Before we get started, I just want to make it clear that I am not a photographer of beautiful, discarded lightbulbs. The good people at Pixabay had this royalty-free image waiting for me so I wouldn’t have to post a picture of a burned out lightbulb on my cheap, taupe carpet, which is what I would have had to do. You will not see “photography” on this list of things I learned this year.
rethink charity. I watch a lot of TED talks (typically after I binge watch some trash TV as a way to absolve myself), and this was definitely the
one that stuck in my brain most this year. It changed the way I think about
charity, giving, creativity, and even many aspects of my own job. If nothing
else, you will never think of overhead costs in charities the same way again.
forgiveness for teachers. If you’re a public school teacher and have graduate
or undergraduate loans and don’t know about the Teacher Loan Forgiveness Program,
educate yourself! Depending on what and where you teach, you can get quite a
bit of money forgiven. I got around $9,000 shaved off my grad school loans, and
I think that’s one of the smaller amounts. Also, I had heard that you can’t get
both the Teacher Forgiveness Loan and the Public Service Forgiveness loan,
but it turns out you can, just not at the same time. It’s all very confusing
and the applications are an eye-roller, but it’s all definitely worth the time and
Carrie Fisher said this.
be kind. I think if I’m honest with myself in the past few years I have
begun to feel a little arrogant about my ability to be kind. As a teacher, I
have a soft spot for the kids whom others would find unlikeable or challenging,
and can, for the most part, handle defiance and personal insults from teenagers
with what is for me an all-time high level of patience and gentleness. This has even carried over to the way I deal with certain adults who annoy or insult me
personally. (P.S. If you want to get some practice having patience for adults
who hate you, just start a blog or online platform where you share opinions.)
the same kindness and patience for a very specific sliver of humanity: adult
bullies. This year, both online and in person, when I’ve heard or read about
adults who proudly silence the voices of those who already struggle to have
their voices heard, I lose my actual mind.
All patience and gentleness disappear like a cloud of Febreze, and my immediate reaction is
to want to say whatever I can to make the bullies feel small and stupid, which,
news alert, is also bullying. I know what righteous anger is, and I respect the
people who can channel their righteous anger into action, but I can assure you
my anger towards adult bullies is not righteous and is very much a “I would
simply like to crush you now” kind of anger. Perhaps the closest to kindness I
get with them is not responding at all.
with adult bullies, what I’ve at least done is recognize that I have a huge
deficit in that area. I need to remember that I’m not a truly kind person if
I’m only kind to the people I think deserve it.
family for Christmas. Using a combination of online recipes, I’ve tweaked my sangria based on what sounded good or what didn’t work the last time, and this year, I did it. I perfected the recipe. It’s not too sweet, not too red-winey, and with just enough cinnamon and winter fruits. You’re welcome.
to be more gingery)
large pitcher the night before you plan to serve it. Add ginger beer just before
serving so as not to lose bubbles. Drink. Spit whole cranberries from your
glass at your older brothers when they least expect it and laugh maniacally.
make it” is extremely real. After I wrote my last post, which
detailed how negative I’d become this fall, I was determined to change my
attitude at school. I can’t remember if it was the very next school day or
several days later, but at some point I saw a student full-out sprinting in the
hall, so fast that his hair flew madly behind his ears. It wasn’t even a passing period between
classes—this kid was just unapologetically booking it down the hallway. My immediate reaction, as it had
been lately, was to be grumpy—to stop the student angrily and say something
shame-y about rules and his age and how he should obviously know better. But
instead I challenged myself. I dare you
to deal with this running fool with as much positivity as humanly possible.
shouted. He kept running. “HEY!”
and rolled his eyes, knowing he’d been caught. I thought briefly about what to
say to him, and decided on a plan of action. I began walking toward him frantically.
time do we have?” I asked.
“I said, how
much time do we have? Before they get here?”
scrunched up his face, utterly confused.
you talking about?”
you’re obviously running from a zombie attack,” I said. “There’d be no
other reason to run that fast in a middle school hallway, right?”
grinned sheepishly. Then, seeing that I was waiting, he continued. “Yeah. They’re, uh, like ten minutes away?”
said, winking. “I’ll get my crossbow from my car.”*
grace to the child who was way too old to be sprinting down the hallway did a
weird thing to me. It made me furiously happy, as Jenny Lawson would say. I
was practically giddy walking back to my classroom, as if I’d discovered
something awesome like a bag of peanut butter M&Ms in my coat pocket or
that it was Thursday instead of Wednesday. It made me want to do more gracious
things, to challenge myself not just to be positive but to be as kind as possible in other situations that would have normally
driven me bonkers.
my grumpy moments between Thanksgiving and Christmas break,
but for the most part, those two weeks were drastically different from before. Making
a conscious choice to be kind and positive was a game-changer, along with the
other things I decided to do from my list.
way, I’m aware that “fake it ‘til you make it” won’t work in all circumstances
in teaching or in life, especially when your professional situation is burning you out.
I’ve been there. It’s brutal.)
that I’m anywhere close to a model citizen, just email me and I’ll give you a
list of some of the things I’ve thought, said, and done this semester and you’ll take
it back immediately.
even if we catch each other sprinting in the hallways (which still makes zero
sense to me).
*I do not keep a crossbow in my car.**
**I do not have a crossbow.