Dr. Joy July 29, 2009

Today I taught my first class ever.  It kind of snuck up on me.  I was told weeks ago I would sub for an English Small Group Instructor (SGI) with my company, at a center in Baldwin Park.  It wasn’t until yesterday when that teacher called me with instructions that I realized I would actually be teaching a class.  Granted, it was only two classes of like 10 students.  But you know what?  I really liked it.  And I think I can do this.  I think I can teach.  Somehow when I’m communicating in front of a group, I open my mouth and all these ideas come out and they surprise me, and even more surprising is that it looks like these teenagers are actually interested in what I’m saying.  I think it’s part of my being an external processor.  I can’t micro-plan for the lesson, because I won’t be able to stick to it.  I just have to know what topic I’m supposed so speak on, grasp the vision or the concept for the lesson, and go with it.  I don’t think I’ll be in the next Dangerous Minds/Freedom Writers type of movie…I’m leaning more toward being a college professor.  Today I was launched into a mini-dream of what life would be like if I was teaching at a university.  In an office with floor to ceiling bookshelves, interesting objects from my world travels, a vintage globe, and a skylight.  I would spend time reading and writing, discussing and debating, taking students under my wing and watching their potential unfurl like little wings, ready to lift them off into the future.  So, maybe not Dangerous Minds, but what about Dead Poets’ Society?  Or I would be cool with being like Julia Roberts in  Mona Lisa Smile.  It’s scary to think of how much schooling I still have to do to get there, but how cool would it be if I was a Doctor?

Quotable Friday, Vol. 23 May 16, 2008

“But thank goodness almost every office worker in America has virtually untethered access to the internet. Imagine what would happen to our economy if employers started taking away internet privileges and people were forced to actually work.  The entire American economy is balanced precariously on the fact that the average American white collar worker spends only about 20 percent of his or her time actually working.

How did the cubicle kids waste time before the internet? Daydreams? Productivity seminars? Interoffice romances? Midday martinis?”

–”Dutch”

Sweet Juniper

I will not confirm or deny whether this has been my experience as an American office worker, because this blog is a public site.  But.  Dutch does have a point. 

I’m Such a Liar April 15, 2008

I was about to title this, “Fib” or “I’m such a fibber” but then I realized that “fib” is totally one of my least favorite words.  I pause here to add it to my ever-growing words-I-hate list in the memo section of my cell phone.

All right, I’m back.  I totally thought I would have oodles of time to blog now that I’m working again.  But instead of being a warm body at a desk (aka substitute teaching), they have me auditing files.  I will spare you the details, but it’s pretty much going through a student file with a check list and making sure every jot and tittle (insert adolescent snicker) is correct.  Yawn, right?  Well, for what they’re paying me, it’s totally worth it.  I have zero complaints.

…ex-cept that I can’t really blog.  Because come on, like I’m really going to use my precious free time to do this?  (Ahem, besides tonight…)

And in case you were wondering…yeah, oodles leans toward the words-I-love side of the spectrum; with spectrum being a loose term to describe the crazy, over-opinionated, over-stimulated, over-articulated place that is my brain.

Haiku Tuesday December 17, 2007

It all started with this poetic ode to sweet chilli sauce (inspired by the sweet chilli chicken quesadilla I had for lunch).

sweet chilli sauce love
brings magic to any day
so glad I found you

Then I started writing them for everyone sitting near me in the Youthstreet office today:

Working Girl September 11, 2007

As my friend Allison so eloquently phrased it the other day, I’m “not a working girl.”  I just don’t like to work, as opposed to several of my friends who are exhilirated and stimulated by work, even if it’s not their dream job.  Admittedly, I have a pretty sweet job right now.  I get paid well for what I do, it’s not stressful, and I don’t have to take any work home with me.  But day in and day out I plod to work and think about all of the things I wish I was doing.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not picturing myself sipping a cocktail out of a coconut in a hammock strung between two palm trees.  There really are a lot of things I would like to do with my day…but “work” in the traditional, 9-to-5 sense of the word is not one of them. 

Quotable Friday, Vol. 6 August 10, 2007

“The task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles, but to irrigate deserts.” 

–C.S. Lewis

Oh my goodness, how true that is.  Right now I work in education, with students who have been cycled out of traditional high schools, whether because they were too lazy, or got pregnant, or wanted to work on their acting career, or were bullied, or were bullies themselves and were kicked out.  It’s not exactly like Robin Williams reciting poetry on top of a desk with a bunch of brilliant young men in smart red blazers.  The hardest part of my job is to get these kids to see the power that comes with knowledge, the joy that comes with learning, that beautiful quivery feeling called intellectual curiosity.  Sometimes it feels like it would be easier to get a monkey interested in writing the Great American Novel.

Take It from Me July 18, 2007

Don’t ever go on a trip to Israel and go to work the next day after 30 straight hours of being in planes, cars, and airports.  You will feel like you are underwater for the better part of the day, and will want to wear a sign saying “I’m jetlagged” so your students won’t mistakenly think you are hungover.  Although, the symptoms are virtually identical.

Work Self June 20, 2007

Does anyone else feel like they are a weird, hollow version of herself at work?  It’s like the second I walk in the door, I become a 2-dimensional, shadow-like version of me.  Joy 1.0, if you will.  I feel tired, sluggish, bored with life.   Sometimes I can barely keep my eyes open.  I can’t see very far ahead into my future…it looks a little bleak.

But the second I get in my car at the end of the day, the real me swoops back in.  It’s like in those stupid movies when a ghost steps into the body of a mortal and animates it.  The true me steps into the work shell, and I become full of life again.  I’m excited about seeing friends, going to the gym, having some frozen yogurt.

When I do try to be that person at work, people look at me like I’m crazy.  Am I?  Or am I just violating cultural mores by being myself in the workplace?  I just know that it makes me dread going to work everyday, when I have to leave myself in the car.  Now that it’s getting to be in the 90’s everyday, I’m going to be sure to crack a window.