Typing where I shouldn't be typing...
I'm sitting here (using the Principal's computer because I've been sitting here so damn long) waiting for the police to come and steal away a perfectly good, but misguided, young man. He's not going anywhere. He's smart enough to know that he's in trouble up to his future self's forehead and there's no sense in bailing on the situation because these kinds of situations find you. To be perfectly honest he's thankful, or I keep hinting that he should be thankful, that the police got to him first. People who ride motorcycles don't like people who take things from them, especially things that amount to several thousand dollars...well, several thousand dollars times a number greater than three. He's going to meet some people who can help him, not hurt him, and in the end I think he gets that. He either gets that fairly illusive notion or he's just scared silly at the consequences otherwise. I'd be.
Anyway, it got me to thinking, "I'm going to use this principal's computer since he/she (being ambiguous here for confidentiality) has strangely, but serendipitously, left for previous engagements and left me holding the bag, or in this case, the felon/potential victim of future not-so random drug related gang violence. I think I'll make a blog post from what seems to be your suspicious student surveillance station." I don't know why I thought I'd do that. Rebelliousness, perhaps, or maybe just to say that I did, or to prove to myself that I'm cooler than he/she is? I'm not entirely sure, but I know that I'm not supposed to be doing this and that it feels pretty good. I feel a little like Ferris Bueller if he had the chance to sit at Mr. Rooney's desk, which of course, he didn't so I'm kinda forging ahead into unchartered waters. Whatever it is I'm doing it's probably half as larcenous as I suspect, and of no interest to anyone other than me and my overactive imagination. He/she is not coming back today, my anxiety laden friend is relatively quiet considering his fate, and the police aren't here yet. Type away young man...okay, young-ish man.
What this situation really got me thinking was how much I love the word "insouciant." It's a great word isn't it? It's a fabulous word. It fits more comfortably when it's used to describe a quirky, insouciant French gamine living in Paris, a la Audrey Tautou in the film, Amelie, or perhaps to describe the way a mid-week, mid-afternoon lake or oceanside hammock feels, but in this particular situation it scoops me up and takes me to places other than here, where a young man is about to grow up awfully quick. I'd like each and every one of my days to feel insouciant. It's quickly becoming my highest priority.
Insouciant...the word just makes me feel good when I'm staring smack into the face of bad. This poor friggin' kid doesn't have a clue what his future holds, and it's easy enough to say, "He should have known better," or the standard, "Well, you play with fire and you get burned," crap, but the reality is this young guy never stood much of a chance. If you have any idea what he's lived with and through, well, you'd change your mind awfully quick. It slips me right back into thinking about Zoey and how she'll grow up and what choices she'll make and what scenarios she'll find herself in. I think she'll be okay. I mean, if you can hope for luck with all of the intangibles, but as far as looking around her and learning I think she'll be just fine. I think I'm going to try to teach her the meaning of the word, "insouciant," right away so that maybe she'll gun for it all along. Quirky and insouciant...I'll take that for her future. I'll take that for her future any day. The tricky part is to get her to take it.
Alright, I've typed plenty on this borrowed computer and I see a police cruiser pulling into the parking lot. Good luck kid. There'll be no talk of insouciant things from this point on. Man, oh man...how long 'til I'm done work? Sometimes this job sucks.
Anyway, it got me to thinking, "I'm going to use this principal's computer since he/she (being ambiguous here for confidentiality) has strangely, but serendipitously, left for previous engagements and left me holding the bag, or in this case, the felon/potential victim of future not-so random drug related gang violence. I think I'll make a blog post from what seems to be your suspicious student surveillance station." I don't know why I thought I'd do that. Rebelliousness, perhaps, or maybe just to say that I did, or to prove to myself that I'm cooler than he/she is? I'm not entirely sure, but I know that I'm not supposed to be doing this and that it feels pretty good. I feel a little like Ferris Bueller if he had the chance to sit at Mr. Rooney's desk, which of course, he didn't so I'm kinda forging ahead into unchartered waters. Whatever it is I'm doing it's probably half as larcenous as I suspect, and of no interest to anyone other than me and my overactive imagination. He/she is not coming back today, my anxiety laden friend is relatively quiet considering his fate, and the police aren't here yet. Type away young man...okay, young-ish man.
What this situation really got me thinking was how much I love the word "insouciant." It's a great word isn't it? It's a fabulous word. It fits more comfortably when it's used to describe a quirky, insouciant French gamine living in Paris, a la Audrey Tautou in the film, Amelie, or perhaps to describe the way a mid-week, mid-afternoon lake or oceanside hammock feels, but in this particular situation it scoops me up and takes me to places other than here, where a young man is about to grow up awfully quick. I'd like each and every one of my days to feel insouciant. It's quickly becoming my highest priority.
Insouciant...the word just makes me feel good when I'm staring smack into the face of bad. This poor friggin' kid doesn't have a clue what his future holds, and it's easy enough to say, "He should have known better," or the standard, "Well, you play with fire and you get burned," crap, but the reality is this young guy never stood much of a chance. If you have any idea what he's lived with and through, well, you'd change your mind awfully quick. It slips me right back into thinking about Zoey and how she'll grow up and what choices she'll make and what scenarios she'll find herself in. I think she'll be okay. I mean, if you can hope for luck with all of the intangibles, but as far as looking around her and learning I think she'll be just fine. I think I'm going to try to teach her the meaning of the word, "insouciant," right away so that maybe she'll gun for it all along. Quirky and insouciant...I'll take that for her future. I'll take that for her future any day. The tricky part is to get her to take it.
Alright, I've typed plenty on this borrowed computer and I see a police cruiser pulling into the parking lot. Good luck kid. There'll be no talk of insouciant things from this point on. Man, oh man...how long 'til I'm done work? Sometimes this job sucks.
posted by Unknown at
1:57 PM
3 Comments:
I hear ya...a kid I've been telling for months now is better than he is behaving decided to make a sexually overt gesture at me, or at least in my direction while I was teaching him today. I'm not so sure he is better anymore. His mom is doing everything right, his background is pretty good and he consistently makes bad choice just for kicks. Is it possible that a 13 year-old is just bad? Anyway I asked that he not be allowed back in my classroom for the rest of the day as I felt it was a form of sexual harrassment, if not at me than at least the 13 year-old girls in the room. It has made me weary.
On a bright note....I LOVE the new header. Love it. Fabulous.
I'll embrace the "bright note"...'cause I love it too!
Bri, I play hockey on Tuesdays with a bunch of teachers. And well you know what my Mom was…
I am amazed at – as old and codgerly as this sounds – kids these days. This I realize, coming from a self-professed jackass that used to act up in class for attention. But the kids these days seeming have little regard for others, respect for themselves, and most importantly, it's never their or their parent's faults. Someone else is always to blame.
Not sure why that happens, or if I am just getting old, but the point is, all you need to do is care. And for that Zoe is rich beyond all measure, which gives her the foundation to make the right choices and be the best that she can.
Care. Work. Hope.
That's all you need.
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