adventures of a substitute

when life gives you an awesome bowl of fruit...you do your best to enjoy it before it goes bad. that's kind of how i feel about substituting. for such a long time i've been stuck in this college limbo where hoops of fire kept being presented before me that i was forced to jump through. once those hoops had been successfully passed i would brush myself off only to find a new set of obstacles. finally i decided i was sick of obstacles and i moved home to start a new course. best decision i ever made.

i've been home now for a little under 2 months and my life has done a 180. i've started eating healthier, spent time with friends and family i love, and have started substitute teaching. what an awesomely hilarious and insightful experience it has been. in this post i will share a few funny stories as well as a few observations i have made in the classes i have subbed in so far.

6th Grade:

technically middle schoolers. technically know it alls. absolutely hilarious. i must admit i only subbed 6th grade for about 2 hours one morning when the 6th grade teacher wasn't feeling well, but it was an experience even though a short one. I walked into the classroom and wrote my name in my fanciest cursive on the board. for some reason i feel like i have something to prove when i write on the board at school. it's like a mini social test of sorts to prove how proficient you are in the art of writing. i passed with flying colors this day. one boy sitting in the front row looked at my name with mouth open. "You have the coolest handwriting i've ever seen." high marks from a 13 year old boy.

i proceeded to introduce myself to the class and made a few sarcastic comments about how cool i am for having gone to the same school i was subbing at. they all smiled with approval. that was it...i was in. i was one of the cool kids now. the class was learning about poetry and the teacher had advised me to steer them away from using "stale words" (i.e.-good, pretty, bad, etc). i put them in groups of 4 and had them choose a stale word and come up with better word choices. one group of girls chose the word good.

as i walked around the classroom this particular group of girls raised their hand. "Umm soo like these are the only words we can think of..." i looked at their list expecting to see at least 4 or five awesome word including, but not limited to, gems such as: magnificent, outstanding, fantastic, breathtaking... however, the words that met my eyes were not quite as sophisticated as i would have imagined. instead there were two words on the page: groovy and swag. swag...really? i thought that i was having a silent conversation with myself about how ridiculous this was, but no...i said it out loud. "what does swag even mean anyway???" i managed to say outloud in a semi sarcastic tone. all four of the girls looked at me with the most disgusted look and then one girl finally chose to speak. "I meannnn....you either have swag or you don't. you don't define it. it's just something you only know about it if you have it." i walked away. mean girls: 1, mary: 0.

just then one of the 6th grade boys who obviously was a bit smitten with me that day decided to come to my rescue. "she doesn't need swag Kaitlyn...she has a brain and pretty eyes and that's more than i can say about you." i didn't know whether to scold him for demeaning the girl or give him a secret high five for coming to my rescue...so i just smiled and told everyone to get back to work.


5th Grade:

fifth grade is such an awkward age for kids. they are old enough to understand a sense of independence  , but not old enough to actually utilize that independence. one day i was subbing a fifth grade class and i started the day with language arts. i was teaching about personal pronouns and i needed to provide an example on the board. at that moment the only sentence that came to my head was: Joey loves the Red Sox and doesn't like the Yankees. I quickly replaced Joey with He to show how we can replace names with a pronoun to make our sentences flow better. One boy in the back of the class shot his hand in the air. I expected a question to come out of his mouth...but no. "THE RED SOX SUCK!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. first of all, let me start this by saying that i love sports and i can hold my own in any sports related conversation and i am a huge red sox fan. my immediate reaction was to be offended and to start using my historically accurate facts to back up my love of one of america's oldest teams. but this was not the place so i stopped myself. "Well i love the red sox, but we are all entitled to our own opinions." the boy looked at me for a moment. i could actually see the wheels turning behind his eyes trying to decide whether he was going to accept this logic. he then looked at me as a demonic grin spread across his face. "they should be called the red SUCKS!" he said. i started doing slow breathing exercises. "he's 12 mary. he's obviously not educated. he's trying to push your buttons. stay calm." i asked him nicely to watch his language and moved on. i then asked if anyone could think up an example like the one i had just provided. a girl with long blonde hair raised her hand. as she was formulating her thought my problem child in the back of the class interrupted. "The Red Sox can kiss my butt. They can kiss my butt." That was it. I sent him immediately to the office. To be honest he went there more for his hatred of the Red Sox than he did for his language all though both were equally offensive.

2nd Grade:

younger kids are a funny breed. they think they are older than they are and they act younger than they are. within the first hour of being in the classroom i started receiving the sweetest notes and pictures from kids telling me how smart, pretty, and nice i am. big ego boost. it's always nice to receive notes. as we know 2nd graders are still pretty little. they aren't very tall and they tend to try to test their limits. it was a half day this day so the kids were being dismissed at 12. there wasn't much planned for the day besides a spelling test, an assembly on reptiles (yes, i was feet away from an 18 foot python) and a couple videos..oh and the pet rock assignment. from the second i walked into the classroom the kids started running up to me to show me their pet rocks. their were tons of art supplies on the counter. everything from feathers, googly eyes and even glitter. as a teacher you quickly learn that glitter is not your friend. i saw it and immediately shuttered. i looked up at the crucifix hanging on the wall of the classroom, "Lord, why have you forsaken me." i decided they wouldn't notice if i hid the glitter...oh they noticed and oh were they angry. "HOW COULD YOU HIDE THE GLITTER????? THAT'S THE BEST PART." i went over the rules of glitter. 1.we don't pour more glitter than we actually need. 2. we keep glitter away from the inside of our desks. 3. we don't EVER throw glitter. 4. we don't blow piles of glitter 5. we don't eat glitter....the list went on and on and on. finally when my impromptu crash course on glitter was complete i let them loose.

if you've ever watched national geographic about lions attacking their prey at the watering hole it was pretty similar. children were clawing and literally drooling as they ravaged their way to the craft goods. i thought that they were over their anger about me hiding the glitter, but i was wrong. once they got their craft fix they went back to their desks and started gluing and pasting and glittering to their 8 year hearts content. they were in 7th heaven.

i learned a very important lesson this day. NEVER......EVER.....tell a group of 20 - 2nd graders to put their craft supplies away at the same time. well i did. if you've ever watched a cartoon where someone is walking and a group of people rush past them and they get spun around and a cloud of dust forms around their feet...yea that was me. children were pushing and clawing past me at warp speed. i didn't know what hit me. finally everything settled down and it was time to dismiss them for the day.

you may be asking yourself how i knew they were still angry about the great glitter heist of 2013 i'm about to explain. once i got the class lined up i dismissed them into the hall so i could walk them outside to be picked up. as i was walking down the hall the first grade teacher walked up to me...."sooo you hid the glitter today, huh?" she said to me sympathetically. i looked at her a bit baffled. how did she know that i had hid the glitter? i answered yes and she just smiled and kept walking. i stood outside with the kids and then came back inside. i decided i should wash my hands before i went home. as i walked in the bathroom a sight from the crypt met me in the mirror.

the image that met me in the mirror was not the put together woman who had entered the school that morning. i was but a shell of that woman now. my hair was disheveled and my eyes had bags under them. i washed my hands and chalked it up to a rough day of crafts. as i went to get a paper towel to dry my hands shimmer of something caught my eye. i looked down toward my butt in the mirror....it was COVERED in little glitter hand prints. apparently the kids thought it would be funny to voice their anger by putting a little glue on their hands with some glitter and the slapping it all over my legs and butt as they were running by me in the chaos of putting the crafts away.

i learned an important lesson that day. my glitter crash course will now include a highlighted section on keeping all glue, glitter and crafts away from the sub.


Kindergarten:

i definitely saved the best for last. i subbed kindergarten for an entire week. if you ever want a test of endurance, patience, and understanding, sub kindergarten. my first impression of all the kids was how adorable they were. the cuteness factor was only increased by the fact that they were all wearing adorable little uniforms. SO STINKIN' CUTE!! I soon learned that the cuteness was their way of sucking you in before they unleash their inner crazy. there was one little boy who provided me with all my favorite stories of the week. for protection of his identity we will call him Sam. Sam was a well groomed five year old with a shaggy Beatle haircut and big brown eyes. he got away with murder the week i was there simply because he was so cute.

in the first five minutes i was there Sam came running up to me, tugging on my dress...."TEACHER! Guess what!?!?!?" i looked at his cute face..."What honey?" he looked up at me with wide eyes and signaled me to come down to his level. i kneeled down and he looked left and right before cupping his hands around my ear and saying, "my name is really bruce wayne. i'm batman, but you can't tell anyone." i pinky promised that his secret was safe with me. it was going to be an interesting week.

the next day i was picking the kindergarten class up from lunch. again Sam came running up to me. "TEACHER YOU HAVE TO COME TO THE BATHROOM RIGHT NOW. IT'S AN EMERGENCY!" My heart started pounding. i thought there was going to be a kid throwing up or worse someone passed out in the bathroom. i ran after him right up to the boys bathroom. he flung the door open and yelled for me to come in. i yelled in to the boys bathroom and asked if there was anyone there and announced that a teacher was coming in. i left the door propped open behind me in case i needed to call for backup. sam pulled my hand up to a stall and pointed to it. i walked up to it and knocked on the door. i didn't see feet beneath it but i didn't know what i was about to find. i didn't hear anything so i opened the door. i grimaced as i slowly opened the door. to my surprise there was nothing there besides a normal toilet. i looked at Sam and asked him what was wrong. "THERE WAS A VAMPIRE IN HERE AND HE TRIED TO SUCK MY BLOOD BUT I FOUGHT HIM OFF AND FLUSHED HIM DOWN THIS TOILET." he exclaimed. i congratulated him on his victory and walked him back to line.

another day i was having kindergarten do a science worksheet. they had to write the names of the animals below the animal. naturally, sam was the first one finished. he ran up to my desk. "TEACHER I FINISHED CAN YOU CHECK IT??" i took the paper from him and looked it over. everything looked great...that is until i got to the last animal. it was a horse. but when i looked at what sam had written i started to laugh. instead of H-O-R-S-E....sam had written: H-O-R-E. I chuckled and told sam that he needed to put the S in horse. he smiled and ran back to his desk and then came back. i looked at the paper. this time it read: H-O-R-E-S. Big improvement. HAHAHA!

my final kindergarten story is not meant to be offensive to anyone so please don't take it that way. please remember these are 5 year olds and i did sit down with the two students afterwards to explain why it wasn't okay:
after school the procedure is that the kids line up at their cubbies and wait for me to put their papers in their backpacks. while i was packing up sam's backpack he informed me that he was going to play at his friends house after school. his friend is this adorable little boy from Sudan with the biggest happiest smile and personality you've ever seen. to protect his identity we will call him Donny. they were holding hands. "I'M GOING TO PLAY WITH DONNY TODAY." i told him that sounded like a lot of fun. then i made the epic mistake of asking what games they were going to play. "WELL I'M GOING TO BE A COP AND DONNY IS GOING TO BE A ROBBER BECAUSE HE'S BLACK."this statement took me back for a second. i hurried and looked at donny to make sure he was okay. he was smiling bigger than ever and said he was excited to play. i quickly sat them both down and explained why this wasn't okay and that there is good and bad in everyone and that they should both take turns being the cop or robber or maybe play another game.

i sub 8th grade next week and high school the week after that...can't imagine what adventures await me there.

insanity. it's insane.

so in case you didn't get the idea that the insanity workout is insane...i mean who listens to titles nowadays?....it is! i started doing the insanity workout every day since i've moved home and let me tell you, muscles hurt that i didn't even know i had. as i stand there, mid-warm up already out of breath, sweating and panting like a parched dog, i look at the people on the screen and find a small sense of loathing burning inside me. look at these athletically toned individuals doing a billion high jumps in a row without even breaking a sweat. look at how they smile as they do high knees like they are part of the russian military. these toned and tanned individuals are fueling my hate fire. i will one day be able to do more high kicks than nameless 6 pack bitch can, but today is not that day.

one day... one day

the last day.

so this is it. i'm sitting in a dorm room (not my dorm room) here in polemanakos wondering what my life is going to be like after this. this is what i've come to know. this is where my life was when my mom was here. it's hard to walk away from four years of memories. it's hard to look at the stairs and the hallways and the furniture and realize i'm not going to be living here in anymore. i know this is right. i know this is what i need. i need to do something for me.

the december challenge

Opa Gangnam Style

http://www.jibjab.com/view/2ejmDtDYQ4OCwY9sLSkWqA

How I feel right now.

Yep. This is exactly how I feel about boarding a plane in 2 days to go home. Can't I just stay in Utah? I don't want to go back to the drama, isolation and busy work. 

UGH. 

the road less traveled

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I marked the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference. 

Robert Frost

We all come to times in our lives when the path we are on splits into two possible decisions. Go left and  a series of events unfolds. Go right and a completely different reality is at hand. It's scary when we arrive at these moments in our lives. This is where I find myself today. 

I've always hated change. I hate uncertainty and trying new things. I hate being forced to make a choice when I can't completely weigh all my options. I hate that feeling of regret that creeps into my stomach and my mind and tells me that no matter what decision I choose, it will ultimately be the wrong one. I hate not being able to turn to anyone for advice because everyone has their own opinion and bias on what I should or should not do with my life. But what is my opinion? How do I figure that out?

So what's the decision that is plaguing me this time? The decision of where to go to here. What path do I walk down this time? 3 years ago I made a choice. I was sick of this town I had grown up in. I was sick of feeling caged and held back by all of the familiar settings that had molded me into a shy, introverted hermit. I was 21 years old and I knew names, but not people. Faces, but not the stories behind them. I wanted to not just say I was alive and young, but actually feel it. Finally, this feeling boiled over inside of me and I found myself on my school's website applying for admission. I can see myself sitting in my living room figuring out the admission process when my mom came down the stairs and asked me what I was doing. When I told her I think she was surprised, and maybe a little sad. She sat there with me though and walked me through the process. She didn't let her opinions or fears or feelings hold me back. She just helped. That's one of the things I miss most about her. Her selfless desire to help me at any cost. 

Weeks passed and I got the acceptance letter in the mail. This was happening. The girl who had been afraid to sleep over at people's houses was going to move across the United States without her family to a place where she knew no one. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. My life had been painful to this point. I was bullied mercilessly in school and it had beaten me to the point of self doubt. I was afraid of everything. I was afraid of people. I questioned everyone and everything. I still do. But this decision at the time I was certain about. I could move across the country and recreate myself. I could start over. I didn't have to be afraid of my own shadow and everyone else's anymore. I could be me...whoever that was.

It came time for me to pack. I remember going through my clothes with my mom and trying on almost every outfit in my closet. My mom would sit back and tell me how things looked and we just talked. I knew she was sad I was leaving. It didn't sway me though. I get angry at myself now looking back at those moments because, although I was unaware about what events would unfold in the next couple years, I was selfish. Mom helped me pack my car and soon my dad and I were on the road. All I could think about was that my life was finally beginning after 21 years.

Dad and I arrived in Boston 5 days later. I remember coming over that bridge on Memorial Drive in Cambridge and seeing the skyline for the first time. It was new, even though it was old and it was beautiful, even though it was a little rough around the edges. I felt at home. Mom flew to Boston and met Dad and I at the hotel. I can close my eyes and still see Mom standing at the drop off by the front doors of the hotel when we came around the corner. I was so happy to see her. I needed her.  

The days that followed found Mom and I driving to the school that I had blindly applied to and setting up my dorm room. Sometimes when I drive up the windy road leading to school I think about my mom and I being in the car together and seeing that sign for the first time. I remember the excitement. I can still see mom and I parking the car at the top of the steps in front of the dorm and carrying my stuff inside while mom unpacked it for me. I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was fine until some of the first ice breaker activities started to happen. I found myself falling back into my same patterns. I was scared to put myself out there and talk to these strangers that I didn't know. Old habits die hard I guess. I remember going back to my new room (that looked like a prison cell) and crying. The next morning I drove back to my parents hotel. I can still see myself standing on the balcony outside our room convinced that I hated it in Boston and I wanted to go home. Dad was ready to pack the car up and start our journey back. Mom on the other hand, as always, was my voice of reason. Mom took me aside on the balcony, out of earshot of my dad, and told me I should probably give it more of a chance. She told me that if I really wanted to go home, she would be elated and they would pack the car and we'd go, but she didn't want me living with regrets. She didn't want me getting home and realizing I didn't try hard enough and always wondering what it would have been like if I had stayed. (Mom if you can see me writing this now, know that I love you and you're the only reason I took that step).

I decided to stay. I remember hugging my parents in the car garage at the hotel for the last time and driving away. As I was driving out of the garage I can remember looking up to where our room was and seeing them standing out on the balcony and waving at me and my mom blowing me a kiss. And so my journey began. 

My first year in Boston was amazing. I met some incredible people. I did amazing things. Went places and traveled around the east coast. It was a dream. I was living a fairytale. I made friends. People liked me for me. It was something I had rarely felt in my whole life. I wanted more. At the end of the year I didn't think I was going to be able to go back to Boston. My heart hurt. I didn't want to have to say goodbye to all the people who had finally accepted me for who I was. I had finally started to learn my place in this world and now I was being ripped away. It didn't seem fair. What I didn't realize at the time is that everything happens for a reason...and God has a plan. 

A month after getting home my mom was diagnosed with Diabetes. It was a complete life change for her, but she knew that she needed to take better care of herself so she started taking measures to switch up her diet and the activity in her life. Around late July I made the decision that I had to go back to Hellenic. I had to continue my journey that I was on to self discovery and happiness. My journey wasn't complete. Then complete disaster struck. 

August 4. 2010- Mom was diagnosed with cancer. Our family doctor wasn't 100% sure that the mass that showed in the ctscan was cancer, but most times when there is a mass in the pancreas, it is. Right then and there I knew I wasn't going back to Hellenic. My mom's health was WAY more important to me. She had been my rock, my support, my guiding light my whole life and now she needed me. I was not going to desert her. Many months of surgery, recovery, chemo, radiation, and ups and downs later, mom was determined to be cancer free in April 2011!!! We were all so excited. She went back to work, and life seemed to carry on as it had before she had been diagnosed. It seemed the nightmare was over. 

Then I fell apart. My whole purpose for months had been taking care of my mom, and now, I had lost my purpose. I started to get headaches every day at a certain time that made me feel like I was going to lose consciousness. I stopped being able to drive cause I would get too dizzy. I barely left the house, or got out of bed. It was the scariest thing that has ever afflicted me. I was in a tunnel and I couldn't get out. Mom finally took me to her doctor. I was diagnosed with severe anxiety disorder. The doctor gave me medication to help with the anxiety. 

The first day I took the medication I have never been more sick in my whole life. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was nauseous beyond belief. I couldn't see straight. I was hot then cold then both at the same time. I thought I was dying. The next day it was a little better, but then something came over me. What was I doing? I didn't want to be a slave to a pill for the rest of my life. I wasn't doing this anymore. I made the decision right then and there that I was not going to take the medication anymore. I stopped the next day.

I don't know if the pill changed my brain chemistry for a bit after that or what happened but I had really strange thoughts and dreams for a while. I was in a dark place and I had to fight my way out. I went back to Boston in May to visit my friends and it all came clear what I needed to do. I needed to finish my journey. That's where I would find happiness. Mom was better. This was my time. In August 2011 I made the trip back to Boston for school. I was so happy. This is where I was meant to be. Then the beginning of October my mom called with bad news...the cancer was back. I cried in my room for hours. This was a nightmare. I needed to go home. I couldn't leave her. But she wanted me to stay in Boston. 

She came and visited me for my birthday as she was going through chemo and she was so sick. But she fought through it to make me happy. I can't go into details cause I'm still in denial and I haven't accepted or faced a lot of my memories, but that time I shared with my mom in Boston I will never forget. It was a memorable trip for a lot of reasons. It was a changing time of my life. A friendship I had was beginning to blossom into something more and my mom's approval to take the friendship to the next level was asked.

The relationship happened. It was through that relationship that I was able to cope with the next months of my life. It was through that person that I was able to not fall apart. Regardless of where life takes me I will always be thankful for that person and what he did for me. I needed him. When my mom passed away on April 28, 2012 my life screeched to a halt. Everything changed and I didn't realize it at the time. 

I think I went into shock. I went into auto pilot and was just going through the motions of life. Summer came and went and it was time to go back to Boston again. By the end of the summer I didn't want to leave Utah. I had people who I had counted on who I knew were looking forward to seeing me. I couldn't let them down. When I got to Boston something just didn't feel the same. I felt out of place. I felt like I didn't belong. I felt old. 

I missed my friends and family in Utah. Eventually a month after school started my relationship ended. Unfortunately friends who I thought I had left with the relationship as well. I was alone. I had a few good friends who stuck by my side, but even the person who had gotten me through everything would barely give me a hello back when I said hi. Things ended on good terms. Why was this happening? 

So now, as I sit in my bedroom at home and think about going back to Boston on Wednesday, I just don't want to. I have to and I will....but I don't want to. I feel like Boston served a purpose for me. Boston was part of God's plan. He knew I needed support in my life for what was to come. He knew I needed to find myself and I did. I feel like Boston's purpose has been served and I need to move on. I can live knowing my mom was proud of me for making the decision I did. She told me she was happy I discovered who I was and got beyond my comfort zone. 

But now, I don't know what to do. I'm holding on to strands of memories of what Boston once was for me, but it will never be that again. I'm living in a world of shadows that dance around me everyday. It's not fair. Where do I go from here?