"H-e-double hockey sticks"

Yesterday, I was at the preschool subbing with the 2-year-olds. We went in the gymnasium running around, while the three-year-olds were playing with a parachute. As I watched them waving the chute around, one boy got a bit agitated. The next words out of his mouth, in response to whatever the first child did to irritate him, were, "What the hell was that for?"

At first, I thought I may have heard wrong, but upon seeing his teachers' faces, it was confirmed that he actually had said it. The assistant teacher pulled him aside and told him to never say it again, etc. and the lead teacher called to her, "He probably doesn't realize it's a bad word." He cried as he was reprimanded, then went back on his merry way with the rest of the children.

It was sad though. Of course, at age three, you can only assume he is hearing that word frequently at home. Why else would he utter such a thing? It's never used at school, by teachers who specifically work to not say any foul language.

Parents fail to realize just how preceptive children are. Perhaps, the sentence was never used directly to him, but maybe it was used in a fight between parents. Or an older brother or sister said it to friends. It's hard to say. It's little incidences like this, however, that mold a person. I think often about how each little tiny piece of our life influences us, no matter how small we think it is at the time.

I think that is one reason I want to be an elementary school teacher. I want to be part of what molds people's lives. In my opinion, early experiences are some of the biggest and most life altering. They are things that shape our very core. I want to make sure I am part of what influences a child's life. Hopefully, I can change the course of their lives for the better. Can a teacher really do that? I don't know, but if it is possible, I want to try.

School/Salt/School

Earlier today, I was thinking, "Hmmm, I should write a blog with more direction. I need to pick a topic and stick with it. I try to throw way too much random stuff into mine. I bet it would be a lot more interesting if I just wrote on one topic." I'm sure that's all true and those are valid points. I just can't bring myself to do it.

Maybe it's the fact that this is a replacement for a journal (for the most part). Also, I have so many varied, never stagnant, interests that it would be nearly impossible to choose one and write solely about that one thing. I shudder thinking about that.

On that note, I was really excited today when I found out that I was accepted into the early childhood education master's program at Arizona State University. I've been anxiously awaiting the verdict for a few months and I am happy the verdict brought good news! Unfortunately, the high of being admitted was quickly shoved aside by the reality that I need to find the funds to pay for it all. I'm sure it will work itself out though. I guess everything always does.

Second big note of the day, I attempted a saline rinse (some call it the saltwater wash, but I find 'saline rinse' to sound slightly more appealing). It was an interesting experience. I poured a cool glass of water, stirred some table salt in and gargled. Immediately, I spit out the mixture, realizing it should have been warm. It's odd that generally the last thing I would drink would be warm water, however when mixed with salt, it seems unnatural cold. So, I again mixed my saline solution, only this time with warm water. I gargled again, felt like I was in the cheapest version of the ocean for about 5 seconds, and spit. Then the really fun part came in. Using a baster, I squeezed some of my warm saltwater (get ready for it) up my nose. Yes, in one nostril, out the other. It was as disgusting as it sounds, but I think it helped. My nose definitely cleared out, and on the upside, it reminded me of the beach. All in all, not a bad experience.

Tomorrow, and the rest of the week, I am working with the infants at school. As much as I love babies, and I really, honestly do, I am not looking forward to it. I enjoy being around babies. I think they are adorable and cuddly, but I am just not used to them. I think I am a little scared of them. Scratch that, I am scared of myself around them. I don't want to hurt them or upset them. I just don't have experience around babies and I feel like I'm not adequately trained to spend time with them. It's slightly frightening to be around little people who don't talk or walk and be able to understand how to communicate with and understand them. It's something I will have to get used to, especially this week, as I will be spending the majority of my week with them.

I guess I should go to bed now. I need to get some rest before my long day tomorrow. Hopefully, everything will go smoothly. Before I go, I just want to make the observation that I wrote twice as much about pouring salt water down my nose and mouth than I did about being accepted into my master's program. That is me. That is Jessica in a nutshell. Goodnight!

How does one manage to feel incredibly tired all day, yet somehow finds it impossible to sleep at night? I find myself in this predicament tonight. Honestly, I find myself here many a night. However, tomorrow, I am scheduled to be at work by 8:3oam. Wake up in less than four hours. I can only imagine that this is going to be a terribly tired Tuesday.

I just want to sleep. I knew I should have downed some Benadryl when I had the chance. Nothing like a little OTC medicine to knock you out. Sorry if I sound a bit whacko, but the thought of working with little children all day on no sleep just sounds horrific. I will need coffee. Lots of coffee.

I'm glad I've clearly resorted to drugs as the answer. In one fell swoop (or paragraph, as the case may be), I've mentioned my regret for not taking a drug to put me to sleep and the desire I have to use another that will wake me up in the morning. So is the life of the American adult.

It's no wonder we pump ourselves full of medication. The demands of the outside world are hard to deal with. There are 168 hours in a week: you spend 40 hours working & supposedly 56 of them sleeping...that leaves 72 hours for all other activities and commitments. 3 days...3 DAYS out of 7 that you are allowed to spend freely. Not even that, once you add in chores, errands, driving, and whatever other unpleasantries the week may bring you. I'd venture to say you are left with about 2 days a week of relaxation (ah, yes, the weekend).

As a write this, I wonder where I was trying to go with this whole thing, and honestly, I'm not sure, but it is making me tired.

1 Corinthians 13: 4-7: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

My Medulla Oblongata

I find myself constantly hoping, wishing and praying that one day, someone will overlook the fact that I have no experience in anything worthwhile and give me the job of my dreams. However, as of yet, that hasn't happened.

Is it the economy? Is it my lack of drive? I'm not really sure why I have yet to find employment. There are many factors, such as the two I just listed, and also one big, fat looming fact: I don't know what to do. Indecisiveness. Yes, that is truly my middle name (yes, I know it is TRULY Ann, but it should be Indecisiveness). I have the hardest time making up my mind about certain things. I often wonder how people can take the easy route and not examine every angle for all it's worth. At times, I envy those people. They make a decision (right or not) and take action. I, on the other hand, debate and over think everything. Sure, it's great when you have a big decision you have to make--until you actually do have to make the decision. That's where I panic. Generally, I jump off the proverbial boat, as one might say. I grab my lifejacket and go.

Alas, I'm reaching the ripe old age (HAH) of 22, and now is past the time that certain life decisions should have been made. Now, I must face them.

I THINK I want to be a teacher. I would love to say that I know that is my calling and it is what I want to do, but unfortunately, I'm just not sure. I'm attempting to get into graduate school right now, and I can't help thinking that I'm using the additional schooling as a way to hide out for a few more years. I honestly hope not, because that's a pretty expensive hideout.

I just finished an application for a job I don't think I am qualified for. One good thing is that I am at least excited to do it. Unfortunately, it's also I job that I have a feeling has quite a few candidates.

2009, you are a tough cookie.

Dear Barack,

You promised hope and change. Now, I'm hoping I can live off of spare change.

Thanks for everything this year, and can't wait for the next three!

Yours Truly,
Me