student teaching...

means being parched. constantly.

makes you feel like you're the dumbest person in the world.

reminds you that you know more than you think you do.

means faking it until you make it.

teaches you the magic of hearing someone call you "ms. legel."

is another way of saying "kiss every aspect of your life goodbye."

teaches YOU more than you teach students.

humbles you. daily.

makes you realize that there is textbook knowledge, and then there is reality.

makes you want to cry and smile and scream and rejoice, all at the same time.

makes weekends look like glorious gems from God.

is worth it all.

what i would blog about, if i were to write a blog

i'm still here.

since my last post, many blogs have flowed through my head. blogs about the funny man at the gym and new year's resolutions and things i've learned.

but sometimes, there are bigger things than blogs going on in life. since my grandma got sick and died, all in the span of six weeks, sharing my random musings seems insignificant to all that's on my heart.

because, to be honest, if i were to share what i was really thinking about, i wouldn't write about the aforementioned subjects; i would talk about things that people get tired of hearing about: about how my heart aches; about how i've reached for the phone three times to call my grandma, only to realize i can't; about how when people ask me how my christmas was, i want to be honest and say it was horrible rather than giving a passive, "great. and you?"; about how i pray she will give me a sign that she made it okay, at the same time praying she doesn't, as it would probably freak me out; about how i went to her house at night, laid in her bed, and cried, selfishly upset that she left me; about how numbness can be confused for strength.

i'm sure i'll return to my random musings, in time. but for now, my thoughts are consumed by un-bloggable feelings.

my list-o-thankfulness

on my five-hour drive home tuesday, i had some good time to think about all i am thankful for. here's a few things i'd like to share...

i'm thankful for the opportunity to get an education. i complain about my program a lot, but in the end, i'm really humbled that i have the opportunity to learn, grow, and further my knowledge.

i'm thankful for my car. although i lovingly refer to it as the "burgundy bastard," he's a reliable, warm, and smooth piece of machinery.

i'm thankful that, in her sickness, my grandma is not feeling pain and still has a memory as sharp as a tack.

i'm thankful that i live with joanna. she has taught me a lot about life, and, most of all, she gives the best hugs whenever i need them. she's a true gem.

speaking of friends! i have the best circle of friends in the whole world. hyperbole, you say? no. it's true. whether they live in wisconsin, iowa, nebraska, kansas, north carolina, (fill in state where my friends live HERE), i am continuously humbled by the bonds i share with the people who let me call them friends. i could go on, and on, and on...

i'm thankful for my parents' generosity and for their faith in me. i really don't deserve it.

music. i'm really thankful for music. from lady gaga (paparazzi, baby) to real artists (no offense, lady g), music makes me feel alive when nothing else does.

i'm thankful for extended family. for the most part (each family has exceptions, right?), i have a stellar collection of aunts, uncles, cousins, spouses of cousins, etc. that a person could ask for. i often times leave family gatherings wishing i knew more about them because they are such cool people. my dad always says, "you can pick your nose. you can pick your friends. but you can't pick your family." truth is, i'd pick a lot of them.

most of all, i'm thankful that this list could go on for a long time.

not enough tapes, not enough memory

death isn't a secret; we all know that it's the final destination for each person. but when you know it's coming soon, you take it more seriously. you stand up straight, look it in the eyes, and tremble.

when you know she'll be gone soon, you study her face like your grad school textbooks, engraining each line in your memory so that you never forget the contours of her face. you hang onto everything she says praying you'll remember each morpheme, each word, and each story that escapes her mouth. you even secretly hide a voice recorder in your purse to preserve your last conversations forever.

but then the old, trusty recorder breaks, and you realize that there's not enough tapes to capture what you want: for her voice to ring in your head forever. so you listen harder, trying to remember. you repeat her words in your head over and over, but then you find yourself forgetting them just as soon as the words are spoken; like your mind won't let you hang on to the particulars.

and so you just focus on how you feel with her. and you know that's a feeling you'll never forget.

i don't want no new bestie

ah, george. remember that friendly old man that i befriended in my previous post? yeah. he's a creeper.

you know, you try to trust people, but it just ends up exploding in your big, hopeful face. george thought it would be fun if we were best friends. he wrote me e-mails about all the places he wanted to take me: the zoo (i.hate.zoos), the mediterranean restaurant, the hemingway bistro...

and then there are the phone calls...

sweet goodness. shit like this just persists my speculation of peoples' intentions. i just wanted a friend. instead i got an unwanted mole on my ass.

today, i didn't get mugged

sometimes i come back from trips home weary and unnerved. it never fails that these trips back home mean hearing some criticism of where i live and why i live there. there have been times when i just wanted to move back so that i would no longer have to be criticized about where i live.

then days like today happen, and i know that comments i hear are merely chalked up to ignorance. not that i didn't know this before, but i wish everyone who is quick to think of chicago as a surefire place to get mugged would meet people like george.

i went to the park today to do some reading for school. i wanted to enjoy the beautiful fall day and get a healthy dose of vitamin D, so i parked myself on a park bench in scoville park and dove into discussions about high school curriculum.

i hadn't been there long enough to get through the introduction when a man stopped and commented on the nice day. from there, we learned all about each other.

an older man in his eighties, george (whose name i didn't learn until we parted) is from istanbul, turkey. when i asked why he came to america, he explained with a interesting analogy: "coming to america to a foreigner is like the desire to go to heaven after you die. it's the ultimate goal." (more or less)

we continued to talk about everything from the romance languages to obesity, our talk only interrupted by a hassidic jew holding a mango and some greenery, asking if either of us were jewish.

he told me that i looked extremely american. he also said that, while i looked like a teenager, i was mature well beyond my years, which i appreciated (i'm sure some of my friends may disagree with this!).

george told me of his life, from living in hell's kitchen in nyc to growing up to two french parents in turkey. he explained that he'd rather be a fool than mature (making his former compliment...?)

i told him of my future plans of teaching. he offered eight crossed fingers that i would get a job and the thought that "[i] am the mistress of my fate. [i] must mold it with both hands."

george and i exchanged e-mail addresses (he just completed a class about using the Internet at the library) and plan on having breakfast together soon. while 60 years separate us, i think we both have a lot we can learn from each other. and more than anything, maybe we both just need someone to talk to.

yes. i. can. (right?)

remember in my last post when i said that i am pretty amazing at avoiding anything that involves risk and failure? yeah. about that...

so...teaching scares me. freaks me out. that's why i refused to pursue the field for so many years. it is also why i finally decided to pursue it; i realized that the very thing i feared was the very thing i wanted to do more than anything. the latter won out over the fear.

while i'm excited to teach and think about it night and day, i'm still, admittingly, scared of what will happen when i enter my first classroom. i have nightmares a couple times a week about my first day of teaching. i dream that kids beat me up. i dream that kids run away. i dream that i can't find the classroom in which i need to be teaching in and the bell has already rung. i have yet to have a dream where i'm a spitting image of erin gruwell.

i know these dreams and fears are unrealistic, at least in the grandiose way that they are portrayed during my REM cycles. but the nervousness still ebbs and flows in the pit of my stomach.

tonight i gave two presentations in my curriculum design class. i felt good. i felt confident. and it went well. in fact, the professor came up afterwards and sincerely complimented me on what i had delivered. "you're already a great teacher," she said, enthusiastically yet casually. little did she know that i needed to hear those five words more than anything else in the whole world.

i can do it. i will do it. and i'll be good, damnit.