Bradley Cooper Completely Validates 2015 for Miss Marjorie!

In March of 2014, I started this blog know that I would fail.  Failure is part of life.  It so often has a negative connotation attached to it.  I remember when one of the mantras at the school I teach at was "Failure is not an Option at ****!"  I just looked at a few of my close peers and stated "but it sure as hell is a possibility."  As a teacher, I believe that failure is part of the equation for learning.  As Alexander Pope stated, "To err is human, to forgive is divine."  This past year, I have embraced my failures and by that, I mean that I have learned from them ... well, most of them.  There are a few that I am still figuring out.   I have not wallowed in self pity, sat around crying, ( I have cried but usually while driving), and beat myself up for my shortcomings.

A few years ago, a colleague and friend made this analogy about me.  "Christa," with a huge smile she said, "You are like a 747 taking off on a runway.  When you get an idea, you start at the end of the runway and get your engines going.  You then proceed down the runway and once you lift off the pavement and get into the air, there is no calling you back."  She is as right now if she were sitting by me today saying as she was then.  My 747 idea of 2015 was to make the life altering decision of moving back into my childhood home.  I written about the house previously, "Walls."  I turned 48 in September and did a lot of soul searching and realized that the house that I was working so hard to maintain, that's first section was built in 1873, was the heart of my existence... was going to be standing when I was ready to move in, I was going to have to stop paying out rent and utilities and put it into the house.   I had my 30th high school reunion in October and after consulting my 16 year-old son, asked my 72 year old mother if we could move.  With great delight, she quickly said yes and within a week, everything was set in motion for me to make the biggest decision of my life that would impact not just me but my son and my mother since my separation and divorce three years ago.

With this decision, I knew that my entire world was going to change.   I officially became a member of the "Sandwich Generation."  PEW Research shows that 1 out of 8 Americans between the ages of 40 and 60 are part of this generation.  We are simultaneously caring for one or more of our children and one or both parents.  We are stuck between these two other generations for a variety of reasons and or combination of food/household bills, debt, home renovation, medical costs, and or educational fees.  I have say that I am 100% all of those reasons.

First, I filed for bankruptcy in December of 2014 to recover from the divorce and debts that followed me out of the marriage.   I was granted a Chapter 13, which is the one that is primarily known as the "one you pay back" on.  So, there went a sizable amount of my monthly paycheck.  Secondly, the educational fees were still very much a part of my life.  I am still paying on my student loans from my Bachelor's and Master's.  While they are currently included in the bankruptcy, what is not paid by the time I am completed (December 2019), I will continue to pay.  My youngest son will graduate high school in June of 2017, so I will be looking at him being in college at least 3 semesters by the time my bankruptcy is complete.  Thirdly comes the food and household bills.  As a single parent of a 16 year old boy, you understand the line from Field of Dreams  - "if you build it, they will come" -  within the context of food.   If you buy it, they will eat it.  If you buy in bulk, they will eat in bulk.  I had a membership in Sam's and Costco's at one time and yes, while it was thrifty as I checked out of the store to have purchased the amount of food that I had for the price I had.  Reality set in when about a week later, most of the food was inhaled during some ritualistic grazing feast that teen boys observe.  Fourth is the repayment of debt which has basically been covered in the second of educational debt.  Fifth are medical costs.  There is therapy and prescribed medications on my part, my sons part and then you add the daft system of medicare for my mother...it totally sucks someone dry.  Lastly, and I think the greatest impacting factor, was home restoration.  It had become very clear to me that if I was going to be able to move into the house at some point later in life, I was going to have to be putting the money into the house that I had been putting into rent and other utilities.  I had already slashed cable/satellite from the budget and did not have a land line.  It made complete sense, monetarily.

For my mother, sister, and aunt, there came the security that I would be living with my mother, who at 72 has a pace maker and a tendency to fall.  For my son, well...I don't think there has been a huge change except that his bedroom would now be on the second floor and not the basement.  For me, there are the changes of boundaries.  I am not the little girl my mother raised and she is not the physically active mother she was as a child.  We have had to institute some understandings.  Momo (that is what we call her instead of Grandma) cannot initiate a conversation or carry a conversation on with me unless I am in the same room with her.  Mainly because I can't hear her over the TV, the animals, the boy, and whatever I am doing in the other room.  So I have taken to giving the blanket response when this understanding is misunderstood, "Are we in the same room? No!"    My phone.  My phone is a smart phone and it does a lot of really cool things.  It makes all kinds of really cool noises and sounds and yes they go off multiple times, but I am not a slave to my phone.  It is a smart phone for a reason and it takes messages.  The most recent understanding is that in the morning, you cannot ask me a series of questions or give me a series of tasks and expect me to accomplish them.  This is just not possible for a number of reasons.  First, I just woke up and my brain needs to be infused with coffee and my daily dose of Adderall for my ADHD.  My ADHD, my busy brain, my chemo brain, I think you get it.  Then there is my already non-existent social life that just became even more non-existent when I respond to the question, "Your place or mine?"  Well, it will have to be yours, because I live with my mom.  ( :/ )

So, the beginning of November 2015, I moved for the last time in my life and back to my childhood home and MY ROOM.  There was a peace and a comfort to this move that I am still working through.  It has been hard to get used to having television for the first time in two years.  I now live with the woman that chooses her satellite/cable provider by whether or not they have the Hallmark Channel.  So now that I have watched all the possible Christmas movies and with the start of the new year will come the Valentine's movies, I have determined that I will be in a diabetic comma by Easter, if not sooner.  One of the things that I requested be DVR'd was the Barbara Walters' Most Interesting People of 2015.  Ah, now comes the text to media connection!  (Yes, I play an English teacher at school.)   One of the individuals that she chose was  Bradley Cooper.  Yes, THE Bradley Cooper.  The one that we cannot simply fathom why he and Jennifer Lawrence area not together, because if one of us cannot have him why she should because she is just totally cool.   In the middle of the interview, Walter's asked him about his father's death and then indicated that after his father's death, he had his mother move in with him.  What?!?!?! did I just hear?!?!?!?!  Bradley Cooper, the man that was once told by his agent that he did not get certain roles because he was not "fuckable!" lives with his mom.  At that very moment, the biggest and smartest decision I have made in a very, very long time, was just validated by Bradley Cooper.

Why I Will Leave Education

Before you read this posting, you need to read this first: https://karareevesblog.wordpress.com/2015/11/26/a-not-so-graceful-exit-why-i-left-teaching/

I started to write this in the comments section of the sister that posted it with the simple statement "For my teaching friends and family...." but I thought it would be rude to go on a tirade on some one's page rather than my own. Then, a spark...Miss Marjorie this is so about your journey and the path you are on.

This brought me to tears. I know that I am one of those that cannot leave, yet. I know that I have to teach in the district I teach in until my youngest graduates (June 2017) because we do not live in the district and I have to teach until my bankruptcy is done (December 2019). June 2020 is my date for a probably not so graceful exit because simply, I don't do things with grace...usually it is loud and with a huge bang. I know that education is not the education that I came to 24 years ago. Change happens. I was never so idealistic that I thought I could save every child, but I was idealistic in that I could reach at the least one child. I went to college with the intention of becoming a Social Studies teacher and along the way (or my path less traveled) I landed in Special Education. I know that I have for various reasons, but mostly because they have told me and not because I sought out the validation. Their timing has always been impeccable, or rather God's, in bringing them into my life not once but twice. Without even asking a single one of them, I know in my heart and would stake my career on it, that the things that I have done have absolutely nothing to do with their performance on State and District wide assessments, "student engagement, higher-order thinking, Daily 5, everyday mathematics, common core aligned, critical thinking, portfolio assessment, hands-on, multiple intelligences, discovery learning, balanced reading, IEP, chunking, differentiated instruction, direct instruction, deductive thinking, extrinsic motivation, formative assessment, inclusion, individualized instruction, inquiry-based learning, learning styles, mainstreaming, manipulative, literacy, life-long learning,flexible grouping, data driven, SMART goals, DIBELS" (http://k6educators.about.com/od/professionaldevelopment/tp/7-Buzzwords-Your-Most-Likely-to-Hear-in-Education.htm) ... Think about it, envision leaders of governments doing a think-pair-share activity to problem solve a major world crisis or conflict....Not going to happen.

Here is what works, the adult drops whatever they are doing and listens to the child. Listening does not always mean that you are going to actually have vocalizations coming from the child, or young adult as I teach high school students. Is it important to cover the curriculum? Yes but, not at the expense to the individual or individuals. There are teachable moments that arise the very moment that you, as the teacher, have made the realization that you are running out of time to cover all that the curriculum says you must cover. I, without a doubt, believe that 100% of the students that I have had an impact on (whether I know it or not) will defend me in saying that because I seized that teachable moment (writing this and having visions of the genius that was Robin Williams saying "Seize the Day!"), I put aside all of the bull shit buzzwords above and started a completely off topic, out of discipline round table discussion in class or I have simply sat down and listened to what that individual was saying, has made the greater impact. Yesterday, on a Monday after a 5 day holiday break the last hour of the day, I attempted to lead a Kagan Strategies 4-Corners activity and was not being even as remotely successful as I had been the first hour of the day. With 25 minutes left in the class period, I announced that they had a choice to play nice and participate or I could guarantee them that I could talk for 25 minutes straight without a break with no problem and they would be my captive audience. A voice from within the crowd (of which I knew exactly which student it was by recognition of the voice) stated "I am sure that you could talk a lot longer than 25 minutes." We made it ten more minutes. For 15 minutes, that class sat in their desks and made eye contact with me as I spoke to them (not at them) about the American Dream. About what it means to be wealthy beyond measure and it has absolutely nothing to do with the amount of money you have. About the fact that the root word for activism is active. You must leave the confines of your safe environment and physically get out there and do something about it. You have to put yourself in places that are out of your comfort zone. You have to be active. That you must take responsibility for your own learning because I am not hear to teach you what to think but how to think while providing a safe environment for you to take the risks that are seizing the day. For 15 minutes, every student (even the ones that typically evade me) was looking at me and listening to what I was saying.  There was no side conversations and there were no phones out with extra curricular texting  What was it that indicated to me that my students were "cognitively engaged?"  Their body language.  When I hit a nerve, a sad place, a happy place, a I-never-thought-of-that place...you could visibly see changes in their expressions, their skin color, their movement in their seat. But the most glaring indicator, was that when the bell rang at the end that very long day, they did not start the ritualistic packing of the things to escape while I was still talking.  Cognitive engagement...and there was not an administrator in sight to evaluate me with the highest of all ratings of a 7 on the Network for Educator Effectiveness scale.  That 15 minutes was more meaningful to me than that 7 could or will ever be.

As a teacher, I have learned more from the people that have sat in those desks in front of me than I ever learned from a text book myself. I hope that, at least a few of them are able to say the same.

While 2020 seems far away, it is not. I have a plan. I am laying the path and it will not be in education.

A Daddy's Girl

I am a self professed Daddy's girl.  

Seven years ago tomorrow at 0400, my Pop accepted a position with God as a Guardian Angel.   Twenty days prior to that, we were told that tumor that had been removed from his brain was cancer that had metastasized from his lungs.  About a week before that, I was able to do something that many children never get to do, be the same rock for a parent that they had been for me.   

In 1980, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's  Pretty much any treatment that I had was experimental.   About a month short of my 13th birthday, I had a 12 inch incision made straight down the middle of my stomach.   That night (as I have been told) following the surgery, my Pop took that watch. What we consider as normal today, was experimental then.  I had staples inside that were to dissolve and the incision was taped closed.  I managed to rupture the incision that was taped closed.   

When my Pop was admitted to SLU for his surgery to remove the tumor, I was blessed to spend the night with him in the hospital as he had done for me.  Prior to surgery, we had noticed that he was having "word salad" and struggling more than he had ever been.   I remember him going down for his surgery that afternoon and it taking most of the day and into the night, when about 2200 hours, we were told that he was in recovery and doing well.  We were told to go home because it was so late but I had to see my Pop.   Mary and Mom left and I waited to see him.   When I was able to go back about an hour later, he was sitting up and it was as if all the symptoms he had been experiencing for the past 4 months to 7 years went away.   He was my Pop that I knew, joking and being sarcastic.  

I know that I am so blessed to have served him in the way that he had served me.   When we were told that it was cancer and that hospice would start the following day, I had no clue the journey I would be on for the next 20 days.   Those are days that I can say that treasure and hold in my heart.  Those are days that have defined me.   I remember Pop saying good bye to the boys while I was feeding him chicken broth.   He had lost his ability to speak and on that Thursday night, he slipped into a sleep that would last for four days.  I took the night watches and watch Seinfeld with him and laugh and just talk to him.   I pushed the morphine for him to remain comfortable.  I would inject it into his mouth and then use the bubble gum sponges to help with the taste.  He made some of the best faces that could rival Klem Kaddlehopper.    I remember his body settling into memory foam mattress.  I remember feeling his arms as his blood started pooling and I remember is skin getting softer and starting to model.   I remember laying in mom's bed and Mary waking me up at 0315 to tell me that Pop was almost through his journey.  With each breath, a breath that only they dying do, we would tell him that it was okay for him to go.   But Pop already knew that because he had told Mom and Mary to not worry about anything, Christa was strong enough and would take care of everything.  When he took his last breath, I just laid my head down on his legs and wept.  At 0400, I called Hospice and made the death notification.

My Pop's passing was very peaceful.  It was everything that he had prayed for.  It was quiet and the three women that had loved him unconditionally were right there with him.  I also believe that his mother was standing there waiting to greet him with open arms.  During the last week or so, we could here him talking and carrying on a conversation.  Now, this was not unusual but what was was when we asked who you talking to pop?  The answer was his mother and brothers.  I believe they helped him through the light.

I have been through a journey the past few years since my Pop's acceptance of this job as A Guardian Angel that have found me sitting next to his marker at Jefferson Barracks in tears and in laughter. I am my father's daughter. 

Treasure every moment of every day.  Know that you are blessed by so much that you cannot even see or know.   Love you, Pop.  I know that you are taking care of me every moment of every day.

My Curriculum Vitae....as I see it....

In my Senior English class, we are starting to read Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer.  The book is about the journey of one young man, Chris McCandless, into the wilderness of Alaska.  One of the tasks, prior to reading, that we ask of the students to do is to write a curriculum vitae.  I felt that the assignment was important enough that I gave them my own personal curriculum vitae.


1) Born in rural Missouri, head first almost arriving before the doctor.

2) My birth year saw a “Purple Haze” of the Hendrix’s kind; Oscar was “A Man for All Seasons;" and PBS was born.

3) My father walked high on steel beams across the Gateway to the West.

4) We moved East to The Bay State, the place of my father’s childhood.

5) We returned to the State of Misery

6) My 5th birthday party, my kindergarten class mates were invited but no one came.

7) Sundays were filled with sounds of an arm-chair football coach for Cardinals and their giants, Dierdorf and Hart. but the Steelers of Pittsburgh with Bradshaw and Swan were supreme.

8) After 2nd grade, another house, a new school, no friends

9) 4th Grade saw the arrival of the Fat Fairy and Mr. Alcorn that made a little girl who loved school, hate school.

9) After 4th Grade, moved to the house of my inheritance. New school … now parochial not public. Superficial friendships.

10) My father often slept at the kitchen table or on the back porch in his lawn chair induced by the intake of Budweiser. There were arguments...threats to leave.

11) We traveled to Iran, “to where???” many said….to return 6 months later because of a revolution, Islam, and Khomeini to questions of “where did you go?” “Iran” “Oh, my, there????”

12) 8th grade came with the Big C….Cancer that is. Innocence is ripped away, a little girl skips being a teenager and is forced into adulthood.

13) Her body becomes the canvas for insurance paid tattoos. The burn of 3300 RADs of radiation a day, 5 days a week 4 weeks long. The stares, mostly from adults. The smells, the burn, the ice, the vomit….all chemo, 2 times a month for 6 months. NO PIZZA! How will a 13 year old live!

14) 1985, She knew Stacy’s mom but not the one that they sang about. College, away from home, to the land of Sycamore Trees. Anti-sorority socority girl…..sisters were made for life.

15) 1991, first year of teaching….not much older than her students. She learned from them more than they probably learned from her. 24 years later, they are some of her true and best friends.

16) 1997, she married at 30 to a man and his son. 1998, she adopted her oldest son. 1999, she gave birth to her son, a toddler size blessing.

17) 2001, 9-11 A marriage starts to be enveloped in mental illness, verbal and emotional abuse, the strength of the girl that became a woman was slowly dismantled. 2007, The Big C comes again.

18) 2008, her world was rocked to the core with the KIA of a former student and the daddy’s girl lost her daddy on this earth to her Father in Heaven… 2 guardian angels she knows they were made..

19) 2012, the marriage implodes...she realizes that she is dead to herself, her family, her friends, her students. She says it is time to bury the marriage and heal.

20) November 2012, her Destiny becomes her Forever 16 Guardian Angel...her heart is broken, her son’s heart is broken, it was so dark, so desolate, there was no light.

21) Her world continue to spiral until one day, she saw light…..faint light….but the little girl….that skipped her adolescence….the woman she was slowly emerged…

22) Today, the light is bright. She is perfectly imperfect.

Walls

Walls .... the purpose of Walls?  What are they made of?  You are probably thinking, "Really? The purpose of walls is simple." Then you start to think, maybe it isn't so simple.   Or you do think they are simple but are continuing to read this because you are curious about what I am getting at.  It really isn't all that simple, even when you are only talking about actual physical walls.  I think we can all agree that walls create rooms which are then typically part of a structure of some kind.   But then, if you are say someone that is working on the 150+ year old home she grew up in and plan to live in again, you being to look and realize at these walls simply do not just create rooms and those rooms create structures.  First there is are load bearing walls and non-load bearing walls.  Then there are walls created to retain things.   There of course is the wall that has been listed as one of the 7 wonders of the world, The Great Wall of China.   There then is the challenge as to the type of materials used to make a wall.  In the particular case of the 150+ year old house, they are hand pressed bricks.  They are fired but not fired to the degree in which we know bricks to be fired today.  Today's brick is not a living brick.  Hang in there with me and you will understand and no, this is not the use of personification.  Brick of 150+ years ago was, as I have discovered, a "living" brick.  Here is why I call it a "living" brick.  The brick use is a brick that breathes with the temperature.  A scientist would say that they contract and expand, but to the lay person (ie...me), they breathe.  If it breathes then it is "living."  Then there is the mortar.  You know that stuff that is used to keep the brick in place.  Today's mortar is made of cement (Portland Cement to be exact).  What happens when cement dries or cures?  It hardens.  You no longer have the ability to mold it.  In a sense, it stops breathing.  The mortar used 150+ years ago, was made of limestone.  When limestone hardens, no we can not continue to manipulate it or mold it, but like the brick it surrounds, cushions, it breathes. It is a substance that is slightly less hard than the brick that it surrounds.  They breathe (contract and expand) together.  When the brick of 150+ years ago meets the mortar of today (the Portland Cement)), the ability to live and to breathe is no longer possible for the brick.  They begin to fracture.  Their faces break off.  Parts of the brick even fall out.  Moisture becomes trapped in them causing more damage because they simply cannot breathe.  The limestone mortar used also has a very unique characteristic, it denigrates...turns to powder ... when it is no longer useful.  Meaning, when it can no longer breathe to allow the bricks to breathe, it dies.Those are physical walls.

As part of my journey to find Miss Marjorie, I have discovered the walls that I have put up are very, very thick.  My walls are thick like that of the house I am working on.  During the time the house was built, the walls were built two bricks deep. The mortar that holds the bricks of my walls together to create my walls are the experiences of my life.  I examine my walls periodically for structural concerns.  That meaning, are they holding strong?  Are they impenetrable?  My walls are there for a reason, to protect a heart that I used to wear on my sleeve.  Sitting behind these walls, nursing this heart back to health has been an amazing journey.  As I have said before, it is my path less traveled and I am all the better for it.  I have learned to ask questions first, not later.  I have learned that I am stronger than I thought.  But I think that the biggest lesson that I have learned is that I deserve to be taken care of the way that I take care of others.  The way that I inspect the walls of my mother's house.  I tap on the mortar carefully with a chisel, brush out the dust, and replace the mortar with the appropriate mixture.  I have run my hands down the walls and have talked to her in an attempt to comfort her as she grows older.  Grows older alone.  I realize that the house's heart is the same as mine.  That both of us deserve to shine.  Both of us deserve to be loved by someone the same way in which we love them. That we owe it to ourselves to love ourselves the way in which we love others.

I have come to embrace that God brings people in and out of my life for a purpose.  It is not always clear to me as why.  Is there something that I should be doing for them?  Them for me?  In the past three years that I have  been on this journey, I continue to encounter individuals that are in places in their lives where they question their self worth; question if they have done something to deserve the situation that they are in; question if they are strong enough to push back....I find myself sitting with them, dissecting the situation much like I have dissected the old house.  Much like I have dissected myself.  I find myself looking back on my journey and seeing just how far I have come.  That having chose the path and headed out on it on my own,,,I can look back and see that along the way, I was supposed to walk certain portions of it alone.  As I have moved along, there are people that have joined me.  They have either lifted me up or have picked me up.  Some of put me back into my place where I belong.  I have shared details of my path with some in more detail than I choose to go into here and I am met with the same response and I reply with the same, "It is my path to walk and God will take me through it.  I have put my faith in him and I have gotten this far."

Is there light at the end of the path?  I cannot tell you.  I have stopped looking ahead and I have stopped looking back.  I am taking it one day at a time.  I am learning still.  I am protecting this heart, like I am protecting the house.  This heart knows what it wants, what it deserves, what it needs...What I also know, is that I am the one responsible for all of it.  My walls have a purpose and like limestone mortar that disintegrates when it's life span has exhausted itself; when the time is right, my walls will come down.  I can tell you that the person that gets through them, will be amazing and deserving of all that I protect behind those walls.

Micro Argument: The American Bison and the 15 year old American Boy

Prologue:  I am the mother of two boys.  One of which is now 23 and the other is 16.  About 10 years ago, an email popped up from my older son's English teacher.  My oldest had asked his English teacher if he could write his comparison contrast paper over his mother (Me) and the Devil.   The teacher wanted to know if this was okay with me; of which I responded, "Only if I get a rebuttal."  That was when I first drafted this post.  Well, my son chose a different topic because, "I just could not find enough mom."   Step into your time machine and move to present day.  I am currently teaching a micro argument unit in my Senior English course and have found that the students are really struggling with the concept of a micro argument, how to embed quotations, and even more importantly, how to find credible information on the Internet.  So, it was time to dig out the comparison/contrast rebuttal that I had written ten years ago and turn it into a micro argument for my students to use an example.

Micro Argument Example

There is little difference between a 15 year-old American Boy and the American Bison and these differences go much deeper than that of just height and smell of.  The confusion can be easy to see because the average height of the American Bison nears six foot ("American Bison") and the average height of the 15 year old American Boy ("Americans Slightly Taller, Much Heavier Than Four Decades Ago") in 2002 was five feet eight and half inches tall.    And there is the obvious identifier in that both are part of the Linnaean Scientific Classification System in the Mammalian Class/Chordate Phylum/Animalia Kingdom ("American Bison Fact Sheet")(O'Neil).  Beyond that, if an individual has not tended to the American Boy, the similarities are not as evident. At first smell, the individual not familiar, may think that there is a herd of American Bison near.  But no, you have entered the sacred pasture of the American 15 year old boy.  Now their pastures will appear very different.  For the American Bison, they are known to have lived in the open grasslands of the United States and are typically nomadic ("American Bison Fact Sheet").  The American 15 year old boy inhabits a number of pastures.  Having been spotted during daylight hours within the halls of numerous American high schools, but their main pasture is that of their parent’s home.  This pasture of the parent’s home does set the American Boy apart from the American Bison.  This is commonly referred to as a mama’s boy syndrome which is contrary to the nomadic life of the bison, but one can easily segway back to the commonalities.  For example, both have a keen sense of smell.  For the American Bison, their keen sense of smell enables them to detect the odor of other animals up to 1.2 miles away from them ("American Bison") and the American Boy can do the same when detecting the smell of food.  Both male American Bison and the American Boy are known to mark their areas.  While the American Bison male will wallow, wallow in others and then urinate in the wallow to mark it ("American Bison Fact Sheet"), the American Boy does wallow but this is typically seen during athletic endeavors such as football or wrestling.  The American Boy utilizes their pungent body odor to mark their territory that is typically the result of their aversion to water which is evident by their lack of showering; but it can be noted here that the American Bison is known to be very fond of water ("American Bison Fact Sheet").  If these have not made a convincing argument, we can go with simple numbers as presented in the San Diego Zoo’s “American Bison Fact Sheet”.  While the American Bison adult male can grow to be 1200 to 2000 pounds, this compares to the amount of trash that the American Boy can generate and keep in their living space (typically, known as their bedroom).  Why they feel compelled to keep this amount of trash is one of many questions the American Mother goes to her grave with unanswered.  When born, the American Bison weighs approximately 35 pounds which compares to the amount of food that the American Boy can eat in one sitting.  Typically, this is in the form of pizza, hamburgers, and fries.  The American Bison male matures some 3 years later than the female of their species which mimics the similar maturation milestones met by the American Boy in relation their species counterpart, the American Girl.  Whether it is the height of the two, to the weight comparisons, to the ability to smell or to be smelled; the evidence is in the numbers that the 15 year old American Boy the American Bison are indeed very similar creatures.

Works Cited

"American Bison Fact Sheet." American Bison Fact Sheet. San Diego Zoo, Mar. 2009. Web. 29 Mar. 2015.

"American Bison." Webpath Express. Canadian Musuem of Nature, 09 Jan. 2015. Web. 29 Mar. 2015.

"Americans Slightly Taller, Much Heavier Than Four Decades Ago." Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 04 Jan. 2010. Web. 29 Mar. 2015.

"Classification of Living Things: Linnaean Classification of Humans." Classification of Living Things: Linnaean Classification of Humans. Ed. Dennis O'Neil. Palomar College Department of Behavioral Science, 2012. Web. 29 Mar. 2015.

Online Dating: If I Were A Boy / Think Like a Man

I have tried my hand, again at the online dating scene.  I paid for a month (yes, only a month) on a site (doesn't matter which one).  I have texted with a couple of the men that have expressed interest, met a couple and am still in contact with the amazing man I first posted about when I started my blog a year ago but there are a few new realizations that I have come to in just a wee month.

Queen Bey said it best, "If I were a boy I think I could understand..." this whole online dating culture and it is a culture. I am Curious George. For those that know me, they also know that I have no fear in asking questions. I have also seen Steve Harvey's "Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man."  Here are some of the things that I have come to understand...

Yes, they can arrive looking as if they have rolled out of bed and thrown on what they wanted and just go.  Men don't seem to worry as to whether or not they are going to make an impression on you when they first meet because they really don't have to.   Why do they not have to?!? Because they have a plethora of women to choose from and before they even meet you in person have already decided if you meet their physical requirement.   For most men, that is HOT! and usually within a certain weight range that I have not been in since the fat fairy arrived in the third grade.  I have only met a handful of the men that I have communicated with from online dating.  I do make myself presentable to make a good solid physical first impression.  I make sure that I don't wear heels if the guys are as tall or just a couple inches taller than me.  I make sure that my make-up is natural, not looking like I have attend the drag queen's school of make-up.

"And chase after girls."  I have met a number that are serial daters.  I can't keep straight which load of laundry I need to do next let alone have three dates with three separate women in one week. I have to pencil in when I get to pee let alone to schedule three dates in one week. But, there is an element of "the chase" that guys seem to like, the element of surprise.  I don't look like someone that

There is the "canceled" criteria. That is that if someone cancels on you three times, then they are history.  Why give them three times?  I think if the person cancels on you and they cannot give you a reason that in this age of the Internet you cannot easily locate to corroborate their story (Yes!  I am aware that I have trust issues.) then there isn't another time to cancel.  Why waste your time?  Also, just own it.  If it isn't there for you, then don't give them any kind of hope that there may be another date or even a relationship.

There is the "meeting the kids" criteria.  This seems to depend on the age of the kids.  Adult kids you will probably never meet unless you have moved in with the person. This I am completely on board with is that the ones that live with you (full-time or part-time) will depend on a variety of factors.  When we are exclusive.   Only after a year of dating exclusively.  As even friends, you won't even meet them because they don't need to be confused that a male and female can be "just friends" because we know that isn't reality.  Matter of fact, I was watching a movie with my teenager (a boy) that had a mother and step-father situation.  He stated that I was not allowed to date until he had moved out of my house.  I looked at him and said, "Just what makes you think I am not in a relationship now and you just don't know it?"  He stares blankly at me and then states, "Because you don't go out enough."  He is gone most weekends and that is when I schedule my social time.

The physical relationship.  This is something that I am very candid about.  Having a conversation with a male friend (said amazing male I met a year ago) and we both could agree on one thing, that most women are not capable of having a purely physical relationship.  This meaning that the individuals have sex, no cuddling, no talking about their lives, no fixing breakfast, thank you so now you can leave.  I know that I am not capable of letting my feelings enter into a physical relationship.  I am straight up front on this subject.  I am not a notch on some one's bed post.  I have no interest in being some one's fluffer.  I believe that the friendship has to be there before the benefits and even the benefits are something that comes with an exclusive or monogamous relationship that is going somewhere.  I feel that Steve Harvey's 90-day rule has merit.

I go into this culture knowing that I am worth someone investing their time, their heart, their life in me as I know there is someone out there for me to do the same.  I recently described my self to someone as "Sarcastic.  47.  Curvy."  I am someone that has lived life and at times, yes, it has lived me.   When I talk to guys, they want someone that is mature, doesn't play games, yada, yada, yada...but then they want all that wrapped up in the package of Barbie.  I have my eyes wide open. I also know that I am worth taking my time in this next chapter of my life.

50 Shades of Fiction

Yes, I have read all three of the 50 Shades of Grey novels.  No, they are not Pulitzer Prize level novels and are probably written on a fourth or fifth grade reading level.  I was invested in the two main characters when Anastasia tripped into Mr. Grey's office before the, what is now dubbed as, "mommy porn" started.  About 1/2 way through the first novel, I started to skip through a lot of the sex in the novel because frankly, it became repetitive and boring.   But, when I got to the end of the first novel and read about Christan's childhood, I got it.   I understood why he "exercised control in all things."  So, I read the next in the series and again skipping the repetitive sex.  If you remove the component of the novel that constitutes "mommy porn," EL James has a great back story that could be done in 2 novels and would constitutes brain candy for those of us that need to occasionally read something that really doesn't require us to think.

Yes, I was one of the people that went to see the movie adaptation of 50 Shades of Grey the first weekend it was out that allowed the movie to make some $94 Million dollars.  For those that know me, I am somewhat of a liberal but somewhat of a conservative depending on the issue.  On this particular issue, I would be somewhat of a liberal.  I can tell you that the movie will not be nominated for any reputable awards.   I can tell you that I was disappointed in the lack of character development in the movie.  If you have not read the books, the movie will fall flat in that area.  I do believe that the movie does now set the bar for how far a movie can push the limits in order to gain a MPArating of R versus NC-17.   When the lights came up, I was kinda uncomfortable because it was a mixed audience.   I was not uncomfortable because a number of men braved seeing the film on Valentine's Day weekend, more than likely with the motive of pleasing their significant other and with the obvious hopes of getting laid.   I was uncomfortable because of the grandma factor.  There were women in in the audience that were my mom's age.  This is not a film I would feel comfortable sitting in a theatre, or even at home, with my mom watching.  I believe that kids look at their parents and think that they had "x" number of children, so that is the number of times they had sex.   When I was reading the novels, my mom asked about them and I told her she was not allowed to.  Looking into the future, I would like to see the movies rely less on the shock and awe of the red room and develop the characters that I was invested in when reading the novels.  There is a message in these novels and the film alludes to it with the ending.  The message, you can't fix someone.  Love will not conquer all.  Relationships, of any kind, are extremely hard work and require two people to be equally invested.  Respect for the individual in the relationship with you is huge but what is even bigger, is you have to respect yourself.

Now, there has been a great deal of hype over the movie adaptation of the novel.  Is it warranted, sure.  We are a country founded on the concept of freedom from persecution, freedom of speech (which I believe to be more responsibility of), and the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness.  Yes, it was founded on Puritan beliefs and I am sure that they are rolling over in their graves.  Do I disagree with those that speak out against the novels and the film stating that it glorifies abusive, controlling relationships, no I do not.  But here is the reality, it is FICTION.   The simplistic definition of fiction is something that isn't real.  Do these type of relationships exist? Yes.  But, going back to the concept of fiction, that is what these novels and the film are.  If you go to this movie and or read these novels and think that this is what a relationship between two people should be, then you need therapy.  Just like Christian and Anna would benefit from therapy and not that of the red room kind.  Christian's life started off with a great deal of strikes against him.  Have I, in 24 years of teaching, taught kids that have the same or similar start to life?  Yes.  I tell them that you have lived 1/4th of your life and it is your responsibility to take control of the rest of it.  You are in control of one thing, how you respond.   Anna, really did not have a strong role model in her mother, who is on her third husband.

There was a time when I did not understand why individuals (yes, men can be in these situations also) would stay in abusive or controlling relationships, but then I had an epiphany that I was in one myself.  I get it.  It takes a lot of courage and strength to stay and it takes a lot of courage and strength to leave.  They are different types of courage and strength. I left.  I left because I knew that I had no other choice.  I was dying inside and very close to losing the person that very few know today.  The walls that I have built are impenetrable.   These walls are my responsibility to break through.  They will not come down because someone else comes into my life.  They will not come down because some devastatingly handsome, independently wealthy man that lives by the mantra of "I exert controll in all areas of my life" and sweeps me off to his red room.

This is simply what I know, what I think.

Progress Report: One Month Into 2015

I am one month into 2015.   On December 30, 2014, I wrote the following entry into my journal.

They say that studies show that people who write their goals down are more likely to accomplish them...
In 2015 -
* get my passport
* join a fitness center and go at least 3 times a week
* get my ass organized at home and school
* take a REAL vacation
* post to Finding Miss Marjorie at least 1 time a week.
* attend a USMC Educator Workshop
* become a Google Certified Teacher
* Claim my "Kick ASS Life!"

Progress Report:
Passport:  have printed the application and it is in my desk at school.

Fitness Center: have not joined.  Partly because of needing the available funds and the other, I have had a sinus infection that will not go away.  BUT, I have reconnected on Facebook with a former student that happens to be a certified personal trainer.  Problem, I live about 75 miles from the gym that he has in North St. Louis.   We have talked and I am working to get access to the weight room at school on the weekends.

Organized:  I have purged a couple boxes at home and have organized my office at school.  I tossed a lot of stuff that I could not figure out why I even still had it.  The home and the office are not completed but a significant dent has been made.  Basically, a work in progress.

REAL Vacation:  been thinking about that one.  It just might be paired with the the USMC Educator Workshop...still waiting for the dates on that one, but application has been submitted to the local recruiter that asked me to apply.

Google Certified:  Honestly, money and just have not taken the time out to do it.

Claim my "Kick ASS Life!":  SLACKER here.  I had a series of texts between a good friend last night that has been my rock through my divorce and all that has followed.  She is amazing.  She, like I have, has been focusing on her career and raising her child.  She, like I have, has been ignoring taking care of herself.   As I have previously written, I discovered this book by Andrea Owen's "52 Ways to Live a Kick-Ass Life."  Our conversation culminated this morning with her having the realization that she must work on herself first and that she doesn't have to conform or sacrifice for any person to love her.   I figured that out about October, that I was and am worthy of being deeply and unconditionally loved by someone just as much as I deeply and unconditionally love.   In March, I met a guy (we will just call him Zander because it means "protector of mankind.") that I had been talking to from a dating site.  Throughout the year, we have texted and met a couple of times.   But in October, I was contacted by another guy that I had not talked to in at least 8 months.  I even asked him it he texted me because he stumbled onto my number while he was cleaning out phone numbers.  He was honest and said yes.  This was a guy that only wanted to have a physical relationship.   I know myself well enough to know that is just something I am not capable of.  No matter how tough my exterior comes off as, I am a typically female in that physical intimacy also involves a great deal of feelings for the other person.  In those situations, I wear my heart on my sleeve.   We met, had lunch, and there was no chemistry there.  I have not heard from him since and that is perfectly fine.   No ill feelings, have a nice life.  After meeting with guy with no chemistry, Zander and I met up for a hike through a local conservation site.  I told him that I had to thank him because I have realized that I don't have to compromise myself just to be loved by someone because that simply isn't love.   That because he has treated me with respect and been straight forward that everything starts with a friendship, that I met up with guy with no chemistry and was confident and knew that the next person that I let have my heart and let my walls down for will have to earn their way into my world.  I don't have to compromise who I am just to have someone care about me in any form of a relationship.  That it is all based on a solid foundation.  

So, I asked my struggling girlfriend if she would like to join me on this journey of claiming my KICK ASS life and she has accepted the challenge.