Watch your mouth

One of the "side effects" of being a teacher is that I feel the need to "shush" people. This would be okay if I only did it in school. Or if I only shushed kids. But no, I am a teacher 24/7 when it comes to some things. In the theatre, I have no problem at all turning and giving the annoying people behind me "the look", and asking them to turn off their cell phones. I have been known to ask teenagers in public to watch their language, please. If my children are in the vicinity, I get downright vigilant about the foul words.
This doesn't mean I personally don't swear. In fact, high school teachers have some of the worst potty mouths of anyone. After all, we spend all day listening to some very creative phrases. I say things that I hope my children never hear. It's when I think those little ears are nearby that I get squirrely.
One night this past week, I think I might have stepped over the line from "protective Mummy" to "crazy lady". I was using my computer in the dining room, and Hubby was in the living room, watching TV. The Terrors were playing all over the house, the way only small children can...you know, where they aren't in any one room, because they are in all of them? With one ear I was listening to Bill Maher on TV. He entertains me even if I sometimes disagree with his point of view. Suddenly, Bill let loose with a passionate string of creative words.
"AHH! Stop! Shush!!"
Oh right. It's TV. He can't hear me...
"Watch your language! Hey!!!" This time, accompanied by hand and arm flapping.
Crap. Yelling at the TV again...
"Why must you use those words???! Nice words, please!"

Yes. New low. Yelling at Bill Maher, on TV, from my dining room, to watch his mouth. Crazy lady territory.

What were you like in high school?

Some coworkers and I were chatting this morning, and we got onto the topic of how much we've changed since high school. One of the ladies married her high school sweetheart, and was very thankful to have missed out on the joys of dating as an adult. Another was VERY glad she had NOT married her high school sweetheart!
At the time (back in the dark ages, before the dawn of civilization) I thought I was hideous. Fat, ugly, and obviously not popular. Well, it's true I wasn't very popular. Neither was I an outcast, though. And looking back at those pictures, I was not fat. I was perfectly normal, healthy, and if I may say so...pretty.
My clothes were a disaster, but that really wasn't my fault. I lived with a mother who insisted on buying all my clothes, and choosing them every day. Her goal was to make me look as hideous as possible. No, I am not just remembering "teen angst". That really truly was the goal. She was hoping the girls would mock me, and the boys would avoid me. Well, the boys thought I was a great friend, nothing more, and the girls were fortunately able to look beyond the bulky nurses shoes and knitted sweater vests. I didn't have a lot of close friends, since I wasn't allowed to socialize outside of school, but I wasn't picked on either.
I look at my students now and wonder what they will remember from high school. Most of them don't realize just how amazing they are, and some of them will never figure it out.

What were you like in high school? If you could go back, and tell your young self one thing, what would it be?

Opening up

A commenter asked me not long ago how I manage to write about my life, opening up my stories for the general public.
I think it helps that my adopted parents do not read this blog, so far as I know. I have thought through the fact that someday they might find this blog. I know that I'm treading a fine line between anonymous and public. Sometimes I say things that make people uncomfortable, and if my parents were to become readers here, I would end up censoring my writing.
I share my stories for a reason. I want people to stop being ashamed of sexual abuse. I think if we talked about incest more, it would happen less. Emotional and psychological abuses run rampant, and nobody says a word. If just one person reads my writing and feels less alone, that will be enough for me.
Depression is another huge topic that everyone is familiar with, if not personally, then in someone else they know. I want to take away the secrecy and encourage people to get help. There is no need to be ashamed, and it doesn't mean there is "something wrong with you" in the head.
Naturally there are some topics that are off limits. I might talk about my family, but my marriage is not your business. I will never write something about my children that I wouldn't want them to read in 10 years. I am careful of what I say regarding my job...I want to stay employed, after all!
I spent too many years being silent, hiding, and being ashamed. Not any more.

Moving up the ladder

I was given the opportunity to fill in for the Vice Principal at work recently, and it was a learning experience. Turns out, I AM a nasty bitch! Who knew?! Thanks, Smoking Student, for pointing that out to me. Also, thank you for the directions "Go back to the pasture with the other cows" because really, I had no idea what else I should be doing.
Being an administrator is a lot like being a teacher, except without the good parts. You don't get to talk endlessly to a captive audience. Instead, you do crowd control. Rather than having fun conversations with happy students, you get to have exchanges like the one mentioned above. (My part in all that was to ask the smokers to come inside the building and go to class, now that the bell had gone. Just in case you were wondering what exactly I did to be called such creative names.) On the up side, I was able to go pee whenever I wanted, which is a fantastic perk.
I'm not sure I'd want to be in an office full-time. I like teaching. I like being in my classroom, doing what I love. I really enjoy spending time with most of my students, and I would get tired of being the Big Meanie pretty fast. But for a day every now and then, it's a nice change. And my bladder appreciates the break.

The blog entry in which I share waaay too much information

I just got home from my first bikini wax. Okay, not quite my first, but the only other time I've done this was many, many years ago, and the technician was a crackhead, and really, nothing got accomplished other than a small section of my thigh got waxed with extremely hot wax.
So. Today. Off I went, feeling brave. My friend (ha! Some friend!) swore to me that it would only feel like a bandaid coming off. No biggie.
Right away I told Holly (the technician) that it was my first time, but yes, I am a brave soul, and would like to go "all the way." She was all "I'll be so gentle you won't even notice me." HA! Why do these women keep lying to me?! She handed me a scrap of towel and said to strip down and hop up on the table. When she came back to the room I was busy trying to decide where to put the teeny towel. No matter what, parts of me were hanging out in the breeze. I don't know why I bothered....she just took it away anyways.
First came the wax. Oooo....warm. Nice. Soothing. See? This is not so bad. Then Holly gently (as promised) placed a strip of paper/cloth over the wax, and smoothed it down. I wasn't so sure about her touching me like that, but still....all was good. She smiled, and asked "How are you doing?" at the exact same time as she RIIPPPED the strip away. Nice distraction technique, Holly. However, I cannot make small talk when the delicate skin around my lady bits is being torn from my body. Before I could say a word, she had done the whole warm soothing wax, gentle strip, RIIPP routine again...this time even CLOSER to places I treasure!! This woman is nuts! How can she keep smiling while inflicting RIIIIPPP-oh-my-god-she-did-it-again pain on innocent people?! What the hell is wrong with her? What is wrong with ME, that I am still here???
I finally got a chance to catch my breath and speak. "I think, maybe, that today will not so much be a "all the way" kind of day, okay there, Holly? In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm good now! Done! So thanks!" She smiled at me. "I thought you might change your tune. No problems. I'll just do the other side, and you'll be done. Halfway there!!!"
Halfway? We were only half done? Was she kidding? And off we went, with more warm wax, gentle strips, riippping pain (literally) until she decided I was tortured enough.
As I was paying (yes, I paid for this experience) Holly asked if I'd like to book my next appointment. Ha! Ha ha!!! She's a funny one, that Holly.

Shamelessly making my friends do my writing for me.

As you may have noticed, I'm stuck with writer's block. And the longer I wait to put something here, the worse it gets. Nasty cycle! So I asked my facebook friends for suggestions. Here are the ideas they sent:

Marc said: "ok. The only thing people love more than hero's is watching them fall."

Shereen: "Write about why you need to write in a blog?"

Buffy: "me....just kidding lol and hurry up I miss it!!"

Sherry: "Early spring in the Yukon"

Barb: "okay I know I am getting older but am vain enough to think that Mother Nature has treated me kindly. Yes I murmur prayers to the memory of the creators of hair colouring products but other than that have gone the natural root - oh excuse me that is route.

We were on an sunset cruise in Mazatlan and was chatting with a woman who in the course of the conversation asked me "Who does your botox? They do great job."

Needless to say I must have looked like a large fish out of water with all the gum flapping. It took a bit of thinking to decide if this was a complement, a slam, ignorant, whatever ... answers; yes, no, obviously.

So a comment on what are the accepted topics of conversation in a social situation. As an "older" woman I know things have changed but I seemed to have missed a memo or two. ;o]."

So there you have it. Wisdom and wit from my friends around the world. I promise I'll be back again with something real, but this is it for now!