I Was Speaking French

I was speaking French, then I wasn't. Suddenly I lost my breath amidst the rrr's and the eau's. Suddenly my head started spinning, suddenly I got cold and clammy and had to put my head down. Suddenly not even French was enough to keep me going.

Today I broke down at work, it was embarassing but too real to be too embarassing. I mean, whatever, I can't pretend it is what it isn't. It actually didn't start with French, it started before, right before the kids class. I panicked so bad I had to take my meds and then I figure that screwed with my blood pressure. Mixed and brewed with a whole bunch of other factors (moving to Guará, the new apartment and adjustment, my new temporary not so temporary hectic schedule, my psychology course crisis, sleeping too little, Tabita's death, lack of time with family and friends, the dry dry dry weather,  computer problems, personal health problems...what else?)

So I cancelled one class. 

And waited. 

But I couldn't think. I couldn't organize the most basic things in my head. How to plug in my computer in the wall? How to type a lesson? Where to start?? Where to find a place to sit down?

My heart racing, my hands still clammy. I couldn't figure out how to read and how to write and where to begin. So I threw it all into my locker and went downstairs in order to breathe, but all I could do was regress, infantile like, regress more and more, I wanted my mom, I wanted someone to take care of me, I wanted to feel strong, but all I felt was out of control and out of myself. Out of time. It doesn't belong to me anymore and I just couldn't...I just...I needed a break.

So I brokedown and like a broken machine, was sent home. Thank god. I'm grateful for the people who helped me allow myself to go home and just do nothing.

I still feel like crying because tomorrow will be here too soon, but at least I don't have to be up at 6 and I can stay home and DO NOTHING. I'll try my best to become better friends with my new macbook...right now I actually have developed bad feelings for it. :( I feel frustrated and angry at myself cuz it's a freakin expensive and freakin wonderful laptop, but I don't feel comfortable and I feel stupid when I use it. 

I miss just plain ole windows. Maybe I'm not cut out to be a mac person, maybe I haven't evolved that far yet. :P

(when will it rain??)

I don't know where to start tomorrow but fortunately for me, it is not tomorrow. It's a good sign, however, that I am able to write about it now...good sign.

Enter Leo

Nem parece que se passou somente um mês desde que comecei a trabalhar no novo emprego e que encerrei com a Maple...UM MÊS de novo trabalho, novos colegas, novos chefes, outro ritmo...Estou entrosada, estou feliz, fiz amigos novos e amo a dinâmica do lugar e o novo reconhecimento de mim mesma de mim mesma. 

Neste mês tomei um passo firme em direção a mim mesma e não consigo me lembrar direito da última vez que me senti assim ou parecido...Me faz lembrar muito da EAB e meus últimos anos lá. Estar na Natural English de certa forma me reconecta à essa parte da minha vida, estou rodeada de gente de tudo quanto é país e falando vários idiomas, me sentindo fluida, espontânea, contente e competente. Reconhecida e tranquila...

Esses posts estão repetitivos e talvez clichês, entediantes, não?

Pois bem, é assim, fazer o quê?

Tem outras coisas na vida pessoa também, a mudança para o novo apartamento parace consolidar essa nova fase e confirmar meus passos adiante. 

E mais coisas que agora não é hora de postar, mas acredite, há coisas...Ils sont importants!

Palavras, quizás?

français

my photo albums

almost complete

3,000

beautiful cats

promises

anima

animus

lindo

Argentina

kids

mom

reconciliation and peace

new diet

future and dreams

that's all I can say right now!

seeya July...thank you! 

Leo month has begun!

Post-Antihistamine Daze Writing

Acabei de ler em uma revista de 1 euro e 80 centavos de psicologia que escrever todo dia têm poderes terapêuticos...e me dei um tapa na mão mentalmente pois tenho deixado essa atividade muito de lado. Nem precisa ser aqui no blog, mas em geral, tenho deixado de lado esses preciosos minutos de escrever sobre tudo e qualquer coisa. 

O artigo diz que o mais importante dessa escrita, para ser terapêutica, é que ela integre suas emoções, pensamentos e qualquer outra coisa sobre o tema, especialmente as emoções negativas...Sei que nãoe stou muito coerente, perdoem-me, estou até aqui de medicação anti-gripe e anti-alérgica depois de trabalhar 12 horas e ainda ter que dar aula.

Ou seja, quero escrever sobre meu cansaço e a descoberta de que tudo tem limite. 

Sim...Não me arrependo de ter aceito esse novo desafio de tomar conta do "marketing" para o novo programa e também continuar com as minhas aulas nos horários mais esporádicos. Não me arrependo pois foi um ato de fé, de me jogar e de perder alguns medos. Foi importante. Agora chega. Não vale a pena enfrentar todo touro no meu caminho só pra provar ao mundo que não tenho medo. Eu já entendi algumas coisas. 

Então vou seguir adiante da melhor maneira possível e depois voltar a me dar alguns limites e luxos. Vou botar limite em ficar aqui o dia inteiro (ou seja, nada de 14 horas!!) e vou me dar o luxo de reservar tempo para fazer absolutamente nada se eu quiser. Ah! Que bênção essa permissão que estou me dando. 

Os extremos são importantes, nós aprendemos muito através do contraste. Precisamos da dor para apreciar o bem-estar, da solidão para valorizar as pessoas queridas, etc., etc...até do trabalho para apreciar o tempo "ocioso" e do tempo ocioso para valorizar o trabalho. 

Vou entender essa fase como parte deste aprendizado maluco que tem sido esses últimos anos e pronto. Nada de crise. Meu corpo vai se recuperar, nem que eu tenha que esperar até agosto. Até lá vamos dando nosso jeitinho e cada dia fica mais fácil. 

Obrigada, minha escrita, obrigada, minhas palavras...Mes amies!

Demain, je commence mes leçons de Français! Oooh lá lá! Je suis contente! :) Sera une chose pour moi seulment!

Steps and Babies

Alright, so I've got so much to say that I don't know what to say.

Nem sei que língua falo mais, pra falar a verdade.

Estou oficialmente instalada no novo emprego e oficialmente desvinculada do outro.

Aqui eu sinto que eu existo por inteira, pois viro pra lá eu tenho que ser brasileira e me comunicar com conterrâneos - viro pra lá e tenho que ser americana e falar com outros conterrâneos linguísticos - viro para o outro lado e tenho que ser os dois ao mesmo tempo, pois tenho que escutar alunos brasileiros falando em um idioma que para mim é natural.

OU SEJA, experiência interessante, no mínimo. Eu sei que sou diferente da maioria dos professores aqui, pessoas de passagem ou tentando desesperadamente sair de Brasilia mas comprometidos com maridos e mulheres brasileiras...Ninguém cresceu aqui como eu. Por mais que eu não seja a típica brasiliense, me considero brasiliense, eu sou daqui, I am FROM here...o famoso FROM. Não sou FROM the US...Os verbos são outros...I was born there, I lived there, my father is from there, I visit there...etc.

That's an intersting realization, the fact that it's ok, I'm not FROM there and it's ok. Things aren't so clearcut and that's ok, it still has a legitimate existance, all the shades of gray.

I don't know how long this new adventure will last, I have no idea where it'll take me and how I'll be feeling about it all a few months from now. I know I feel a little pang in my heart when I think of my "babies" and toddler class, I know I will miss them. But it's time to move on, and life is moving on...

Diary of an Infiltrated TA

For the sake of privacy and what not, pseudonyms shall be used!

Some field notes:

I love how Valentina now dances and smiles. She used to cry all the time, used to be so scared...it broke my heart. Now she hugs my legs in the playground and asks me to chase her. She has a special relationship with her shoes and is always taking them off, one velcro latch at a time. It drives us a bit crazy, running after her shoes. Her hair is also a bit of a mystery...I guess her family is trying desperately to tame her wild curls, but I say they should just let them be, they will be gorgeous someday...

The three sisters are lovely. They are some of the oldest ones and are so smart and independent, trying so hard to learn (which they accomplish effortlessly). Their little hands caress my hair as they "play" hairdresser and I close my eyes and almost drool. I love their little selves in my lap, looking in my eyes with impish grins. Olivia is such a perfectionist, a little Virgo in the making. She will give up her playground time in order to finish her snack, one little bite at a time, and will not rest until it's all eaten and cleaned up impecably so. Natalie and her cute little stuttering and her tomboyish independence. We call her Angelina Jolie, for her lips are out of this world. Her voice makes me laugh in a good way. Madeleine likes to "play teacher" and addresses the other students like we do, imitating us hilariously. It makes me be even more aware of how careful I have to be of what I say and do...they are taking everything in. 

Lily has understood, early on in life, what it means to help and be a team player (I'm so grateful to her mother and her upbringing!). We call her our 3rd assistant. She likes to help cleaning up, taking things to their right places, helping the other classmates get to their places...with her wide black eyes and tiny bird bones, she is precious and sings all the songs. But she is also a whiner and cries whenever anybody rubs her the wrong way. We give her a little look as to say, "huh! enough already, right?" And so she stops and goes about her business, skipping along the way.

Peter is a deep soul. Taller than all the rest, he also seems to be struggling with deep issues. I see the word "conflict" stamped on his forehead. I don't know what he's dealing with at home, but I know it's confusing and sometimes painful in his 2 year old world.  His biggest joy in the classroom has been his friendship with his exact opposite, Antonio, a tiny little boy who is not at all fazed by the expectations of toddler world. Together they run and jump and roll around together and have fun, much to our desperation, cuz it looks plain dangerous and usually wreaks havoc. He was the first to use the potty, the first name everybody learned and always eager to be a "good boy". So much so that whenever we have to be firmer and hand him a no, he desperately breaks down in tears. It also breaks my heart. I wish I could make him understand that it's alright and the confusion will lessen with time (maybe)...but even more, that he's not responsible for making any of it better and...he's just two. I guess we should let him roll around more and turn a blind eye. 

to be continued...

Getting Somewhere

Some things take getting used to. 

For some people that might mean a week, two..maybe a couple of months. 

In Maya land, that means almost a semester doing the exact same thing and only NOW, NOW, almost JUNE, I've gotten to a point where it's coming (more) naturally, time actually goes by without much ado and I can have a life outside this "new thing". 

I know I've said this before..but every week my relationship with my job changes, grows, morphs...It's intensive adaptation in many, many, many senses. 

Go beyond the obvious, the "actual job and routine". 

That's not what I'm talking about anymore.

It's more like...

Adaptation to what I thought I should be doing and what I'm actually doing.

Adaptaton to what the "bosses" believe I should be doing and what I feel is best (and eventually end up doing).

My adaptation to the kids and theirs to me. To the coworkers...

To people's moods...ideologies...

To my moods and fears... 

Sounds boring...it is, pretty much. 

What fascinates me in all this is the novelty of the idea that I'm sticking it out. That I'm doing something normal. Me! Normal!

Of course, I'm considering when to get out...but it's different from before. I'm dealing with the panic of it, and not taking the straight route of bailing. I consider bailing - I go into total and outright crisis - but then I'm able to go back to middle ground of level-headedness and considering the other option. 

That is the fascination in play. I have a budget, for christ's sake, I have long-term plans. The crises don't stick to me like superglue...don't stick to my stomach. So yes, I have fledglings of long-term plans...And more, I'm actually curious to give them a shot and see what happens, how it all turns out.

I think I might be getting somewhere.

Pequenas variáveis

Se tem uma coisa da qual não posso reclamar no trabalho é que nenhuma semana é igual a outra. No mínimo, tem a mudança dos temas, atividades...e ai tem a mudança em cada aluno, na presença, na doença, no aprendizado.
Sem falar das  minhas mudanças e variáveis de semana a semana, dia a dia.
No último mês tem sido dinâmico - fiquei doente, de atestado...aí foi páscoa...aí tive a tradução simultânea....agora temos reuniões com pais...e depois, who knows...cada semana vai mudando algo.
Uma pequena variável faz muita diferença num mar de rotinas repetitivas.

Sombras

Hoje "dobrei" - a famosa dobradinha de trabalhar os dois turnos na escola. Foi a primeira vez e...oh god. Não quero nem voltar nunca mais para lá!! Posso ter estômago fraco, mas saí de lá sem querer ver criança por um bom tempo. Mas amanhã faço tudo de novo. Tudo bem, tudo bem. 

Trabalhar com bebês não é brincadeira. Quer dizer, bebês que falam, caminham, correm e começam a pensar por si mesmos. É um exercício interminável de se doar. Quando acontece de você estar em um daqueles dias, ou semana, ou mês, ou sei lá? Quando tudo que você precisa é poder se resguardar um pouco, aí estão elas, as crianças, pedindo tudo de você para que o dia possa transcorrer bem. Qualquer coisa menos que tudo de mim dá problema na certa. Dá irritação profunda em mim que por sua vez é captada por elas que ficam irrequietas e assim o ciclo vai e vai e vai.

Eu não paro de me admirar com a proteção que Deus deve dar às crianças de tantos estímulos que elas captam o dia inteiro do mundo "adulto"...que bênção não lembrar de muita coisa quando o "tudo" está muito pouco e elas têm que se virar, que bênção poder começar de novo várias vezes, poder cindir o mundo e as pessoas nos seus aspectos amáveis e reconfortantes e aqueles aspectos assustadores e violentos. Agradeço que elas parecem ter um filtro contra minha violência, às vezes. Espero!!

Still

My lungs feel tired again, like exactly a month ago. It feels tiresome to breathe and speak. Anything involving air through pipes. Does not feel nice at all. :/

But just putting that aside a minute, I actually feel very good.

As I made my way to school today, I felt oddly calm. I remember thinking: I finally have a routine. A real routine where I feel secure in every aspect. I don't dread going to work, I don't dread waking up or going to sleep...I mean, it's all ok. It even occured to me in a one big illuminated thought, I LIKE WHAT I'M DOING! That's got to be a first in a long time. I not only like it, I LIKE it, with all my body. Can't put it into words quite well.
That just confirmed intself when my colleague told me she's really happy with me and believes that by the end of the year I would be qualified to take on a class myself, as the teacher teacher. I looked at her, eyes wide open and something in that resonated. She asked me: do you want to be a teacher here? do you want to be a teacher, do you like this? do you want to work in schools? why don't you want psychology?

Aaah, one after another, and all I could do was listen and have some strange light dawn on me...Maybe I am finally where I'm meant to be. I had no reason to say no to her ideas and encouragement, unless I intentionally wanted to boycott myself. It was crystal clear.

A little girl fell asleep in my arms today and I wanted to take her home with me, or better yet, I wanted one of my own...and it was worth every minute of stress and repetition...she felt conforted enough to sleep with me. So much stillness...shhh

I am so relieved because I feel still inside.
I am exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Assim

Estou tão assim esses dias que não sei dizer ao certo que dia é. Quando digo assim, leia-se: ASSIM.
ASSIM seria como?
Entrando de cara numa vida que há um mês era pura novidade e especulação. Me achando no meu pequeno espaço no trabalho. Hoje minha "chefe imediata" me disse coisas que me fizeram muito feliz, MUITO FELIZ. Foram elogios simples, de como estava indo bem e como era boa no que fazia, mas eu me senti inflar literalmente, lá mesmo sentada no tapetinho com tres crianças tentando compartilhar meu colo. Me senti inflar, nada estava pesando - feliz de estar sendo reconhecido dentro do sofrimento que tem sido essas semanas, apesar dela não fazer idéia de nada disso; sofrimento de insegurança e muito esforço. è uma sensação difícil de descrever, mas vale uma lágrima de felicidade. Está valendo a pena.

Eu me aventuro a dizer que hoje é 4a...certo?

Give me the Understanding

I want the world to stop, 

I want the world to stop,

give me the morning

give me the understanding...

Let me step out of my shell

I'm wrapped in sheets of milky winter disorder

Let me feel the air again, the talk of friends

The mind of someone my equal

(B&S)

Estou lutando contra uma gripe desde 5a. "Lutando contra" talvez seja um exagero, é algo mais parecido com "me entregando" aos braços de uma gripe desde 5a. Não entendo bem, mas ela me faz sentir mais segura, mais contida. 

Até agora minhas manhãs estão mortas, no sentido de que não estou fazendo nada com elas que não estaria fazendo sem esse emprego. A saber, usando-as para dormir, acordar aos poucos e ficar à toa em casa, vendo email, tv, francês...Não é de todo ruim, só fico com a sensação que todo meu dia gira em torno da escola e isso sim me assusta.

Estou tentando não ficar com tanto medo. Logicamente, eu sei que dou conta. Logicamente, eu entendo, eu sei repassar os passos do dia, o que deve ser feito, como lidar com certas situações, o que foge ao meu controle, etc. Mas esse logicamente não têm me bastado para segurar o sentimento de puro pânico que insiste em vir. Talvez tenha algo a ver com o fato de eu saber que eu dou conta apesar desse sentimento, que vou ter que conviver com ele pois nem mesmo a lógica tem poder contra ele. Então o que teria? 

Que saco, que saco, que saco.

Mais uma vez nessa situação: começo algo para sentir que não sou uma medrosa covarde, me engajo 100% para alguns dias depois começar a passar mal e me arrepender amargamente. What to do, what to do? Aí vou passar o resto do semestre me forçando a ir, para provar que POSSO? Para provar que DOU CONTA pra mim mesma? Isso eu já sei. Isso já me foi feito claríssimo nas outras escolas, nas outras situações de profundo estresse emocional. 

Droga. 

Então, c'est la vie, é isso? 

Continuo com a pergunta piegas de sempre: haverá um lugar no mundo para mim? Um lugar de verdade, com o aconchego e o sentimento de competência e tranquilidade? Existe isso? Se eu desistir dessa idéia - qualquer que seja - de que vai melhorar com o tempo, de que vou me sentir melhor, que vou encontrar algo ou que vai passar, etc., o que me resta? Não posso abrir mão dessa idéia jamais. 

Parte de mim quer que essa gripe vire um monstro e me devore inteira, parte quer que melhore logo pra poder fazer as coisas com mais facilidade (parte pequena, admito).

Doing the Jellyfish

Vontade de escrever, sobre qualquer coisa. 

A rotina na escola aos poucos se está tornando algo mais palpável, mas confiável. São muitos pequenos, os meus pequenos, mas basta um ano e pouco de vida para já terem suas vontades e birras fenomenais, além das outras coisas que todos sabem que fazem os bebês serem fofos. Mas...sinto que já lhes conheço melhor, do tipo, é, eu sei que você é lindo de morrer e fofinho quando fala balbuciando assim, mas também sei quando você vira gente humana, com as chatices implícitas. Ou seja, tô te vendo!

As pernas estão se acostumando também...pernas, joelhos, coxas, pés, tornozelo...cada centímetro está sentindo o esforço requerido de ter que acompanhar o ritmo deles. 

Estamos chegando no final da segunda semana e já penso tanta coisa. Penso que é desesperador, penso que não vejo a hora de chegar julho, penso que raios fui fazer nessa escola, penso que estou aprendendo horrores e é por isso que o cansaço está tão grande. A experiência está intensa, tanto é que na hora de dormir eu ouço as vozes das "misses", as vozes das crianças (os gritos e choros especialmente!), as músicas que cantamos...vejo o vermelho do uniforme, o verde da massinha...ó, a massinha tem uma consistência e um cheiro que fica na mão que não aguento mais!

I'm listening to Jack Johnson's Bubble Toes...

When you move like a jellyfish, rythym is nothing you go with the flow you don't stop...

É tipo isso. Go with the flow, you don't stop...Penso em parar várias vezes, as vezes me vem pânico, "como vou aguentar meses disso?" Dá vontade de chorar, sinceramente. Não sei o que é tão extenuante trabalhar com estas pequenas criaturas, um misto de enorme responsabilidade, atenção, vigilância, estar sempre antecipando tudo, disciplinar, brigar sem brigar...sem falar na coluna que sofre e as já citadas pernas. 

Entre essa adaptação ao novo trabalho e nova rotina, entre a visita do meu pai, entre a finalização do estágio na clínica e a visita de uma amiga do Japão, fevereiro está tendo que ser o mais aqui-agora possível. Não há tempo para devaneios e para pensar em outros sonhos, tal como a tradução e qualquer outro curso que já posso ter mencionado. Um belo exercício de aqui-agora como jamais foi visto.
Acredito que em março eu comece a sentir algum resquício de normalidade e tranquilidade.
(amen)

Frustration and Joy

My
body
is
worn
through
and
through

worn
to
its
every
fiber

commitment
learning
affection
limits and rules
restraint
and joy
frustration
rewards

worn
through
and
through

Dad Here

Funny having my dad here.
Funny getting home and seeing his shirts hanging by the window and have his Flex shampoo smell in the house as soon as I walk in. It's nice, though, don't get me wrong. Funny and nice. A pleasant difference in my routine.

And funny the way it is...I wrote about psychology the last post and missing it and all that...But during class I was not missing it at all, I actually missed my baby-students. I felt nauseous and uneasy with all the Buber talk, all the therapy talk. I felt sick when the professor went on and on about existential difficulties and impossibilites, corroborating all my recent soul-seeking and questioning.

So, go figure.

Scissor-Tired

I guess I'm feeling different than yesterday. I wouldn't say that's better or worse, just different.

The school didn't seem such a provocative place, it was full of paper cutting and colors, things I appreciate.

Drawing and cutting and singing French songs in my head, counting un deux trois under my breath.

Didn't know scissors could make me so tired!

The Girl With No Opinion

My head is bursting with the need to express.

I hear endless monologues inside myself to an invisible or absent audience. Or better than monologues, I hear entire lectures and speeches I give to the world and then I think, oh god, I've got to write this all down, where's a pen, where's some paper? But alas, none are to be found or, if they are, the pen stops at the first touch with the blankness. 

Suddenly it becomes too much and words so little and ridiculous.

I wanted to follow through today and see where that led me and I promised to myself that I would not under any circumstance erase everything afterwards as I do so so so so (too) many times. 

The school. The school, classes haven't even started and there's so much to say here. I am reporting as psychologist-english-speaking-student undercover spy. They all know this, but they don't actually KNOW, because the implications are undercover. I know there will be moments where someone will catch on to something that isn't quite right in the equation me being there in my position, but I my plan is just to keep them distracted and keep a low profile.

There are so many times when I just have to shut up, literally. Just be quiet, Maya, daze off, cut your little classroom decorations in silence and just go along, because there is so much I disagree with or that really bugs me in a lot of the assumptions or attitudes that go along the whole school thing. That sentence didn't even make sense but I'm not going back to correct or revise it. Let's just keep going. Kudos to you if you are able to follow. I have to shut up when I hear the English being spoken so poorly, I have to shut up when I see that the bilingual purpose isn't really present, or at least the way I understand it, or that way I LIVED it. Especially the way I lived it. I guess this isn't an EAB, I'll just have to make peace with that. Actually, I have made peace with that. It's a Brazilian school with Canadian liscence to kill and a whole lotta people speaking English. But it's not bilingual or multicultural...How can I explain? I can say this better in Portuguese -  a vivência não está lá. Speaking English for the sake of speaking English in a classroom is not bilingual education. I have no idea where I get this from, there is no conscious theory behind this, I have no idea what famous person I would have to cite, I'm just getting all this from a feeling. 

I guess it does annoy me, because I have to shut up so that people don't realize, by mere contrast, that they're just pretending something. 

But in the end, I know they're not PRETENDING per se, they genuinely believe in all that. I don't want to be the one to crush their ideal. 

Fine. So there's that about the school. And it broadens, there is so much more in my imaginary speeches and rampades. 

It goes on to include anything that includes much of an opinion. I have come to consider myself opinionless these days...not really consider, I am discovering this little fact. Which reads into: I am discovering that I am quite indifferent to many matters nowadays. I am indiffirent to many things which if said outloud sound atrocious and unhumane. But truly, the indifference lends itself to irritation which grows into a much more embedded anger and temper tantrum with the world. I don't want to give an opinion because I don't care because I am angry in fact, with all this that makes up the world, at least the one I'm living in. So really, if the whole thing went up in flames, I think I would actually feel pleasure (see, the part about atrocious and out loud thinking?)

I read some psychology texts and I feel angry. It's all theory. Theory about something that is lived. Let me explain...like when I write a paper on some issue, I feel like I'm being so fake and unauthentic, for I am having to report to a theoretical level and make reference to other people who said something on the matter to talk about something that is lived. I live something, then I have to theorize about it, and the lived gets buried under that theorizing. It sounds like madness, it feels like madness. 

I guess in this sense I am an artist at heart. I do not want to theorize, I abhore it actually, I want and need to express what is lived. That is all. I express what I live. And I need the expression to be pretty, I need it to be aesthetic to me, for then my world makes sense. The theory put on top of this removes me from what makes sense. Many times I read a text about whatever in Psychology, let's say, psychopatology or personality theory. Inevitably it happens that at one point or other I lose faith in the author or the text, for I get the gut feeling that this person has not lived what they are writing about and are talking about what they construct around the subject. For example, when writing about a patient, it drives me crazy how we are supposed to be able to describe what that person lives and interpret this based on some theory or model. IT DRIVES ME CRAZY. For as much as we can listen and listen to someone talk, and as much as the setting is set up to give as much allowance for authentic showing, WE WILL NEVER KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE someone's life as they live it. We just can't. All we can describe is a construction that we made of what that life must be like. So, consequently, it drives me even madder that we are supposed to elaborate on this and interpret and give meaning (and values!!) to all this. What a crazy psychotic thing to do.

I feel out of myself at this moment, I literally am feeling removed from my body and I grow light-headed and faint. It feels like I'm leaning forward and almost falling, the computer is tilting in all ackward directions. But I am just here, and the computer is just here, nothing has changed.  My muscles are cramped up in my shoulders, I wasn't aware they were scrunching up like they did and I wasn't aware that I am barely seeing the screen in front of me.

I need to stop. 

Oh no, no, no...

And here I was thinking that Education was about love, encouragement and stimulation.

Oh no, no, no, Ms. Gestalt-Psychologist, there is so much more. 

I had never really considered the political side of it all, and boy, what a shock yesterday, sitting in a meeting talking about, "what character traits do we want to instill in our children, what would the "ideal" child be and how can we work this into the classroom?"

Hein?

The world of Child Education...It is like Bible School, just with different names and objectives. I'm too used to hearing about "helping people become their authentic selves" that I guess I haven't been living in the real world of what actually happens. Well, I do know this on some theoretical level, but it came as a shock to me as I saw it right before my eyes and even better, that suddenly I'm expected to participate in this "school plan".

So far it's just a bit funny, that's all. I hope it doesn't become a bigger issue for me and that if need be, I can promote my silent revolution from the corner of my toddler classroom. That's the good thing about being a T.A., I'm not the focus of attention or training in the ideological sense. 

On a horse of a different color, all this makes my need for words stronger and stronger.

My little words, arranged and re-arranged; researched, thought over, painted in white, in yellow, what about purple? I'm going to be a translator, dammit. Better yet, I AM A TRANSLATOR. It's pouring out of me, the potential, the need and LA VOGLIA. Sempre questa voglia. And I'm dead certain that I'm going to make it somehow, tread my own path.

Sometimes I wish I could grab words between my fingers, pick them up in handfuls, pour them into my mouth, organize them on my desk...have them wave back.

Maple Bearness

(warning: this photo has nothing to do with anything except that I loved the little rat and I mean, there is a bear...so...)

So, here it is, the "dreaded" first day of the maple bear experience (T.A. at a Canadian Elementary School here nearby), but lo and behold, it hasn't been dreaded! I have been dealing with this whole thing like I dealt with entering (and passing the test, actually) UnB and like I dealt with my first trip to Italy. Naivite covers the whole thing, no expectations, tranquility, hoping for the best, actually not hoping, just knowing that'll be ok.

I have missed this feeling!! Welcome back!