It's November. School has been in session for 51 days (always seems like much more then it really is). And I havent given you all one update from this school year. My apologies for that.
My new class annoys me. Or did in the beginning of the year. I'm getting used to them though, and missing my former students less and less. They've moved on. Forgotten my name. And have given all their love over to their second grade teacher. Whatevs to them. I dont care.
This year's class was proving to be dull and I didnt have much to share, hence the lack of sharing.
Until this week.
Sure I had some stories. Like this one time when I was blending the word "ditch" with my students and asked them to write it down. And was walking around and noticed that majority of them write their "d" as a "b". I kept wondering why the heck my students were writing b****.
And then the time when I asked a student to use the word "tail and tale" in a sentence and he said "My momma said she gon whoop my tail/tale".
But those are eh.
Anywho,I have a student in my class, who I knew from last year (he was retained). He is a very sweet young man, but when he gets upset, theres chaos. He was put on red for punching his sister (shes also in my class) because she wouldnt let him be first in line (Being first in line is sooooooooooooo important to them). He was upset cause he was on red, so he started throwing a tantrum.And I asked him to leave my room, wash his face, look at how silly he looks, stop crying, drink some water, and come back into the classroom when he's ready.
He was willing to do all of that. But from last year's experience, I knew not to send him anywhere on his own because there was a possiblity he would run away, out the door, and down the street. So I sent one of my reliable student's with him.
And when they came back, the reliable student said "He wants to kill you. He told me so in the bathroom."
"What did he say?"
"Uhh...I want to kill her."
He ended up getting suspended for making a comment like this. For one day. And that was that.
I got home and I told my husband.
He told me to quit.
I told some of my friends.
They were worried and concerned.
I told my mom.
She freaked out. Was worried and concerned. And told me to quit.
And then I told C.C.
And she laughed.
And I laughed right with her, cause it was meant to be a funny story to tell.*
Right? Hahaha?
The end.
*Disclaimer: I understand that sometimes we should be cautious of these things and take them very seriously, what with some kids really coming to school with guns and knives ready to kill somebody. But I know this kid. And as soon as he said it, he regretted it and showed remorse, and apologized. And he received a consequence for it. And everything was okay. Alhamdulilah I am alive.
Showing posts with label C.A.'s ramblings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label C.A.'s ramblings. Show all posts
Friday, November 18, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Islam for the Muslim Dummy
That would be me.
The Muslim dummy.
Considering I have so many people in my life with Islamic knowledge, I feel like I know nothing about Islam. I lack motivation. For the life of me, I can't self-motivate myself. And once, after much time, I am motivated, I feel like I lack resources and teachers. For some time, my friends have been my main source of learning and knowledge. But since every one of them has kind of gone their own separate way and busy schedules leaving everyone drowning in God knows what, my friends and I haven't been able to connect----Islamically, I guess you could say.
But yeah.
Anyways, so recently I experienced two things that most Muslims experience very early in their life. Or at least by their prime years. And here I am experiencing it in my mid 20's.
I went to visit the graveyard and I went to the mosque for Eid prayer.
I don't think many of my close friends know this about me. Normally I would have felt kind of embarrassed to admit this. But right now, I think I can get past it. Or at least force myself to, in order to share the story.
I recently got married (Finally!??? And Alhamdulilah!) and since I've gotten married, I've talked to my husband about my maternal grandfather a lot. As I've mentioned before, I lost my maternal grandfather a couple of years ago to cancer. And I've always referred to nana as my partner in my crime. So since getting married, I've always felt that missing piece knowing that my grandfather wasn't there to celebrate this joyous occasion with me and my family and is not able to get to know my husband. Nonetheless, it's something I've learned to not think about or dwell on.
Since my grandfather passed away though, I haven't had the courage to visit his grave site. It's something that I chose not to do because I felt like I wasn't emotionally ready to do so. I knew that I couldn't handle seeing his name on a tombstone and think about how he wasn't around anymore. It just became a personal choice of mine to not visit his grave. And I know some people might think it's a bit harsh and a bit inconsiderate considering the relationship my grandfather and I had, however I don't feel the need to defend this.
So along came my husband, and I wanted him to know my grandfather. My sisters, my husband, and I were near the graveyard one day and my sisters suggested going to the graveyard and sending our blessings to everyone we knew that was buried there, including my grandfather. I said that I would stay in the car and send my peace and blessings from the car. But my husband insisted that I go and told me that it would be okay if I went and how in Islam, Muslims believed that there was a reward for visiting the deceased and sending your peace and blessings to them. And praying for them and their soul and their mercy.
So reluctantly I obliged. And I went into the graveyard. And I saw many people I knew that had passed away.
And it was hard.
Harder then I thought it would be.
And it was definitely a learning experience.
Second thing I've very recently experienced was going to Eid prayer. This Eid being the Eid where we commemorate and remember Prophet Ibrahim (peace be upon him) and Eid falling on a Sunday, I was able to attend the prayers with my husband. It was such a happy day for me. I felt like such a kid going to the candy store. I was in awe by things that might be mundane for everyone else. And I was nervous and felt like I would make mistakes. So I asked my husband to tell me what to expect and what to do. I even learned about some traditions and customs that are performed in the masjid during this particular Eid. And I also learned about the pilgrimage that Muslims make to Hajj during this time. And lastly in the lecture, or khutba that, the imam (leader of the mosque), I finally heard the full story about Prophet Ibrahim and the sacrifice he was willing to make for God.
And yes, it is sad that I didn't know that story.
It's also sad that I'm experiencing this so late.
But I'm very grateful that I was able to.
Alhamdulilah. I feel incredibly blessed.
The Muslim dummy.
Considering I have so many people in my life with Islamic knowledge, I feel like I know nothing about Islam. I lack motivation. For the life of me, I can't self-motivate myself. And once, after much time, I am motivated, I feel like I lack resources and teachers. For some time, my friends have been my main source of learning and knowledge. But since every one of them has kind of gone their own separate way and busy schedules leaving everyone drowning in God knows what, my friends and I haven't been able to connect----Islamically, I guess you could say.
But yeah.
Anyways, so recently I experienced two things that most Muslims experience very early in their life. Or at least by their prime years. And here I am experiencing it in my mid 20's.
I went to visit the graveyard and I went to the mosque for Eid prayer.
I don't think many of my close friends know this about me. Normally I would have felt kind of embarrassed to admit this. But right now, I think I can get past it. Or at least force myself to, in order to share the story.
I recently got married (Finally!??? And Alhamdulilah!) and since I've gotten married, I've talked to my husband about my maternal grandfather a lot. As I've mentioned before, I lost my maternal grandfather a couple of years ago to cancer. And I've always referred to nana as my partner in my crime. So since getting married, I've always felt that missing piece knowing that my grandfather wasn't there to celebrate this joyous occasion with me and my family and is not able to get to know my husband. Nonetheless, it's something I've learned to not think about or dwell on.
Since my grandfather passed away though, I haven't had the courage to visit his grave site. It's something that I chose not to do because I felt like I wasn't emotionally ready to do so. I knew that I couldn't handle seeing his name on a tombstone and think about how he wasn't around anymore. It just became a personal choice of mine to not visit his grave. And I know some people might think it's a bit harsh and a bit inconsiderate considering the relationship my grandfather and I had, however I don't feel the need to defend this.
So along came my husband, and I wanted him to know my grandfather. My sisters, my husband, and I were near the graveyard one day and my sisters suggested going to the graveyard and sending our blessings to everyone we knew that was buried there, including my grandfather. I said that I would stay in the car and send my peace and blessings from the car. But my husband insisted that I go and told me that it would be okay if I went and how in Islam, Muslims believed that there was a reward for visiting the deceased and sending your peace and blessings to them. And praying for them and their soul and their mercy.
So reluctantly I obliged. And I went into the graveyard. And I saw many people I knew that had passed away.
And it was hard.
Harder then I thought it would be.
And it was definitely a learning experience.
Second thing I've very recently experienced was going to Eid prayer. This Eid being the Eid where we commemorate and remember Prophet Ibrahim (peace be upon him) and Eid falling on a Sunday, I was able to attend the prayers with my husband. It was such a happy day for me. I felt like such a kid going to the candy store. I was in awe by things that might be mundane for everyone else. And I was nervous and felt like I would make mistakes. So I asked my husband to tell me what to expect and what to do. I even learned about some traditions and customs that are performed in the masjid during this particular Eid. And I also learned about the pilgrimage that Muslims make to Hajj during this time. And lastly in the lecture, or khutba that, the imam (leader of the mosque), I finally heard the full story about Prophet Ibrahim and the sacrifice he was willing to make for God.
And yes, it is sad that I didn't know that story.
It's also sad that I'm experiencing this so late.
But I'm very grateful that I was able to.
Alhamdulilah. I feel incredibly blessed.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
"Don’t depend too much on anyone in this world for even your own shadow leaves you when you are in darkness" -Ibn Taymiyyah
Life is so weird. And I'm in a mood. So if I regret writing this later, maybe I'll delete it. But right now, here are my unedited thoughts.
Sometimes I think "treating people the way you want to be treated" is a bunch of crap. I think we should treat people, the way they treat us.If someones nice to you, be nice back.If someone is a jerk, treat them like a jerk.If someone is rude to you, be rude back! It just makes so much more sense to go through life like that. I'm tired of doing the other thing. Where I'm nice, and get treated like dirt. Or when I'm constantly putting myself out there, only to be disappointed by them time and time again. And sure everyone has their own obligations and priorities and what not, so I have no one to blame but myself for hoping. But at the end of the day, when all is said and done, it's still not fair. And I'm kind of tired of it.So I'm just giving up.And I'm just going to change how I get treated by people.And I'm only going to rely on God. inshaAllah. Because this constant feeling that I'm feeling, is making me tired. And it's draining so much from me. And I just cant do it anymore.
So I'm letting go of you.
And you.
And you.
Sometimes I think "treating people the way you want to be treated" is a bunch of crap. I think we should treat people, the way they treat us.If someones nice to you, be nice back.If someone is a jerk, treat them like a jerk.If someone is rude to you, be rude back! It just makes so much more sense to go through life like that. I'm tired of doing the other thing. Where I'm nice, and get treated like dirt. Or when I'm constantly putting myself out there, only to be disappointed by them time and time again. And sure everyone has their own obligations and priorities and what not, so I have no one to blame but myself for hoping. But at the end of the day, when all is said and done, it's still not fair. And I'm kind of tired of it.So I'm just giving up.And I'm just going to change how I get treated by people.And I'm only going to rely on God. inshaAllah. Because this constant feeling that I'm feeling, is making me tired. And it's draining so much from me. And I just cant do it anymore.
So I'm letting go of you.
And you.
And you.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
The story of The End of an Era..... and the Beginning of a New One
A long, long time ago, in approximately 1984, my parents migrated from Bangladesh to the United States of America. Just as any parents(or humans, rather) that migrated prior, during, and after that time period, emigrated to the United States of America: for a better life.
So upon entering the land of the free, my parents moved into a house that was owned by my maternal grandfather and grandmother. They resided their with the latter, my two uncles, and my mom's sister and husband and kids, and then us. There were many a people living in that house. It was literally bursting at its seams. Four bedrooms, and each bedroom was occupied by each family. My family was in the master bedroom cause we had the largest family at the time. It was my mom, my dad, my older sister, older brother, and me.
Eventually as time went on, so too did our family members. Until it was at the point that the only people still living in that house was us. My immediate family. And by then, we had grown to an additional family member. And then another. And another. No one in the extended family wanted to stay in that area, they wanted to get out of the "ghettos", which is kinda ironic cause they left one ghetto to live in another.
Aside from that though, we were the only ones left. And my dad had already enrolled us in a school that he really liked so he bought the property from my grandfather and we stayed.
For 27 years.
This past April, we finally moved out of that house, and into a new house away from the depreciated urban city .
For the past five months, since we purchased, signed, sealed, dotted the I's and crossed the T's, I hadn't given much thought to the upcoming change that was looming. After all, there was much work to be done to the new house. Much, much work. It almost seemed like we would never move in. Or by the time we did move in, I would be married off and in a house of my own.
It's funny how one's words could become so true.
So here I am, writing this post while sitting in the new house, and not really wanting to write it.
And also while sitting in the new house, talking to my brother about my new apartment.
I'm moving out of the current new house and moving on to my new life.
With a new person.
The person that I hope and pray that I'll be spending the rest of my life with. InshaAllah, God willing.
And so here I am.
Here we are.
And this is the end.
But also, the beginning. InshaAllah.
P.S. I am very dramatic, I know.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Every time I think about it, I want to throw up.
For most of my life, I have found that I shy away from many things. I'm very timid and with respect to my students, I cant talk in large gatherings. I cant sing in front of most people. And I will definitely never act in front of anyone. Ever.
During 11th grade literature class in high school, we were required to read Frankenstein by Mary Shelley . And during that time, the required assignment happened to be an acting session. Each group of students was required to act out a scene from Frankenstein in front of the class. And then we had to do the same thing with another novel written by Richard Wright, Black Boy.
I skipped school both days, feigning a fever, and dont recall what ended up happening with regards to my grade. Obviously I passed though. Alhamdulilah.
Although it is a common joke between my friends and I, constantly making things "me, me, me", I have a very hard time being the center of attention.
I dont know how to react.
I dont know what to say.
And I dont know what to do with my hands and mouth! My mouth is always hanging open and my hands are always clenched in a weird gesture.
And I continuously have a nauseous feeling and a feeling of wanting to throw up.
Once upon a time, I thought I would get over this shyness.
Yeah, not so much.
Currently I've found myself thinking about an upcoming event in which I have to literally be on a stage. Not so much acting while up there, but up there nonetheless. In front of a group of people. Combine that with a numerous other thoughts floating in my head, and you have a very queasy Constructive Attitude.
And here we go again with the whole "I want to throw up" feeling.
And this time, I cant really skip the event.
Although it would be funny if I did.
Elohel.
During 11th grade literature class in high school, we were required to read Frankenstein by Mary Shelley . And during that time, the required assignment happened to be an acting session. Each group of students was required to act out a scene from Frankenstein in front of the class. And then we had to do the same thing with another novel written by Richard Wright, Black Boy.
I skipped school both days, feigning a fever, and dont recall what ended up happening with regards to my grade. Obviously I passed though. Alhamdulilah.
Although it is a common joke between my friends and I, constantly making things "me, me, me", I have a very hard time being the center of attention.
I dont know how to react.
I dont know what to say.
And I dont know what to do with my hands and mouth! My mouth is always hanging open and my hands are always clenched in a weird gesture.
And I continuously have a nauseous feeling and a feeling of wanting to throw up.
Once upon a time, I thought I would get over this shyness.
Yeah, not so much.
Currently I've found myself thinking about an upcoming event in which I have to literally be on a stage. Not so much acting while up there, but up there nonetheless. In front of a group of people. Combine that with a numerous other thoughts floating in my head, and you have a very queasy Constructive Attitude.
And here we go again with the whole "I want to throw up" feeling.
And this time, I cant really skip the event.
Although it would be funny if I did.
Elohel.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
So like I had a dream....
You know when you're dreaming, and you feel like it's so real? And you just want soooooo badly for it to be real? And you don't want to wake up from it?
You know?
I had one of those dreams today.
I dreamt I quit my job.
True story..err...true dream...I mean.
My assistant principal was being shady and I was being avoidant, and they caught me being avoidant, and I was to be "dealt" with later. And I was just so done with the pettiness of the school, so done with the unprofessional way of being treated, and truly fed up with the rude way I was constantly spoken to.
So I quit.
And I didn't even give a two weeks notice.
And I found another job. And I was happier at the other job.
HAH!
It was one of my best dreams thus far in life.
And I so wished it was true.
And everything that happened in it, is what I realllyyyyyyyyyy want to happen.
And here we are in the month of August, the most loathed month of the year by teachers. (Cause you know, school is like coming up...duh!) And everything's quickly approaching and time is ticking by so fast, and it's like I don't have any time to do anything. (But to be quite honest, I do. Alhamdulilah....It's just a feeling of an impending doom though)
Anyways, all I know is that I wish some dreams were real.
The end.
You know?
I had one of those dreams today.
I dreamt I quit my job.
True story..err...true dream...I mean.
My assistant principal was being shady and I was being avoidant, and they caught me being avoidant, and I was to be "dealt" with later. And I was just so done with the pettiness of the school, so done with the unprofessional way of being treated, and truly fed up with the rude way I was constantly spoken to.
So I quit.
And I didn't even give a two weeks notice.
And I found another job. And I was happier at the other job.
HAH!
It was one of my best dreams thus far in life.
And I so wished it was true.
And everything that happened in it, is what I realllyyyyyyyyyy want to happen.
And here we are in the month of August, the most loathed month of the year by teachers. (Cause you know, school is like coming up...duh!) And everything's quickly approaching and time is ticking by so fast, and it's like I don't have any time to do anything. (But to be quite honest, I do. Alhamdulilah....It's just a feeling of an impending doom though)
Anyways, all I know is that I wish some dreams were real.
The end.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
"I make dua because in the end that's all that I can do. And because it's the strongest thing I know of. " -A.A.
This has been my motto for the past couple of months.
Muslims pray five times a day. This is basically the five times of the day where we are required, and it is incumbent upon us, to worship our Lord. And this is known as salat.
This five- times- a- day prayer is not to be confused with making a prayer to God. The kind of prayer where you verbally send a letter to God saying "Hey God, can you help a sister (brother) out!" or "Hey God, I need you right now. Are you listening?" That form of prayer is also a form of worship, however it is known as dua.
And obviously that's in laymen terms, cause I would hope no one would go around saying "Hey, God!" Cause that's just rude.
These past couple of months, weeks, and days I've just spent making as much dua as I possibly can. It is said that there are certain times when a dua is accepted. And those particular times and moments include when it's raining and while a person is traveling, etc. And every time I see rain, the first thing I try to do is make dua. And I dont travel, but this past weekend we went out of town, and I was so excited to be considered a "traveler" and instead of reading the book I took along with me, I spent the trip, making dua.
It's funny because a couple of years ago, if memory serves me right, I wasn't so keen on making dua. For anything. It wasn't my thing. And it wasn't what I did in times of distress, helplessness, or even gratitude. And I didnt quite understand it, which can be attributed easily to just plain old ignorance.
And I dont know when my thoughts changed and how they changed over the past couple of months. It could be because a person constantly reminds me never to forget the immense power of dua. It could be because during a very weak moment in my life, a friend and I made salat together, made dua together and I felt a peace inside of me that I hadnt thought was possible. It could be because during a lecture I heard a Hadith Qudsi* where God says "I am as My servant expects Me to be". And to paraphrase, God is saying I am whatever you think I am. If you think I am merciful, then I am merciful. If you think I am forgiving, then I am forgiving, and so on a so forth. I really loved that Hadith because I never thought of it that way until I heard the lecturer explaining it, and I never realized we, humans, could have that type of relationship with God. (Does that make sense?)
It could have been a combination of so many things.
Whatever it was, I'm glad it happened.
I just know that making dua is something that I have truly embraced and have been fortunate enough to do so. It's reassuring to know that when I think all hope is gone, I can just make a dua to God, and he is listening. I can ask for something, I can beg for something, I can cry for something, and my distress, anger, or hurt may not go away immediately, but the simple fact that God is listening, knows what's in my head, knows what's in my heart, and will eventually respond in some way, sooner or later, gives me immense comfort.
And when I'm feeling extremely helpless, and I dont know what to do for those around me and for those that I love who are going through difficult times, such as losing a loved one, school, or anything really, all I'm left with is making dua for them. Keeping them in my prayers.
Because in the end, that's all a person can do for another. And that's all there is to do.
*Hadith Qudsi are the sayings of the Prophet Muhammad (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon him) as revealed to him by the Almighty Allah. Hadith Qudsi (or Sacred Hadith) are so named because, unlike the majority of Hadith which are Prophetic Hadith, their authority is traced back not to the Prophet but to the Almighty.
Muslims pray five times a day. This is basically the five times of the day where we are required, and it is incumbent upon us, to worship our Lord. And this is known as salat.
This five- times- a- day prayer is not to be confused with making a prayer to God. The kind of prayer where you verbally send a letter to God saying "Hey God, can you help a sister (brother) out!" or "Hey God, I need you right now. Are you listening?" That form of prayer is also a form of worship, however it is known as dua.
And obviously that's in laymen terms, cause I would hope no one would go around saying "Hey, God!" Cause that's just rude.
These past couple of months, weeks, and days I've just spent making as much dua as I possibly can. It is said that there are certain times when a dua is accepted. And those particular times and moments include when it's raining and while a person is traveling, etc. And every time I see rain, the first thing I try to do is make dua. And I dont travel, but this past weekend we went out of town, and I was so excited to be considered a "traveler" and instead of reading the book I took along with me, I spent the trip, making dua.
It's funny because a couple of years ago, if memory serves me right, I wasn't so keen on making dua. For anything. It wasn't my thing. And it wasn't what I did in times of distress, helplessness, or even gratitude. And I didnt quite understand it, which can be attributed easily to just plain old ignorance.
And I dont know when my thoughts changed and how they changed over the past couple of months. It could be because a person constantly reminds me never to forget the immense power of dua. It could be because during a very weak moment in my life, a friend and I made salat together, made dua together and I felt a peace inside of me that I hadnt thought was possible. It could be because during a lecture I heard a Hadith Qudsi* where God says "I am as My servant expects Me to be". And to paraphrase, God is saying I am whatever you think I am. If you think I am merciful, then I am merciful. If you think I am forgiving, then I am forgiving, and so on a so forth. I really loved that Hadith because I never thought of it that way until I heard the lecturer explaining it, and I never realized we, humans, could have that type of relationship with God. (Does that make sense?)
It could have been a combination of so many things.
Whatever it was, I'm glad it happened.
I just know that making dua is something that I have truly embraced and have been fortunate enough to do so. It's reassuring to know that when I think all hope is gone, I can just make a dua to God, and he is listening. I can ask for something, I can beg for something, I can cry for something, and my distress, anger, or hurt may not go away immediately, but the simple fact that God is listening, knows what's in my head, knows what's in my heart, and will eventually respond in some way, sooner or later, gives me immense comfort.
And when I'm feeling extremely helpless, and I dont know what to do for those around me and for those that I love who are going through difficult times, such as losing a loved one, school, or anything really, all I'm left with is making dua for them. Keeping them in my prayers.
Because in the end, that's all a person can do for another. And that's all there is to do.
*Hadith Qudsi are the sayings of the Prophet Muhammad (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon him) as revealed to him by the Almighty Allah. Hadith Qudsi (or Sacred Hadith) are so named because, unlike the majority of Hadith which are Prophetic Hadith, their authority is traced back not to the Prophet but to the Almighty.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Tales of a Teacher: The end of the beginning
As the last days of school approached, I got very nostalgic. And when the last day of school finally arrived, I felt sad and nostalgic. And as the day went on, and I thought about the past year, I felt as if everything was bittersweet.
I dont remember how last year's last day of school was, I dont remember feeling this sad and emotional about my kids leaving me. I didnt cry, but I sure did feel an emptiness. You would think I would have felt it more last year. After all that was my first class ever.
But something about this year and the kids of this year was different. And maybe I'll feel this way every year, or every other year. Or maybe never again.
I just know that this was a difficult year in so many ways. And I think part of the struggle of this year, left me clinging on to the students who distracted me from it all.
And as much as I whine and complain about my kids in so many different ways, shape, and form--- this job, this profession, this career and especially these children, are sometimes my secret haven away from the (sometimes harsh) realities of life.
I dont remember how last year's last day of school was, I dont remember feeling this sad and emotional about my kids leaving me. I didnt cry, but I sure did feel an emptiness. You would think I would have felt it more last year. After all that was my first class ever.
But something about this year and the kids of this year was different. And maybe I'll feel this way every year, or every other year. Or maybe never again.
I just know that this was a difficult year in so many ways. And I think part of the struggle of this year, left me clinging on to the students who distracted me from it all.
And as much as I whine and complain about my kids in so many different ways, shape, and form--- this job, this profession, this career and especially these children, are sometimes my secret haven away from the (sometimes harsh) realities of life.
Monday, June 13, 2011
" Get your head out of your a** "
As I was picking up my sister from work yesterday, I failed to check my left hand side's blind spot, and almost collided with an oncoming car. Granted it was my fault, and I'm willing to take the blame for it, such remarks as this are just uncalled for.
And they are much worse when the person saying such things is over the age of 60.
I was extremely embarrassed that I almost ran into this old man. And initially I thought it was amusing that he said what he did but the more I thought about the more upset I got. The fact that he was so rude and displayed such bad manners kind of left me feeling weird.
Shouldn't older people know better then to act this way? Shouldn't they be the ones, as lame as it sounds, be "setting an example"? Aren't they the ones that we're supposed to be learning from?
I just thought it was interesting that this old man reacted this way. And I think it's interesting when "older" people are hypocritical and say that younger people know nothing about life.
And it's not just this old man that I'm talking about. . The ones that are beyond their prime years. The ones that have (or should have) gained a vast amount of knowledge and wisdom through the years.
And they are much worse when the person saying such things is over the age of 60.
I was extremely embarrassed that I almost ran into this old man. And initially I thought it was amusing that he said what he did but the more I thought about the more upset I got. The fact that he was so rude and displayed such bad manners kind of left me feeling weird.
Shouldn't older people know better then to act this way? Shouldn't they be the ones, as lame as it sounds, be "setting an example"? Aren't they the ones that we're supposed to be learning from?
I just thought it was interesting that this old man reacted this way. And I think it's interesting when "older" people are hypocritical and say that younger people know nothing about life.
And it's not just this old man that I'm talking about. . The ones that are beyond their prime years. The ones that have (or should have) gained a vast amount of knowledge and wisdom through the years.
Yesterday a friend and I were talking about the elders of our community and how some of them are very backwards. When I say this, please understand that I mean that they are backwards in the sense that they think everything that they are not used to, is wrong. And everything that they are used to and acclimated to, is right. And we all know that is a very narrow minded way of thinking.
It's extremely hard to be in a part of a community where the older generation constantly shakes their head at the younger generation. It's very difficult for the younger generation to earn the respect of some of the older people (Notice I said some). What's even harder, I feel like sometimes it's hard for them to accept that we are a part of a different culture that they are from. A different mindset. A different attitude. A different way of life. It's not necessarily a wrong way of life, wrong attitude, or wrong mindset. It's just not what they are used to. And they don't accept it, and even frown upon it. I think if they opened up their minds to it, and gave the younger generation a chance and opportunity and allowed themselves to be open-minded, they would be pleasantly surprised.
It's just something that frustrates me to no end.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
The things we should do for L-O-V-E
I love this blog. Not like, but love. And when I feel like I've abandoned it, i.e. not written/commented/checked up on it, I feel so stressed out. I constantly remind myself that I need to do something for it/to it to make sure I'm doing my part. That I'm contributing in SOME way.
It might sound cliche and quite frankly, kinda corny, but I really feel like I'm a part of something since I've joined this blog. Like I'm taking the initiative and trying my damn hardest to make a difference in someones life. I've never been actively involved in any sort of community outreach program except for the rare volunteer opportunities that I partake in. And most of those events I'm present in because my friends do it. Ah yes, peer influence.
When Controlled Chaos created this blog almost three years ago (June 24th is our three year anniversary!) with the intention of making the world a bit more open minded through the views, ideas, opinions, thoughts and anecdotes of your everyday average Muslim American girls, she was not only doing a public service for the misinformed, uneducated and the completely clueless, but she was also opening up a whole new door for me. This blog was/is my stepping stone into doing something humanitarian. Helping society. Educating people. Doing my part as a human being. Even if it seems minuscule.
And yeah, we have our fair share of ups and downs here at Symphonic Discord, with a WHOLE lot more downs then ups. And Controlled Chaos constantly threatens to shut it down cause we suck as writers and aren't doing anything about keeping the blog active.
But it's something I constantly have on my mind. No joke. I've been thinking about potential posts before my work day begins, while teaching, and after I've hightailed out of school. I run through multiple thoughts while showering, driving home, and sitting in the backyard. My thoughts center around enlightening others with random facts about Muslims and Islams. Stupid things I do as a teacher. Silly things my students say. Funny moments with my siblings. Crazy thoughts I share with friends. Anything that I can contribute to anyone that is reading.
For the past month, I've been trying to rejuvenate my thoughts, get out of this writer's rut, and just get back on track and renew my intention for being on this blog. The motto of this blog is something I firmly believe in and I can wholeheartedly say if we(the authors of this blog and anyone else that wants to help) pushed and challenged ourselves, we could do great things.
In the end, when I feel like I've failed this blog and havent done what I should/could do for it and with all the efforts (or lack thereof) put into this blog, I try to remind myself of the wise words of Mother Teresa, when she said, " What we are trying to do may be just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop. "
And with that, I log of off Facebook, fix my posture, open up blogger and finally start typing...
It might sound cliche and quite frankly, kinda corny, but I really feel like I'm a part of something since I've joined this blog. Like I'm taking the initiative and trying my damn hardest to make a difference in someones life. I've never been actively involved in any sort of community outreach program except for the rare volunteer opportunities that I partake in. And most of those events I'm present in because my friends do it. Ah yes, peer influence.
When Controlled Chaos created this blog almost three years ago (June 24th is our three year anniversary!) with the intention of making the world a bit more open minded through the views, ideas, opinions, thoughts and anecdotes of your everyday average Muslim American girls, she was not only doing a public service for the misinformed, uneducated and the completely clueless, but she was also opening up a whole new door for me. This blog was/is my stepping stone into doing something humanitarian. Helping society. Educating people. Doing my part as a human being. Even if it seems minuscule.
And yeah, we have our fair share of ups and downs here at Symphonic Discord, with a WHOLE lot more downs then ups. And Controlled Chaos constantly threatens to shut it down cause we suck as writers and aren't doing anything about keeping the blog active.
But it's something I constantly have on my mind. No joke. I've been thinking about potential posts before my work day begins, while teaching, and after I've hightailed out of school. I run through multiple thoughts while showering, driving home, and sitting in the backyard. My thoughts center around enlightening others with random facts about Muslims and Islams. Stupid things I do as a teacher. Silly things my students say. Funny moments with my siblings. Crazy thoughts I share with friends. Anything that I can contribute to anyone that is reading.
For the past month, I've been trying to rejuvenate my thoughts, get out of this writer's rut, and just get back on track and renew my intention for being on this blog. The motto of this blog is something I firmly believe in and I can wholeheartedly say if we(the authors of this blog and anyone else that wants to help) pushed and challenged ourselves, we could do great things.
In the end, when I feel like I've failed this blog and havent done what I should/could do for it and with all the efforts (or lack thereof) put into this blog, I try to remind myself of the wise words of Mother Teresa, when she said, " What we are trying to do may be just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop. "
And with that, I log of off Facebook, fix my posture, open up blogger and finally start typing...
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
If only it were that simple..
The other day my students and I were playing SPARKLE, a spelling game I introduced to them a couple of months ago. For some reason, they loveee this game. And I really appreciate playing it with them and seeing them get enthusiastic about it, because it's educational and they practice lots of spelling with it and they eagerly anticipate the days when we play it. The object of the game is to be the last one standing when all the words have been spelled and all is said and done.
In the midst of playing SPARKLE, and waiting for the students to spell the word tornado, a little hand goes up in the air and seeks my attention.
"Yes, N. What do you need?"
"I just wanted to say that yesterday in Alabama there was a really, really bad tornado."
"Yeah, it's very, very, very sad because a lot of people lost their lives."
"I also just wanted to say that my grandmother died in that tornado."
Left speechless, after a minute or two and not knowing how to react properly, I said the first thing that came to my mind.
" Wow. I dont know what to say. I'm so, so, so, incredibly sorry......"
"...... Would you like a hug?"
"Yes, please"
And I put my arms around her and I give her a tight squeeze which she returned with a bigger squeeze.
"You alright?"
"Yes. I feel better."
And so, as silly as it may sound, I wish I could reach out to the people in Alabama, in Japan, in New Zealand, in Haiti, in Syria, in Egypt, in Yemen, in Palestine, in any part of the world, high, low, where tragedy and misfortune has befallen, and just give them a huge hug. And tell them that I am so sorry for their pain and for their loss. And tell them that somehow, someway, everything is going to be okay.
God willing.
And as Controlled Chaos said before, May God grant peace, mercy, strength, and guidance to all those that are suffering and enduring such difficult times.
Ameen.
In the midst of playing SPARKLE, and waiting for the students to spell the word tornado, a little hand goes up in the air and seeks my attention.
"Yes, N. What do you need?"
"I just wanted to say that yesterday in Alabama there was a really, really bad tornado."
"Yeah, it's very, very, very sad because a lot of people lost their lives."
"I also just wanted to say that my grandmother died in that tornado."
Left speechless, after a minute or two and not knowing how to react properly, I said the first thing that came to my mind.
" Wow. I dont know what to say. I'm so, so, so, incredibly sorry......"
"...... Would you like a hug?"
"Yes, please"
And I put my arms around her and I give her a tight squeeze which she returned with a bigger squeeze.
"You alright?"
"Yes. I feel better."
And so, as silly as it may sound, I wish I could reach out to the people in Alabama, in Japan, in New Zealand, in Haiti, in Syria, in Egypt, in Yemen, in Palestine, in any part of the world, high, low, where tragedy and misfortune has befallen, and just give them a huge hug. And tell them that I am so sorry for their pain and for their loss. And tell them that somehow, someway, everything is going to be okay.
God willing.
And as Controlled Chaos said before, May God grant peace, mercy, strength, and guidance to all those that are suffering and enduring such difficult times.
Ameen.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Just a Hot Mess
It's been a long week. With parent teacher conferences happening everyday. To being at work for 12 hours for the past four days.To having to hunt down parents in back alleys and chase them down to the corner of a random street to get their signature for their child's report card. Because they dont show up for the appointment time that THEY chose according to THEIR schedule. And yeah the student that stole from me? Yup, did it four times within the past three weeks. Suspension does nothing for him. Lovely, isn't it???
I'm just tired. I want to sleep. And I want to sit and do nothing.
Everyone's so crabby. And in a bad mood. Or in a funk. Or just aloof. I dont know how else to describe it. Except to say that everybody and their mama is acting like a hot mess. And has been for the past week.
As the day continued to drag on and on, I asked K, my other first grade team member, if we, all 83 first graders, and four teachers, could come into her room and practice singing "Never Say Never" by Justin Bieber and rehearse for our awards ceremony that was to commence at 9 a.m. tomorrow. So we all huddled in her room at the very end of the day, sang that song a million and one times. I'm so sick of it. Anyways, we still had ten minutes to go till it was "ok" for us to start getting ready for dismissal.
Whatevs.
So I gather all my children and trudge back ,grudgingly, to my classroom, and put on random songs for them to sing and just call it a day. I send them out to their lockers ten minutes earlier then I should have and we were ready to go. Since we were so early, I decided to put this on. It's so fun to watch them do it.
So the whole class gets into it, and I dont even realize that the entire first grade hallway is deserted and abandoned.I walk out into the hallway and wonder why the heck the lockers are not being opened and slammed as they normally are. And then I see that K's classroom blind is down, walk over to her door, pull the handle and it's locked. Bang on the door. No one answers. Seems like no one is even in there. Look over to her neighboring class, and same thing.
WEIRDDDDD.
Then my mind finally registers EVERYTHING and I realize that the entire SCHOOL is on LOCKDOWN. Meaning no one can come in or OUT of the building. I didnt know if it was a practice drill (kinda weird for them to do it at the end of the day) and I gather all my children once again and command them to hide in the corner of our room. I lock my classroom door, and go hide in the corner with them and admonish anyone that lets out a peep. I also kick myself for never putting a blind up, and not being able to cover the window that is in my doorway. I'm stupid like that.
I text K. And then I text A. And then I text S. WTF is going on? And then they all text me back the same thing. To make a long story short, there was a madman directly outside our school with a gun, that woke up this morning and decided he wanted to go around on a shooting rampage.
Fortunately, the police were able to catch him. And we continued dismissal as normal. And no one was hurt. Thank God.
Kids were OUTSIDE playing for physical education and the gym teacher HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS GOING ON! I like how no one told me either that we were in lockdown. I like how my kids were in the hallway AND ANYTHING COULD HAVE HAPPENED TO ANY OF US, and NO ONE WARNED US. That just burns me like CRAZY. Like SERIOUSLY? If this is what your procedures are, then get me the heck out of here.
So yeah, everything's just a hot friggin mess everywhere.
P.S. Apparently me and another parent scared the crap out of K. Every time we banged on her door and continuously tried opening it, guess who she thought it was?
I'm just tired. I want to sleep. And I want to sit and do nothing.
Everyone's so crabby. And in a bad mood. Or in a funk. Or just aloof. I dont know how else to describe it. Except to say that everybody and their mama is acting like a hot mess. And has been for the past week.
As the day continued to drag on and on, I asked K, my other first grade team member, if we, all 83 first graders, and four teachers, could come into her room and practice singing "Never Say Never" by Justin Bieber and rehearse for our awards ceremony that was to commence at 9 a.m. tomorrow. So we all huddled in her room at the very end of the day, sang that song a million and one times. I'm so sick of it. Anyways, we still had ten minutes to go till it was "ok" for us to start getting ready for dismissal.
Whatevs.
So I gather all my children and trudge back ,grudgingly, to my classroom, and put on random songs for them to sing and just call it a day. I send them out to their lockers ten minutes earlier then I should have and we were ready to go. Since we were so early, I decided to put this on. It's so fun to watch them do it.
So the whole class gets into it, and I dont even realize that the entire first grade hallway is deserted and abandoned.I walk out into the hallway and wonder why the heck the lockers are not being opened and slammed as they normally are. And then I see that K's classroom blind is down, walk over to her door, pull the handle and it's locked. Bang on the door. No one answers. Seems like no one is even in there. Look over to her neighboring class, and same thing.
WEIRDDDDD.
Then my mind finally registers EVERYTHING and I realize that the entire SCHOOL is on LOCKDOWN. Meaning no one can come in or OUT of the building. I didnt know if it was a practice drill (kinda weird for them to do it at the end of the day) and I gather all my children once again and command them to hide in the corner of our room. I lock my classroom door, and go hide in the corner with them and admonish anyone that lets out a peep. I also kick myself for never putting a blind up, and not being able to cover the window that is in my doorway. I'm stupid like that.
I text K. And then I text A. And then I text S. WTF is going on? And then they all text me back the same thing. To make a long story short, there was a madman directly outside our school with a gun, that woke up this morning and decided he wanted to go around on a shooting rampage.
Fortunately, the police were able to catch him. And we continued dismissal as normal. And no one was hurt. Thank God.
Kids were OUTSIDE playing for physical education and the gym teacher HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS GOING ON! I like how no one told me either that we were in lockdown. I like how my kids were in the hallway AND ANYTHING COULD HAVE HAPPENED TO ANY OF US, and NO ONE WARNED US. That just burns me like CRAZY. Like SERIOUSLY? If this is what your procedures are, then get me the heck out of here.
So yeah, everything's just a hot friggin mess everywhere.
P.S. Apparently me and another parent scared the crap out of K. Every time we banged on her door and continuously tried opening it, guess who she thought it was?
Monday, April 4, 2011
Rock....Paper... Scissors...JESUS!
Bam!! When my kids at school play this, Jesus totally TRUMPS all of the above. Obviously. It's funny how kids can have more faith in things than adults. Not just concerning their religiosity either. But just in general. They are more optimistic, hopeful, open-minded about things around them then adults are. We can always say it, but it's so true that kids are wiser then we give them credit for. I asked my kids how they would settle a disagreement and argument today. I also asked them to respond and provide both negative and positive ways to settle a dispute. Negative ways included fighting and insulting one another. And positive methods ranged from talking it out, walking away, hearing the opposing side, breathing, counting to ten, apologizing to one another, and asking others for advice. Terry Jones, the pastor that burned the Qu'ran recently, and has been threatening to do so since the 9th anniversary of September 11, and the people in Afghanistan that are attacking and killing innocent civilians in retaliation, could learn a thing or two from them. Shame on all of them for acting the way they are. Whether it's figuratively, or literally, haven't they all learned from Mahatma Gandhi, that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind?
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
El oh el!
Laughing is refreshing. It's fun to do. It's a helluva lot better than sulking.
Occasionally me and Chuckle have laughing fests. I'll laugh about something, she'll laugh at my distinctive laugh. And next thing you know, we have tears streaming down our face and we're holding the sides of our stomachs from pain.
We also used to lie down next to each other, in an upside down position, and talk to one another. The way your mouth looks in this position, while you talk, used to crack us up! It just looked so dumb and funny to see your mouth move from an upside down angle.
So after watching the recent CNN special on "Unwelcome: The Muslims Next Door", I was in a state of panic and worry and disgust and anger and just an overall upset mood. If you haven't watched it or didn't hear about it, it's basically about the city of Mursfreesboro, Tennessee, enraged that the Muslim residents of the city decided on relocating and constructing their mosque to a larger space. There were many people for and OBVIOUSLY against the building of the mosque and many protests over it. So much controversy surrounded it that it was taken to court. Just a lot of tension, bigotry, and ignorance in the city of Mursfreesboro. It was very disheartening to watch and take in.
However I got an email today from one of our former authors, Artistic Logic, that has kept me laughing all day. Instead of getting upset and outraged, Artistic Logic, more or less, pointed out the ridiculous things people say, ludicrous things people do, and even the outrageous things people wear. Not to mention the lack of knowledge people have about a lot of things these days, particularly that of Islam and Muslims. Don't get me wrong, the special presented by CNN is a very serious issue and impacts many people, myself included. And I applaud CNN for taking the initiative and raising awareness about this. But after some time, if you really look back on it, and listen to some of the stuff and watch the actions of people, it really makes you guffaw at it all.
While talking about subject and predicate parts of a sentence with my class, I randomly thought of it, and I suppressed a giggle. And then again when I was yelling at my students for shouting out during instruction, I had to force the smile away that was creeping up on my lips. And while driving home from work, I was grinning from ear to ear, while thinking about it.
I dont know about you, but I just love to laugh. I feel like my whole day was much nicer cause of that email that had me hooting since dawn.
Not to mention that LOL-ing is much more fun and better,then say, FML-ing.
Occasionally me and Chuckle have laughing fests. I'll laugh about something, she'll laugh at my distinctive laugh. And next thing you know, we have tears streaming down our face and we're holding the sides of our stomachs from pain.
We also used to lie down next to each other, in an upside down position, and talk to one another. The way your mouth looks in this position, while you talk, used to crack us up! It just looked so dumb and funny to see your mouth move from an upside down angle.
So after watching the recent CNN special on "Unwelcome: The Muslims Next Door", I was in a state of panic and worry and disgust and anger and just an overall upset mood. If you haven't watched it or didn't hear about it, it's basically about the city of Mursfreesboro, Tennessee, enraged that the Muslim residents of the city decided on relocating and constructing their mosque to a larger space. There were many people for and OBVIOUSLY against the building of the mosque and many protests over it. So much controversy surrounded it that it was taken to court. Just a lot of tension, bigotry, and ignorance in the city of Mursfreesboro. It was very disheartening to watch and take in.
However I got an email today from one of our former authors, Artistic Logic, that has kept me laughing all day. Instead of getting upset and outraged, Artistic Logic, more or less, pointed out the ridiculous things people say, ludicrous things people do, and even the outrageous things people wear. Not to mention the lack of knowledge people have about a lot of things these days, particularly that of Islam and Muslims. Don't get me wrong, the special presented by CNN is a very serious issue and impacts many people, myself included. And I applaud CNN for taking the initiative and raising awareness about this. But after some time, if you really look back on it, and listen to some of the stuff and watch the actions of people, it really makes you guffaw at it all.
While talking about subject and predicate parts of a sentence with my class, I randomly thought of it, and I suppressed a giggle. And then again when I was yelling at my students for shouting out during instruction, I had to force the smile away that was creeping up on my lips. And while driving home from work, I was grinning from ear to ear, while thinking about it.
I dont know about you, but I just love to laugh. I feel like my whole day was much nicer cause of that email that had me hooting since dawn.
Not to mention that LOL-ing is much more fun and better,then say, FML-ing.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tales of a Teacher: The Good, the Bad, and the Really Ugly
I'm back? But I haven't really gone anywhere.
I dont know why I've been MIA lately. No particular reason other than the fact that I dont know what to write about...I guess..
There are moments when thoughts creep in my head, and I'm like "Oooooo, post worthy!!" But then I forget, or I think it's not post worthy, or I think it's not post worthy and I force myself to forget about it. I dont like feeling that way, cause then I feel like I'm limiting and restricting myself and my thoughts. Which isn't really cool, nor fair.
Anyways, one of my students stole from me today. It broke my heart. For like a second. Then my broken heart turned into rage. I just dont understand how things like this happen.
I had a oatmeal pie at work today. Took it with me to K's classroom, where the first grade crew likes to hang out and have lunch. I hadn't been feeling so well, so I decided not to consume the oatmeal pie. Instead I brought it back with me to eat later. I set it on my semi circle table and continued reading the next chapter of Charlotte's Web in commemoration of Reading Month. After finishing the most recent chapter, I send a couple of student's to the semi circle table so we can continue our lesson. And I go to reach for my oatmeal pie, and it's not there.
"Where's my oatmeal pie?"
"I dont know"
"I didnt see it."
"What oatmeal pie?"
"I left it right here. It didnt just grow legs and walk away. Did you guys see it?"
"No"
"Nope.
Then, I see it. The smirk. The smirk that I know so well. The smirk from M. The one that I've gotten to know oh so well.
"Can you empty your pockets?"
While emptying his pockets and pulling out an oatmeal pie, M says, "My friend, D, gave me this."
Turns out D didn't even come to school today. And he carried on the lie with saying that D gave it to him yesterday. To make a long story short, M was sent to the office with a referral and the possibility of being suspended.
This has nothing to do with him stealing a cookie. Yes, it is just a cookie. Yes, he might have been hungry. Yes, he might be deprived of sweets at home. Yes, he is only seven years old. Yes, he may not really have known what he was doing. Yes, he may really have gotten it from someone else. Yes, he may have been scared and not really have known what to say.
Yes, for a bunch of other things.
But I have never felt so betrayed by one of my students. Things like this dont happen in my classroom. You hear about things like this from your colleagues, and you thank your God that your students know better than that. They know right from wrong. They have good morals.
And no matter what excuse you may give him, it just doesnt justify his stealing and then lying about it.
It makes me feel like I've taught him nothing this whole year.
I dont know why I've been MIA lately. No particular reason other than the fact that I dont know what to write about...I guess..
There are moments when thoughts creep in my head, and I'm like "Oooooo, post worthy!!" But then I forget, or I think it's not post worthy, or I think it's not post worthy and I force myself to forget about it. I dont like feeling that way, cause then I feel like I'm limiting and restricting myself and my thoughts. Which isn't really cool, nor fair.
Anyways, one of my students stole from me today. It broke my heart. For like a second. Then my broken heart turned into rage. I just dont understand how things like this happen.
I had a oatmeal pie at work today. Took it with me to K's classroom, where the first grade crew likes to hang out and have lunch. I hadn't been feeling so well, so I decided not to consume the oatmeal pie. Instead I brought it back with me to eat later. I set it on my semi circle table and continued reading the next chapter of Charlotte's Web in commemoration of Reading Month. After finishing the most recent chapter, I send a couple of student's to the semi circle table so we can continue our lesson. And I go to reach for my oatmeal pie, and it's not there.
"Where's my oatmeal pie?"
"I dont know"
"I didnt see it."
"What oatmeal pie?"
"I left it right here. It didnt just grow legs and walk away. Did you guys see it?"
"No"
"Nope.
Then, I see it. The smirk. The smirk that I know so well. The smirk from M. The one that I've gotten to know oh so well.
"Can you empty your pockets?"
While emptying his pockets and pulling out an oatmeal pie, M says, "My friend, D, gave me this."
Turns out D didn't even come to school today. And he carried on the lie with saying that D gave it to him yesterday. To make a long story short, M was sent to the office with a referral and the possibility of being suspended.
This has nothing to do with him stealing a cookie. Yes, it is just a cookie. Yes, he might have been hungry. Yes, he might be deprived of sweets at home. Yes, he is only seven years old. Yes, he may not really have known what he was doing. Yes, he may really have gotten it from someone else. Yes, he may have been scared and not really have known what to say.
Yes, for a bunch of other things.
But I have never felt so betrayed by one of my students. Things like this dont happen in my classroom. You hear about things like this from your colleagues, and you thank your God that your students know better than that. They know right from wrong. They have good morals.
And no matter what excuse you may give him, it just doesnt justify his stealing and then lying about it.
It makes me feel like I've taught him nothing this whole year.
Friday, January 28, 2011
If you havent met Chuckle, then here's your introduction.
For those of you that dont know, Chuckle is my younger 23 year old sister. I like to say that she is the rebel of our family. The one that doesnt really conform to what is expected of her. And the one that does whatever she damn well pleases.
Without a doubt though, she is the apple of my niece, Sue's, eye and is just as equally adored by my nephew, Billy. Once asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, Sue said, "I want to be a nurse like Khala (Aunt)" and Billy said "I want to be Khala."
Not too long ago, Chuckle and I would wake up in the morning together, get ready for work together, and leave the house together. She would don her stethoscope and I would wear my school lanyard. Her ID badge said "RN" while mine said "1st grade teacher."
If you met my sister in college, and got to know her, then you would have known that she always, always, always had her nose in books. She was constantly studying and memorizing notes and stuff for class. She would frequently isolate herself from the outside world and campus and basically lived in the the second floor study area of the really creepy library on campus. Although teased many times for living there, she wouldn't relent in her studies and worked her posterior off to get into Nursing School and finish her degree in Nursing.
The thing is, she wasn't always like that. When my sister began junior high she vowed to herself that she would drop out of school when she was in 10th grade. At that time, the legal age for a student to drop out of school was 16. So she made it her goal, and made it well known (even told my parents) that at the age of 16, she would leave it all behind and just sit at home. Now, obviously my parents wouldn't let her do such a thing. But her attitude towards school was very dismal and she didn't care much for it. She loathed it. She hated her peers. Argued with her teachers. And her grades weren't exactly up to par as they should have been. There were times in junior high when she would ask to go to the restroom during PE (Physical Education) and walk straight out of the doors and go home, claiming that it was a half day. Sometimes she wouldn't even ask to go to the restroom but during transition breaks between classes she would leave the building, and go to the nearby Rite-Aid. Or she would just roam the streets. Sometimes with friends. But mostly by herself. (I would like to tell you what I think was the contributing factor to this, but I rather not open up that can of worms.) The school truancy director had to get in touch with my dad and speak to him about the frequent absences that were occurring. I was so scared the day that he found this out. I was scared for her life.
Tenth grade did eventually roll around, but there was no dropping out for her. She continued high school. Took some college courses while in high school. Finished high school. And enrolled in college. Alhamdulilah. I like to think what changed her mind was the influence of her friends, me and my older sister, and strong prayers my parents made on her behalf. But I really cant say that even she knows what changed her mind. Regardless of what it was that got her out of that phase, thank God Almighty, that she got out of it.
Sometimes I look at her and chuckle (no pun intended) to myself at how far she's come from where she was. When she began college, my dad made it very clear to each of us (his daughters particularly) that he wanted us to pursue a degree in education. My older sister did it. I was, at the time, on the road towards it as well. Clearly she didn't take that route though. Teaching wasn't her "thing". But in my personal opinion, I think she would have rocked as a teacher. She is so good with kids! mashaAllah!
Currently she is working the midnight shift at the hospital and it's not exactly how she envisioned the world of Nursing. It's a struggle for her and she vocalizes frequently how much she wants to quit and become a "housewife". But just as the dropout phase went away, I have full faith that this too shall pass. God willing.
Without a doubt though, she is the apple of my niece, Sue's, eye and is just as equally adored by my nephew, Billy. Once asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, Sue said, "I want to be a nurse like Khala (Aunt)" and Billy said "I want to be Khala."
Not too long ago, Chuckle and I would wake up in the morning together, get ready for work together, and leave the house together. She would don her stethoscope and I would wear my school lanyard. Her ID badge said "RN" while mine said "1st grade teacher."
If you met my sister in college, and got to know her, then you would have known that she always, always, always had her nose in books. She was constantly studying and memorizing notes and stuff for class. She would frequently isolate herself from the outside world and campus and basically lived in the the second floor study area of the really creepy library on campus. Although teased many times for living there, she wouldn't relent in her studies and worked her posterior off to get into Nursing School and finish her degree in Nursing.
The thing is, she wasn't always like that. When my sister began junior high she vowed to herself that she would drop out of school when she was in 10th grade. At that time, the legal age for a student to drop out of school was 16. So she made it her goal, and made it well known (even told my parents) that at the age of 16, she would leave it all behind and just sit at home. Now, obviously my parents wouldn't let her do such a thing. But her attitude towards school was very dismal and she didn't care much for it. She loathed it. She hated her peers. Argued with her teachers. And her grades weren't exactly up to par as they should have been. There were times in junior high when she would ask to go to the restroom during PE (Physical Education) and walk straight out of the doors and go home, claiming that it was a half day. Sometimes she wouldn't even ask to go to the restroom but during transition breaks between classes she would leave the building, and go to the nearby Rite-Aid. Or she would just roam the streets. Sometimes with friends. But mostly by herself. (I would like to tell you what I think was the contributing factor to this, but I rather not open up that can of worms.) The school truancy director had to get in touch with my dad and speak to him about the frequent absences that were occurring. I was so scared the day that he found this out. I was scared for her life.
Tenth grade did eventually roll around, but there was no dropping out for her. She continued high school. Took some college courses while in high school. Finished high school. And enrolled in college. Alhamdulilah. I like to think what changed her mind was the influence of her friends, me and my older sister, and strong prayers my parents made on her behalf. But I really cant say that even she knows what changed her mind. Regardless of what it was that got her out of that phase, thank God Almighty, that she got out of it.
Sometimes I look at her and chuckle (no pun intended) to myself at how far she's come from where she was. When she began college, my dad made it very clear to each of us (his daughters particularly) that he wanted us to pursue a degree in education. My older sister did it. I was, at the time, on the road towards it as well. Clearly she didn't take that route though. Teaching wasn't her "thing". But in my personal opinion, I think she would have rocked as a teacher. She is so good with kids! mashaAllah!
Currently she is working the midnight shift at the hospital and it's not exactly how she envisioned the world of Nursing. It's a struggle for her and she vocalizes frequently how much she wants to quit and become a "housewife". But just as the dropout phase went away, I have full faith that this too shall pass. God willing.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
The Hermit Kingdom
Disclaimer:This post is all over the place, so bear with me.
The only thing I've ever known about Korea and the Korean people are they make some interesting dramas that Controlled Chaos likes to watch/talk about.
And occasionally I'll join her and watch them too.
That's pretty sad, isn't it?
(My knowledge of the place is sad,not the fact that I watch the dramas.)
My friend, M, recently told me about a documentary about North Korea. Some of the stuff that she was talking about just seemed unrealistic and downright primitive that I had to watch the documentary myself.
So that's what I did this past weekend.
I watched the documentary National Geographic: Inside North Korea, reported by Lisa Ling.
A doctor from Nepal, Dr. Ruetz, was traveling to North Korea to perform cataract eye surgery on approximately 1000 inhabitants of North Korea. He was going treat cataracts of people from the age range of 5-70. All in one week. Lisa Ling joined this doctor, under the ruse of working for the medical team and filming the surgeries. Along with filming the surgeries she was also able to capture, interview, and document the life of people in North Korea.
North Korea is a communist country and is currently under the rule of Kim Jong Il. It is known as the "Hermit Kingdom", because of the government's successful attempt at keeping out anything foreign and allowing anything foreign to come in. The internet is banned. Cell phones are banned. And North Koreans teach their children to hate Americans and America. In the documentary, we see a mother singing a nursery rhyme with her young daughter that goes something like " The pathetic Americans kneel on the ground. They beg for mercy....." The country is basically isolated from the outside world. And Americans are not welcomed. North Koreans still blame America for the divide between North and South Korea. During her time there, Lisa Ling was the one and only American in the whole country.
People worship Kim Jong Il in a god-like way, that it's frightening. After successfully completing 1000+ cataract surgeries, the doctor that performed it was not thanked once. Instead each patient, ran to a picture of Kim Jong Il, praised him, thanked him, and vowed to do anything that he wanted them to do, and continuously talked about how indebted they are to him. I know a large part of it is due to fear. Many people fear the government, the soldiers, and fear for their lives and their family's lives and everything that at stake if they say anything against the ruler.
But the immense gratitude and loyalty that some people show their ruler makes you question and wonder sometimes what they are really feeling.One government minder that was escorting Ling and her camera crew around was extremely offended when one of the photographers laid on the ground in order to capture the full image of a statue depicting the "great" leader. He demanded that the photographer leave the country the next day.
What surprised me the post about the documentary (besides my lack of awareness) was how blinded, both literally and figuratively, the people of North Korea are. They have been brain washed to a remarkable extent that when questioned whether Kim Jong Il could do any wrong in their eyes, many stared baffle eyed at Lisa Ling, and said "We dont quite understand your question." Because in their eyes, he could do know wrong. The question made no sense to them. And I am well aware that there is only so much that they can do for themselves without putting their lives in danger. And when you are only being fed one thing over and over and over, after a certain period of time you become immune and accustomed to it. It becomes your life. Your only chance at survival, sometimes, is to accept it.
This documentary was filmed four years ago in 2006. The state of North Korea now? Probably still the same.
So as not to make this post super long, I just want to end here by saying that it's most peculiar that people are so quick to point fingers and accuse others of oppression/being oppressed. It makes one wonder why those same people dont raise more awareness of things like this, governments like this, rulers like this, that openly and belligerently restrict and suppress their people.
P.S. You can watch the full documentary here:
The only thing I've ever known about Korea and the Korean people are they make some interesting dramas that Controlled Chaos likes to watch/talk about.
And occasionally I'll join her and watch them too.
That's pretty sad, isn't it?
(My knowledge of the place is sad,not the fact that I watch the dramas.)
My friend, M, recently told me about a documentary about North Korea. Some of the stuff that she was talking about just seemed unrealistic and downright primitive that I had to watch the documentary myself.
So that's what I did this past weekend.
I watched the documentary National Geographic: Inside North Korea, reported by Lisa Ling.
A doctor from Nepal, Dr. Ruetz, was traveling to North Korea to perform cataract eye surgery on approximately 1000 inhabitants of North Korea. He was going treat cataracts of people from the age range of 5-70. All in one week. Lisa Ling joined this doctor, under the ruse of working for the medical team and filming the surgeries. Along with filming the surgeries she was also able to capture, interview, and document the life of people in North Korea.
North Korea is a communist country and is currently under the rule of Kim Jong Il. It is known as the "Hermit Kingdom", because of the government's successful attempt at keeping out anything foreign and allowing anything foreign to come in. The internet is banned. Cell phones are banned. And North Koreans teach their children to hate Americans and America. In the documentary, we see a mother singing a nursery rhyme with her young daughter that goes something like " The pathetic Americans kneel on the ground. They beg for mercy....." The country is basically isolated from the outside world. And Americans are not welcomed. North Koreans still blame America for the divide between North and South Korea. During her time there, Lisa Ling was the one and only American in the whole country.
People worship Kim Jong Il in a god-like way, that it's frightening. After successfully completing 1000+ cataract surgeries, the doctor that performed it was not thanked once. Instead each patient, ran to a picture of Kim Jong Il, praised him, thanked him, and vowed to do anything that he wanted them to do, and continuously talked about how indebted they are to him. I know a large part of it is due to fear. Many people fear the government, the soldiers, and fear for their lives and their family's lives and everything that at stake if they say anything against the ruler.
But the immense gratitude and loyalty that some people show their ruler makes you question and wonder sometimes what they are really feeling.One government minder that was escorting Ling and her camera crew around was extremely offended when one of the photographers laid on the ground in order to capture the full image of a statue depicting the "great" leader. He demanded that the photographer leave the country the next day.
What surprised me the post about the documentary (besides my lack of awareness) was how blinded, both literally and figuratively, the people of North Korea are. They have been brain washed to a remarkable extent that when questioned whether Kim Jong Il could do any wrong in their eyes, many stared baffle eyed at Lisa Ling, and said "We dont quite understand your question." Because in their eyes, he could do know wrong. The question made no sense to them. And I am well aware that there is only so much that they can do for themselves without putting their lives in danger. And when you are only being fed one thing over and over and over, after a certain period of time you become immune and accustomed to it. It becomes your life. Your only chance at survival, sometimes, is to accept it.
This documentary was filmed four years ago in 2006. The state of North Korea now? Probably still the same.
So as not to make this post super long, I just want to end here by saying that it's most peculiar that people are so quick to point fingers and accuse others of oppression/being oppressed. It makes one wonder why those same people dont raise more awareness of things like this, governments like this, rulers like this, that openly and belligerently restrict and suppress their people.
P.S. You can watch the full documentary here:
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...
It's snowing so much here. Where I am.
I just hope school is closed.
For a week.
But that's asking for too much.
So I'm just asking for school to be closed for a day. JUST ONE DAY. Please Dear God.
If we can close school cause of a gas leak, SURELY we can close school because of snow. That's supposedly going to turn into ice overnight.
I got a text from my co-worker:
If we have school tomorrow, I'm kicking the principal's $%#
And my response:
I'll join you!
-----
Update: We got a snow day!!!!
Monday, December 6, 2010
Like a man with his head on fire...
I'm currently reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. And I'm literally forcing myself to read in a remarkably slow manner because I just dont want to lose a friend. And I know that the movie got some not-so-hot reviews which made people all of a sudden critique her book. Wasn't the book receiving all sorts of accolade not too long ago?
Some people said that the book has given women a false sense of hope that they can indisputably leave their lives, drop everything, become selfish, and travel the world. When put that way, of course it sounds preposterous. But nevertheless, so what if it is? Isn't that the whole purpose of books, television shows, and movies.
To escape reality?
Anyways all of that is besides the point, and my intention for writing this post wasn't necessarily to pay homage to the book (just yet).
On the other hand, I wanted to share an excerpt from it that serves as a reminder and I also felt most of us could connect with, one way or another:
Some people said that the book has given women a false sense of hope that they can indisputably leave their lives, drop everything, become selfish, and travel the world. When put that way, of course it sounds preposterous. But nevertheless, so what if it is? Isn't that the whole purpose of books, television shows, and movies.
To escape reality?
Anyways all of that is besides the point, and my intention for writing this post wasn't necessarily to pay homage to the book (just yet).
On the other hand, I wanted to share an excerpt from it that serves as a reminder and I also felt most of us could connect with, one way or another:
Life continues to go on. Even the Italian post office will keep limping along, doing its own thing without you---why are you so sure that your micromanagement of every moment in this whole world is essential? Why dont you let it be?
I hear this argument and it appeals to me. I believe in it, intellectually, I really do. But then I wonder--- with all my restless yearning, with all my hyped-up fervor and with this stupidly hungry nature of mine--what should I do with my energy instead?
The answer arrives, too:
Look for God, suggests my Guru. Look for God like a man with his head on fire looks for water.
-Elizabeth Gilbert-Eat, Pray, Love
Saturday, December 4, 2010
A word (or two) to the Unwise.
"Ok, everyone. Let's blend this word together and sound it out."
"K-i-l-t. Kilt."
"Who knows what kilt means? Or what is a kilt?"
::All hands in the classroom shoot up::
"Kilt is like you killing someone and murdering them."
"Kilt is not a verb. It is not when you kill someone"
::All hands shoot right back down::
--------------
"What's a crib?"
That's the place where you live.
------------------
"Ms. Attitude, I was finna do that?"
"You was finna do that? Is that the correct way to say that?"
"Oh sorry, I was going to finna do that."
-------------------
"Who knows what a snob is?"
"Snob is when you are messy."
"No, that's a slob."
"Oh, oh, oh, I know! I know! "
"What is a snob?"
"Snob is when your nose is runny and boogers come out of it. Sometimes it even goes in your mouth."
--------------------------------------
"Ms. Attitude, he called me a name. It hurt my feelings."
"What did he say?"
"He called me boughed."
"Boughed? "
"Boughed."
"What does boughed mean?"
"Boughed is like when you are boughed. It's like when you're mean. And you act uppity."
"Uppity?"
"Uppity."
"Is boughed in the dictionary?"
"Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
"Oh."
"How do you spell boughed?"
"B-O-U-G-H-E-D. Boughed. "
"Wow. It's like a spelling bee. "
------------------------------
Sometimes I teach.
And sometimes they teach me.
And you thought it was a one way relationship.
"K-i-l-t. Kilt."
"Who knows what kilt means? Or what is a kilt?"
::All hands in the classroom shoot up::
"Kilt is like you killing someone and murdering them."
"Kilt is not a verb. It is not when you kill someone"
::All hands shoot right back down::
--------------
"What's a crib?"
That's the place where you live.
------------------
"Ms. Attitude, I was finna do that?"
"You was finna do that? Is that the correct way to say that?"
"Oh sorry, I was going to finna do that."
-------------------
"Who knows what a snob is?"
"Snob is when you are messy."
"No, that's a slob."
"Oh, oh, oh, I know! I know! "
"What is a snob?"
"Snob is when your nose is runny and boogers come out of it. Sometimes it even goes in your mouth."
--------------------------------------
"Ms. Attitude, he called me a name. It hurt my feelings."
"What did he say?"
"He called me boughed."
"Boughed? "
"Boughed."
"What does boughed mean?"
"Boughed is like when you are boughed. It's like when you're mean. And you act uppity."
"Uppity?"
"Uppity."
"Is boughed in the dictionary?"
"Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
"Oh."
"How do you spell boughed?"
"B-O-U-G-H-E-D. Boughed. "
"Wow. It's like a spelling bee. "
------------------------------
Sometimes I teach.
And sometimes they teach me.
And you thought it was a one way relationship.
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