Truth #4: Humility is Limited

12:36 AM Edit This 1 Comment »
It is a truth universally acknowledged that you are your own worst critic.

Humility is an outstanding quality, providing a sense of modesty and humbleness.  However, there is a limit.  There is a point when modesty turns to self-deprecation and humbleness into denial.  There is a point where it becomes abusive, hurtful.

Loss of pride always sounds like a nice thing, a point where you are beyond conceit and self-righteousness.  But when you have lost all pride in your abilities and your character it feels like someone has hooked your heart with a fishing line and it is ripping and pulling as it takes it away from you and you cannot grasp at it because your hands are busy tearing yourself down and your tears are not that of a phoenix and so they cannot repair you.  It feels like you are standing in quicksand and the love of your life is holding a branch out to you and you cannot muster any strength to reach for it even though your arms are muscled and toned and you are staring into their pools of hazel and drowning in sorrow because you have put them through this.

The frustration of feeling this way is overwhelming and breeds hot anger and hot angry tears that could melt the poles.  Then it becomes too much and it feels like your body is trying to shake your soul out and purge itself of this venom snaking through the veins that are pulsing.  And so you pray.  You remind yourself vehemently to be still, and then you are screaming at yourself to be still.  Be still, Just be still, Please, God, make me still. And the lack of peace grows and fills up the whole space and you no longer fit inside that space and the world crashes down on your temple and you try to hold your prayers inside your fingers.  And you look up because you hear something...

"Are you okay?" Yeah, I'm fine.  I just completely zoned out.  Is it cold in here?


"Have you no consideration for my poor nerves?" -Mrs. Bennett

Truth #3: Tenure Sucks

8:20 PM Edit This 3 Comments »
DISCLAIMER: This is not directed at any specific teacher or professor.  This is an accumulation of dissatisfaction with the education system and the lack of knowledge being passed on.  I repeat: this is not a targeting or bashing campaign.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the education system makes my eyes, soul, heart and brain bleed profusely because of its teachers’ utter apathy.

Some people love going to school, absorbing new and interesting information and expanding the overall worldliness of your mind.  I thought that at one point as well, and then I reached geometry and freshman English and realized this description of school is wildly unfitting.  Over the course of my years in school, I have encountered many teachers who are inspiring and truly great at what they do.  And then there are an overwhelming multitude who are uninspired, careless and ruining education for all of us.  Once upon a time, I was not more intelligent than my instructors, and then I graduated and moved on to college where I feel my IQ dropping so dramatically I can feel the displacement inside my brain, because they just do not care.  Is this not supposed to be higher education?

And so my solution to the budget cut dilemma is to abolish tenure and fire the teachers who are NOT DOING THEIR JOBS! The university is floundering in debt and the professors do not seem the least bit concerned about their job or doing it well or the education of their students.  I do not even care what they teach; if the English professor cannot pass on accurate information and the dance teacher is miles better, then the former should be relieved of the duties he/she no longer cares to perform.  Maybe 25 years of teaching is obsolete when the methods are still boring and do not penetrate into the minds of the students.

Tenure is ruining the education system.  Teaching should be a competitive, risky job so the methods continue to be innovative and the professors continue to be dedicated.  Save money by firing those who are not doing their job.  Part of teaching is subjective, but qualified education administrators should be able to tell if a teacher is effective in the classroom (should being the big word there).  However, tenure is preserving teachers who have ceased to be teachers in any fashion.  Teachers should be held accountable to learn new information, understand the current systems and keep learning so they can better educate their students. 

The economy cannot afford to let people continue to not do their jobs well.  Everyone is struggling and tax dollars should not pay for old teachers who are no longer capable of performing their duties.  There is, though, something to be said for loyalty and supporting people who have spent a majority of their time putting in work in a specific place and not looking for greener pastures no matter what.  However, if the time is not well spent, if they are no longer helping students, then they should leave.  Others can do the job; hire those who still want to help the students.  Where is the desire to share the knowledge of the world?

And, for the love of all that is holy and good in the world, please do not use the dirty dirty dirty phrase of “Students should be self-directed learners.  Teachers do not need to hold their students’ hands”!!!!!  There is a significant difference between producing self-directed learners and NOT TEACHING.  Students should not be expected to learn information that is not being mentioned at all in class or in class resources.  Do not test me on what you have never said or even alluded to.

I find this solution to be most pleasing, especially in the face of the current solution.

WORST SOLUTION I HAVE EVER HEARD ABOUT EDUCATION: Okay, let us fire the fine arts teachers.

Why can we not pay teachers who care?  The children are the future!  Who is going to teach them what they need to know?  Why are we depriving the future artists of any education when the English teacher does not know the basics of their area?  I cannot think of any reason to back up the illogical idea that arts are not important.  I am also confused as to why some teachers (including collegiate professors) are being so conceited as to stay and know they can no longer care to do their jobs well.  Furthermore, how can they not notice that they are failing their students by not evaluating themselves?  Why are we not evaluating the work being done?  Screw the big picture outlook when people can be weeded, and the rest pruned accordingly!  I want to fight for GOOD education, GOOD teachers!  I grew up in 35-40 students in one classroom, but most of my teachers were phenomenal so it did not matter!

Dear educators,

I am not asking for a textbook.  I am asking you to teach me.  I am asking for an English teacher who tells me things I did not know.  I am asking for an understanding foreign language teacher who realizes that English grammar is not taught satisfactorily so they do not scoff at us when we cannot understand English grammar in Italian, Spanish or Japanese.  I am asking for a math teacher who is not just teaching because they are working on something else at the university, or who is convinced that the students will either never use it or cannot understand why their subject is confusing to some.  I am asking for a science teacher who is not only a researcher, but a real teacher who wants to teach science to others.  I am asking to learn.

I never want my teacher to say their class is a bogus requirement so they know the students do not care if they learn anything.  I never want my teacher to accuse me of being in a class because I have to be there.  I never want my teacher to tell me that if I cannot understand this one portion that he/she will not help me because I am going to be completely lost for the rest of the chapter.  I never want my teacher to be unable to admit that he/she is absolutely, dead wrong when the book they tested us on says he/she is absolutely, dead wrong.  I never want my teacher to say, “This is not going to be on the test so you do not need to write it down”.  I never want my teacher to say, “This is not going to be on the test so you do not need to study or learn it” and then give me a test only on that subject and act disgusted when I fail miserably.  I never want my teacher to insult me, period.  I never want my teacher to make me ball my fists up in anger because they have given the lecture more than three times, with the same slides, day after day, and know they have done so.  I never want my teacher to tell me my style is wrong.

I desperately, anxiously, frantically, kneeling-ly, pleadingly, hopefully, despairingly, absolutely, positively, never-been-more-certain-in-my-life-ly, need someone to care about what they teach, how they teach it, and whether or not it is getting across to the students.

I am begging you, as educators, the next time you think, “My class is not trying, none of them are understanding, and I just cannot believe how dumb they are.  I mean, not one of them cares enough to get a good grade or study at all.  I wonder why they are all failing, because the information is all here.  I mean, this is easy!” please stop being so blatantly conceited for one second, to also think, “Maybe I need to try a different approach, maybe my methods are just not getting through to them.  How can I do this better?”.  PLEASE!!!!

With hope,
An unbelievably dissatisfied student

P.S.  I am the one who studies, tries, cries over B’s because maybe I should have/could have tried harder.  I am the one who raises their hand during classes.  Do not stereotype me.  Do not even dare to think, Oh, that’s the student who doesn’t do their homework, readings or tries at all.  I was salutatorian, I graduated with a 5.06 GPA, I am highly intelligent, and you have made me cry for wanting knowledge.

Truth #2: Sexual Apathy

9:11 PM Edit This 2 Comments »
It is a truth universally acknowledged that what is supposed to be holy is now sold for cheap thrills and dirty old professors.

I love a good scene filled with sexual tension as much as the next girl, because everyone wants Edward Norton to just kiss Liv Tyler in The Incredible Hulk.  I laugh at the innuendoes, no matter how wrong I feel afterward for having done so, but everything can be made light of in the movies.  I critique the awkwardness of sex scenes; for example: the award of worst, most uncomfortably awkward sex scene goes, hands down, to the makers of Watchmen and the glorification of the world’s only impotent superhero, Night Owl.  The scene is complete with an “oh, um, hold on, I think I need a minute”, followed by all heads in the audience turning to whoever they came with and whispering, What?  He needs a minute?  What is this? However, there is something wrong in the world.

I believe that sex is an agreement between a man and a woman and God to love each other forever and is an unbreakable commitment.  You may not feel that way, and I do not hold that against you at all.  However, I think we can all agree that sex is a symbol for passionate love, for great love, for committed love, for the expression of a feeling words cannot even touch (as an English major it pains me to admit this).  We can also agree, I hope, that sex is not a means of pain, a means of sensationalist media, a means of control, a means for the expression of nothing but pure lust (unless uncontrollable lust is exactly what it means at the time).  This is why there is something wrong in the world.

We no longer care what a woman’s body is, what a man’s body is, it’s all exposed in the media.  We no longer care what it means to whisper sweet words in your love’s ear because you want them to know exactly how much you love them.  We no longer care that what occurs behind closed doors is not open to the public.  Get it, closed doors, not open…closed doors, not open.  We no longer care what sex means, what anything sexual means, what the passionate expression of love means.

Today, in one of my classes, we watched our typical music video of the day.  It was Shakira’s “She-Wolf”, which my friend pointed out to me is synonymous with “whore” in her native language, just thought I’d throw that in there, although it is one of my favorite clubbin’ tunes.  I was watching the rather suggestive, scantily clad video when I noticed that my old professor’s typical descriptions of the connections to the topics we are learning were missing.  I looked towards the front of the lecture hall and realized…everyone in the room was just staring at the video.  Okay, ew.  Do you get my point?

Class then continued with a trip to an online article on the sexiest werewolves from movies and he talked about that in detail, particularly the female ones.  The words “rated R”, “soft porn”, “SEXual”, “sex”, “riding” and I’m sure you can think of others are used quite often, and too often in my opinion.  There are other ways to describe things, but this particular vernacular appeals to people.  My point is that everything is used to shock, to try and stir up some sort of attention, to try and be “current”.  Do you get my point now?

I want to reclaim the sanctity of love, of sex, which is not a dirty thing.  It makes me cringe to read literature where all sexual acts are thrown in like spare parts because there is no reason not to put them in there.  There is also no reason to put them in there.  Why is there a completely explicit sex scene between two girls in a novel about royal society when it was already written three times before between the first six chapters where nothing happens but a very graphic description?  The relationship was established.  The characters were included in the exposition, and the first time revealed anything needed for the extra connection emotionally.  No reason.  Why is there a less explicit but still pretty graphic sex scene between two men in Another Country when it was already written about three times previously? To better expose the emotional connection through the inner monologue of the characters during intercourse.  It is not a sensationalist tactic.  Valid reason.  I am an English major, I can tell the difference.

It is the same case in Coppola’s “Dracula”.  The movie is sex (does not occur in the novel), sex (not this time either), sex (still no), bestiality (no, and Dracula isn’t a werewolf last time I checked), girls running in the rain and kissing each other (no clue why, it’s a very weird scene), feigned hypnotic orgasm (um, yeah), constant exposing of one breast in nightgown (cannot do more and keep it R), more feigned hypnotic orgasm (nope, still awkward), I do not even want to think about it anymore, so end of list.  Why? There is no sex in Dracula.  There are subtle, underlying sexual themes, but none of those.  The sexuality of a vampire representing eternal love can be fought for, but none of those events prove that.

Maybe I am biased.  Since I now know what it feels like to be completely in love with someone, maybe I am overly sensitive because those things should be private and represent a bond between the two people.  Maybe I am just a prude.  Who knows?  I do know one thing though; sex is symbolic and involves intense passion and LOVE.  I do not care if the story is about star-crossed lovers who should not be in love having sex, if it is the consummation of a marriage, if it is a last attempt to regain the passion between a couple that is slowly extinguishing, if it is between ugly people who are in love, if it is explicit (usually), or if it is a one-night stand, even.  If it has a purpose in the movie, in the book, in the painting, in the whatever, it is totally fine and available for artistic expression.  Do not…do not…do not give me sensationalist sex because the ratings will go up.

I don’t know about you, but listening to the glorification of a movie that is filled with random sex is not sexy.  Listening to apathetic speeches about explicit sex scenes is not sexy.  Being in love is sexy.  Seeing other people madly in love is sexy.  Love in general is sexy.  Be empathetic, not apathetic.  Rid the world of sexual apathy, let us show true love in other ways.  Be classy, Elizabeth and Darcy were, and they are the sexiest couple I know.

“I never saw a more promising inclination; he was growing quite inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he offended two or three young ladies, by not asking them to dance; and I spoke to him twice myself, without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?” (Jane Austen, Chapter 25)

Truth #1: Bad Days

8:39 PM Edit This 0 Comments »

It is a truth universally acknowledged that having a bad day will mean all the world will conspire against you to make it worse.

So, after being completely worn out at dance, you drive home planning on getting a smoothie packed with protein to supplement the fact that you have eaten nothing of substance in three days and now have a cold from your boyfriend, which, in the end, you couldn’t care less that he is the one that gave it to you. Anyways, you’re driving and you pull into Xoom because that is the true healthy smoothie shop, and not Jamba Juice. As you turn into Xoom you look down at the car radio and see the time, which is 5:18 and you think, Wait…doesn’t Xoom close at 5 because it is a ridiculous and inconvenient time for them to close? But you turn in anyways with a tiny bit of hope in your heart because you are starving and your throat is sore and it is going to taste so amazing. And…the “Open” sign is clearly posted in the store window. Starbursts of excitement explode in your head and then, the Xoom guy—who has to look earthy and edgy—is sweeping and you see the chairs on top of the counter near the magazines and you know that he just hasn’t flipped the sign but that he probably already washed all of the supplies. And so you pause, with the lights of your car going straight into the windows of the shop, which makes the Xoom guy look up at you and you swear, absolutely swear, that earthy-edgy Xoom guy gave you a dirty look. A look that meant, “As soon as you park that car, I’m going to flip the sign. I will. I will flip the sign” and that look made your soul crawl and you just drove through the parking lot and back onto Speedway. Thank you, Xoom guy, for the beginning of a downward spiral.

So, without a smoothie, you drive to your dorm in the pouring rain (of course) and think about how much your throat hurts and how you have a bunch of homework and there is no way in the world you are walking the lengthy distance between your parking garage and dorm room. Praying for an open spot in front of your dorm, of course there isn’t one, so you settle for a spot in front of the next dorm, but you know there is no way that you will be able to get up prior to 6 a.m. and move your car to its rightful place in the garage. But you park there anyways, because it’s pouring and you are wearing a t-shirt and jazz pants, and you have a cold. So, you trudge through the puddles and the rain because Arizona, land of the monsoons, cannot think ahead enough to put in proper drainage routes for rainwater. But, it’s okay; because you can do all of the homework you want and feel so productive that all the other worries will go away.

So, walking into your dorm, you see that the girl at the desk is not one that knows you and so she does not acknowledge your presence or look up, but whatever because you are going to be productive! Upon opening your door, you realize that all of the lights are turned off and your roommate is not sitting at her computer, and the blanket on the top bunk looks lumpy, and not pushed-aside lumpy, but person-inside lumpy. And you recall that she never came home after a party last night, which means she is most likely taking a nap, and she then pops her head up and says that she just laid down and to make all the noise you want. You love that she doesn’t care and do not blame her for wanting a nap, because you take so many of those, so you try to be as quiet as possible anyways. Everyone deserves some quality naptime. Well, that means homework is probably out of reach at the moment, so much for productivity. And so, the next best thing: FACEBOOK!

So, signing into facebook, you see that you have a total of 3 notifications. There is nothing like a lack of response or affection on a social networking page. No one wants to open their facebook and see only 3 notifications, because deep down inside you wish that all of your friends had something to say to you without you having said anything to them because everyone wants a little attention. Then you see that 2 of the notifications are just “likes” on your status, and the other notification is a comment from someone you don’t know on a friend’s status. Now you feel worse, so you decide to go take a shower. You gather all of your stuff as quietly as you can, which means dropping every item at least twice with a loud thud, and go to the shower. Showering is pretty foolproof, although you have almost drowned once or twice for various sleep-related reasons (probably not you, but more me). Until, the lights, which run on a timer, turn off halfway through. And you continue to shower, in the dark, and the dark is depressing.

So, walking back into your dorm room, you drop everything at least twice, knock over various dishes and realize that instead of having a “planet” on your face, there is pretty much an entire universe thriving there. Thank you, God, for oily teenage faces. The showering/lotioning process is complete; sweats and t-shirt go on, along with less-warm jacket because more-warm jacket is too cute to be seen in since your current state is universal, in a bad way. A quick trip back to the computer to see if Canyon Café is open for some apple cider, of course it is not, Starbucks in the Bookstore, yes. You know that you will never move your car if you don’t move it now so you make the quick trip to the union to get apple cider first. The Starbucks is dark and vacant, the farthest thing from open, so you settle for U-Mart hot chocolate.

So, opening the door to the U-Mart, you see that your universal face is coupled with half-wet hair, which makes it look greasy, and you are wearing black sweatpants, a black t-shirt, a black zip-up and black chucks. You think to yourself, Could I BE anymore angsty? Oh, Chandler Bing, how I love thee, and continue into the store. You fill up the cup with hot chocolate to the brim, immediately realize there is no way you are moving that to the counter without spilling it, so you take a big gulp. You are stupid. The boiling-lava-hot hot chocolate, as Jim Gaffigan would say, scalds your mouth and makes your eyes water a ridiculous amount, so now you are standing at the cash register in all black attire, with greasy hair, planet-covered face and tear-filled eyes. Besides, you already have a cold that makes you slightly pale with a reddish nose. He looks at you pityingly, and now you really do want to cry, but you just walk to the back counter, put a lid on your hot chocolate and leave.

So, walking back to your car, you feel horribly embarrassed and drive your car back to the parking garage and take the wrong entrance, which puts you farther away than you normally park. The second you get out of your car the rain, which had stopped while you were in the car, begins again. And you didn’t wear your more-warm jacket, because you thought it would look funny. News flash, you look funny anyways because of your all-black attire, universal face and greasy (not really, just wet and getting wetter) hair. The hot chocolate, which was supposed to be caramel apple cider from the false-advertising Starbucks, doesn’t feel good in your scalded mouth. You walk all the way back to your dorm in the rain, in the dark, which means every single person walking near you will be a slightly scary looking man, and you will remember that your pepper spray is on your desk and your best friend/bodyguard is at work, along with your boyfriend/bodyguard. You will panic without meaning to, finally reach your dorm, type in the code so fast you push too many buttons but it opens anyways (very secure), and the girl at the desk still doesn’t look up. At this point, you are feeling so hysterical and awful that you would not put it past you if you screamed “Acknowledge my existence, please!!!! I don’t even care what you’re name is!!!! Just say hi to me!!!” But you calmly turn to the left and walk down the hall.

So, walking back into your dorm room, your roommate is still asleep. The quality naptime has now stretched over 2 hours, and you are very happy for her to be able to sleep because she had a long night. But, all you want is a little company and she is sleeping. And then she disappears. So you write a blog, and you realize that it seems funny after you write it all down, unless you just spent the last 4 hours living it.

And so I say, “Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion.” (Jane Bennett, Ch. 17)

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