Yesterday I met with an adult female student who wanted to withdraw from her LPN program. Reason? "I'm not being there for my children or my husband," she wept.
Then, we talked.
In short, her husband, who works out of state and is home a grand total of four days a month, has decided that she needs to be more present for him and their three children -- one who is in college, a senior in high school, and a six-year-old who has discovered that acting out earns everyone's attention. She disclosed that her husband came home to inspect the house and found anything that wasn't clean and scolded her. He refuses to tell her their income, except that it is "over $100,000", and, he believes she isn't giving him enough attention the four days a month he is home. She wept harder and harder as she told me this.
"But," she said, "I have such a heart for helping people. I take care of everyone and everything. He sleeps, eats, and wants sex when he is home. He doesn't pay any attention to the children. And, he pays me a salary for being home."
At this point, I wanted to shake her and scream, "Why are you doing this?? What about your desires? Your dreams? Your gifts?"
She's a straight A student in nursing. Holy cow.
One day, I fear, she will wake up to find he has found "his soul" with a woman half his age. She will have no skills, not experience, nothing.
I wanted to tell her that education is power. It is freedom. Choice. Control of one's life. Opportunity. A chance to make a difference in her children's lives by modeling how to pursue a dream and achieve a goal. She is showing her daughters how to stand on their own two feet. How she is becoming an adult instead of her husband's child, maid, housekeeper, and baby maker.
Instead, I patted her arm and told her that she had to do what would give her peace.
She filled out the form. And left. I was shattered.... for her, her children, and even her bully husband. A chance to grow and learn was lost.
If you educate a man you educate an individual, but if you educate a woman you educate a family (nation). -- Dr. James Emmanuel Kwegyir-Aggrey
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Safe -- And Spring! All in One Day!
Happy, Happy Spring!
Pansies are Nature's Most Perfect Flowers, aren't they, with their pretty faces smiling at one? 
Joyful news! The Airman is out of danger and back to a somewhat saner world (Thank you, Lord!). I don't think it will ever be completely sane, given what he does for a living, but that is okay. At least people aren't shooting at him anymore. Trust me; the irony of this being the first day of Spring and feeling like I can live again is not wasted on me! 
So, on the agenda, my dears, for this coming week of Spring Break (Thank you, Lord!) is a lot of soap making -- I have some new molds that I can't wait to use -- journal making, dream pillow making, and some good clean reading that I don't have to do! Sprinkle into that mix a little heavy duty cleaning and a good snow storm in the forecast and you have, my friends, the making of a super Spring Break. I don't have to go anywhere or do anything except breathe! I like it! Yes, yes, I do!
Since last we spoke, Miss Clarice surprised us with triplets --- but, sadly, one died at birth. The other two, Chloe and Coty are darling little guys. Miss Chloe will most likely stay with us as she is a full Alpine. And, gorgeous beyond all words! And, Miss Cissie, the hussie, presented us with Ceafus. He is a cutie pie who springs around and has this charming habit of waiting to be petted and hugged... and carried! Lazy to the bone, that boy is. I'll try for pictures this week to share... just like a bragging M'Dear (I refuse to ever be called "Grandma"!)
Mr. Louie, the buck, has turned to some nasty behavior as of late. He has taken to head butting us to the point that we have to carry a small stick or switch to keep him from doing it. I suspect it is because he is in rut and the does are not having any part of it. And, Moe and March have managed to master Houdini's escape tricks and will NOT stay in their fence. So, he has no one to impress with his masculinity. Oh, add that to the Spring Break list. Rats. Fix fence. Done.
Life is very busy these days with teaching and farm. Teaching, mostly, truth be told. I foolishly accepted one more class than I should have. This has resulted in seven classes (two extra) and 181 students. It feels as though all I do is read email and put out fires... but we are only four, count 'em, four weeks from end of semester (after break). And, given so many folks are out of work these days, I am grateful for my job. (*Repeat until you believe it!).
The goats are calling and the chickens are, too! Off to the salt mines, er, feeding!
Have a glorious week!
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Quite Simply: I Forgot
This week I have been rather melancholy. It is the time of year, I think. I have two times that I am most blue: October and March. These are times when I feel that life is just empty -- vacuous -- and I don't want to talk to anyone or to even, really, leave the house. I Just Want To Be Alone, as Greta Garbo said.
And then, this happened:
It has been quite a few years since I taught British Literature. I won't go into why, but it was, in short, an effort to create a more collegial atmosphere with a co-worker. It didn't work, and he didn't like teaching it either. So, I was asked if I wanted it back. Heck, yeah! I thought. This was my passion in undergraduate and graduate school. In fact, the day of the World Trade Center attacks, I was to meet with folks that afternoon to sell my little farm so that I could go to the University of York to complete my PhD (piled higher and deeper) in Medieval Literature and History. The Airman and I were going; I wasn't married, so it seemed like such a fine idea.
But, as we know, that didn't happen. The buyers were stock brokers; they ran as fast as they could to their bomb shelter, bought gold and bottled water, and dropped off the face of the real estate world. Ultimately, it all worked out; I have to believe that my life is how it is to be. The farm didn't sell; I met the Mister; married; and, all this time later, here I am, writing you!
This is a long way around to this: in preparing my lecture today, I remembered how I loved John William Waterhouse and the Pre-Raphaelites as well as the Cavalier poets. And, how I adored John Milton. And William Blake. And all the Romantics.... And, well there you go. I thought of that and then how I missed graduate school where a group of us would sit up all night (me with tea; them with beer) and talk literature and ideas and such.... how we would drive up on the Blue Ridge Parkway and watch the stars and talk about things that wouldn't make a hill of beans in most people's worlds, but was all ours --- at least right then. In short, I realized that I have lost much of my joy.
This hangs in my entry way:
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
All this is the long way round to what I realized. Yes, time is fleeting (thanks Cavalier poets for that sweet reminder), but every day brings me closer to what I hope will be my reward. The things of this world are passing; most don't count for much of anything. This room of books in which I sit right now writing this, will turn to dust. The things I have worked and saved and spent so much on in my life will be nothing more than a memory for someone else. Perhaps I will be fortunate and someone will love my pretties as I love other's that I have collected in junk, thrift, and antique stores. However, the biggest thing, the greatest fingerprint I have, is that on other's lives and of living a useful life. Maybe, just maybe, one person will be better for knowing me. And, maybe, just maybe, they will touch just one person. Who knows?
In the meantime, I may still be blue, but it will pass. The sun will shine again. I will be happy again. And peace will find a nice little niche Right There in my heart.
And then, this happened:
John William Waterhouse
Virgin with Roses
It has been quite a few years since I taught British Literature. I won't go into why, but it was, in short, an effort to create a more collegial atmosphere with a co-worker. It didn't work, and he didn't like teaching it either. So, I was asked if I wanted it back. Heck, yeah! I thought. This was my passion in undergraduate and graduate school. In fact, the day of the World Trade Center attacks, I was to meet with folks that afternoon to sell my little farm so that I could go to the University of York to complete my PhD (piled higher and deeper) in Medieval Literature and History. The Airman and I were going; I wasn't married, so it seemed like such a fine idea.
But, as we know, that didn't happen. The buyers were stock brokers; they ran as fast as they could to their bomb shelter, bought gold and bottled water, and dropped off the face of the real estate world. Ultimately, it all worked out; I have to believe that my life is how it is to be. The farm didn't sell; I met the Mister; married; and, all this time later, here I am, writing you!
This is a long way around to this: in preparing my lecture today, I remembered how I loved John William Waterhouse and the Pre-Raphaelites as well as the Cavalier poets. And, how I adored John Milton. And William Blake. And all the Romantics.... And, well there you go. I thought of that and then how I missed graduate school where a group of us would sit up all night (me with tea; them with beer) and talk literature and ideas and such.... how we would drive up on the Blue Ridge Parkway and watch the stars and talk about things that wouldn't make a hill of beans in most people's worlds, but was all ours --- at least right then. In short, I realized that I have lost much of my joy.
This hangs in my entry way:
The Lady of Shalot
John William Waterhouse
This is from Alfred, Lord Tennyson's poem of the same name:
Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right --
The leaves upon her falling light --
Thro' the noises of the night,
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.
Which lead me to think of these lines from Ulysses:
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
All this is the long way round to what I realized. Yes, time is fleeting (thanks Cavalier poets for that sweet reminder), but every day brings me closer to what I hope will be my reward. The things of this world are passing; most don't count for much of anything. This room of books in which I sit right now writing this, will turn to dust. The things I have worked and saved and spent so much on in my life will be nothing more than a memory for someone else. Perhaps I will be fortunate and someone will love my pretties as I love other's that I have collected in junk, thrift, and antique stores. However, the biggest thing, the greatest fingerprint I have, is that on other's lives and of living a useful life. Maybe, just maybe, one person will be better for knowing me. And, maybe, just maybe, they will touch just one person. Who knows?
In the meantime, I may still be blue, but it will pass. The sun will shine again. I will be happy again. And peace will find a nice little niche Right There in my heart.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Gotta Love It ...
As other teachers will tell you, as students get older, they get more confident that they are wiser and more educated than their instructors. By the time a kid reaches college, they have all the answers, so much so that I believe all Presidents should be under 20 years old and all Congress people should be between 16-19. Let's face it, after 20, it is all downhill and we realize just How Stupid We Really Are and How Little We Really Know.
Case in point: this is an email I received last week regarding a quiz:
Hello Ms. H,
I just completed the quiz for the material on Mather, Bradstreet, etc., and was a bit disconcerted at receiving a 72. I double checked each answer against the text, powerpoints, and documents, and it seems that 7 questions incorrect is a large range of error given my careful procedures. Would it be possible to review the test and see which questions I answered incorrectly, and is their any possibility of a grade revision? Please let me know.
Yea. Right. Gotta love the statement "large range of error given my careful procedures." This is an 18-year-old, by the way. And, believe it or not, this kid talks just as he writes.
"I bet you watch Star Trek," I asked, sort of.
"Wow! Yes. I do! Spock is my favorite character!"
I think it is going to be a long fall....
Case in point: this is an email I received last week regarding a quiz:
Hello Ms. H,
I just completed the quiz for the material on Mather, Bradstreet, etc., and was a bit disconcerted at receiving a 72. I double checked each answer against the text, powerpoints, and documents, and it seems that 7 questions incorrect is a large range of error given my careful procedures. Would it be possible to review the test and see which questions I answered incorrectly, and is their any possibility of a grade revision? Please let me know.
Yea. Right. Gotta love the statement "large range of error given my careful procedures." This is an 18-year-old, by the way. And, believe it or not, this kid talks just as he writes.
"I bet you watch Star Trek," I asked, sort of.
"Wow! Yes. I do! Spock is my favorite character!"
I think it is going to be a long fall....
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Back to the Grindstone!
One of the most joyous bits of teaching is the holiday break between fall and spring semester. It is such a wonderful time; I knit, sleep, read, complete tasks and get life back in order after a very hectic 16 weeks. Things pile up --- emails, letters, laundry, and all kinds of projects. But, one of the things I love, too, is going back to campus.
There is an energy that fills the air as we approach the new semester. Everything seems possible. Every student has an A. Every paper is graded. Every meeting is held. Everything is perfect. For one day. And then, all things fall apart! But, for that first few days, everything is as I would hope for every single day. Perfect.
But, in reality, would that be so wonderful? The pressure of keeping everything up-to-date would be overwhelming. The time it takes to grade every single paper in one week, to answer every email, to meet every student, and complete every project is simply not available if I am doing what I think is really more important -- listening and talking to students.
The world is very fragile. As someone said to me not long ago, it is held together with baling wire and prayers. And no where is this more evident than in a community college. Students come to us so damaged, many times by 'educators.' These are the people who tell a student, "Give up on that dream; I just don't think you can hack it. You have too many developmental classes to take. You don't demonstrate what I think a .... needs." The damage takes so many forms. But, regardless of what the form, ultimately it is the student who pays the price for other's unkindness.
This past week, I received an email from a young woman I worked with on her reading and writing so that she could pass both the exit examination for her university and her Praxis test (it is required for licensure and measures knowledge in one's major). She tried the exit exam and the Praxis three times before coming to me after a friend who had me in class recommended it. We talked and I could see that she lacked confidence. Her husband as well as other teachers had told her that she couldn't cut it. She bought it. We talked more, prayed together, and then set out a course of action.
I gave her "homework" and she would come see me and we'd review her work. She took the first part of the Praxis. She passed. We worked more. She took the second part and passed with flying colours. Then, she had to take the Math. She failed it two more times. We talked, agreed to be prayer partners and ask for guidance. Last week, she passed it and will graduate and start teaching in a public school in a very poor region of Southwest Virginia in the fall.
She will know what it feels like to "not get it." She will have compassion, devotion, commitment, and kindness. She will touch lives for generations. And, I know for sure, she will never give up on a student. This is why I get up every morning and do what I do. I am blessed, don't you agree? And Tammy, I am very proud of you!
There is an energy that fills the air as we approach the new semester. Everything seems possible. Every student has an A. Every paper is graded. Every meeting is held. Everything is perfect. For one day. And then, all things fall apart! But, for that first few days, everything is as I would hope for every single day. Perfect.
But, in reality, would that be so wonderful? The pressure of keeping everything up-to-date would be overwhelming. The time it takes to grade every single paper in one week, to answer every email, to meet every student, and complete every project is simply not available if I am doing what I think is really more important -- listening and talking to students.
The world is very fragile. As someone said to me not long ago, it is held together with baling wire and prayers. And no where is this more evident than in a community college. Students come to us so damaged, many times by 'educators.' These are the people who tell a student, "Give up on that dream; I just don't think you can hack it. You have too many developmental classes to take. You don't demonstrate what I think a .... needs." The damage takes so many forms. But, regardless of what the form, ultimately it is the student who pays the price for other's unkindness.
This past week, I received an email from a young woman I worked with on her reading and writing so that she could pass both the exit examination for her university and her Praxis test (it is required for licensure and measures knowledge in one's major). She tried the exit exam and the Praxis three times before coming to me after a friend who had me in class recommended it. We talked and I could see that she lacked confidence. Her husband as well as other teachers had told her that she couldn't cut it. She bought it. We talked more, prayed together, and then set out a course of action.
I gave her "homework" and she would come see me and we'd review her work. She took the first part of the Praxis. She passed. We worked more. She took the second part and passed with flying colours. Then, she had to take the Math. She failed it two more times. We talked, agreed to be prayer partners and ask for guidance. Last week, she passed it and will graduate and start teaching in a public school in a very poor region of Southwest Virginia in the fall.
She will know what it feels like to "not get it." She will have compassion, devotion, commitment, and kindness. She will touch lives for generations. And, I know for sure, she will never give up on a student. This is why I get up every morning and do what I do. I am blessed, don't you agree? And Tammy, I am very proud of you!
Monday, December 14, 2009
Love / Hate Relationship
One of the things I love most about teaching is seeing students succeed. One of the things I hate most about teaching is seeing students fail -- especially when they are their own worst enemy.
We are in final exam week and the penitent sinners are coming out of the woodwork. Never mind that emails have been sent, warning letters, and personal conversations have been completed. Never mind that the grades are online and are viewable at any time, day or night. Exam week is when that F becomes real and students begin to dread getting asked by their parents, "How'd you do?"
A few years ago I had a remarkable young man. Micah laid out. He missed tests. He came to class and slept. He was completely uninvolved. So, at mid-term it was obvious he was going to fail. There was no rescuing him. We had a little conversation that went a long the lines of, "drop the class; but if you want to prove to yourself that you can change, keep coming, take the tests, and show yourself that you can do it even if you don't earn a grade."
He never missed another class or assignment.
He retook the class and earned an A.
He transferred to Virginia Tech on a full scholarship and will be an accountant in May.
I am proud of him. I love him.
So, today, when I answer those emails of "Please, Ms. H, I HAVE to pass this class", I am remembering my little friend who nearly fell through the cracks. Tough love is tough. But it works.
Have I told you that I love teaching?
We are in final exam week and the penitent sinners are coming out of the woodwork. Never mind that emails have been sent, warning letters, and personal conversations have been completed. Never mind that the grades are online and are viewable at any time, day or night. Exam week is when that F becomes real and students begin to dread getting asked by their parents, "How'd you do?"
A few years ago I had a remarkable young man. Micah laid out. He missed tests. He came to class and slept. He was completely uninvolved. So, at mid-term it was obvious he was going to fail. There was no rescuing him. We had a little conversation that went a long the lines of, "drop the class; but if you want to prove to yourself that you can change, keep coming, take the tests, and show yourself that you can do it even if you don't earn a grade."
He never missed another class or assignment.
He retook the class and earned an A.
He transferred to Virginia Tech on a full scholarship and will be an accountant in May.
I am proud of him. I love him.
So, today, when I answer those emails of "Please, Ms. H, I HAVE to pass this class", I am remembering my little friend who nearly fell through the cracks. Tough love is tough. But it works.
Have I told you that I love teaching?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)