Over the past two weeks I've been harboring a Swede in my home. It's been an awesome 16 days getting to know and spending time with my exchange student, but there has been some very noticable differences between us. Most of which, I've realized about myself, as an American. So I've asked her if she would help me write this blog post. Glutton for punishment, I asked her to tell me what we, as Americans, do that appear to be weird to the Europeans. (Don't worry, I've embarrassed myself enough in front of her for all of you.) Here are the observations she's made of us Americans, and has made me noticeably more aware of myself, over the past two weeks:
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And at the end of the day of in-service when our brains are fried from lectures and our bones are achy from sitting, we almost too quickly forget why we do what we do. We may be downtrodden from the incessant in-service workshops we're forced to do, but come the first day of school we will be revitalized with the energy of 25 lively bodies filling the desks in our classrooms. The truth is: We became teachers because we care about the future and we know that the future starts with these amazing young people we have the privilege of being with for nine months out of the year. Everything we do is in the best interest of "our kids." They enter as a rostered list of names on a paper, but they leave us as our kids. As another new school year begins, |
Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. Now life moves really, really freaking fast. And it's true, we get burdened down by responsibilities and life doesn't ever stop to wait for us. Sometimes a day passes me by and I look back and found that I did a lot of griping, and frankly, I'm tired of not slowing down to smell the roses, or every other flower along the way too. The start of this new school year means we have another set of opportunities ahead of us. But we also could start looking at every day like this. And, god, do I know... It's hard to get out of bed when the alarm is sounding at 5AM and your responsibilities start right away, but I'm going to try my hardest to find something good about each and every damn moment. Even if in that moment, all I can find is enough gratitude to be thankful for the air in my lungs, well at least then I always have that. See, it's really just that simple. We're alive, and it's about damn time we show a little appreciation for that. |
So let's try something: let's act like we're alive. Smile and be bright-eyed (I suggest coffee to help).
We've got another day in front of us. What are you going to do with it?
We've got another day in front of us. What are you going to do with it?
I don't consider myself to be particularly maternal... I mean, I'd like to say I have a pretty big heart for people in general, but I also feel weird and awkward around little kids. Toddlers are awesome, but to me, little babies are a lot like science experiments. When I first learned about child behavior acquisition, I began to realize they're just a bunch of tiny mimickers. Oh, they like when you make a silly face at them? Do it 400 times and they'll still giggle. I wish pleasing all people was that easy. The truth is: kids learn from us. So if you want to teach them to see the color green as the color purple, they're going to until they get to kindergarten and they're called a freak when they say "that frog is purple!"
Disclaimer to any considered readers: I won't actually do this to any future children of my own.
In college, I remember during student teaching when they told us that as a teacher we become "in loco parentis." In broken Spanish, this would seem to translate as crazy parents, but in Latin it means "in place of a parent." And for the next eleven months of my life, I'm going to be "in loco parentis" for a Swedish teenager.
Suddenly, a few maternal instincts have kicked in:
I'm beginning to consider the thousands of different situations she could get into, as I remember what it's like to be seventeen, and I'm beginning to fear the dreadful call reporting "I messed up." And even though I haven't met her in person yet, I'm beginning to care for her in unexpected ways like making sure she can be taken care of if she gets sick. I'm worrying about her grades already, and school hasn't even started. I'm hoping she will make friends at school, but I also hope she won't get too cool that she won't want to hang out with me still. What a dreadful thought.
And then, I'm worrying about a whole lot of other factors too. Like, what will people think of me? I'm already receiving criticism in the form of doubt. I think about things like Meet the Teacher night and going down to talk to her teachers, and knowing they doubt me because I'm so young. Yes, I know, I couldn't have birthed a seventeen year old at my age. But does age actually amount to your ability to parent? I think many factors determine your ability to love and care for another individual.
Disclaimer to any considered readers: I won't actually do this to any future children of my own.
In college, I remember during student teaching when they told us that as a teacher we become "in loco parentis." In broken Spanish, this would seem to translate as crazy parents, but in Latin it means "in place of a parent." And for the next eleven months of my life, I'm going to be "in loco parentis" for a Swedish teenager.
Suddenly, a few maternal instincts have kicked in:
I'm beginning to consider the thousands of different situations she could get into, as I remember what it's like to be seventeen, and I'm beginning to fear the dreadful call reporting "I messed up." And even though I haven't met her in person yet, I'm beginning to care for her in unexpected ways like making sure she can be taken care of if she gets sick. I'm worrying about her grades already, and school hasn't even started. I'm hoping she will make friends at school, but I also hope she won't get too cool that she won't want to hang out with me still. What a dreadful thought.
And then, I'm worrying about a whole lot of other factors too. Like, what will people think of me? I'm already receiving criticism in the form of doubt. I think about things like Meet the Teacher night and going down to talk to her teachers, and knowing they doubt me because I'm so young. Yes, I know, I couldn't have birthed a seventeen year old at my age. But does age actually amount to your ability to parent? I think many factors determine your ability to love and care for another individual.
Kids learn from us. When I think about how I grew up, whether it be at age seven or seventeen, I think about my role models. My parents of course, but also the wonderful teachers I had, and the support systems I had in place from my friends and their families. When I think back on these years, I see it really does take a whole village to raise a child. |
Now my exchange student is seventeen, yes, and most of her raising has been done for her already, but she's still got a bit to learning to do in the next year of her life. She already has her village back home in Sweden, but now she'll find a whole new one here in Pennsylvania too. And when I think about how lucky she is to have so many people looking after her, I realize, she'll be just fine.
I might be loco, but I hope I do okay at this whole parentis thing.
I might be loco, but I hope I do okay at this whole parentis thing.
For those of you that don’t know: It’s true: I love Harry Potter. Like anything else, you either love it or don’t understand the magic behind it.
Before our Orlando travels, I tried explaining to several people who have never read, or even watched the Harry Potter series, the magic that truly exists throughout these stories. To those who haven’t yet experienced it: you are missing out. For me, it’s not at all about the wizards, witches, or silly-sounding spells one can cast. For me, the magic quite literally lies in the words. I have proclaimed it once, and I’ll say it again and again: J.K. Rowling is a mere goddess among us mortals. Her words are powerful enough to transport a simple reader into an entirely new universe, where magic really does exist. Isn’t that the point of reading after all? Her genius is so deeply strewn throughout the series that time and time again, there are still secrets left to be discovered.
Now while we were in Orlando, we ventured outside the Disney parks (read my post about those experiences here), and went to Universal Studios. Universal Studios, now two parks, are connected only by the Hogwarts Express, the train that transports Harry and his friends from the Muggle (human) world to the land where all magic is allowed. Being a self-declared nerd, I was all about visiting Hogsmede and Diagon Alley on both sides of the Universal Studio parks.
Before our Orlando travels, I tried explaining to several people who have never read, or even watched the Harry Potter series, the magic that truly exists throughout these stories. To those who haven’t yet experienced it: you are missing out. For me, it’s not at all about the wizards, witches, or silly-sounding spells one can cast. For me, the magic quite literally lies in the words. I have proclaimed it once, and I’ll say it again and again: J.K. Rowling is a mere goddess among us mortals. Her words are powerful enough to transport a simple reader into an entirely new universe, where magic really does exist. Isn’t that the point of reading after all? Her genius is so deeply strewn throughout the series that time and time again, there are still secrets left to be discovered.
Now while we were in Orlando, we ventured outside the Disney parks (read my post about those experiences here), and went to Universal Studios. Universal Studios, now two parks, are connected only by the Hogwarts Express, the train that transports Harry and his friends from the Muggle (human) world to the land where all magic is allowed. Being a self-declared nerd, I was all about visiting Hogsmede and Diagon Alley on both sides of the Universal Studio parks.
I don’t mean to drop too many HP references for all of you Muggles, so let me get to the part where I witnessed the true magic: While in Diagon Alley, we were able to explore the world just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione once did. We traveled into Ollivander’s Wand Shop. We went in as a small group, about 8 of us, and we listened to a woman in full character share with us how the wand picks a wizard. She selected a small boy in our group to be a volunteer. He tried one wand and killed the plants with his "magic" and her special effects. Attempt #2 resulted in him creating a thunderstorm inside our small wand-closet. And then the little boy was given a third wand to try. As soon as she laid the wand in his hand and cued up some "extra special" special effects, the lights dimmed except for the spotlight on him, and the magical music grew louder. The little boy beamed with excitement, feeling as if the wand truly did pick him. To all of us adults in the room, we were just as happy as he was, but because we got to witness the absolute joy this experience brought him. He was a stranger to me when we entered the room, but we exited, we were bonded by the magic we had all just experienced. This is what I love about Harry Potter. In that precise moment, that little boy felt special, as if he was chosen to do something important in the world. And isn’t that true in the world we actually live in? I’d like to think so. The magic exists far beyond the wizarding world and Harry Potter only helps us see it. |
I spent this past week in Orlando, Florida with my family exploring the Disney parks and venturing around the surrounding areas. (Read my last post for the optimism I posted before the trip.) While this week was fun and surely did amount to some necessary family time, it wasn’t all pixie dust and magic, despite what Disney may advertise. When we ventured through Epcot, Animal Kingdom, and yes, even the iconic Magic Kingdom, I began to notice that there was a universal trend among the people. First, let me explain a few things about myself. I am not someone who enjoys big crowds of people, as they often lead to me feeling anxious and claustrophobic. There was no escape from people this past week. The constant strangers nearby made me tiresome quickly. There was never a time when we were alone. |
Now, imagine thousands of people cramped into small spaces drenched in their own sweat and rain. This is where the magic really happens. Happy families, who once bounded with excitement at the park’s gates, now complain of achy feet and hungry bellies. They complain about the heat, humidity, and rain in a multitude of languages. The perfect storm of events combine to create an even greater angst. Suddenly those amicable families are now yelling and screaming at their family members, thus proving the theory that all families are alike, regardless of one’s cultural identification. I suddenly began to see all these people, once different by languages or race, as one large group of human beings huddled beneath the umbrella of the Disney magic. The irony is that you’ll complain, you’ll sweat, and you’ll be broke after paying for this magical Disney experience. |
Also, in case you’ve never visited Florida in July or August, heed my warning: Be prepared. The locals will tell you it’s the hottest time of the year, and here in Orlando, the middle of the state, the humidity literally collects from either of the coasts and just nests above this city. There was at least 80% humidity every day (the highest reached 96%) and then, when the clouds get too heavy, it pours. We quickly got used to walking around wet and with soggy sneakers. This was just another part of the magical experience.
Disney may not be all that it’s cracked up to be (although read my next post about the magic I did get to witness), but the real magic lies in the experience. While we did do a lot of bitching and moaning about the humidity, long lines, or cost of things, I got to do with my family. In a world that moves at Mach speed, I think it’s pretty special to be able to find time to do things with your family.
The bus rides home from the parks were packed with tired passengers, but as they scrolled through the pictures on their phone from their experiences of the day, they smiled on the moments they shared together. I guess there is a little magic left, after all.
The bus rides home from the parks were packed with tired passengers, but as they scrolled through the pictures on their phone from their experiences of the day, they smiled on the moments they shared together. I guess there is a little magic left, after all.
"I have no special talent.
I am only passionately curious."
Sometimes, I reach for a pen and when I put it to paper, the words I didn't know I had inside me are released.
So here it is:
I'm gettin' it all out.
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