Batting 1,000

Today was a day like any other, 24 hours long, the sun shining, and the blustery wind to tell me that winter has indeed arrived on my campus. Other than the cold snap, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Minutes before my last class, I shuffled through the door and took my seat only to find that someone had switched my seat with one that wobbles. So now, during my professor's initial lecture, I am spotted fiddling with my planner to try and make some sort of wedge with a stack of paper. I don't know, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but then I just gave up. So, there I sat, defeated with my chair rocking back and forth with every breath I took.

To make matters worse, the kid sitting next to me decided to take out his textbook and use his thumb to every so carefully flip through the pages. That sound, although minimal, played over and over again, as if what he was really looking through was one of those rad comic flip-books. But no, it was just a textbook that he was doing this to - over and over and over. Flipping, flipping, flipping - it was enough to institutionalize me. I looked around, and no one else seemed distressed. A look of disbelief dripped over my face, and I was sure the professor knew I was anything but focused, but I didn't care. And yet, I didn't say anything. I just let it happen...for FIFTY minutes. By the time we were dismissed, I wanted to take that textbook and burn it, but I couldn't get over the fact that I said nothing. Why didn't I say anything? Would that have been rude? And if so, why couldn't I even look annoyed? After all, HE was the one inconveniencing ME, so I couldn't have been wrong. Right? Ugh, I don't even know any more. I just can't wait until next class - and YOU BET I'm changing seats.

It's Official: I'm a Hobo

For the past couple months, I've been spending a lot of time teaching children. I've been working my entire life up to this one mere experience, and it was stressful to say the least. I had to wake up every day knowing that I could mess up my life's work at the drop of a hat. Not to mention the everlasting murmur of childrens' jibber-jabbering when they're actually supposed to be listening to me. Teaching is my job and learning is theirs. I didn't think it would get much more complicated than that. However, I slowly started to expand my heart for them, maybe without even knowing it. Every day, I went in wondering how that baseball game went or whether or not she really did get what she wanted for her birthday. Moments passed, and the day came when I had to leave. It's funny, because when I started, I couldn't wait to leave. I imagined myself waving goodbye to the stress and the yelling and the bus duty and the misspelled homework. But, to my surprise, when I left, I yearned to stay. Without my knowledge, every one of those kids got to my heart. I was petrified. If they only knew their strength, they could very well run the world.

During my time there, I read a book called "The Family Under the Bridge". It's about an old hobo who stumbles upon a homeless family and initially finds the children detestable. However, with a little time, it turns out that all he needed to do was face his fear.

"I can't abide children", grumped Armand. "Starlings, they are. Witless, twittering, little pests." Mireli shook her finger at him. "You think you don't like children", she said, "but it is only that you are afraid of them. You're afraid the sly little things will steal your heart if they find out you have one."