyone back to attention, we start taking notes, the students finish writing at different times, problems restart.<br /><br />Thursday I gave everyone in my class an exercise ball with EXPLICIT instructions: no, you may not lay on the ball; yes, you can bounce, but if I hear you the ball goes up; no, you can not recline on the ball; if you fall off the ball, you lose the ball privileges for the week; if you are talking, you put the ball up; if you are late, you don't get to sit on a ball.<br /><br />When students finished taking notes on a slide early they merely rocked back and forth on the ball and clapped their hands to Freelance Whales I had playing in the background. My student with Asperger's whispered "That was a great transition, Ms. Hering." He was absolutely correct. No one got stabbed with a pencil. No one threw a calculator against a wall. Everyone was on task or waiting patiently for others to finish. My child with Cerebral Palsy had time to get all the notes that day before we 'had to move on.'<br /><br />This makes me teary-eyed when I think about it. I love my job and finding solutions that create a positive impact on my students' learning environment.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-42371623871507401382011-03-03T07:30:00.001-08:002011-03-03T09:52:18.494-08:00I like to make things as awkward as possible.Sunday I still had the mustard-yellow paint on my hands, hadn't showered, and spent the morning cleaning my old house. Internet still hasn't been hooked-up in my new house yet, so I ran to my favorite coffee shop to e-mail my program director.<br /><br />The guy behind the counter, who is always really nice, said "you're late for your typically Sunday meeting."<br /><br />"Yeah... I just bought a house and had some things to take care of." He looked at me with a perplexed expression and asked how old I was, which was immediately followed by him asking my name and telling me two times that it was nice to meet me.<br /><br />He gave me my coffee, I sat down and wrote a note that read:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Do you want to be friends?<br /><br /> Circle One<br /> Yes No Maybe<br /><br /> If you circled yes<br /> (arrow to flip over fold in page)<br /> *my phone number*<br /></div><br />Anyone who is going to hit on me when I look like that deserves the digits.<br /><br />I am an old woman and I go to bed around 9:30 sometimes, last night was no different. I was awoken by a number I didn't recognize around 10:45.<br /><br />"Hello?"<br />"So... I circled yes."<br /><br />:]TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-13879473333836058842011-02-10T18:46:00.000-08:002011-02-15T10:09:24.879-08:00Snowpocalypse SwaggerI haven't seen my students in almost 2 weeks. I anticipated, (incorrectly), having to give up my spring break plans due to the inclement weather disrupting copious amounts of time to prepare for our EOIs. For those who don't know, if my students don't pass, they don't graduate. If enough of our students don't pass, our school doesn't make AYP.<br /><p class="MsoNormal">Tuesday night brought yet another looming snowstorm, keeping me from my students yet another week and increasing the pressure I was already feeling.<span style=""> </span>Last week I didn’t see a human being for 3 straight days. Ask everyone in my phone, as I’m sure I texted them this.<span style=""> </span>I was not about to stay in Tulsa for snowpocalypse: round 2.<span style=""> </span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">I asked a friend to accompany me to Mexico during my accounting class Tuesday night.<br /><br />My friend luckily took me seriously and we left within 30 minutes of my class disbursing. We drove nearly 15 straight hours until we saw the ocean in South Padre Island.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4HQRDlTSyO14fyEnGjplPz4bvi8jh__gr0aDAt5ARVdhlgVJP7QJT5-Zvxki4jCBBa1xF4PjFE9d-RLmMlHkPVtl88nVOR-UViUQ8vR8kEYJmrgbXs9_TE82Y9TFoL1OpkhwddilM88ti/s1600/suckitsnowpocolypse.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4HQRDlTSyO14fyEnGjplPz4bvi8jh__gr0aDAt5ARVdhlgVJP7QJT5-Zvxki4jCBBa1xF4PjFE9d-RLmMlHkPVtl88nVOR-UViUQ8vR8kEYJmrgbXs9_TE82Y9TFoL1OpkhwddilM88ti/s320/suckitsnowpocolypse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573321055547662962" border="0" /></a>I immediately scribbled "suck it, snowpocalypse" in the sand as I felt an instant victory over the plague of snow I had endured the past week and a half.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The following day we accidentally drove into Mexico. Schwoops! It was surprisingly easy to enter another country without the proper paperwork. We drove around for a few minutes before our return, despite the fact that we added an 'R' in Matamoros to accurately represent how Americans were received in the city according to the homeland security website. Matar means 'to kill' in Spanish.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">We were searched on our return to the U.S. I wish I could have got a picture of this for you.<span style=""> </span>After asking our profession, I’m sure the border inspectors made assumptions as to why America’s education system is currently struggling.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The third day we explored Spanish Missions, the Alamo and the river walk in San Antonio. Flip flops, ice cream, sitting the in the sun, and loving life ensued.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86bODKhzaA76pqQga9pgGtnmdwT0Hq1sWO6A_5vFvNDI9jud9nBF4xnmN9_8a4_OuY4wjsTKkixBmS0aq42DvqfYvPTWnAEnGmPmS_btaFB_QIlGLAw3C9Apx-Uswtd86oKwd930ZQU59/s1600/Snowpocalypse+Schwagger+073.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86bODKhzaA76pqQga9pgGtnmdwT0Hq1sWO6A_5vFvNDI9jud9nBF4xnmN9_8a4_OuY4wjsTKkixBmS0aq42DvqfYvPTWnAEnGmPmS_btaFB_QIlGLAw3C9Apx-Uswtd86oKwd930ZQU59/s320/Snowpocalypse+Schwagger+073.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573322695926244290" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I appreciate people who indulge in spontaneity and subject themselves to the depression one feels after returning from such a glorious reprieve.<br /></p>TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-4935413009509535362011-01-25T12:38:00.000-08:002011-02-10T19:11:36.892-08:00Days 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />It's hard to call insurance companies and file police reports from a barn filled with hundreds of students.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />I wanted out of my lease to purchase this:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6zqcV9O7X-HXtAUkEg4Dc4gtWme_x-NKTZHTGSPhUEb1KaHCpcClG33VbJF_VJ4oWFsKK2myAXwsyEWg4RBOq-j6Sx5TIcUpIFrxIt1ezbVcB_pExxicBLSsT1fj_stYVs4JYgomaJ7ET/s1600/house.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6zqcV9O7X-HXtAUkEg4Dc4gtWme_x-NKTZHTGSPhUEb1KaHCpcClG33VbJF_VJ4oWFsKK2myAXwsyEWg4RBOq-j6Sx5TIcUpIFrxIt1ezbVcB_pExxicBLSsT1fj_stYVs4JYgomaJ7ET/s320/house.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569554714769176146" border="0" /></a>TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-11404222832303934912011-01-23T18:12:00.000-08:002011-03-14T17:39:24.695-07:00Words fall through me.I just wanted to quickly document the reactions I've experienced since I got my hair did.<br /><br /><ul><li>People occasionally rub the right side of my head. Without permission. What is this, China?</li><li>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. </li><li>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.</li><li>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.</li><li>People - magnet coordinators, colleagues, students - STILL stop by my classroom just to look at and comment about my hair.</li><li>It has been stated that I am not attractive due to my hair.<br /></li><li>It has been stated that I pull this hair off well.</li><li>"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.</li><li>People I don't know kiss my head. Even girls. One person mentioned it 'must feel like kissing down there.'<br /></li></ul><br />There are more, but it's time to be responsible and devote energy into PHENOMENAL Geometry lesson plans.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-2252944780552364322011-01-18T17:37:00.001-08:002011-01-18T20:36:25.581-08:00How 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.<br /><br />I arrived in Tulsa freshly single like fish chum in a tank with starving great whites. <br /><br />I was heartless towards those who tried to date me because I was just that: heartless.<br /><br />I buried myself in work to fill the empty spaces.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />I had an Irish friend in China do a pointing dance move towards me any time this song came on:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAc-Afcl69srEc1vbRejydJtOLCwVHMVbOg5KwR_aYogFJuxbfq1n4_BfAKW9B_AkGaVA54HgmI5LBA9TUzOVyYYk9cw2tcXavjEcR6CcRbyi-oZcQaE5vxm1dAaab_2yM3ScOfRSFh_UQ/s1600/images.jpeg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAc-Afcl69srEc1vbRejydJtOLCwVHMVbOg5KwR_aYogFJuxbfq1n4_BfAKW9B_AkGaVA54HgmI5LBA9TUzOVyYYk9cw2tcXavjEcR6CcRbyi-oZcQaE5vxm1dAaab_2yM3ScOfRSFh_UQ/s320/images.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563606553049020418" border="0" /></a><br />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."<br /><br />It's a little sad because he's A. correct and B. handsome/smart/funny/notforme. Sometimes it makes me feel like damaged goods.<br /><br />Please don't misinterpret this internal ramble. <br /><br />*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.<br /><br />*If we don't talk about things we forget them faster, but if we bury things they fester. This is me lancing the boil.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-86511292302858719292011-01-09T16:25:00.000-08:002011-01-09T17:59:29.693-08:00What 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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!<br /><br />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.<br /><br />I taught myself how to do a flip turn in the pool! Chicka chicka.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgnKVWEhEyI9R6IiT0IVPIHiveOXflM2rxQWqLxGk7ew3xoDLvOvLbV9dc7_A69A-2x34409q1SiM7teM1_fb4Y5rMoo0HUdQScewTZZ5DklltiDqQkeH8YH8NeVkspoyI0MkCd2cS4m1W/s1600/scarf.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgnKVWEhEyI9R6IiT0IVPIHiveOXflM2rxQWqLxGk7ew3xoDLvOvLbV9dc7_A69A-2x34409q1SiM7teM1_fb4Y5rMoo0HUdQScewTZZ5DklltiDqQkeH8YH8NeVkspoyI0MkCd2cS4m1W/s400/scarf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560369257791598786" border="0" /></a><br />One of my friends knitted this for me for Christmas! Blessed.<br /><br />Exhaustion. Precious. Frustrating. Excited! Proud. Chicka chicka. Blessed. It's just the tip of the iceberg my friends.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-25626289963135512452011-01-01T06:10:00.000-08:002011-01-20T12:41:56.769-08:00Clif 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.<br /><br />I told her goodbye and I loved her.<br /><br />I told her my scarves look like shit and I need her to rip the knots out.<br /><br />I said the Benediction with her.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />It's funny how my mom needs a cigarette when she can't breath.<br /><br />I felt like I was left to suffer hope.<br /><br />"The only infallible truth of our lives is that everything we love in life will be taken from us."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Happy New YearTeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-67549649030345432092010-12-23T13:59:00.001-08:002010-12-23T14:33:36.942-08:00How I've used some of my free time.<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Free time?! Yeah... I said it. Oooo Oooo!<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoFRLteHl_otJykEOrTBcaWZOfwd9Y46vnL2bFTxKlTRp_ndp1rGxEfArZtNW7LDfMvHhv4AsN_27E2iDQ5dREzeo1wKwHViiHLiQj6pe38UG3Fzs6j2zOBNUmWiGjCrs4Tgl7OJ51Udi8/s1600/DSC02127.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoFRLteHl_otJykEOrTBcaWZOfwd9Y46vnL2bFTxKlTRp_ndp1rGxEfArZtNW7LDfMvHhv4AsN_27E2iDQ5dREzeo1wKwHViiHLiQj6pe38UG3Fzs6j2zOBNUmWiGjCrs4Tgl7OJ51Udi8/s320/DSC02127.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554007763492102930" border="0" /></a>The boys and I played in some paint.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrg37SlHLM9Soi_04QP05IHbqTgzPShjzrCJWRk0F82stHRcGJiLjFznK9i7KLsyBs0_m1sDrHmvFzda6McoxhjOPqQiqeyltYa5MIWVoFm_aeo3hGi_iIa0b2BxhvCPXI9Gm3kqHW8pd/s1600/DSC02095.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrg37SlHLM9Soi_04QP05IHbqTgzPShjzrCJWRk0F82stHRcGJiLjFznK9i7KLsyBs0_m1sDrHmvFzda6McoxhjOPqQiqeyltYa5MIWVoFm_aeo3hGi_iIa0b2BxhvCPXI9Gm3kqHW8pd/s320/DSC02095.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554001064043731634" border="0" /></a>This is how we write stuff....<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmKpiRBn8kluCGBRKYx_yE6vnxWQQaeyO45cLUklPinFCS-Po0S524vdLKSO7M-ZGvb9Oq41R3rCwOdSfRbbyYjhTVKt0Xy5aqMaWvT_biLBdq3nOJGeYtgALNv91UD2QMA9tDhqO7lOG/s1600/DSC02093.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmKpiRBn8kluCGBRKYx_yE6vnxWQQaeyO45cLUklPinFCS-Po0S524vdLKSO7M-ZGvb9Oq41R3rCwOdSfRbbyYjhTVKt0Xy5aqMaWvT_biLBdq3nOJGeYtgALNv91UD2QMA9tDhqO7lOG/s320/DSC02093.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554001717744162002" border="0" /></a>And this....<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAexHWooOy80wQ7qdiDr75TIrmDxDFld87Tu9hzaQbwlLLE40-8ydyC8LkvPub-JWmIo3cteO7e20MyLiVuG4Y_oyJ9mxmzA8FUA2yJHTvcLfDtNfPrD3BnRgyd8Dz77ss3WTQ1CIvWUG/s1600/DSC02176.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAexHWooOy80wQ7qdiDr75TIrmDxDFld87Tu9hzaQbwlLLE40-8ydyC8LkvPub-JWmIo3cteO7e20MyLiVuG4Y_oyJ9mxmzA8FUA2yJHTvcLfDtNfPrD3BnRgyd8Dz77ss3WTQ1CIvWUG/s320/DSC02176.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554002476269828818" border="0" /></a>Charitable Giving<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDBpL6t73FC8mWMiR-kTGFbLMbr9o94nrVPhGh1WYLl52CQEBpu6SGaBN1f-PoMf-pPiQlMhvOgpKCM-00M-TfOm4-HanaMCKOV20O1DtXo6nT1vx4h9NE6n2FmYAK9Il_yRqv0Tlksses/s1600/DSC02177.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDBpL6t73FC8mWMiR-kTGFbLMbr9o94nrVPhGh1WYLl52CQEBpu6SGaBN1f-PoMf-pPiQlMhvOgpKCM-00M-TfOm4-HanaMCKOV20O1DtXo6nT1vx4h9NE6n2FmYAK9Il_yRqv0Tlksses/s320/DSC02177.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554003160253912210" border="0" /></a>My Uncle was kind enough to help. (I love that my family supports this type of stuff - note his hair.)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8cbSOIABqihFnlqxA1uy2HdKFb83Ou3ouU-845D3L_7wzEUo007zU84Eo4r8SKrZxvCwCCPIAhH_kumv9vt8PPGJ1C9Vqmr7ak1Vlhyphenhyphen1mDgPlLwtUgCvpGLxQqpzxNFergcVmy8ce7eC/s1600/DSC02184.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8cbSOIABqihFnlqxA1uy2HdKFb83Ou3ouU-845D3L_7wzEUo007zU84Eo4r8SKrZxvCwCCPIAhH_kumv9vt8PPGJ1C9Vqmr7ak1Vlhyphenhyphen1mDgPlLwtUgCvpGLxQqpzxNFergcVmy8ce7eC/s320/DSC02184.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554003755617322898" border="0" /></a>And DONE!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-BcTvhkjQS7Hl5YoRf4JNEaZ1ugvIvmqjdywWaOPkmwVUjzZ_PoUxSX6UfkhEpIqkw7TSEpgbPHqXnZF6v5Cv8zsVfHWuxPN-9GEv3FJKMi5ZrfrgGmdd848v-_fZ54kod5H2D6xzZCHG/s1600/DSC02192.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-BcTvhkjQS7Hl5YoRf4JNEaZ1ugvIvmqjdywWaOPkmwVUjzZ_PoUxSX6UfkhEpIqkw7TSEpgbPHqXnZF6v5Cv8zsVfHWuxPN-9GEv3FJKMi5ZrfrgGmdd848v-_fZ54kod5H2D6xzZCHG/s320/DSC02192.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554005364541013714" border="0" /></a>Spicy Pumpkin Soup and Pumpkin Biscuits for 10<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Not pictured:<br />Family Hugs<br />Prayers for my Grandma who taught me how to crochet on Thanksgiving (she has internal bleeding and had two heart attacks Tuesday)<br />Christmas Tree Decorating<br /></div><br /></div>TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-76314370702326932812010-12-18T09:39:00.001-08:002010-12-18T15:06:47.715-08:00I. Miss. ______.I miss my family (for only 2 more days!).<br /><br />I miss Harbin (not particularly in the winter).<br /><br />I miss days where I do only what I want (however, I love my job to death).<br /><br />I miss my previous roommates (although I enjoy walking around naked).<br /><br />I miss the Colts winning (and the Pats losing).<br /><br />I miss traveling around and being a waif (it's nice to know where all my things are... or have things for that matter).<br /><br />I miss...<br /><br />Having things to miss far exceeds having nothing good to remember.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-43482212512782255482010-12-16T14:09:00.000-08:002010-12-17T13:07:29.692-08:00Pump, pump, pump it up.Tuesday I was asked to plan a pep rally for today (it's Thursday). I'm not sure if you've ever planned a pep rally, (I hadn't), but I was quite sure it would take more than 40 hours to put one together. Particularly when the coordinator has a 3 hour final and a basketball game to attend the night before. I scrambled to call basketball moms, acquire equipment from middle schools, and choreograph something for the dance girls - all while getting my grades in and holding IEP meetings.<br /><br />The Agenda:<br /><br />11:40 - Welcome from Ms. Hering<br /><br />11:41 - Webster High School Band<br />*Sobre Todo<br />*Victory March<br />*Battle Cry - cheerleaders throw bleacher cushions to the crowd<br /><br />11:47 - Cheer Squad Competition Cheer and Stunting<br /><br />11:50 - Dance Team Whip my Hair<br /><br />11:53 - Introduce Men's and Women's Basketball teams with spirit line of cheer/dance members<br />(For the music we used the Women's Basketball Coach's rap song about T-Dub and our teams.)<br /><br />12:03 - Kiss the Player<br />(A senior basketball player was selected to be blind folded have a cheerleader kiss him on the cheek. He completely hammed it up by putting on chap-stick... little did he know I had his mother hide in the back and come out to give him a kiss instead.)<br /><br />12:06 - Relay Races between grades for the Spirit Stick<br />(The seniors won due to the juniors inability to remain on their scooters, and the freshmen and sophomore's stage fright.)<br /><br />12:16 - Principal's Address<br /><br />12:18 - Close - Webster High School Band<br />*Alma Mater<br /><br />My principal informed me that this was a huge improvement over what usually occurs at pep rallies , (despite the fact that I felt I could have done significantly better), and said he would put in for an activities coordinator position - which I would be offered. (Extra money, sweet!)<br /><br />Honestly, that was not the best part of it all. Besides the roaring laughter and genuine enjoyment the students seemed to get from all of this, I received the following text from a colleague:<br /><br />"Hey I want to congratulate you on the great job you did today and the job you have done with the cheer and dance squad. Today was the first day that I actually felt like the students here at (high school name) are proud of their class mates and to be (school mascot)s. I think that is a reflection and result of the energy and passion you bring to (school name) and the student body."<br /><br />Totally worth every ounce of exhaustion.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-62106672186186939832010-12-09T10:16:00.000-08:002010-12-10T12:28:26.439-08:00You raise me up.One of my colleagues just stopped me in the hall:<br /><br />"Ms. Hering, I would just love to pick your brain sometime. My students have a lot of needs and as a first-year counselor... well especially with my special needs students I just need ideas. I was talking with Mrs. ____ and she said ' You know who has it going on? She's young but she always seems to have great ideas. Ms. Hering.' "<br /><br />On Monday one of my Geometry classes informed me of this:<br /><br />"Mr. ___ is actually teaching. He says ' we have to teach like Ms. Hering now if we want to keep our jobs.' "<br /><br />Some days I never, EVER want this to end. God is lifting me up today and I feel blessed to have the opportunity to impact my students <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> those around me who impact students.<br /><br />Final Countdown:<br /><br />1 day until the TFA holiday party and observatory star party.<br /><br />2 days until dance competition in Oklahoma City with my girls.<br /><br />5 days until my Stats final that I MUST get a B on to not retake the class, (at the graduate level if I have anything lower than a B I'm required to retake the course.)<br /><br />8 days until I know for certain if I'm shaving my head (my students need to raise $220 more dollars).<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdjDWnTQ3vzmc2E1qJLbgmm5Nf11InacOQ_3Xo0mo1GDfqiSeueuw7FM7LHCIQ-yrHSH171CKvwmfTCGjTJnjIGUvipUq-76e9HY2oWE_iwC4viLvW296bCL7w3ZpOHHdg6cE2vGhhACM/s1600/mecayl.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdjDWnTQ3vzmc2E1qJLbgmm5Nf11InacOQ_3Xo0mo1GDfqiSeueuw7FM7LHCIQ-yrHSH171CKvwmfTCGjTJnjIGUvipUq-76e9HY2oWE_iwC4viLvW296bCL7w3ZpOHHdg6cE2vGhhACM/s200/mecayl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548759345522446754" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif11aeWu2LV6To7XoRuzHbARr4iIZpQMmwd1fGGThI65I0ARZC2iC57tREcxMEupe1_8OmFHRUZyN6mGxIS4dJdnQ_3P-bYbt_g0uWWFE1QKW6ATh_VbEqD4qE_OUdtRmfS99PmLzH-lxE/s1600/holidayheadlock.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif11aeWu2LV6To7XoRuzHbARr4iIZpQMmwd1fGGThI65I0ARZC2iC57tREcxMEupe1_8OmFHRUZyN6mGxIS4dJdnQ_3P-bYbt_g0uWWFE1QKW6ATh_VbEqD4qE_OUdtRmfS99PmLzH-lxE/s200/holidayheadlock.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548759631947211346" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">11 days until I see my family!</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />20 days until I play a show with my little brother and cousin.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-58178013968609646412010-12-03T10:27:00.000-08:002010-12-05T09:16:52.975-08:00Everything looks perfect from far away.I am never bored because - no matter how creative I like to pretend I am - I could never make this stuff up.<br /><br />One of my students was using dip in my class - IN MY CLASS. I made them spit it out, finish taking notes, and get the homework before I let them get a drink of water. Then I sent them to the office where they received a $100 fine. This student's uncle also got into a fight with their aunt after parent night due to his alluding to my appearance being the reason this student was successful in math.<br /><br />Classroom dialogue. Apply an overly sweet tone when you read my quotes. I approach every situation like that - which makes me, (wrongfully), feel like I can say exactly what I want without remorse.<br /><br />*screaming* "I'm an atheist and I don't give a F__"<br />"Wait, what does that have to do with Algebra?"<br />*screaming* "All my life people try to teach me things and I can do it on my own."<br />"(Student name), but this answer isn't correct. I can teach you this if you let me."<br />"You just do this for the money."<br />"I actually took a pay cut to be here."<br />*mumbling* "F__ you, I know my rights. The Bill of Rights says I can choose to get an education if I want to. It's my right." *stands with knuckles on desk until referred to dean's office*<br /><br />"What would you do if I showed up to your door with a bottle of wine?"<br />"Disgusting. I'd pretend I'm not home and sneak out the back door."<br />"What if it's champagne though?!"<br /><br />"I don't want you to hit me Ms. Hering."<br />"Awe! I'd never hit you!" "/<br />"The only thing she hits is her boyfriend."<br /><br />Walking between buildings:<br />"Hey, he 18."<br />"Excuse me?"<br />"I said he 18. He tryin' to holler at you."<br />"Come here boys."<br />"What? He wont tell nobody."<br />"Repulsive. I am a teacher and you will approach me in an appropriate manner. Do we need to go talk to (principal's name)?" *opens door for students to enter school*<br />"Ugh my knee hurts" *holds knee, walks in and looks down*<br />"I'm sure that's not all that hurts. Have a great day!"<br /><br />"I like your panty hose, Ms. Hering. You actually match today."<br /><br />"Ms. Hering, you toooo tiiiight man. You needa getchu a boyfriend. Loosen you up."<br />"We are not discussing the state of my vagina in this classroom. "<br /><br />I don't let students use the restroom during my class. Period. One student even asked the principal about it during an assembly with around 500 students:<br />"What if your teacher NEVER lets you use the bathroom in class?" *looks directly at Ms. Hering*<br />"Boo. Hoo."<br />I love my administration and I tell them so.<br /><br />However; when 75% of my class looked distraught one day, (we're on block scheduling), this is what ensued:<br />"If you eff this up, we will never, EVER use the bathroom again during class."<br />"Ms. Hering, I bet yooz a G."<br /><br />"Why you look like that Ms. Hering?"<br />"I'm sick today."<br />"Whatchu got?"<br />"I think it's food poisoning. So I'm not contagious."<br />"Pregnant people be throwin' up a lot too." *phone vibrates* "Oooo that cho baby daddy?"<br /><br />"If you net $5,000 a week then..."<br />"You sell drugs."<br /><br />Despite all of the learning that appears to <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span>happen in my classroom: my Geometry class is further along than one of the general ed classes AND at a 72% mastery, my fellow Algebra teacher sarcastically said "it's going to be great when your kids do better on the EOIs than mine," and my Math of Finance class has raised almost $200 on their own through advertising and sales techniques, (and there are only 2 students that frequent that class).TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-27468279407092003652010-11-27T07:56:00.000-08:002010-11-27T09:00:55.857-08:00Dank an Sie, Darling, Dank an SieI'm very grateful to live where I do and spend time with my family this Thanksgiving! Last year and the year prior I wasn't able to be with my family, yet it's phenomenal how people come together and bond over holidays, no matter their circumstances. I still feel gratitude for the void I <span style="font-style: italic;">didn't</span> feel the last two years.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4N2zSBrtdHDg3nO5qnaQGgY3p3e1DdPQqOoGDw_CnVFPuGIOBGneWB8VYArRH7r8Yi16SfE5HeZOFGNqiGNZpGr29eu5PDPsnU4gD2bH5x1q-WA0ruVgoKarYRbToLbKE91LsKs9uBWvZ/s1600/loveofmylife.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4N2zSBrtdHDg3nO5qnaQGgY3p3e1DdPQqOoGDw_CnVFPuGIOBGneWB8VYArRH7r8Yi16SfE5HeZOFGNqiGNZpGr29eu5PDPsnU4gD2bH5x1q-WA0ruVgoKarYRbToLbKE91LsKs9uBWvZ/s200/loveofmylife.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544270362610574898" border="0" /></a>I have a wife of 6 1/2 years. Her name is Ro and she is my soul-mate, (for those who are perplexed, 'wife' is my term for my best friend from college. I only feel the need to clarify because my cheer moms question my sexuality. Who doesn't have a husband by age 24 in Tulsa, OK?) No matter how far apart we are I know that we are always connected. I would - and have - moved across the country for her. Last year I spent Thanksgiving with Ro and my in-laws at the most Martha Stuart-esk meal I've ever attended. There were perfectly cut turkeys on the cherry pie instead of lattice, <span style="font-weight: bold;">apple butter</span> pumpkin pie, perfectly prepared turkey and sides and immaculately displayed everything coupled with excellent wine. Her family took me in and conversed with me as if I were their own, including the eccentric grandma, (I didn't even have to miss my own!)<br /><br />Two years ago I spent Thanksgiving in a country that doesn't celebrate the holiday. There were no Pilgrims in China who feasted with the Natives. At least, not in this sense. I made pumpkin pie for my favorite class - an incredibly intelligent group of 5th grade students (we had just learned a rhyme that incorporated pumpkins and pie and they had never heard of the food). All of my students brought little bags to take home tiny pieces for their parents to try.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfail59cRke2lGDCuybQrUbGifD_kXpFUldCq5K5e2cRMz9J2i7yt9SfKtHeBVttilHA6pwlD-seh-VEhmaG-rIB2LErNkE79B_52PGSEV0I7oW_Fm3ZrjwqM4nrv7lSh7tfe93AS5LPuU/s1600/pumpkinpie.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfail59cRke2lGDCuybQrUbGifD_kXpFUldCq5K5e2cRMz9J2i7yt9SfKtHeBVttilHA6pwlD-seh-VEhmaG-rIB2LErNkE79B_52PGSEV0I7oW_Fm3ZrjwqM4nrv7lSh7tfe93AS5LPuU/s320/pumpkinpie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544268093640652658" border="0" /></a><br />Cherry was not impressed. Pumpkin spice was quite foreign to her. My mother had mailed me many of the ingredients I would need to prepare this.<br /><br />Most of my friends in Harbin, China were not from countries that celebrated Thanksgiving, yet three of my Australian friends shut down their bar for a day and hosted a feast that fed 25 people complete with turkey, (I've yet to figure out how they acquired a turkey), mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing and yams. In true Australian fashion it quickly became a party with ridiculous antics.<br /><br />What I gather from all of this: as long as you have love you have all the makings of an exquisite holiday - and I'm blessed to never have to go without love.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-1136927376258428502010-11-22T19:50:00.000-08:002010-11-23T12:36:25.121-08:00Self-pityIt is disgusting. I NEVER feel sorry for myself or entitled to things. I used to read Holocaust literature per chance I ever began to waiver from the previous statement. My favorite:<br /><br /><h3>Passion of Ravensbrück (English)</h3><p>He steps out from the others.<br />He stands in the square silence.<br />The prison garb, the convict's skull<br />blink like a projection.</p><p>He is horribly alone.<br />His pores are visible.<br />Everything about him is so gigantic,<br />everything is so tiny.</p><p>And this is all.<br />The rest -<br />the rest was simply<br />that he forgot to cry out<br />before he collapsed.</p><div id="translator"><a href="http://www.visegradliterature.net/works/hu/Csokits%2C_Janos">Csokits, Janos</a>; <a href="http://www.visegradliterature.net/works/hu/Hughes%2C_Ted">Hughes, Ted</a></div><br /><br />Now, all I have to do is look around my classroom for a similar experience. One of my student's knuckles were bloody the other day. "Did you punch something, (student name)?" I asked lightheartedly, trying to engage a typically quiet student in conversation."Yes, my dad" they responded. "He hit my mom in front of me."<br /><br />My group home students... I watched one get berated with all kinds of profanity and tackled to the cement by a group home leader. They limped around school the next day and I called to report excessive force. Another had a 2" by 2" chunk of hair ripped out of their head.<br /><br />"Ms. Hering, you my mom?" "Ms. Hering, can I go home with you?"<br /><br />"You know, I'm never at my house and I don't even have a T.V. Trust me, it's no fun there."<br /><br />Gang hazing means one of my student's arms are entirely yellow with infection and covered in gashes and cuts. It doesn't make me sad that they sit there suffering silently. I merely marvel at the ignorance and acceptance of the situation.<br /><br />One of my projects - a 19-year-old Algebra 1 student - came to class completely defiant. Slowly they began to work in class and became one of my best: finishing work early, helping others, leading games, and even bringing me candy on Halloween :]<br /><br />Two weeks later they jumped a faculty member after school. One of my friends actually. I took pictures of my colleague's face for the police and took them to the hospital. And my project went to jail.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-58794692278929203972010-11-20T21:15:00.000-08:002010-11-20T22:31:16.061-08:00It's ok. Don't get to the point. I am going to live forever.Blessed. <span id="result_box" class="short_text" lang="zh-CN"><span style="background-color: rgb(230, 236, 249); color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" title=""></span></span><br /><br />Gratitude can't begin to describe what I feel towards my lovely and talented assistant coaches. Today we had camp for the cheer squad and dance team simultaneously (as I am still attempting to perfect my self-spawning super hero technique). My competition cheer coach handles my occasionally foul-mouthed <span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);">girls</span> and <span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);">guys</span> with grace. Yes, I said guys. I now have 17 girls and 3 boys on my co-ed squad. I enjoy breaking down gender norms; we're the only co-ed team in the district. When I became head coach there were 11 girls. 2 quit because I literally ran them off. Note: I never asked them to do anything I wasn't doing myself.<br /><br />I actually cried watching the dance girls perform to <span style="font-style: italic;">Feeling Good</span> today. (I tried to avoid it but then they hugged me and I couldn't help it.) This is the first dance team my high school has had in years and the girls have progressed so much, especially without any sort of formal training, (dance classes are expensive). We are so lucky to have such a talented choreography coach.<br /><br />My Friday meeting with my dissertation mentor, the CEO of Cancer Treatment Centers of America, was such an excellent and engaging conversation. He made me phone interview with him before he would agree to be my mentor. I felt more of an adrenaline rush making that phone call than I did doing this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2F-qXy4LXHS1UuY9L5r9DX6KKp-RUMEEJYgMiLw-_QgAzp7qA14yd-pDOqteOkuGUEUgQBbfiLe5nqQEuLZ5Vf-DyK8UVhDG-bqPsmAEXFF0pw5iCcQWVIg8zD3_GeBgYyyB3Qdf4GQWN/s1600/16.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2F-qXy4LXHS1UuY9L5r9DX6KKp-RUMEEJYgMiLw-_QgAzp7qA14yd-pDOqteOkuGUEUgQBbfiLe5nqQEuLZ5Vf-DyK8UVhDG-bqPsmAEXFF0pw5iCcQWVIg8zD3_GeBgYyyB3Qdf4GQWN/s320/16.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541881446601245954" border="0" /></a><br />(hurling myself from 10,000 feet a few weeks ago)<br /><br /><br />I now have - here comes the boring part - connections to Switzerland health care models, the creator of Health Savings Accounts, economic perspectives on health care spending, a greater direction for research ideas, consumer focus on destination health services, and a <span style="font-weight: bold;">restored sense of enthusiasm</span> for my research. He ended our conversation with "I'm excited to read what you end up writing." I need to take more time to internalize and dissect our conversation.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550391284522595118.post-18315484517436228472010-11-18T07:45:00.000-08:002010-11-18T10:00:07.837-08:00I feel selfish...... and I feel the need to justify having a blog. Why am I taking time away from things I should be doing to write? I'm going to avoid rambling about how I think this could assist me in keeping track of my life.<br /><br />I actually just had to stop writing this for the last 10 minutes to talk to a cheer mom. I'm typically pulled in 3 directions at any given moment. I write during grad school classes sometimes. That's when my thoughts are most engaged and coherent; or it's just the time in my week that I'd consider my "down" time.<br /><br />I Teach For America. I teach because my students are 5 or more grade levels behind on their math skills. I teach special education and I am in charge of 22 students files. I coach the cheer squad. I coach the dance team. I am getting my MBA in International Business. My masochism has run rampant.<br /><br />My job is a bipolar roller coaster. Everything whooshes by so quickly. The ups are really high and the lows create such a sense of pressure. Diving between each peak and valley gives a feeling of complete lack of control. I'm almost hoping this blog provides a sense, (or illusion), of awareness. I'd say control instead of awareness but I'm not dumb.TeraHeringhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08615435593904462444noreply@blogger.com0