Sunday, January 25, 2015
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Ra-ra girl power, or something like that
It's really amazing, but I finally reached a breaking point. I didn't think it existed. Not for you and me.
I thought you could continue to mistreat me forever and I'd still love you. But I think I was underestimating myself.
The truth is that I've reached a real moment of clarity. And I've realized I no longer want to feel bad for myself. I've realized that being able to feel passionate, grand things is an ability that I have and that you lack. You will never feel the pain I do — it's true — but you will also never feel the happiness these crazy emotions once allowed me. Sure, I'm hurt. I now understand that you never cared that you hurt me. But I feel worse for you than for myself.
I've realized that you should only be so lucky to be with a (nice, intelligent, funny) person that cared for you as much as I did. And I deserve more than an asshole that's terrified of feeling something he can't explain with a mathematical equation.
I may have lost something today. But you lose, period.
I thought you could continue to mistreat me forever and I'd still love you. But I think I was underestimating myself.
The truth is that I've reached a real moment of clarity. And I've realized I no longer want to feel bad for myself. I've realized that being able to feel passionate, grand things is an ability that I have and that you lack. You will never feel the pain I do — it's true — but you will also never feel the happiness these crazy emotions once allowed me. Sure, I'm hurt. I now understand that you never cared that you hurt me. But I feel worse for you than for myself.
I've realized that you should only be so lucky to be with a (nice, intelligent, funny) person that cared for you as much as I did. And I deserve more than an asshole that's terrified of feeling something he can't explain with a mathematical equation.
I may have lost something today. But you lose, period.
Friday, January 23, 2015
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Student-teachers
I've been teaching a group of pre-K and kindergarteners Spanish for a few weeks now.
Today, we learned to count to 10. After a couple of tries as a group and a few games, I asked who would be brave enough to try counting on their own.
Many of them raised their hand. I was impressed that so many of them got it so quickly!
I was about to give myself a good pat on the back until I realized that most of them could barely get to two. And still, they tried — no embarrassment, no judgment.
It's naive, I know, to assume that adults can be as carefree as these kids. But it got me wondering whether being a little more like them wouldn't be great. I have to really think about what I want to say and whether it is worth saying it before I do, especially in classes. I'm scared of saying something stupid, so I often don't say anything at all! Most perverse of all, questions need to be intellectually stimulating too (you might want to already know the answer, actually), so small doubts and concerns often go unanswered. And all because I don't want to seem like I don't understand, when in reality, that's what school is for.
I can personally learn something from these kids, who try, even when they know they'll "fail." The truth is, that's actually more impressive than always saying impressive things.
Today, we learned to count to 10. After a couple of tries as a group and a few games, I asked who would be brave enough to try counting on their own.
Many of them raised their hand. I was impressed that so many of them got it so quickly!
I was about to give myself a good pat on the back until I realized that most of them could barely get to two. And still, they tried — no embarrassment, no judgment.
It's naive, I know, to assume that adults can be as carefree as these kids. But it got me wondering whether being a little more like them wouldn't be great. I have to really think about what I want to say and whether it is worth saying it before I do, especially in classes. I'm scared of saying something stupid, so I often don't say anything at all! Most perverse of all, questions need to be intellectually stimulating too (you might want to already know the answer, actually), so small doubts and concerns often go unanswered. And all because I don't want to seem like I don't understand, when in reality, that's what school is for.
I can personally learn something from these kids, who try, even when they know they'll "fail." The truth is, that's actually more impressive than always saying impressive things.
More inspiration
"Let me say, with the risk of appearing ridiculous, that the true revolutionary [educator] is guided by strong feelings of love."
-Che Guevara, bracket is mine
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Why being miserable is not the same thing as being successful
I'm not sure whether we're taught to believe it, or it's inherent in this (Swarthmore or otherwise American) culture, but we tend to associate miserableness with success. Being successful means constantly being stressed out and unhappy because being successful means doing lots of things and working hard to do them well without allowing ourselves pleasure.
If you're not running around like a chicken with its head cut off, then you're not doing things right. Success necessitates busyness.
In this vicious culture, we inherently devalue happiness— enjoyment produces guilt. Though we can certainly find value and pleasure in work (and that's a good thing), we have done so by thinking that enjoying life outside of productivity is antithetical to productivity itself.
It took me a while to figure out, but being successful cannot possibly exclude happiness. Being successful cannot possibly be confused for being perpetually miserable. Being successful cannot possibly be doing so much that to feel "good" we need to feel bad.
Success, in fact, means accomplishing things in a way that allows enjoyment both of these accomplishments and of all of life's other little treasures and moments that we often confuse for inconsequential.
If you're not running around like a chicken with its head cut off, then you're not doing things right. Success necessitates busyness.
In this vicious culture, we inherently devalue happiness— enjoyment produces guilt. Though we can certainly find value and pleasure in work (and that's a good thing), we have done so by thinking that enjoying life outside of productivity is antithetical to productivity itself.
It took me a while to figure out, but being successful cannot possibly exclude happiness. Being successful cannot possibly be confused for being perpetually miserable. Being successful cannot possibly be doing so much that to feel "good" we need to feel bad.
Success, in fact, means accomplishing things in a way that allows enjoyment both of these accomplishments and of all of life's other little treasures and moments that we often confuse for inconsequential.
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