Monday, September 16, 2013
An Aunt Again
Super excited to announce that I'll be an aunt again in April--Nate and Kari are expecting their first!
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Ender's Game
My scattered and dis-jointed thoughts on Ender's Game by Dreson Scott Card.
As I was reading, I would forget that Ender was a child. It didn't matter if he was 6, 8, 10, 12, or 16, I would picture him in the latter stages of adolescence. I wanted to weep and cry for him. It's wrong to treat a child like that, to push him, isolate him for your own good. I know it was for everybody's good, but that's wrong. It makes sense that he completely fell apart. He collapsed because he never, ever wanted to kill. He hated that part about himself, he could read people well enough to know which way to hurt them. He always solved his battles with one fight.
To lie and not let him know that he was commander at the age of 10. To defeat those in battle at 12. Then to find out at 15-16 that those he defeated loved him and truly never meant to hurt those on earth. Finding that memorial would have shattered me, yet it didn't shatter him. Maybe it was because of his training and up-bringing or his character. Ender is a complete and utter introvert.
How do you manage to communicate with those whose communication form is vastly different? So much was unsaid all the time. No one was honest.
Ender was never able to go home. What was his home though? He had been torn from place to place his whole life. He had to learn to adapt to conform, to make do. To trust again. To give of himself again. I almost started bawling when Valentine said they would go about their adult duties as children and have to hide when they wanted to act like the children they actually were. Talk about using a labor force.
There is so much truth about almost forgetting about those whom you are not around anymore. You don't ever forget them, but you detach yourself from them just because you're not living the same life in the same place. That's life though, and for some you just pick off right where you started. For a fair amount, you struggle through the awkwardness and then learn to start again.
After finishing it, it's been in the back of my mind. I've been thinking about it in my subconscious and then bringing it to the front of my mind when I have time to think about it. It resonated with me in a way few books truly do.
As I was reading, I would forget that Ender was a child. It didn't matter if he was 6, 8, 10, 12, or 16, I would picture him in the latter stages of adolescence. I wanted to weep and cry for him. It's wrong to treat a child like that, to push him, isolate him for your own good. I know it was for everybody's good, but that's wrong. It makes sense that he completely fell apart. He collapsed because he never, ever wanted to kill. He hated that part about himself, he could read people well enough to know which way to hurt them. He always solved his battles with one fight.
To lie and not let him know that he was commander at the age of 10. To defeat those in battle at 12. Then to find out at 15-16 that those he defeated loved him and truly never meant to hurt those on earth. Finding that memorial would have shattered me, yet it didn't shatter him. Maybe it was because of his training and up-bringing or his character. Ender is a complete and utter introvert.
How do you manage to communicate with those whose communication form is vastly different? So much was unsaid all the time. No one was honest.
Ender was never able to go home. What was his home though? He had been torn from place to place his whole life. He had to learn to adapt to conform, to make do. To trust again. To give of himself again. I almost started bawling when Valentine said they would go about their adult duties as children and have to hide when they wanted to act like the children they actually were. Talk about using a labor force.
There is so much truth about almost forgetting about those whom you are not around anymore. You don't ever forget them, but you detach yourself from them just because you're not living the same life in the same place. That's life though, and for some you just pick off right where you started. For a fair amount, you struggle through the awkwardness and then learn to start again.
After finishing it, it's been in the back of my mind. I've been thinking about it in my subconscious and then bringing it to the front of my mind when I have time to think about it. It resonated with me in a way few books truly do.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
The First Day
Me feet have blisters.
I can barely walk.
I'm dehydrated.
My mind is spinning.
I'm overwhelmed.
I'm beyond exhausted.
But, I survived my first day of teaching.
It definitely didn't go as I planned, and I bungled various parts. Though, most of them were because no one had told me about the specific way to do it. I now realize how I fully despise teaching routines and procedures. Give me content any day of the week. Every part of the day just flew by. No part went completely as planned. I wasn't always the most positive in my classroom management style; I focused on the negative more.
The worst part was that I didn't feel confident; I didn't feel like I had done my best. I can't dwell on that because tomorrow I'm going to walk in to my classroom with one more day of experience. There's much I could have done differently and probably better. That's the way teaching works, the majority of the learning comes from experience.
However, I survived my first day of teaching, and I never have to have a first, first day of teaching again.
I can barely walk.
I'm dehydrated.
My mind is spinning.
I'm overwhelmed.
I'm beyond exhausted.
But, I survived my first day of teaching.
It definitely didn't go as I planned, and I bungled various parts. Though, most of them were because no one had told me about the specific way to do it. I now realize how I fully despise teaching routines and procedures. Give me content any day of the week. Every part of the day just flew by. No part went completely as planned. I wasn't always the most positive in my classroom management style; I focused on the negative more.
The worst part was that I didn't feel confident; I didn't feel like I had done my best. I can't dwell on that because tomorrow I'm going to walk in to my classroom with one more day of experience. There's much I could have done differently and probably better. That's the way teaching works, the majority of the learning comes from experience.
However, I survived my first day of teaching, and I never have to have a first, first day of teaching again.
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