The Impact of a Teacher.

Before I start this, let me just say that I’m not officially a teacher yet. But I have held teaching positions. I teach Sunday School; in my class I go to a school to help kids learn how to read;  I’ve been a tutor. I’ve done a lot of things like that.

Yesterday, I happened to be both a tutor and a reading teacher. (Tutor from 3-5 and reading teacher from 8-9:30 AM.) And I’m not going to say that I sucked, because it wasn’t that bad, but it only went okay. I didn’t really think that I made THAT much of a difference.

I found out that one of my reading students went up to a teacher all excited because apparently it clicked that he is suppose to think about what the page he read just said. (He has almost no comprehension, which was why I told him that.)

Then, I’m tutoring in the writing center, and I get a girl in there. Overall, her paper is okay. Not the greatest, but I don’t usually see what I would consider to be a great paper in the writing center. But I helped her a little bit with it, and helped her get references and such. It didn’t really feel like I did a whole lot. Yet she acted as if I did the greatest job helping her and that she learned so much.

I find both of these things weird. In both cases, I really didn’t think I did much. I thought that at best I did okay. Yet, the people I impacted were actually impacted.

So here’s my theory: As a teacher, we won’t know when we impact someone. Maybe we’ll never know. But even if we think we’re doing a horrible job, that doesn’t mean we are.

Or at least, that doesn’t mean that I am.

How to win [with me] at speed dating.

My college hosted speed dating. I went. Not that I really was searching for a life time partner; I just thought it would be a fun experience. And though I expected to put no body down, I actually did put down a couple. I figured why not? Nothing will probably happen.

However, when I was going through all the guys I met, I noticed a few things that would really make a guy stand out. As such, I’m passing these on to you.

1) Dress nicely. I know, people say that looks shouldn’t matter. They do. So if you’re wearing a nice shirt, even a tie, you’ll be remembered as one of the few who actually dressed up and looked good, versus the guys in the silly sweaters.

2.) Stand as the woman approaches the table. We did it in such a way that the women go around the circle and the men stay at the table. One group of guys stood as we came and stood when we left. Although it seemed weird to me then, when the next set of guys didn’t, it made me realize how nice those two guys were.

3.) Have a good handshake. Bad handshakes always went to bad guys. NOt sure why. Have it firm and dry and it’ll be fine.

4.) Have questions to ask. There’s to big guidelines with these. Don’t ask stupid ones. (Like, can you act out a cat?) but also don’t ask cliché ones. Be creative. Have fun. If you don’t talk much, or well, I passed. Bad questions: What are your hobbies? Tell me about yourself. Where are you from? What is your major? And if you have a partner, share.

5.) Provide a good balance of talking between girl and guy. Half the time it would end up being them asking all the time, and we found out nothing about them but they everything about us.

6.) Compliment the girl. Out of the whole night, only one person complimented me. Honest. That made him win.

6.) Random luck. Sometimes something just struck me as I like him. The guys who stood I didn’t put down. (Though I might have put down the one if he wasn’t a freshman.) Sometimes the guy who talked less actually got put down over the guy who talked more.I can’t tell you what it was. I just went with my gut when it came down to it and picked the people I remembered. So be nice, be courteous, and be memorable and maybe you’ll win at speed dating.

I am a birther. But why?

Did you know that the only reason the Democrats win is because they name call? Really. I didn’t vote for Obama because I did not like his politics; I voted against him because I’m a racist. I don’t like the idea of gay rights not because I think it’s wrong, I’d like to have some control over what my children see, and dangerous territory to go into, but because I’m a homophobe. I don’t believe in global warming not because I understand that the information is fabricated and that we have normal spells of warm and cold, but because I’m an idiot.

Same goes for Obama’s birth certificate.

It’s not that I have doubts about someone who refuses to show anyone his birth certificate.

It’s not because his Kenyan grandmother said she was at his birth–in Kenya.

It’s not because no hospital has any record of him.

It’s not because his family can’t even get where he was born correct. Some say it was at home. Others say it was at this hospital. Others say it was at that one.

It’s not because Hawaii had a birth certificate that would allow someone to submit papers from wherever they are in the world and gain a birth certificate, without any proof.

It’s not because his “real” birth certificate on the White House’s website can be brought into photoshop and we can see where he made all of his changes.

It’s simply because I hate Obama and I’m an idiot.

So they name call me. They say that I’m a birther. That I don’t listen to logic.

If you ask me, they are the ones who don’t listen to logic. Maybe this is why we really have such name calling in schools.

 

I think I need to pray more.

Last month I prayed a lot. I prayed hard about everything that was going on in American. About this little boy on facebook. About a lot of things. And, as I said earlier, G-d answered one of my prayers. He stopped SOPA.

While I prayed, I felt a lot more at peace about the things that were happening in the world. I felt a lot less scared.

Well, I stopped praying. And I think I just saw that Mitt Romney won another election. That is making me so depressed.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I would really like to see a good solid conservative in there. I would like to see  conservative  actually win and turn our country around. This election is a pivotal point for my future, because I’ll be graduating and looking for a job soon. I want there to be a job. I want there to be a future.

Mitt Romney isn’t the answer to that though. He not really conservative. He’s a Republican pretending to be conservative.

Newt is better. At least he pretends that he might be conservative.

Who I would really want to win though is Rick Santorum . I like that he is conservative. I like that he doesn’t change and that, besides the fact that he lost his last election and he’s really Catholic, there’s nothing bad going for him. If I got to pick our Republican presidential  candidate, I’d pick him.

But I don’t. Because I like in South Dakota. Instead I get to watch what is going on and worry.

Which is why I need to pray more. The more I pray, the less I worry. At least, I think.

Dear Dad,

Dear Dad,

I know I should be thankful that you are in my life. I should be thankful that you don’t ever drink. You’ve never hurt us. You’ve pretty much always been in my life and you only almost left once. Compared to many other people in this messed up world, you’re not too bad.

But that’s the problem; you’re not too bad. I have some really great memories of you. You taught me how to throw a baseball. You would play games with us on Monday nights. You told a really great Esther story in church. You played tickle monster when I was a kid and fixed my computer when I was older. You took me to see Atlas Shrugged, even though I had no idea whether it might be good or not.

Even now, you drive me to school every week so I can teach Sunday School and be home for shabbat, even though that means two hours of driving for you. And you got up at 7:30 every morning in January so you could drive me to school when I couldn’t breath well.

That’s all you do though. It’s like you think that driving us places because we can’t drive is good enough to max out the amount of father points that you need.  I wish it was. I wish that I could say that I have a great dad because he’ll drive me anywhere pretty much.

It’s what you don’t do that hurts though.

I am trying to apply for a job that I really, really want  I’d like some advice on the application and my resume. But you don’t spend much time outside of your office so I can ask you. I might end up taking my resume to the resume editors at school, even though I know you would be able to help me far more than they probably can. All because you spend as little time upstairs as you can.

You assume that no one will talk to you, so if someone is asking you something without saying your name while you’re upstairs, you ignore it. Yet, you have ADD and supposedly can’t ignore anything. That is contradictory. Does that mean the squeaking of the chair is more important than what I have to ask you?

I don’t like going out to eat with you either. It’s bad enough you’re very overweight but I always hate it when an overweight person buys the biggest meal they can and you do that. It’s like you don’t care about the fact that you’re fat and you don’t care about the fact that you had diabetes. Do you think I like listening to Mom trying not get too mad at the possibility you bought a half gallon of ice cream because you didn’t go to Dairy Queen with us (yet, we dusted to earn that) and then ate it in two days? Do you think I like knowing that with the way you’re eating, you’re probably going to end up in a nursing home as one of the blind old grumps that no one likes to deal with by the time you’re sixty?

Do you even have a clue that I’m always a little bit hesitant that you might decide to leave? You’ve threatened it once. I don’t know if I’d visit you then. I knew I wasn’t going to when you threatened before. All I foresaw for you then was that you’ll be alone, fatter, depressed and grumpy.

What makes me the saddest is that girls usually tend to date people like their dads. I don’t want to date someone like you. You don’t really care much how you look. You don’t care about your health. You get angry and defensive about stupid things. You have a double standard and follow none of the house rules. You drag down anything Christian, to the point I don’t  say anything about Christianity in front of you. You have to be right. Out of all of these things that I struggle with, the only positive things that you’ve had is that you’re fine and supportive with our lack of vision and your humor. Except the more time you spend away from church, the worst your humor gets.

I don’t even want that much from you I don’t think. I want you to follow the rules and guidelines of the house. Silverware with plastic handles goes in the cabinet beneath the bread slicer. It has since we got either the cabinet or the silverware, over ten years ago. Lights need to be turned off. It’s not too much. Everyone else can seem to do it except you. (Well, and Reuben, but he’s just like you.)

I want you to not have double standards. If we say that it’s time to eat, that doesn’t mean come upstairs whenever you feel like it and wait for our food to get cold, but when you make food, we have to come as soon as you call. It’s the idea that we have to wait for you but you better not have to wait for us.

I want to not be afraid of you. I know you don’t hit us or anything, but I don’t bother with you sometimes because I don’t know if you’re going to be grumpy or happy. I text you instead of calling because if I happen to hit you at a bad time, you respond negatively to me. Changing that will take a lot, because Ruben did it for only a year and I’m still scared of approach him for anything, but I’d like that to happen.

Lastly, I want you to care. I want you to care to be around us, so that way we can engage you in conversations. I want you to care about yourself, and not think that you won’t get a heart attack because of your diabetes, or not go blind, even though you pretend like you don’t have it. I want you to care about all of us, instead of appearing like we’re nothing much.

That’s all I would like. If you did just that, it’d make me happy, though I doubt you would.

If you want to do more though, if you want to go above and beyond simple things that I think any father should do, I want to actually care. I want for something to change so much that if Mom died, I’d actually call you to talk a little. I want it to be that when I have kids, I would take them to see you and their grandma, not just that we’re going to see Grandma and Grandpa might happen to be there too or not. I want there to be a real, serious, heart-felt loss if you were to die. I don’t know if there would be right now.

But that takes work. All of this takes work. And over the last couple years, you haven’t been doing a lot in this family that requires work. Instead, you just hide in your office, play cityville or mafia wars, make money on stocks, and ignore it when Mom is hurting so much because you didn’t do something again, or wait until we do it because it hurts us to see her hurting. That’s wrong. It’s not fair.

I wish I had more than a dad who just gave me rides. I wish I could say that it didn’t matter that was all you did, or that the only chance I get to talk to you is when we are in the car together. But it does to me.

Now, I know you’ll never read this. I probably shouldn’t have even written this on a day when you’re going to Sioux Falls for no other reason than that to bring me back to school, when Reuben could do that just as well. But a dad is more than someone who sits in his office and gives us rides. I just wish you saw that before it’s too late.

SQUEAALLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!

This is why this is my not so serious, regular life blog.

I JUST GOT MY FIRST BLOG AWARD!!!!!!!!!!

Honest honest honest. I am so excited. Because in order to get a blog award, someone has to actually READ your blog. And then like it enough to comment about it on their blog.

SOMEONE LIKES ME!!!!!

*random dancing*

Oh, and to prove my award status, the blog that awarded me is here.

And here I was saying that no one likes me a bit ago.

(Yes, Miss Kitty Roads, if you read this, I can be slightly crazy and yes, I am doing most of this right now. You made my day.)

I probably should clarify, this is for my writing blog. Not this blog.

Hahahaha!

Stupid people is what allows us to be able to laugh for five minutes a day I think.

Dear Girls above me. There’s sometimes some slightly sexual ones but overall, the majority of his jokes is just making comments on their stupidity.

Highly Sensitive Person – real or not?

So, I’m going to give a bunch of background which you probably don’t care about but too bad.

On Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, I started crashing at about 3-4 in the afternoon. I just would get so exhausted and would want to take a nap. On Wednesday, I blamed that I was sick. (I probably was. I had a headache and got exhausted after going to the potluck at church too.) But Thursday and Friday I had no excuse.

Because of that, on Friday did a quick google search to see if there is anything out there that would easily explain why I’m tired and what I can do to stop it. I found this website which I actually don’t trust because it looks scammy. (Sorry person.)  It also had adrenal fatigue which is questioned as a real medical diagnosis. So this is where I’m coming from.

It also had on the list a highly sensitive person. What is a highly sensitive person? In short, it is a person who processes information differently than the majority of the population and as such, notices a lot more of the details around them. (For example, the racket my brother makes while eating that annoys me to no end might not actually annoy someone else.)

The website also directed me to the quiz to see if you are hyper sensitive, which you can find here. (You may want to look at that before you read further. Don’t have to, but maybe.)

I figured, why not, I’m tired. I’m not doing much of anything else right now. Let’s see.

I am easily overwhelmed by strong sensory input. Let’s put it this way:  no matter how quiet the store is, I can only last about two hours shopping. There’s just so much color and texture.

I seem to be aware of subtleties in my environment. I honestly don’t know. I know I’m observant. Aware of subtleties? Maybe.

Other people’s moods affect me. I have called this one of my many curses, because I’ll immediately clam up if my dad is angry. I hate it went people aren’t happy.

I tend to be very sensitive to pain. Actually, I think I have a high tolerance to pain.

I find myself needing to withdraw during busy days, into bed or into a darkened room or any place where I can have some privacy and relief from stimulation. Yes, I like to get away. Especially during hectic days. I hate crazy days.

I am particularly sensitive to the effects of caffeine. False. Actually, the opposite. I just had a cup of coffee and I’m ready to fall asleep. But first I’ll finish this blog post. That may be related to a different type of metabolism  that I read in another book.

I am easily overwhelmed by things like bright lights, strong smells, coarse fabrics, or sirens close by. Loud noises overwhelm me. I often close the blinds in my house because it’s just too bright outside. My favorite clothes are soft sweaters. I don’t even buy anything that isn’t comfortable.

I have a rich, complex inner life. Not fully sure what this means. But yes, I have a lot of things going on in my head.

I am made uncomfortable by loud noises. Uncomfortable? Try tense. I hate thunder storms. If I’m expecting it it’s mostly okay but not if I’m not expecting the noise. Hate hate hat.

I am deeply moved by the arts or music. Deeply is a strong word. I don’t think so. Not often.

My nervous system sometimes feels so frazzled that I just have to go off by myself. Yes. And my arms get shaky. I call it stress. If it’s really bad, I hide for a little bit.

I am conscientious. Totally. Especially if it’s something my name will be attached to. Or someone’s name that I’m helping with be attached to.

I startle easily. Yes. My dog started barking all of a sudden and I literally jumped.

I get rattled when I have a lot to do in a short amount of time. Pretty much. In November, I was in major stress mode. I pulled through, but major stress mode. I’m also very good at ordering, prioritizing, ect.

When people are uncomfortable in a physical environment I tend to know what needs to be done to make it more comfortable (like changing the lighting or the seating). Sometimes. I tend to notice if someone is having a problem at least. If it’s a smallish group.

I am annoyed when people try to get me to do too many things at once. Yes. It’s very stressful actually and I just tell them to wait and give me a sec.

I try hard to avoid making mistakes or forgetting things. Yes. Totally. Especially person to person or again, something with my name on it.

I make a point to avoid violent movies and TV shows. Not really. I avoid embarrassing things more.  Then again, I don’t watch many R things for other reasons.

I become unpleasantly aroused when a lot is going on around me. I don’t like a lot going on around me. Is that “unpleasantly aroused”?

Being very hungry creates a strong reaction in me, disrupting my concentration or mood. Yes to mood. We (myself and my mom) suspects it’s low blood sugar actually.

Changes in my life shake me up. Pretty much. I don’t like change that much. Especially unexpected change. Expected change is okay.

I notice and enjoy delicate or fine scents, tastes, sounds, works of art. I think so. Maybe. I get irritated if it is not delicate.

I find it unpleasant to have a lot going on at once. Yes. Unless I’m directing it. But is this any different than three questions ago?

I make it a high priority to arrange my life to avoid upsetting or overwhelming situations. High priority? Maybe not. Priority–yes.

I am bothered by intense stimuli, like loud noises or chaotic scenes. Is this any different than one of the questions asked above? Pretty much. Though I did work well in a restaurant.

When I must compete or be observed while performing a task, I become so nervous or shaky that I do much worse than I would otherwise. I always say that I can do this, and watch, and then I fail. To the point I just prefer to do things quietly.

When I was a child, my parents or teachers seemed to see me as sensitive or shy. I don’t recall parents or teachers saying it, but I’d say it.  (Okay. I didn’t have teachers really. But…)

So, on the low side I have 16 true and on the high side I have 22 true. (If I counted right.) According to the quiz, 12 or above makes you HSP (highly sensitive person). So according to that, I would be.

Here’s my problem: HSP sounds like a scam. Not quite a hoax. But kinda like, “Well, I have a hard time doing this because of my ADD.” Now I can say, “Well, I have a hard time shopping because of I’m HSP.” So an excuse you could say.  So is the idea of an HSP real?

I don’t know. It began in 1996 with a book, which is now the most cited book on the topic online. I tried to look it up  and I found one site that said (I should have saved it) that scans of a regular person and an HSP person shows that different brain waves are emitted or something went given the same stimuli. But that’s all I found. And webMD says nothing on the topic. The person who seems to do the majority of the research on it is the one who coined the term. So all this seems questionable.

Yet, from what I’m reading, I fit a lot of it.

• I avoid crowds. I hate crowds actually. Black Friday would be torture. I’ve been wanting to buy new shoes and postponing it for over a month now because that requires shopping.
• I’ve also said for a long time I’m a texture junkie; I’ll touch everything in a store when we go shopping, just to see how it feels.
• I tend to stay a home a lot.
• I’m mostly introvert.
• I’ll listen to a conversation for a long time before putting in something.
• I process things deeply.
• I don’t like too much brightness. (I actually like the night better. It seems calmer.)
• I take comments a little too personally sometimes.
• I have a hard time forming what I see as real friendships, as I said on my last post. (Which why do you people keep liking it? What is there to like about that? Just wondering.)
• I have always been very careful in what I do.
• I’m creative.
• Care deeply. (I didn’t want to hit the bat that was in our house for fear of hurting it. Throw that in with being the only person who can see the bat and not scream and you get as close to a panic attack as I want. Yes. I’m still terrified a bat will be in my house.)

All these are traits of people who calm that they are HSP.

So, I do the next thing. I found out what people say to do if you’re an HSP and basically, it seems to me like they’re all logical things. Eat well, sleep enough, get away if you need it, keep yourself calm, ect. (You can find 10 tips here.) I already do all of this. If I don’t, I can’t function in life. I know this.

So, honestly, I don’t know what to think about it. It would seem weird if I went up to my mom and told her, “Hey, BTW, have you ever heard of highly sensitive people? Yeah, I think I”m one. Okay. Good. We can continue life now.” (And yes, I would say BTW and not by the way in a conversation.)

On that same hand, I’m one of those people who want a practical, logical reason for things. Do more people than this Elaine N. Aron who coined the term think it’s real? (And the people on the internet. I’m looking for medical people.) True, my 10 tips are from psychology today. So maybe there are more people out there who actually can say it’s real.

Then again, does any of this even matter?

Do you guys have any thoughts? Opinions? Does anyone else think they may be an HSP? Does it really change anything? It’s feedback that is the biggest reason I’m writing this post after all.

I keep thinking something’s wrong with me.

This past semester I spent in the dorms. It was really my first time in the dorms in my whole now four years at college. Overall, it went well. I got along well enough with everyone.

But–it was just well enough.

I didn’t get along really great. I didn’t have dozens of really close friends. I only have one close friend.

Worse, I’ve been gone all of J-term and I get almost no contact from anyone. I never get texts from anyone. (I just got texting myself, so this whole texting notion is strange to me and I’m hesitant to text others.) I get almost nothing. It’s like I”m invisible or something.

I don’t know what is wrong with me. I feel that there has to be. I know I’ve said it before on my other blog. But–seriously! How come everyone else can make a whole bunch of friends and I can make none? I can almost never get any kind of good friendship going.

Now, I’ll be honest. I don’t know what to do to have a good friendship. I only had two really good friends before. One was because we played together constantly. The other was because we wrote together and we e-mailed constantly. As soon as we stopped writing, and she stopped e-mailing, our relationship fell apart. The second one was not even in the same town as me.

With that background, I’ve never had a chance to under what makes good friends. I imagine that there’s some kind of formula and if I can discover it, I’ll have friends. But I don’t even know where to discover it. Or how.

And for some reason no one else thinks I’m the kind of person that would make a good friend. Which I don’t know why. I’m honest and helpful and caring and fun and reliable and real. I’m just not good at figuring out conversations when it drags. But–I get nothing from anyone. Not even a single blimp that we would make good friends.

Does that make something wrong with me? Maybe I smell or something.

All this comes up because I’m going back to campus in a week. And I’m dreading it. I’m not dreading that I need to start classes and I’m not dreading that I need to actually do homework. What I dread is going back to the dorms and seeing all the girls I know.

These are all the girls that found out it was my birthday in the hallway (against my wishes), wished my happy birthday, and then walked out of the dorms with me towards dinner and decided to go to Jimmy Deans for dinner and left me behind.

Because I know Kelsey (the RA) is going to ask me how my break was. And what I really, really, really want to say is, “I don’t see why you would care. You could have asked me via facebook any of the other seven weeks I’ve been gone. Do you really want an answer or do you just want to feel like you fulfilled your RA duty by asking about that?” I won’t, because I’m nice, but I want to.

And on one hand I’d really like to hear that someone missed me. On the other hand, I don’t want to, because if you missed me, then you could have talked to me. I’m friends on facebook with nearly all the girls i know on my floor.

And, I confess, I haven’t talked to any of them. But what did I say I’m bad at? Talking to people. Facebook is talking, whether or not anyone else sees it as that. I don’t know what to say to someone via facebook any more than I know what to say in real life.

Maybe if I was a mute, then I might have more friends. At least then they would understand why I don’t talk. As it stands now though, I really don’t even expect to have any good friends. I’m just not that type of person for some reason.

I know that’s not good because I’m discovering (don’t shoot me for stupidity) that a husband is a really good friend. And if I can have a friendship with only one girl, how can I ever have a relationship with a guy? (I know. I’m getting paranoid over the small stuff. But this seems big to me.)

No jobs in the general area

I want to get a job about now for the summer time. Why? Because 1) it’s less stress on me during that those first two weeks home and 2) it’s the only way to get the good jobs. Good jobs as in the ones that lets you work with kids.

Well, I said that I didn’t get Youthworks. Okay. Fine. So I tried to see if there were other camps in the country that I could work at.

I have two requirements.

1) I don’t have to work on Saturday.

2) There’s a Messianic congregation near by.

I didn’t really care about the pay so long as they gave me something because I figured G-d would work all that out.

And guess what? Well, you probably know based on the title.

Yeah. No camps.

I’ll be honest; I looked only at CCCA‘s job listing. The reasons why I couldn’t get the jobs varied.

1) No congregation naer by.

2) Camp (and work) on Saturday.

3) The camp wanted a personal interview.

That’s actually pretty much it. I found a bunch of congregations too. In fact, I was surprised by the number. But none of them worked out.

Which is probably good, because I realized this weekend that if I take two summer classes one summer and three another, I can graduate a semester early. Not sure how good or bad that is.

The problem is that I only get one chance at getting the job I really want in Mitchell. Otherwise, it’s something boring, IF I can even find one. I couldn’t last semester and the economy isn’t that much better.