Carly's Ramblings Blog - Style

Home, Teachers - The Good and The Bad, A Weakness Overcome

Welcome To My Reality - Week EIGHTY-SEVEN August 17th - August 23rd, 2015

2.Where do you consider to be home? Is it the place you live now? The place you grew up? Where your heart longs to visit? Where is home?

Home used to be my Grandparent's farm - I say 'used to be' because my aunt just recently sold it to a younger family. The people who were using the land have retired and decisions had to be made... Next week my mother and I will be going up for a 50th Wedding Anniversary and we plan on heading out to see the farm one last time... it will be sad. A neglected little homestead.... but when I was small, it was a place of unconditional love and acceptance. The place my Gramzie lived.

It didn't matter how cruel or unsettling the rest of the world could be, the farm was off the grid - literally. No electricity, no indoor plumbing, no modern conveniences of any kind. It was wood stove and the little pink potty (I did not like using the big old outhouse - it was buggy and smelled horrid). I was free to be me and I was loved despite my little eccentricities. It will remain my home in my heart. My heart is still there in those memories... it will always be. If I really think about it home is my family. We are oddly similar despite our differences. And it is those odd similarities that make me feel 'normal'.

My own house is not a home.... not with things going roughly, as of late.

My childhood home burned down a couple of years after it was sold - the oil furnace gave up the ghost and took the house with it. Too many sad memories lived there.

3.Tell us about an issue or weakness that you have worked on or resolved. Maybe you were terrible with homework at school, but now you always meet deadlines. Maybe you always had trouble getting up in the morning but now bounce out of bed. Maybe you never ate your vegetables but now you do! Share something about yourself that you've improved over the years.

As a child I was such a perfectionist that I would drive myself into a mad frenzy if I could not solve a particular math problem or do my homework just right. I would get so upset that my mother would ell me to leave it for a bit.... that would only make me more angry. Now, I am much more laid back.... Nanowrimo has helped. Writing without the inner editor there to foil your every word.

I am not sure when I made the transition... maybe it was getting older and realizing that taking a break from something was a good idea. Maybe it was not being able to attain perfection and the realization that I was not capable of meeting certain standards. I never seemed to be able to make my mother happy when I was little.... what I did not realize was... it was not my job. I could make her laugh, but my Dad had made her very unhappy and only she could get over his betrayal. It was not my job.

I think my perfection issues came to the surface around the time my parents separated... my eight year old brain internalized their separation as my concern.... something I had done. If I was perfect, they would be okay and get back together. Silly thinking, I know, but I also know children internalize their parents issues. Even this is a new revelation to me as I write this.... When did my perfection issues fade.... probably after those wounds imbedded themselves in my psyche.... or after my father died of cancer - no chance for reconciliation then.

Now I take a healthier view of myself. I believe there is no such thing as normal or perfection. There are only varying degrees and doing a good job does not mean killing myself with anger issues. I let it go and reassess. Improvements can be made over time.

I honestly believe I wrote myself into this view. When I was a child, my stories where about perfect children and families.... now my characters have flaws and eccentricities that make them human and still loveable. I have learned - a first draft is just that, the first draft - rubbish, with hopefully some redeeming qualities that can be refined and distilled into a good story.... over time and with loving attention.

4.Tell us about a teacher who has stayed in your memory, for good reasons or bad. Even better, tell us about one teacher you have good memories of, and one that you have bad memories of.

This is easy. My favourite teacher was Mr. Key in grade 7 and 8. He had faith in me. Saw me as a vital member of his class. I felt special and important and worked to make sure I did not disappoint him. I am not sure what it was about him... he was just so real and approachable. He liked to tell jokes and often did at the beginning of class. He wrote in my yearbook that he could always count on me to let him know it was time to get on to the serious stuff. Another thing he did, and I am so glad of this, was he had us keep a journal. Given that my Dad had died the year before this was a great way for me to share my thoughts and ideas in a safe space. He respected my thoughts and read what I allowed him. He marked these, but only in how much he determined we put into them. I think this is what made him so special. He listened, he read and he understood... and for a t'ween going through a rough patch he was a guiding light.

Many of my childhood friends name him as a favourite.

Teachers I had issues with - also easy. Mrs. Moore. Grade 3. She once gave the whole class the punishment of writing out the first page of the dictionary because someone had disrupted class and nobody owned up to it. This did not sit with my sense of fairness. I don't know who it was but I doubt I would have said if I did, but I still thought it was unfair. I think she had hoped someone would confess if she did this. It only made me see her as a mean older lady.

In my own teaching I want very much to shine like Mr. Key and let my students know they are all important to me.

5.Do you have a good luck charm? What is it? If not, have you ever found yourself doing something (like knocking on wood) regardless of whether you believe the superstition or not?

I knock on wood. I avoid cracks at times - though when I was 13 I hit every crack because I was angry with my mother and her moving us to Guelph. I am not overly comfortable with the number 13 - if I look at a clock and it says 13 I will make sure I look again when it says 14 to feel better. Odd, yes, but what can I say. I also try to tell myself Friday the 13th is good luck, not bad.

Before I answer question number 7 I want to do a back up just in case...