I'm not dead . . . see?

Ok, I've been sufficiently chastised about my lack of posting.

So it's happening now.

School is over. The last time I posted school felt like it was far from over. I thought that I was stressed in earlier parts of the year, but I had no idea what was in store for me until I hit May. Wow. That was like being run over by a Mack truck. Every single day. Because I wasn't just stressed by my job or the time of the year, I was also stressed emotionally.

A good friend of mine warned me about graduating seniors. The stress they put on those teachers who truly love them and the hole they can rip in your heart.

That sounds dramatic, huh? Let me explain.

We'll establish some points first.
1. I truly loved my seniors. That was easy enough.
2. They were already special to me because they were my first seniors.
3. We were all looking forward to being friends.

So then their last day happens. We had our awards day, and it was wonderful. We all laughed knowing laughs when I described The Manipulator, shed some tears when I revealed The Arm, and gasped in amazement when we saw the portraits of The Emotional Arguer and The Possessor. It was a fun hour. It was a fun last day for them as well. I had visits and company in all of my subsequent hours. I tried to soak it in.

Then I accompanied the seniors on their senior skip day. It was a great day. Go Karts, rock climbing, Olive Garden, ice skating, the mall, seeing a movie. One of them couldn't make it on the trip however. My first pangs of sadness began.

That weekend my friend, Ann, and I tagged cars with my fellow teacher, Mr. G. Senior cars. And it was such a fun night. Especially because my "sons" showed up and played a great prank on me. Sidenote: that is why I love teaching in a small town. I could never interact with my students in that way if I was in a larger town or school. We ran around, tagged the cars, and had an awesome time.

Then came graduation day. I visited receptions all afternoon. They were good. Not painful at all. Then came graduation. I did my part. I sang. It went well. Then graduation started. They walked across the stage and got their pieces of paper and turned their tassels. Yes, I cried. They were done. I was done officially teaching them and having an established place in their lives.

That evening I went to another reception. I had a good time. I'll admit, I felt a little out of place at times. I imagine it'll take me a few more years to be able to just sit with people from around town and feel like I'm part of the conversation. Sometimes I still feel like an outsider. And there were other circumstances at hand. Anyway, there was a jumbo Jenga game. Saturday Night Live to watch (a favorite of mine, of course). And an Xbox trivia game which I dominated.

Then came the last official week of school. That first day back was torture. I'll admit it. I had an awful day. The rest of the week got better. School ended. Most of my seniors came back to visit with me, which cheered me immensely. The last day of school was celebrated by myself and some fellow employees. That was my first time of relaxation since . . . well, the school year began. Then I went to state track and state baseball.

And now I'm sitting here on my front porch and it's the second night of my official summer.

And I feel lonely.
And I feel bored.
And I feel unproductive.

Even though this is only my second day alone.
Even though I have lots of things on my summer To Do list.
Even though I've already worked through a few of them.

I used to do so well when it came to getting people in my life. I had finally become comfortable with calling up people and getting things together. I truly believe that loneliness is a choice. There are lots of people that I love that I know love me back and would really enjoy spending time together. The fact that I sit at home alone is entirely up to me because hey! I have a phone. I can call them. And they would most likely come over.

The hard part is that the people here that I love and want to spend time with were my students less than two weeks ago. Calling them and inviting them to actually hang out with me and do things still feels taboo. Talking to them is no problem. But setting up hang out times? I'm nervous and insecure all over again. What if they don't want to hang out with me? What if it's too weird? What if I'm boring and uncool and blah blah blah.

Lame, huh?

This is why insecurity is so annoying to the people who have to hear about it from others.

Because it's so STUPID.

For all I know they're feeling the same things I am, only on the other side of the coin. I bet they're thinking, "Why would Miss Martin (whoops, I meant to call her MB!) want to hang out with me? I'm probably not old enough for her to want to hang out. I bet she'd think hanging out with me was boring or stupid."

Ugh.

Come on new friends! Let's be boring together!

Back to school

Ok, so you're going to think I'm crazy.

But then again, you think that about me relatively often if you are a regular follower of this blog. I'm ok with that.

Anyway, here it is:

I miss school.

Not the teaching part. And don't worry, just because my students are currently whining about going through Shakespeare and suffering from major cases of extremely contagious Senioritis does not mean that I hate teaching. Fact: I still love teaching.

No, what I miss is actually being a student.

No, no, no, OK, seriously, hear me out.

Come on, stay with me (See? I told you you'd think I was crazy!) just let me explain.

Tonight at youth group an amazing man came and taught us how to look at the book of Revelation through the filter of the book of Daniel. He went about a million miles per hour, was crazy enthusiastic, and brought handouts and a PowerPoint to go with it.

I was in love.

Seriously. I loved being a student. And tonight I was sitting there on the edge of the pew, pencil poised to catch every tidbit I could while I flipped furiously through my Bible trying to keep up with him.

Now, granted, in high school it was a little hit and miss. Trust me, I did not sit in math or history like that. In math I was too busy trying to make my notes look fun and interesting, and in history I was too busy either doodling in my notebook or wondering what my teacher had had for breakfast because pieces of it were still stuck in his beard and on his collar (true story).

And, if I'm honest, I didn't quite sit like that in English all the time. Except when we did a few novels that I really loved. Or poetry. I was always attentive for that.

But man, oh man. College was a different story. With the major exceptions of anything math-related, Psychology, or Linguistics, I was totally different.

Writing About Film was a revelation. I thought I understood films and how to read them. That class totally opened my eyes. I devoured every film clip we watched in class and then went home, rented the films on Netflix, and went over it again. I watched films over and over again, looking at the use of framing, cuts, color, pacing, angles, music, and symbols. This class gave me a greater love for Altman and more disdain for Scorsese and his overdone symbolism. We get it, he's a Christ-figure, does he really have to die in the crucifix position in slow motion?

Introduction to Logic was such an incredible class that I voluntarily took the Advanced Logic class. I convinced other friends to take it. I learned how to use people's words like math equations. It made me a better arguer, helped me understand syntax and how essential it is to meaning, and grounded me in reality. Not the depressing kind of realism. Just, well, real realism.

Anthropology was fascinating. Even though my father says that it's not a real science I still found it engrossing. Why do people operate the way they do? Why do we congregate? How do other cultures work? What makes them separate from us and what makes us similar? I found that I loved the differences and the nuances in each culture. And I also found that those differences make other cultures (And culture-groups within America) more precious. I love cultural differences and I'm not afraid to admit it.

And all my English classes. It's safe to assume that I love books. It's also safe to assume that I love analyzing literature; therefore, my English classes in college were great. Mostly. There were two with whats-her-name who shall never be mentioned again (she gave me a C once), but otherwise, they were great!

Ah, I miss it.

Oh, but not my education classes.

Sorry to all of you who are future educators, but wow. Those classes. If anything ever felt like a bigger waste of money . . . man. I learned more in my semester of Student Teaching than I did in the previous three full of classes about Diversity, Methods, and Management.

But hey. You gotta do what you gotta do.

And without them, I wouldn't be here.

So, it's all good.