Tag: Dear Diary

INTRODUCING…

Cha, Cha, Changes! This Blog, will no longer be called Dear Diary. It will now be called…Kat’s Eye View!

…KAT’S EYE VIEW

In September, I announced that I would be changing my blog’s name.  Well 2 months later, it has now happened.  My blog will no longer be called Dear Diary… (www.deardiary.biz), but will be called Kat’s Eye View (www.katseyeview.org).  

I plan to do more story telling, vignettes, and give more  of my opinions on things I notice in this wonderfully chaotic, beautifully terrible, disappointingly mesmerizing world we live in.  

I plan to post once a week on Tuesdays, so be on the lookout for new articles beginning next Tuesday.

Please know that I am very grateful to you, for taking the time to read my writings and/or for subscribing to my blog. I will leave some of my posts from Dear Diary…, so please feel free to read them and any of my future post brought to you from Kat’s Eye View.

Thank you,

Kat

 

 

A Type of Different Part 3: “my name”

In elementary, I decided at school that I would go by the name my family calls me…Becky.  This was the nickname I’m called because of my middle name.  This name assisted in me also being called “white” as well.  If you remember reading A Type of Different Pt.1″acting like a white girl”, I explain how I was told that I spoke and acted like a white girl.  Well, my name didn’t help at all.  It just added more fuel to my white flames.  When my family moved to another state, I decided to go by my birth name, Katherine.  This was to end any name confusion with my school records.  But, oh yeah, Katherine, like Becky, is a “white name” too.  It didn’t matter that I was named after my black grandmother. None of my names would ever be black enough. Not even my last name could alert anyone to my race.  It was “iffy”.  It was racially ambiguous; so I could be black or white or possibly Asian.

I noticed during this time that most of the names my black female classmates had seemed to rhyme… Felicia, Iesha, LaToya, LaTanya, LaTasha, Kendra, Valeria, Shayna, Shawna, LaQuander (with the silent r on the end, and pronounced la-quan-duh), Kenya, Nyeisha, Dametria, DeShaunte’(pronounced de-shawn-tay), Quanasier (pronounced quaw-nay-see-ir) etc.  None of my names could compete with the blackness in those strong African-esque names.  I can just smell the African Jollof being made when I say those names.  I can hear the lions roaring and the antelope running in fear across the African Savannah.  I can see the Meerkats, crying out the alarm that a cheetah is nearby.  I can see the eyes of a giraffe peeking through the tall trees…too much?  Okay, moving on…. I liked my name, but I would sometimes wonder why my mom just couldn’t name me something else.  A name like the many black girls I would encounter, that ended with an -uh or an -ay sound.  Again, I just wanted to blend in.  My name also made me a type of different.

By the time I was a junior year in high school, I didn’t care if I was teased for my name.  I had begun to find a strength in myself, and I was finally proud of wearing the name Katherine.  Sadly, my grandmother’s recent passing also caused me to no longer care if my name wasn’t racially appealing or expected, by the ignorant many.  One guy tried to tell me, that it was too white.  My response to him was, “…and Lewis is considered just a black name? Katherine will be fine.  If it’s too long for you to say, you can call me Kat”.  My grandmother was lovingly called Kat, by family, friends, and associates, and I didn’t mind being reminded of her in this way.  Once some friends heard my mom calling me Becky, and…let’s just say the rapper Sir Mix-A-Lot was brought up a lot.  There’s a lot of irony regarding me and his most popular song. #insidejokes  Most importantly, none of these classmates cared about my name.  They dug me for me.

In college, there were times when I told my name to some people, and I could see the look of surprise on their face.  I’ve only seen this with my vanilla brothers and sisters.  They try to hide it, but it’s always in their eyes….  I remember back in 2005 when I was student teaching. I decided to meet the teacher I would be mentored by early, so we could put face to name before our first day together.  I went to the school and introduced myself to her.  “Hi, I’m Katherine ________. Nice to meet you!”   Her eyes and her face gave it away.  She hesitantly responded back, with a polite hello and name introduction.  Inside I laughed at her shock of finding out that Katherine can be a black girl’s name too.

About a year later, I was working at a credit union.  One of the loan officers was named LaBlenda.  Every time she would assist someone, they would ask her if her parents made her name up.  She would politely say “yep” and proceed with asking the customer what they needed.  She was a white lady whose name wasn’t Sarah or Jennifer or any stereotypical “white name”.  She wasn’t supposed to have such a, let’s just say, “creative” name like LaBlenda.  That was for someone that looked more like me right?  One day, I jokingly told her, “The way society is, we should switch names”.  She laughed and told me how she always received stares when she would reveal her name. She told me how some would be bold enough to say, “Wow, your parents didn’t care about you when they named you did they”.  She would reply back saying, “Actually they did care and wanted to give me a name they knew no one else would ever have and would never be forgotten”.  Her name is one of the few names I remember from working there.

Now that I am married and use my husband’s surname, I still get those surprise looks.  People expect a 90 year old white lady to be smiling and shaking their hand, but nope.  It’s just me!  Bronze skinned with my kinky, curly, coily hair reaching high into the heavens.  My name is no longer racially ambiguous…It really doesn’t “match” the skin I’m in, but apparently it never did.  I will never hear my name in a song about all the pretty girls being invited to a party or in Mambo #5, because Katherine is also not a commonly popular name, but that’s okay.  I just add it to those songs on my own.  Like my name and my namesake, I’m classic and beautiful.  No matter anyone’s ignorant assumptions about what my name should be.  I am wonderfully, a type of different.

Oh yeah, Thank you Na-Na for forcing, I mean, strongly encouraging my mom to name me after you.  Thank you mom and dad for complying with it.  This has made me a type of different.

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Click below to Read Part 1:  A Type of Different “acting like a white girl”

http://deardiary.biz/2018/08/28/a-type-of-different-pt-i

Click below to Read Part 2: A Type of Different “black bitch”

http://deardiary.biz/2018/09/11/a-type-of-different-pt-2-black-bitch

Featured image from CNN.com

A Type of Different: Pt.2 “black bitch”

Catching the bus to and from school, was still new to me.  I can’t remember if the movie Forrest Gump had come out yet, but walking on the bus, I would always have the “You can’t sit here…this seat is taken” experience.  Where no one wants to make eye contact for fear you would try to sit next to them. 

Seventh Grade.  I was very insecure and surrounded by newness everywhere I looked. That summer, my family moved to Texas. I was coming to a new state which meant I would be new at school.  I would again learn that just being me, was still sometimes unacceptable.

The bell rang to announce the end of the school day.  I don’t know why, but I would always end up being one of the last people to get on the bus. Catching the bus to and from school, was still new to me.  I can’t remember if the movie Forrest Gump had come out yet, but walking on the bus, I would always have the “You can’t sit here…this seat is taken” experience.  Where no one wants to make eye contact for fear you would try to sit next to them.  Everyone wanted a window seat, and I preferred to not have to sit on the back of the bus.  The “bad kids” sat there.  I wanted as little attention as I could possibly have.

This was in the mid-nineties, so this was when a lot of kids were “goth/emo/grunge”.  You know, the skateboarders that wore all black everything, listening to Green Day and Red Hot Chili Peppers, while trying to prove that they “didn’t care” that no one understood why they wore black eyeliner.  I lived in a Dallas suburb, so  these kids were on the bus too.  They sat in the back with the “bad kids”.  They were unfamiliar to me, so I was uneasy about them.  These were the bullies I saw on Nickelodeon and on Saturday Morning shows.  They too were a type of different!

Anyway, this one particular day, I was stepping on to the bus, late, and no one was eager for me to sit next to them.  There was no eye-contact, just Forrest Gump bus seat disappointment.  I was now in the back and had to do the turn around to see if I missed a seat check.  By now the bus driver was yelling for me to find a seat so we could leave.  This meant frustrated student eyes glaring at me. Noticing all of my visible flaws.  I wasn’t going to go back up to the front, so I had to sit next to one of the skateboarder kids in the back.  He seemed safe enough.  I saw him every day on the bus and we had 7thgrade math together too.  I didn’t know his name, but I was familiar with him.  So I asked him if I could sit next to him.  He rolled his eyes, but as he was scooting over he mumbled to himself.  Now, I don’t know if he wanted me to hear what he said or if he was even aware that he didn’t mumble in a low enough voice, but ya girl heard him loud and clear.

Here’s what happened.  (Actions are included for better understanding)

Me: Can I sit here? (very nervous and embarrassed)

him: (looks toward the front to see if there is somewhere else I can go)

Me: There’s nowhere else for me to sit.

him: (rolls eyes and scoots over and mumbles) Black Bitch.

Me: (sitting down, looking over to him) What did you call me? Boy, don’t you ever call me that again!——–At this point, the little insecure Katherine was gone, and the “I ain’t playin wit’chu” Kat was here. Nahla had appeared.  While I was telling him not to ever call me that again, my right hand had raised up and slammed his face against the window and held it with assurance, force, and ferocity and held it there.

Katherine was no longer desiring invisibility, she would be heard by any means necessary!  When I gave my hand permission to release his face, he was a changed boy…physically and psychologically.  Physically he was changed because he now had a two-toned color face, white and red…peppermint boy! I believe he was changed psychologically because he never even made eye contact with me for the rest of the ride and did NOTHING to defend himself during or after the incident.  He no longer spoke with his friend that he had been talking to on the opposite side of the bus prior to me having to sit next to him.  Even when he got off at his stop.  I thought he would look my way while walking to his home and give some threat, but he didn’t.   We never had any other type of interaction with each other.  I want to believe that the next time he decided to utter distasteful words, to anyone, he would think twice about it.  We both had experienced a shock and awe moment.

He had truly hurt my feelings.  He didn’t just call me a bitch, but a BLACK bitch.  It was meant to be lower than a female dog. He was attempting to degrade me to the lowest low, all because I sat by him.  We had never had any interactions before.  This was the first time, we had even spoke to each other. I’m not so sure I would have reacted the same if he had left the Black part out.  That’s what caused me to snap!  In my mind, it was like he had just called me a nigger.  I had never been called such a thing before, at least not to my knowledge. I was a nice person…I wasn’t mean to people.  As I mentioned before, I was the type that tried to be invisible by staying to myself.  At that time, I spoke only when spoken to.  I was new to this school/state and I already didn’t feel like I was good enough.  I didn’t want to cause problems or be a part of any problems.

My reaction to him, was completely unexpected.  Unfortunately, I was one of those kids that allowed others to step on me. I had taken a lot of things from people growing up.  I would eventually get to the point where I would speak up for myself.  This was my first time doing this.  I was the person that was more concerned with not offending others, even if I was being offended….

This was now my second racial issue and again, someone had a problem with me being me.  This time, it was because of the Bronze skin I was in.  I never said anything to him about how he looked in his eyeliner or the fact he lived in an old dirty trailer park. I never laughed at him when he tripped over his extremely wide legged “JNCO” jeans walking on to the bus, or the dirty clothes that he wore to school.  I had plenty of opportunities to bring light to what was unavoidable.

Most times when people see others that are different than them, they judge, generalize, and make ignorant assumptions. He was different than anything I had been exposed to and I chose not to judge him for any of the things I noticed about him.  That just wasn’t enough to protect me.  My race was inferior to his, so my type of different was worse.  It was less than.  It was worth being judged and insulted.  I just needed a place to sit on the bus.

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Featured Image: (Centre of the pack in 2017 – George Meyer, Singita)

Hello SUMMER my Old Friend…

I wonder if the school year is 9 months to parallel the stages of pregnancy. In the first few months, teachers are excited about the new school year, like a mother after discovering she is with child.  Closer to the end of the pregnancy mothers become tired of being pregnant and begin to look forward to school being over, I mean having the baby.

Summer officially begins June 21, but for me it has already begun.  I am a teacher, so part of my job is to have a summer break.  Like I tell my students, we teachers, are more excited about summer break than students.  They, like the rest of non-educators, do not realize all that goes into the 9 months of the school year.

Side note: I wonder if the school year is 9 months to parallel the stages of pregnancy. In the first few months, teachers are excited about the new school year, like a mother after discovering she is with child.  Closer to the end of the pregnancy mothers become tired of being pregnant and begin to look forward to school being over, I mean having the baby.

For many educators, the school year may last longer than 9 months, because there are often Professional Developments (P.D.) that we are often encouraged to attend, and no they do not come with any extra pay.  Overtime??? Fuh-get-a-bout-it; unless you decide to teach summer school. ☹️…😭

Many teachers love their jobs and quietly deal with ALL that comes with the responsibility of dealing with a stranger’s child.  Some are here for the check (survival needs you know), and a few are still in search of why they stumbled into this career in the first place.  They are still searching for that “thing” that made them proudly want to proclaim, “Yes!  I want to be an educator!,” but that is another post, for another day….

So as I said, MY SUMMER HAS FINALLY BEGUN!!!!!  My plans you ask??? Uhhhh, to do absolutely nothing! Can’t you see my big Grinch smile slyly sliding across my face?  Usually my huz-band and I travel, by Cruise, Plane, Train, or Automobile during our summer break, but I am over traveling this year.  I would prefer to enjoy my home.  Last summer we had just moved into our new home in a new area.  Within a month we had visited family in Mississippi, Florida, and the Washington/D.C.-Baltimore area.  Now, I know that many of you thought, “Florida??? That’s a vacation right there.”  Normally that may be the case, but this time, it wasn’t. There was just too much happening down there for it to be a relaxing vacay.

Soon after our return home, we had to prepare for school.  School began with a lunar eclipse and Hurricane Harvey in the same week.  Harvey’s visit instantly led to me, my husband, and my 2 puppy boys sharing our brand-new home with my mother-in-law and lil’ sissy-in-law.  We were all together from September until about mid-January while the damages brought on to their home from the hurricane’s flooding had been repaired.  It was a very close time…for ALL of us.😇

So this summer, I would like to enjoy my home and get to know this new area I live in.  I can’t wait to have the time to read, write, sleep, workout, blog, and to Netflix.  I look forward to spending time with my huz-band and pups.  Most importantly, this summer I am excited to do whatever I want! (Grinch smile back in progress)

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FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS

Dear Diary,

I am currently at a workshop for my job, and in front of my seat at the table was a flyer that says to “follow your dreams”.  It was meant as encouragement for the faculty, but for many of us, this job is no longer a part of the dream we want to follow.  For me, this sweet little encouragement allows my mind to begin to wander and think about the things that I actually want to do.  I want to be in my home office, or at a park, or at a hippy coffee shop writing for my blog, or even on the many book ideas I have floating around in my head.  There are so many other things I want to do creatively instead of having to encourage others to embrace their creativity.

It is so challenging, just to be present right now.  At the moment, we are supposed to be discussing our goals, but my table is talking about things that really matter in our lives and important issues going on in the world like: Will and Grace, Once Upon a Time, Stranger Things (I was feeling as if I was in the Upside Down), and recalling the 90s when cell phones were not a necessity.  To paraphrase the infamous words of former Seattle Seahawks player and current Oakland Raiders player, Marshawn Lynch, “We are all here so we don’t get fined”.  This day is one of our contractual days and we are expected to enjoy being life-long learners right now.  I don’t mind being a life-long learner with topics that are interesting to me. (Lord of the Rings lore, Game of Thrones lore, Harry Potter background info, make-up tutorials, natural hair tutorials, biblical history, why God truly is Good even in the midst of it looking as if He’s not in control, and soooo much more.)

The holidays are coming (which is totally awesome), so half of the year is kinda-almost over.  I am so trying to take this one day at a time, so as to not get overwhelmed, but when your career wants you to be thinking about goals for the year and what can be done to help you reach that goal, you have no choice but to begin thinking about more than just 1 day at a time.

I don’t know if other people in other careers feel this way, but this 10th year that I am in has had me to reevaluate a few things.  So many people go to jobs they don’t care for because that is the only option they have to gain money for survival.  We all work to survive, I get it.  It just seems more enjoyable to “work” at what you like…celebrities do it all the time.

Living the Life I Love & Loving the Life I Live

My plan is to begin to find myself again, so that I can begin living the life I love.  I feel as if I have lost sight of who I am and I am now bored with my life.  So much of my life has, and still is centered around the happiness of others.  In recent years, I have been in the midst of discovering who I am as a person.  I have learned so much about why I react the way I do to people, situations, and things.

 

Dear Diary,

My plan is to begin to find myself again, so that I can begin living the life I love.  I feel as if I have lost sight of who I am and I am now bored with my life.  So much of my life has, and still is centered around the happiness of others.  In recent years, I have been in the midst of discovering who I am as a person.  I have learned so much about why I react the way I do to people, situations, and things.  I am an introvert that is not a fan of crowds or stupidity.  I have embraced that I love all things Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, Doctor Who, Harry Potter, Sherlock Holmes, and other British mysteries, as well as simplistic comedies like The Office. (These shows are all British, so obviously I need to move…). I enjoy re-watching and rereading the same TV shows and books over and over again.  Thank goodness for Netflix!  Now I need them to add Downton Abbey so that I don’t damage my DVDs of the show.  I need J.K Rowling to continue writing.  I need to find myself being a part of a play, but with teaching taking over my life, that is difficult to become a part of.

 

There is a Renaissance Fair coming up…I have wanted to go to these for years.  I feel that the attendees are people that are a part of my tribe.  Its lonely feeling out of place, so finding like-minded people is a relief!  I hear they have a lot of fandom stations there now, so i guess it is like a comic-con, with people dressing the part of the fair or their fandoms.  I have always been drawn to people with tattoos, piercings, and funky hair colors.  I realize now that it is because I admire these people for dressing how they want to look.  I have always admired people that don’t care what society says they are supposed to look.  If only I could be truly that brave…in the near future, I plan on being that way.  Teaching isn’t a field that allows me to dye my hair hunter green or purple.  I could get a wig, but unfortunately, with the demographics of where I work that would lead to too many questions that I would have to answer.  I don’t have the energy for that.

 

I am trying to be in the process of doing what I feel needs to be done, so that I can live the life that I know is truly me.  This includes the outer and inner me.  Doing this will help me to feel like myself once again.  I don’t want to be in my 50s still trying to find myself.  I want to be happy and enjoy my life.  I heard a song on the radio that said, “I love the life I live, and I live the life I love”.  I just gotta stick with it!  Maybe I could record this process.  Journey to Living the Life I Love…starts this weekend!!

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Katherine of Dear Diary…

Dear Diary,

Today is finally Wednesday and I am soooooooo tired.

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I have been out of school for about 2 weeks due to Hurricane Harvey, but my goodness!  Trying to get back in the swing of teaching is exhausting.  I also work about 45 minutes from my home, so that with trying to be a focused driver in traffic can take a lot out of you.  Dealing with people all day takes a toll.  These situations are mostly mentally draining, but I think that’s the worst type of tiredness.  This causes me to not want to do anything physically.  Lord knows I need to push through that because I needs to get a work out regime going…ASAP!   I can’t give my all to everyone else, but not to myself.  A lot of the time, it feels that in the field of education, the only place a teacher is allowed to have time is in the classroom.  I am unsure if others feel this way about their jobs, but I know that most times I feel like I don’t have time for me or anything outside of school.  Leaving work is always the goal of the day.  If I can just make it through the day, then I know I can make it through the rest of the week.

My favorite day of the week is Thursday, because it is almost Friday.  Wednesdays are encouraging because I can see the light at the end of the road!  Only God helps me make it! Daily, I must encourage myself in Him and like a great father, he does.  This morning was tough.  My being physically tired at the moment caused me to almost give in to my emotions.  Waking up when it feels like you just closed your eyes, is not the bees knees.  Rising and leaving and driving before the sun and birds are up, is burning me out already!  I have always hated waking up early, but it is a necessary sacrifice.  I need to make working out a necessary sacrifice too!  God help me to find the time to squeeze it in.  I can’t do all that you have put in me to do, without the energy.  Help me to find the time.  I know my weight can possibly be adding to feeling drained so much because I’m tired of being tired.  Once I get my routine going, that should help too; but God, also help me to learn to put myself first so that I have the energy to prepare myself for what you have placed in me.

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After Hurricane Harvey: Back to School

School begins tomorrow, September 11.  We already had our first day of school on August 21 (The day of the Lunar Eclipse), but that week was cut short by Hurricane Harvey.  Thursday, August 24,  was the last day of school for that week. 

School begins tomorrow, September 11.  We already had our first day of school on August 21 (The day of the Lunar Eclipse), but that week was cut short by Hurricane Harvey.  Thursday, August 24,  was the last day of school for that week.  My family escaped to Dallas that night, but many people in our community and families of the students that I teach decided to stay and “hunker down”.  We left Thursday night.  We didn’t know if the hurricane would be truly devastating as they were mentioning on The Weather Channel, not the local news, but we didn’t want to be around if things were catastrophic.  Thank God for using my Husband and pressing in him the urge to leave, because things did get bad….

In the area where I teach, it is near a subdivision titled Hidden Lakes.  Every time there is a hard rainfall, these “hidden” lakes come out and with this hurricane many people are now thinking about moving.  There is another neighborhood that many of my students live in, that was flooded as well.  This section of housing already had people living there that didn’t have much, so these students probably won’t return to this particular school anytime soon.  They may have gone to live with people or are in shelters that are in a completely different area with higher elevation.  Tomorrow I may be walking into a class, with a completely different group of students.  Many of which will probably not return.

I thank God that even though there is a lake not too far from my backyard, that water didn’t get into my home.  On our back porch, there is a water line that shows how far the water reached.  Praise God!  My mother-in-law’s home was flooded, but thankfully she has Flood Insurance and assistance from FEMA which is going to help take care of a lot of things she lost and repair damage to the house.  She and my sister-in-law have been staying with us, until things are situated.  Unfortunately, hotels in the area are packed, and from what I understand, FEMA is only allowing people to stay in the hotels for about a week.  I don’t understand how helpful that is, but I also don’t know the complete story to that.

My brother-in-law and his wife were trying to evacuate from Hurricane Irma.  They live around Ft. Lauderdale.  Due to lack of gas and the amount of people leaving at the same time, they ended up being stuck in Orlando.  They do have a hotel and hopefully what they say about the lack of traffic movement is true.  He hasn’t been the guy we know that is always ready and on the move concerning hurricanes, since he has moved down there.  He’s been very lackadaisical about Irma….  Last night/Early this morning Irma came ashore….

I feel so bad for all of the people that have lost their things.  Yes, it’s just things, but people cared about those things.  They meant something to them.  Many of those things cannot be replaced.  Pictures, family heirlooms, favorite shirts, computers, homes…these are things that cannot be recovered.  They can be replaced, but not recovered.  These people will only have the memory of having these things….  I hurt for those that lost loved ones.  May God be with you.  I hope that all the money that is being donated to various charities for all of the devastation these hurricanes have brought, will truly be given to the people that are needing help to reconstruct their lives.  People’s livelihoods have been washed away, literally.  I hope that peace and stability is restored to these people as quickly as possible.

Comfortable Conversation

My circle is extremely small and those few people KNOW me.  They know when I am uncomfortable and they know when I need to recharge.  They can also tell if I am saying things because I am uncomfortable, and not because I am trying to be rude. 

Conversing is a skill that must be taught and people soon learn that there are different conversations for different audiences.  Conversation and comfort go hand in hand.  You should be comfortable with those you are speaking with.  What about those times that you are forced into places with people you aren’t as comfortable with, but conversation is expected?

I love being around my circle of friends or my closest family members. These are the people I feel most comfortable around.  I don’t feel pressure to force a conversation or to end the awkward silence that has pushed its way into the car or room.  I’m not concerned with what they are thinking or how they feel about me.  My circle is extremely small and those few people KNOW me.  They know when I am uncomfortable and they know when I need to recharge.  They can also tell if I am saying things because I am uncomfortable, and not because I am trying to be rude.  That’s another topic to write about later.

I am an introvert and I am most comfortable being around those that I know and I am uncomfortable around those that I don’t know.  I am an Introvert not by choice, but that’s the way it is.  Growing up and even through college, I was unaware of this characteristic.  I enjoyed, and still enjoy, going out and having fun with friends, but I also prefer to be by myself.  I am an only child, but that too is another writing topic for later.  In college, my friends and I would often go out, but I was with those I felt most comfortable around, so I was okay.  After graduating college I didn’t understand why I preferred to be home and not out with others.  It wasn’t until I watched a YouTube video to see what an Introvert and Extrovert was, that I made the connection.  I also realized that I had married an Extrovert, which explained why he was always the life of the party that I was eagerly trying to get away from.

There are times when I cannot be my true introverted self, such as in my classroom.  I must talk with my students and their parents, or the year will not go well.  Education, like other jobs under the umbrella of customer service, must have communication between the company and their clients or stakeholders.  This is something I have to do, but oddly enough, in my classroom I feel very comfortable.  I am nervous, but I get through it.

Often when I am around others or in places that I do feel uncomfortable, the only thing that is on my mind is the great escape.  I am determined to figure out how I cannot be around these tormentors; these people that I don’t know but have to be around.  I try with all of my might to think of something in order to strike up a conversation.  I am aware of the awkward silence and the need for talking, but I just don’t know what to say.  I also want whatever is said to come out sounding like I am truly genuine in my questions and conversations.  I feel like it would be obvious if I wasn’t genuine.    All of this wanting to converse exhausts me.  Along with feeling uncomfortable my energy is drained. I need to gain my strength back in the presence of isolation.  Oh Solitude, what sweet joyous songs you sing to me when it is just the two of us! Having this characteristic is very challenging when this issue is continued for multiple days.  It wouldn’t be too bad if this discomfort didn’t come from those I now must claim as family.  How can I get to know you, when it is obvious you are uncomfortable with me, but you bring friends and family around as distractions for you to be comfortable?  Hopefully I am wrong, but that’s how it seems.  I don’t need to get to know them, just you. Only those that think they know me, see these challenges as social anxiety.

Today is YOUR Day

Today is the beginning of not a new chapter, but a new book in your life.   A new year of new adventures awaits you.  Many tragedies, defeats, triumphs, and victories may be played out this year in this drama called life…

Today is the day my caramel chunk, my peanut butter, my boyfriend, my man, my huz-band, and my future baby’s daddy (lol) is celebrated.

“Lloydy, Lloydy, look whose 40”!

I can remember when I first met you.  I had heard about you before I knew who you were.  We finally met and I became familiar with you, and learned that you were a really great guy.  You left that same semester and I didn’t think anymore about you…when you came back that following fall semester of 2001, I was able to get to know you, and I learned that you were still a really great guy.  After you graduated, I never thought there would be anything more to our relationship.  Over time, through emails and phone calls, I got to know you better.  You showed that you would always be a good friend, but I never imagined that it would grow to be more. Our friendship did go on to be more and I am so grateful that it did.  Everyday, I am still able to see that you genuinely are a really great guy.

What a great friend you are.  Even to people that no longer deserve your friendship or you being friendly to them.  I admire you for striving to look beyond people’s faults and to see why they are the way they are without judging them at the place they are in life.  The patience and tolerance you for all people is a true gift.  You are genuine and admired from all that come across your path.  People that don’t know you have a desire to strike up a conversation with you, and people that do know you go out of their way to hear encouragement, jokes, and words of wisdom…because you are a really great guy.  You love people and they love you.

I am glad that you are looking forward to this day of celebration because you surely deserve to be celebrated. Today is the beginning of not a new chapter, but a new book in your life.   A new year of new adventures awaits you.  Many tragedies, defeats, triumphs, and victories may be played out this year in this drama called life.  While we walk this production together with God as the writer and director, I hope that you will begin to reap even more blessings this year than ever before.  I pray that more of what you have prayed for will manifest itself this year, along with things that you haven’t imagined or expected.

“Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”                                                  1 Corinthians 2:9 NIV

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUGAR-BEAR!

Thank You with a Twist

This morning I woke up to a text message from a co-worker.  Sadly this isn’t anything new.  However, I was surprised to see which co-worker it was from.  It was from the co-worker whose daughter I had taught.  They are the mother/daughter duo that caused me most of my stress and frustration from last year.  If you don’t know what I mean, please check out my post titled Dear Diary Explained.

In the text message “She” was telling me that her daughter planned on using the test taking strategies that I had taught her last year on the state test she had today.  She then went on to express how I am making a huge impact on the students of our school.  Reading this left me amazed, because all I could think of was the hell that she and her daughter put me through last year.  Not only did I have to deal with these two, but this was also my first year at this school which, by the way, was nothing like what I was used to.  This school is like the Disney Channel. I was more familiar with MTV.  I was also the only African American teacher at a school that I can strongly say is about 98% Caucasian (teachers and students).  I was used to being a part of a school that represented more of how America truly looks.  Although most of the teachers did their best to make me feel a part, I still had moments where I felt alone and in the spotlight, all at the same time.  Dealing with these changes of familiarity, one of the last things I needed was a co-worker that I worked with every day, to go behind my back complaining about me, all the while smiling and appearing to be the cheerleader for students and teachers alike.

Setting: Today, at school before the bell rang, “She” came into my room with that smile she always gives when she is overflowing with unicorns, bubbles, hearts, and rainbows.

She: (hugs me) Thank you for being an inspiration to our students.  Did you get my text?

Me: Thank you for that and yeah, but I am surprised that you would be thanking me.

She: Well, you have been great with our students and I appreciate what you did for my daughter.

Me: I’m surprised because you really put me through a lot last year with your daughter misinterpreting what I would say in class and writing it down on sticky notes to give you and then you going to the principal about it…. Last year was really rough for me.

She: (voice cracking) I’m just telling you what [my daughter] said.

Me: Yes, but instead of you coming to me, you went to the principal (interruption)

She: (with an uncomfortable smile) I came and talked to you about it (interruption)

Me: After you met with the principal, but I am happy that somewhere in all of that, your daughter was able to learn something that she wants to use instead of what her current teacher has taught her this year, so Thank you.

She: (leaves my room as her Unicorns have now turned into wildly running dark horses, the bubbles have all burst, the hearts have been shattered, and the rainbows have evaporated)

Me: (smiling and feeling relieved and proud of myself)

I didn’t expect this to happen today, but I believe that it was finally time for me to let her know how she and her daughter made me feel. I wasn’t loud or disrespectful because what is the point in that.  I kept my tone and voice level very calm.  Since last year I have maintained my professionalism to her and her daughter.  I even prayed for her when she was dealing with some personal things.  I prayed on the spot for her that God would be with her and comfort her in her time of frustration.  She and her daughter didn’t realize they hurt me, but I also don’t think she knew that I had figured out it was her that was going to the principal to “tattle” on me.  The principal would only tell me a parent came to her.  My detective shows really helped me figure this out last year.  I saw her later in the day and there was a continuation of no words from her. She still carried her frown and I still said hello.  I know that she didn’t expect that conversation to turn out the way that it did, but it would have been a disservice to myself, if I hadn’t been honest about my feelings.  I will continue to be a professional with her, but yea ME!!!

http://deardiary.biz/2017/03/11/deardiaryexplained

picture from memegenerator.com

Dear Diary Explained

Today is a special day for it is MY BIRTHDAY.  A day that is filled with excitement, dreaming, and goal setting.  It is on this day that I have decided to make my first official post on my new blog… Dear Diary.

Last year around this time I was told to stop saying this phrase in my classroom.  This meant that I could no longer speak aloud my entries into my imaginary diary.  What had I done?  I had offended a child, that, might I add, already didn’t like the class.  If I would see a student that was off task I would “write” in my diary.  Here is an example of how I would begin my diary entry: “Dear Diary, “student A” still does not have a book open to read.  I sure hope they get a book out to read, so that they can join the rest of the class. The end.”

What was meant to be a joke, or a funny way to grab the child’s attention to what I needed them to do, was taken as offensive by this student and their parent, with whom I taught with and spoke to everyday.  Due to me being asked by my principal to pretty much discontinue with the phrase, yes, my grade level co-worker, went to the principal and not me about this.  I mean why should she have?  We only had grade level meetings together because we taught the same grade and I taught her child…but I digress.

My students began to realize that I no longer said Dear Diary, so they began to say it or they would say D.D.  I had been saying “Dear Diary” since the beginning of that school year.  If someone would ask a question that wasn’t necessary I would hear “Dear Diary”.  If a student tripped over the invisible rock in the class, I would hear D.D.  This showed me that my students understood my meaning behind it.  It was something we were supposed to laugh about, because it was meant to be silly.  No teacher wants to offend their students because that is the only thing the child will remember about you. They won’t believe that you are truly there to support them.

I had been using the phrase Dear Diary for years with my family.  Especially with my brother-in-love.

Since I could no longer use it in my classroom, I decided to create a place where I could.  It would be a place where I could freely express my thoughts and feelings “privately”.  It took a while to figure out the platform to use, but here I am now.  As in my classroom, I hope I do not offend anyone, but if I do, we can always talk about it.  Please don’t report me to the principal…let’s just talk about it in the comments.