Layers

After much reflection from the death of a student, I think I came up with a loose theory as to why it hit my students so hard. Beware, this is a generalization to an extreme.

Students can explain death by violence. Although its justifiability is rare, they can logically draw connections between people, words, actions, time and place.

Students can't draw any sort of explanation of a fourteen year-old boy dying of natural causes. There is no concrete logic that is applicable to the lives they carry. No concrete path to follow from point A to B.

As an adult, the medical world is logical and devastating when it comes to death. However, I can't seem to understand people killing people, ever.

I still have another four page paper due for a grad class tomorrow. I already wrote one earlier this evening. Somehow I find myself fumbling through other items of interest, like my sister's blog. Or how now that she's gay and out to the world, her life is so different. Her roommates treat her like shit. People look at her differently. I'm not sure about this new girlfriend yet.

Then there are the other emotional blows of the day to consider. Like the student who died last night. My entire sophomore class was softly crying. I had nothing for them. Nothing to offer. Looking back at it, I'm glad that they were all feeling their emotions openly. It's healthy. It's also a little overwhelming for me. I didn't know the student who died, I just know mine. And I've grown so attached to their lives, happiness, and success that knowing I had nothing for them threw me into my own grief. Of course then there are the flashbacks to a time when other students died...

Sweet glory. Oh I love its silky ooze.

The family across the street bought a brand new Dodge Caravan. It's maroon. The license plate is outlined with a cute little bullet border. Apparently, they don't have a stereo system in the house, so instead they open their automatic side door and blast the bass. My bedroom wall shakes - from across the street. Best part is, they're listening to the music from inside their house. Nobody is outside dancing in the street being cutesy. Nobody.

Then the music died. Because they finally killed their van's battery! Hah. Buy a stereo! Grrrrr. They're going to kill Miss Margaret next door. She's the cutest old lady who sits on her stoop and talks to me about Minnesota and wants to know about my students. She'll officially go deaf, lose her mind, and die.

That's right folks. I just cranked out eleven letters of recommendation for my seniors within an hour. Add the complicated factor that I've known these students for, oh, about two months now. Awesome. Whew.

On another note, I'm a total suck up, but I guess I'm just really passionate about telling people the positive thoughts I have about them. We deserve to hear good things! I sent my principal an email saying I respect and appreciate working for her. I said I love that she makes the right decisions, not the popular decisions, stays honest, and is student-centered.

And on another totally different topic, have you ever noticed that the people at staff meetings turn into starving wild dogs with a pack mentality? If you have anything to say, be prepared for your flesh to be shredded. The victim never deserves to be torn into chewable chunks, because usually he or she is just the messenger.

Remind me to NEVER host a professional development session or speak at a staff meeting. Ever.

Borat
Friends talked me into going, but it turned out to be an intelligent level of funny. Who knew that Sacha Baron Cohen's character was going to be someone that I actually enjoyed? Moreover, who knew that my lasting sentiment after the movie was another echo of, well, racism is stupid?

wow. i really have nothing to say.