When the Answer is No

When I decided to try online dating last January, I honestly didn’t think it would end up the way it has ended up.  A couple of months off of a relationship that ended because we didn’t have the same end goal or really the same values (red flags, Claire, red flags), I really thought that I could just date a few people, kind of have my pick of the litter, and it would probably end in a long term relationship and that would be that.  After all, had I not been through enough already in my love life? Nearing thirty at a frightening speed, I was gaining ground on becoming a very bitter woman by this point. Surely God was just waiting to use this as the vessel in which I would meet my future spouse.  Duh.  It seemed obvious and almost certain.  

Hahahahahahahahaha.  That’s what I have to say to myself, sitting here writing this a year and some change later.  That is hilarious. I could run the stats with you, but they’re depressing and mildly embarrassing, so I’ll spare you the nitty gritty. 

I have never been good at waiting on God’s timing, probably because I’ve never actually done it.  I’ve been incredibly blessed my entire life.  Almost every major area of my life has gone exactly as I have planned.  I have never been made to wait.  The irony is incredible.  I have always loved the song, “Strength Will Rise.” We used to sing it in chapel at my college all the time. 

“Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord, 

We will wait upon the Lord, We will wait upon the Lord

Our God, your reign forever

Our Hope, our strong deliverer 

You are the everlasting God, the everlasting God

You do not faint, you won’t grow weary

You’re the defender of the weak

You comfort those in need

You lift us up on wings like Eagles” 

I sang it and I loved it, but holy cow, I had and still probably really don’t have any idea of what it means to wait upon the Lord.  

I have a family who simultaneously understands and loves each other in this amazing way.  I have friends who will drop what they’re doing to hang out with me when I need them or even drive three hours on a Thursday night just to sit on my couch with me because “You needed me.”  My career is incredible.  This year more than any other, these kids have found a way to make me feel like what I’m doing is important.  I live in America.  I have a roof over my head, food to eat and clean water to drink. I’ve never been and most likely never will be wrongfully accused of a crime.  I can write this article that talks about God and Christ and not be persecuted for it.  I AM SO BLESSED.  

And yet I am still impatient with God. Beyond impatient, sometimes I am flat out mad at Him.  

We like to throw around the word “deserve” a lot.  I’ve been really good about diet and exercise this week; I deserve a cookie.  I’ve had a tough week; I deserve a manicure.  I’ve been told my entire life that I deserve a good husband and growing up, I was told that he would come in a timely manner and we would have great sex (see this for a lengthy discussion on that topic). But did I really earn any of that? In reality, God doesn’t owe me anything.  Any of the blessings I have in my life aside, God already gave me the most important gift.  I have salvation.  I am not going to hell because God sent his son to die for me.  That is enough.  That will always be enough.  If God never places another blessing in my life, it is still enough.  

It’s hard to swallow, but it’s the truth.  I want to be mad, I want to be impatient and I am almost always both of those things when things don’t work out the way I want them to. There are entire chapters of the Bible where people are crying out to God because they don’t understand.  Job was so furious He asked God why he had forsaken him.  These moments are okay for a season, but ultimately we have to regain our understanding that God is still God, no matter what is going on.  My favorite verse in Psalms says, “For His anger lasts only a moment, but His favor lasts a lifetime.  Weeping may remain for the night, but JOY comes in the morning.”  

So maybe one day, some man out there will share the same values I do, appreciate the fact that I never turn my brain off and will be accepting of the fact that my car is probably housing a small colony of rodents kept alive by fast food leftovers. Maybe one day I won't be able to write this blog anymore because I'll be too busy with babies. Maybe.  And maybe not.  If it’s the later, then I will continue to be mad, and I will continue to cry, but hopefully a little less each time I’m met with disappointment.  

When all is said and done, He is still God and I am still blessed.  

Modest is Hottest and Other Dumb Things We Say to Girls About Their Appearance

So if you read the internet, or watch Good Morning America, then you have heard about the blogger who wrote an article that basically said that as a God honoring woman, after a talk with her husband, who struggled with other women wearing leggings, she didn’t want to make men stumble, so she was going to quit wearing leggings.  Personally, I live about 30 miles outside of the loop, so my sister sent me the article and asked my thoughts given my love for expressing my opinions on how Christian women are supposed to behave.

Okay, so leggings make men stumble.  Interesting.  Now, I am certainly lacking the Y chromosome that would make me male, so I can’t speak with absolute certainty on the topic, but if leggings make men stumble, then I’m sure there are a whole plethora of other clothing articles that do the same (any swim suit, all clothing worn in the summer, and most blue jeans come to mind).  So I guess maybe we should abstain from those too.  But personally, I am not super willing to throw on a chunky knit turtle neck when it’s 90, or stop swimming in the presence of males.  So that leaves us at an impasse. 

I’ve heard the argument that leggings shouldn’t be worn outside the gym, but then aren’t I making the men at the gym stumble? Or should I stop working out in the presence of males too?  If we are so adamant about drawing a line, then at what point do we draw it? And why is this argument all about the perception of males when women are the ones wearing the clothing? 

Do I have a desire to make men think dirty thoughts about me by wearing leggings? Absolutely not.  However, I know from being female and hanging out with a lot of females, that that’s not the case for all women when speaking generally about their clothing choices.  It may not be popular to say amongst the extreme feminist crowd, but there are plenty of women in the world who dress provocatively with the intention of making men want them. Now, that absolutely in no way gives any man the right to assault, harass or even make crude comments to them, that whole argument is outlandish.  However, people dress up to attract the opposite sex.  I would never go on a first date wearing my giant sweatpants left over from college and my favorite hoodie from high school (second date…maybe).  It’s a basic law of nature.  It is not wrong to want to dress in an attractive way.  Women do it. Men do it.  It’s normal. However, how attractive is too attractive? By singling out individual articles of clothing (leggings, shorts, bikinis, whatever), we are being very legalistic about the whole thing.  

Growing up, I did a lot of church and church camp, and I cannot tell you how many times I was given a stern talking to about the length of my shorts.  I have long appendages, so it was pretty much a constant battle.  The conversation usually went something like this, “Claire, you wouldn’t want to make your Christian brothers stumble, so you should really wear longer shorts.” What I typically thought while nodding my 13 year old head was, “I absolutely want to make them stumble because I want boys to like me. I will unroll my shorts until you look away and then I will roll them up again.” Just being honest. Were my shorts too short? Most likely and I have come a long way since then, but telling girls that it’s their responsibility to keep their Christian brothers from stumbling isn’t fair, nor is it effective in making them want to dress (buzzword time!) “modestly.” 

Instead of teaching girls that the reason they should dress appropriately is so they “don’t cause their Christian brothers to stumble,” why aren’t we teaching them that the reason they shouldn’t dress like Britney Spears circa 2003 is because they have more value than that? I teach middle school, so I address this issue a lot.  I have said this before on my blog, but I want my students to know and if I ever have daughters, I want them to know that they are so much more than their appearance. I want them to respect themselves enough to dress in a manner that does not put more focus on their physical appearance than the words coming out of their mouthes or their actions.  It’s not about what men think or don’t think, it’s about the way you present yourself as a human being who is worthy of more than being an object of lust and if I can accomplish that and still wear my leggings, then so be it.  

Also. Can we give men some credit?! Good grief, the way some people talk, men are a bunch of drooling idiots walking around making constant pornos in their mind. Not that men don’t struggle with looking at women lustfully, but since there are many of them who manage to be functioning members of society who frequently interact with women, I’m going to venture that this isn’t always the case.  

So what’s the solution to this problem? Confession time: I have no idea.  I have no idea what’s “modest enough” in the same way I don’t know what’s “pure enough.”  Christians can get a smidgen legalistic and the human race as a whole has an intense desire for black and white.  However, as I was discussing with my dear friend (Here’s your shout out, Chew!) the other night, we live in a world of grey and the Bible is a whole lot of grey (except for Jesus, he’s not grey) and Christians tend to hate that, so in an effort to appease our extraordinarily insufficient brains, we make rules.  Dress modestly. Be pure. Whatever.  In college, I was taught about primary issues and secondary issues in terms of Christianity.  The primary issue being Christ and the secondary issues being literally everything else. So with that in mind, let’s stop making a name for ourselves in this world as a group of people who are really interested in mandating a whole bunch of secondary issues and start focusing on the primary issue.  

I Am Not a Princess

I don’t know if you’ve been to Disney World recently, but when you walk in, they greet you by saying “Good Morning Princess!” The last time I went to Disney world I was 25 years old.  This was disconcerting on many levels.  First, I am grown.  I don’t pretend I’m a princess anymore.  Second, what on earth is up with telling all the girls out there that they are princesses too? 

I am the daughter of an American History buff and according to him (as he loves to point out on a very regular basis) and everything I learned about the topic in school, monarchy in America died 238 years ago. I think most of us are pretty pleased about that.  People DIED so that we don’t have to use the terms king, queen, prince and princess anymore. I recognize that this may seem like a silly argument for this cause (although my father would argue that it is not a silly argument at all), because after all, they are just playing make believe.  However, what I am actually concerned about here has little to do with American History and everything to do with the psyche of girls today.  

Growing up, my dad told my sister and I we looked nice (note: not beautiful, not pretty, not like a princess) once a week.  It was on Sunday, before church and it bordered on ritualistic.  I didn’t think a lot about it.  I was not raised to think I was beautiful.  A lot of you are really sad for me right now and are thinking my parents are terrible people. Don’t be.  They aren’t terrible people, in fact, they are great people. I was raised to be more than pretty.  I was raised to be a lot of things: witty, intelligent, independent, self-sufficient, educated, kind, compassionate, God-fearing and Christ centered, to name a few. Not that I live all of those out all the time, but those were the values that were instilled in me.  

Is there a place for feeling pretty and beautiful? Absolutely.  I don’t want little girls going around thinking they’re ugly, that’s no good either. Bullying brought on by appearances is a very real problem.  However, I am concerned about all this princess stuff. I am concerned that we are telling little girls that if they aren’t pretty, by a disney princess definition, then they are not valuable and frankly, that makes me sick to my stomach.  All parents think their daughters are beautiful and that’s good, they should.  But they are telling them that so frequently that little girls are starting to see themselves as beautiful, rather than any number of other positive traits.  Beauty is fleeting.  It doesn’t last forever and I don’t want an entire life to be based on prettiness.  We have more purpose than that.  

My future daughter will probably hate me because I hope I will be much more inclined to call her my little engineer, attorney, doctor, teacher, hair dresser, mother, intellect, Christian, daughter of the most high God, whatever she wants to be that’s actually feasible, rather than calling her my little princess.  Princess is not an attainable goal for our girls. I have been around enough little girls to know that the obsession is real.  I understand that it’s make believe and I love disney world as much as the next person.  I went two years in a row on spring break in college.  For Halloween when I was 4, against the will of my parents, who desperately wanted me to be a Claire-inet (get it?), I insisted on being a princess.  Trust me, I get the appeal.  I like make up and clothes as much as the next girl.  However, by using the term “princess” so frequently, we are encouraging girls pretend that they are something we would never want them to be.  Why would we want our little girls to aspire to be something that they were born into, or married into and didn’t earn? Why can our girls not be satisfied just being who they are? 

I am Claire.  I am a woman, I am a teacher, I am a Christian, I am a friend, I am a daughter and a sister.  I am not a princess.  

We are letting our girls latch on to the notion they deserve material things.  “Being treated like a princess” is a common term that we use and we allow our little girls to think they deserve this. If we are talking about “being treated like a princess” in terms of being respected, having our opinions heard and not being run over by men, then by all means, carry on.  However, I’m afraid our definition of “being treated like a princess” is more concerned with material possessions and an attitude that demands we are given whatever our hearts desire.  I don’t think that’s an attitude anyone wants their daughter to grow up with. Or maybe they do and I guess at that point we have bigger fish to fry.  

There are a number of internet articles out that that discuss how we talk to girls.  This one in particular, I love.  I’m not big on statistics, mostly because I am of the opinion that we can make statistics say whatever we want.  However, in this article she says that 25% of girls would rather win America’s Next Top Model than the Nobel Peace Prize. If this is even remotely true, we have to ask ourselves what on earth we are doing! This is so wrong! 

Women have come so far in the last 75 years in America.  We can go to college, we can participate in whatever career we desire, we can vote, we can make major purchases on our own, we can live independently.  These are really important accomplishments, ones that I am SO grateful for, ones that we should thank God for every day.  However, looking at the way media portrays women, or listening to how men talk about women in songs on the radio, or for that matter, how women talk about themselves on the radio, we take steps backward.  

So is it inherently wrong to call little girls princesses? Probably not.  But, what are we teaching her about who she is? Is calling her a princess going to make her a better person? I’m afraid that we are creating a generation of self-centered, materialistic, beauty-centric (I just made that word up) girls.  It makes me sad.  There is so much potential out there in little girls and I’m afraid we are limiting their potential to their appearances and what they can obtain from men.  

I recognize that I am not an expert on this particular issue.  Facebook reminds me every day that I am not a wife or a mother.  However, I am female.  I am a teacher.  I have worked with girls of all ages on a regular basis for quite a while now.  Long enough to know there’s a problem and long enough to know that if women are ever going to reach their full potential, then we have to drop the princess attitude.  

Blogging for Boundless

I recently had the privilege of writing a guest post for the Boundless blog.  Boundless is the young adult ministry for Focus on the Family.  You can check it out here:

https://community.focusonthefamily.com/b/boundless/archive/2014/08/01/your-turn-tricycles-sidecars-and-the-importance-of-the-third-wheel.aspx

The Single Stigma

The world is built for two people (or four, or six…basically any even number).  If you want evidence of this, go to any restaurant and ask for a table for 5 (uhhh…do you want a chair on the end of a booth?).  Growing up in a family of 5, I am keenly aware that having an odd person can be difficult, which was maybe God’s way of preparing me for the years I am spending as a single young adult. 

The world likes things to be even.  Everyone should have a partner.  If you have been single for any amount of time, it is easy to feel like the proverbial zit on an otherwise smooth complexion (I don’t think that’s actually proverbial…but it sounded cool, so I went with it).  They don’t call it third (or fifth, or seventh…or for me in one terrible case in college, ninth) wheeling for nothing.  You don’t fit and it’s easy to feel like garbage about this because with one swoop of their dinner for two pizza special that you end up eating by yourself, American society has effectively made you feel worthless and that is far from the truth. 

As a Christian raised in the church, at this point I could talk to you about Paul and how he was single (the one anecdote and lesson churches ever have for single people, “See! Being single is so great! Paul loved being single!”  “Are you single?” “Well no… but PAUL was!”), but I’ll be honest…I’m not Paul.  I am not traveling all over the Middle East telling churches how to get it together.  I don’t have a great little disciple named Timothy to follow me around and make it not so weird for me when I want to stop at Cracker Barrel on the road for some hummus and pita (would Paul eat hummus and pita? It’s Mediterranean).  Instead, we are made to feel uncomfortable sitting by ourselves at a table for two, pretending there are a zillion texts and emails to respond to on our phone, because we didn’t feel like going through the drive through for the 900^th time and hiding our single leprosy.

So single people of the world, here is my charge to you.  STOP.  Stop hiding because you are by yourself.  Stop going to the drive through instead of going inside to eat because you feel weird sitting there alone.  Stop not going to see a movie you want to see because you feel weird going to the theater alone.  Stop not doing things you want to do because you don’t have someone to do it with.  Life is too short for that mess.  And for the rest of you non-singles, don’t stare at us, or pity us when we’re out and about by ourselves (you probably actually don’t do this, but in single people’s heads you do). 

I recently decided that I was tired of waiting around for a partner to do fun things with.  I like to travel and as a teacher, I certainly have ample time in which to do it, but I lack a boyfriend/husband/lover and any friends with such an accommodating job.  So as I sat in my apartment on Saturday evening of spring break, I thought… man I would love to be spending the week at the beach, too bad I don’t have anyone to go with.  I started thinking about this.  Why is it necessary for me to have a traveling companion? I’m not going to Syria, I’m going to Florida…a land full of senior citizens.  The reality of the situation was that the only reason I wasn’t going on vacation was because I didn’t have anyone to go with.  So on Saturday night, I found a condo and a flight and I peaced out on Sunday afternoon.  I know I didn’t solve world hunger or figure out how to get America out of debt, but for this single girl, it was extremely liberating.  I don’t have to wait.  My life doesn’t start when I get married! I don’t know why it has taken me so long to come to this conclusion, but man! It feels awesome to have figured that out!

I recently wrote a blog post about sex and how Christian culture perceives it.  I had so many great comments from people and basically you all just made me feel awesome about life and a lot better about the fact that I just told the world (well...not the world, but the 400 people who read it) some very personal details about myself.  Thanks for that!  One of the comments left on my blog was from a girl I used to work with, Kristin, and her words were a HUGE point of clarity for me.  She wrote,

 “So often we feel like we are not living up to our potential when we are single. When scriptures like "2 are better than one" are read at weddings and everyone we know is completing their own, new families. Thank you for reminding me that no matter my circumstance, I have the same purpose as anyone else.” 

Actually, Kristin, thank YOU for teaching me that! There is not a day that has gone by where I have not thought about these words.  I have the same purpose as everyone else.  Sitting alone at Cracker Barrel, booking a condo on the beach for one, going to a movie I really want to see that no one else does…I have the same purpose as everyone else.  So.  Let’s stop the single stigma and just get to doing life the way we were called to do it, because it’s too short not to. 

True Love Waits?

As I’m looking through Facebook, sitting here in my bed alone, single and 26 years old, I come across some pictures of some variety of purity ceremony.  It featured a gaggle of girls wearing pastel dresses, sipping tea in a mansion and all receiving a rose, of which I am sure some variety of metaphor was made about how we are all delicate female flowers or something.  Maybe later that day, their dad’s gave them all rings that said “true love waits.”  I am sure they all also pledged their purity and talked about how they would wait for their husbands, because we wouldn’t want our husbands to have damaged goods when he married us.

Or…Maybe this isn’t the case and I am making gross stereotypes, but if it was anything like the stuff I listened to growing up, I hit the nail on the head.  There is nothing innately wrong with any of this, but let’s be honest…for anyone past the age of 21, the true love waits speech we heard (and heard and heard) in middle and high school isn’t exactly cutting the mustard anymore and I'm not really sure it did before that point either.

Remain pure until you are married.  Okay. Good.  I can do that. My word, I hope I can do that, I mean, my salvation depends on it after all doesn’t it?!  This is the only mandate God ever made! Pure. Pure. Pure!!  Done. Good. Consider my legs crossed. 

Fast forward four years and you’re in the basement alone with your boyfriend.  You’re “watching a movie” which is also known as making out passionately and you’re rounding the proverbial bases at frightening speeds.  It may be in this very moment, when it occurs to you to ask the question, “what does being pure mean, anyway?” At this point, your boyfriends hands are making his way up your shirt, and OH MY GOSH it feels so good, so how am I possibly supposed to stop him, even though there’s this nagging voice in the back of my mind screaming PURITY at me!?  At this point, it is impossible.  IMPOSSIBLE.  It doesn’t matter if you are the Virgin Mary herself, six months pregnant with Jesus. If you have the sex drive of a sugar snap pea, you aren’t stopping him.  You just aren’t. 

It’s not until you are at home that night, probably starting to feel a little guilty, that you start to wonder what exactly they meant by purity all those times they talked about it at church because if we are being honest…no one ever defined it.  They just told us to be pure, which you probably, as I did, took to mean don’t have sex.  Okay…but guys…there are a lot A LOT of things you can do between a peck on the lips and full-blown penetrative sex. I guess that just wasn’t ever covered? Or did I just miss that Sunday? (Doubtful...I did not miss church). 

I remember attending a seminar at some point in high school, where a woman (wearing a white dress…how subtle of her) told us that she viewed all girls as wrapped gifts to be presented to their husbands.  Every time we sinned sexually (keep in mind, this term “sexual sin” was never defined), a piece of our wrapping paper was torn, or the tape was peeled up and this was a tragedy because, “think of how sad your husband will be, to receive an opened gift.” Thinking back on it, I wish I had run up on that stage and punched that woman in the face.  Okay, maybe not.  I’m sure she had wonderful intentions.  BUT.  GIRLS.  You are not, nor will you ever be an opened and torn up gift! You may sin sexually, whatever that may mean, but you are NOT a torn up gift and you are NOT, let me repeat myself, NOT unworthy of ANY man because of your sexual past and you should NEVER let someone tell you that you are.  At the end of the day, we are ALL (male and female) sinners and not one of us is worthy of the grace we are given through Jesus Christ. 

As a singleton, who has spent four years living on my own, dating a few men and having “adult relationships,” (I use that term VERY loosely) I can tell you that the church did not prepare me for this phase of my life in more ways than one, but specifically in the area of “sexual purity.”  They work on the assumption that everyone is getting married, and more specifically, they work under the assumption that everyone is getting married pretty young, specifically if you are a girl.  This is, of course, grossly inaccurate. 

As Christian females, there is the constant notion that we must be pleasing to the men in our lives.  We must be good girls, good daughters and ultimately good wives.  Where does it leave you when you are no longer living with your parents, you are a full-blown adult and have no one to please?  Lost.  That’s where that leaves you.  Confused, and mad and lost.  At this point, you have spent your entire life living up to the standard of you father, or working toward getting a guy to like enough to marry you, so you can be his “perfect gift.” When that doesn’t exist anymore it leaves you totally and utterly wayward because you’ve always had the notion that you would leave your father and fill the role (in a non-creepy way) with your husband because that is what you’ve been taught.  I can tell you that when that doesn’t happen in a timely (or what you deem to be timely) manner, it can leave you very forlorn and whats more, VERY bitter. 

Girls.  It is time that we stop placing our worth and our importance in men.  We struggle with this because the Bible calls for men to lead women, both in the church and in the home and that is fine and good. However, in reality, there is a very real possibility that one day, you will find yourself no longer under the leadership of any human man.  At this point you cannot depend on men to lead; instead you are going to have to start depending on God to lead you and you are going to have to take responsibility for your relationship with Jesus Christ. 

BUT this is not an easy task! Why? Because at this point, we are mad!  We are mad we're 26-year old-virgins, we are tired of being made a spectacle of at the doctors office when you get a PAP smear (“What form of contraception do you use?” “Um. Abstinence?” “WHAT??!! WOOWWW!!! REALLY???”) and we want to have sex.  BADLY.  And heaven knows every opportunity you never had in high school is there.  You don’t have to make out in the back seat of your car…you can do it right there on your couch, or even in your bed, because there is no one there to stop you. You will probably mess up and you will probably mess up a lot, because waiting is HARD!  BUT GIRLS! LISTEN TO ME! Your worth is not found here! Your worth is not in your virginity, or lack of virginity.  Your worth is in Christ. Period.

Do not read my words incorrectly.  I am not telling you to go have sex: vaginal, oral or manual. Heck, I am not even telling you it is okay to participate in “heavy petting,” as my grandmother once called it.  The reality of the situation is that the Bible doesn’t give us specific guidelines as to what is and is not acceptable.  It simply says to abstain from sexual immorality and that there should be one husband for every wife.  The very real and sometimes hard to swallow truth is that the Bible doesn’t have a lot of guidelines specific to 26-year-old single Christian girls.  However, it does have a lot to say to Christians: married, single, divorced, widowed, whatever.  Things like “Go therefore and make disciples of every nation, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” (Matthew 28:19).  Crazy how that verse, widely deemed to be one of the most foundational in the New Testament, never once mentions sex. Ladies, your worth is not found in your ability to abstain from sex until marriage, just like it is not found in the amount of money you give, or the works that you do.  Your worth is found in Christ.  It always has and it always will, whether or not your prince charming comes along.

On Losing My Wisdom

I recognize this has been a long hiatus.  Graduate school will do that to one's free time for writing fun things.  

I have always had what I consider to be practical teeth.  I know they aren't the kind of teeth that will win me Miss America (this was the first indicator to me at the age of 12 that I would never be Miss America.  Not the swimsuit competition and their stick thin frames, or their hair that quadrupled my amount of hair... it was their gummy smiles and large teeth.  Whatever.  As long as I knew that wasn't a reality and decided a college education would be necessary in my life).  They aren't particularly cavity prone and although my dental hygienist once described them as having "a certain roughness" about them, we have generally been on good terms.  I never had to have braces, I've never had a tooth pulled, nothing.  Until Friday.

I'm going to be honest.  I am ticked off at evolution on this one.  FOR THE LOVE.  Obviously humans don't need these things anymore, and I'm sure one day they will stop existing.  I have friends who had no wisdom teeth, or only half of their wisdom teeth (as in two, not halves of each of the four, that would be gross) and I find it ridiculous that I have all four and all in compromising positions.  EVOLUTION. What the heck?? I have defended you to my people all this time...and THIS IS WHAT YOU LEAVE ME WITH?  We are on rocky terms my darwinian friend. Rocky, rocky terms.  

Regardless, on Friday, I will forgo my usual schedule of yelling at seventh graders to stop touching each other, starve and dehydrate myself for 8 hours, fall into a deep sleep and wake up in what I am told is agonizing pain and misery.  And cheeks that are reminiscent of Alvin and the gang, this is an important one not to forget.  

I will be honest, I am not afraid of my teeth hurting.  I consider myself pretty tough in these regards (my mother would probably tell you otherwise).  Mostly I am concerned about the anesthesia talk I am going to regale my father with on the way home.  Not that I have anything to hide, but what if I start talking about something weird, or pull a David after dentist.  My students have requested a video.  I have politely refused.  (Polite? Who am I kidding.  There is no polite with middle schoolers, it doesn't exist).  My other concern is the theory I developed at 14 when I decided that probably everyone was alert during surgery, but they just don't remember it when they wake up.  

Ah well, I probably should have had them taken out when I was 18 like a normal person, but no.  I had to wait until I was 25 and "have tingling in my jaw and mouth for up to 8 weeks" according to my chipper optimistic oral surgeon, because "since you are an adult, your roots have fully formed." Oh good.  

This should be fun.  

Goodbye to a Good Friend

Hey friends! It has been forever.  Again, I know.  Sorry.  I swear, it's just because my kids this year just aren't as funny as before and I don't want to bore you.

However, I have had a major life change and I thought you all should know about it...

Part of my identity has been ripped away in the form of a certain bright blue eyesore who didn't so much like moving down the road anymore.

It's true.  I traded in The Whale/The Bubble/The Barbie Car/The whateverothernicknameyoucalledit and got a new car,  which has all the nice things that I'm not used to...like a radio.  (see here)

I won't lie to you, it was a very emotional experience.  I might have shed a tear.  When I step back to think about it, that car has seen me through a lot! I've driven it since I was a senior in high school.  It has seen 4 different boyfriends.  It has also seen 4 different boyfriends who all hated it with equal gusto, not to mention every other male who ever saw it.    It was not a very manly car.  It was the taxi for all my friends in high school and college because somehow I always ended up driving.  It saw me through some great times, and it saw me through some really sad times.  It also saw me through some really mad times when she wasn't behaving like she should.

She drove me to my first day of my senior year of high school, my first day of college, my first job real job interview and the first day of my teaching career. She watched me cry all the way home from my college graduation. She got me home safely when I had to drive home suddenly from Michigan because my grandmother had passed away.

I ran her into a bush, smacked her into a brick wall and parked her so badly that people have commented on more than one occasion.  But she didn't care, she wasn't a judger.

So here's to you UK blue 2003 Suzuki Aerio.  I consider you the essence of my adolescence and your trade in (and let's be honest...they gave me WAY more money than they should have for you) marks it's end and my retreat into the land of an old lady who owns a cat.  You were the best.  I will not soon forget our time together.

The Musician Post

So, in addition to teaching science, I have been commissioned to teach a Piano class this year as a part of a heyletsexpandourartsprogramsoourstatescoresarebetter initiative.  Cool.  I'm game. It's a ton of fun.  I may have arranged Call Me Maybe for 13 keyboards.  I may also call it my opus.  It's whatever, but you should probably be impressed.

However, every twelve weeks, I start over with a new group of kids.  So this trimester as a way of getting to know the kids and getting a grasp on what they know musically and what they don't, I gave them a little questionnaire to fill out.  Here is one response.

Do you, or have you ever, played a musical instrument?
Yes. In fifth grade I played cassettes.

If I recall correctly from my experience with the Macarena on tape, it is pretty difficult to get those bad boys to play the song you want, especially if it's in the middle of the tape. You can't rewind or fast forward too far or you will miss part of your song, and if that song is the macarena, it could totally throw off your entire routine, you might be facing the total wrong direction on the hahhhiitttee .  She's a real musician.    

The Nerdy Kid Post

So I didn't fully embrace my full nerdom until well into college.  I always figured I was a little out there, but I mostly kept it under wraps.  Did I love LOVE all the comic book movies that came out when i was in high school? Yes.  But the fact that I dreamed about having their powers, I kept to myself.  Was I in marching band? Well, Yes. But to this day, I SWEAR it was a cool thing to do at my high school.  Did I always have a maybe slightly unhealthy obsession with Jeopardy. Yeah, okay.  But again, under wraps.

So I guess for most of my life, I could be referred to as a closeted nerd.

However, now the cat is out of the bag and I live my life in full Jeopardy watching, comic book reading, documentary viewing, Settlers of Catan loving, I almost bought a periodic table shower curtain, science teacher, holynerdwad glory.  For the love, at this very moment I am wearing a t-shirt that says I heart science.  Except there's a real heart there that's in the shape of an atom.  True Story.

Anyway, it is because of this that the real nerdy kids tend to be my posse.  Every teacher has a niche of kids that they really like.  Some teachers really like athletes and others are good with girls.  I however have found my niche among the very nerdy boys.  The ones who typically have B.O. and really don't talk about anything but video games and typically wear really funny shirts that have very advanced humor on them (or say Bazinga).  That's my crew.  I mean, seriously, I'm the academic team coach, it was bound to happen.

So I have this student who is obsessed with riddles.  He literally tells me a riddle every day before class starts.  I never get them right and always have to give up, but it's a good time.  He must seriously spend his life reading riddles, because he can just spew a riddle any time, any where, for any given amount of time.

Yesterday we were driving back from an academic match and it is late.  I'm tired, the kids are tired, but they are keeping themselves entertained.  The Riddler is coming off a second place Math finish (actually, he was pretty furious about that, he is only okay with first place, he was okay after we talked about how second place is good) at the match AND a free medium fry at McDonalds, so suffice to say his spirits were high.  So he's throwing riddles out like his life depends on it.  Then I hear this conversation go down.

Riddler: Hey guys, I got one.  It's more of a joke, but it's pretty good.
Kids: Okay, sure.
Riddler: What do the Cleveland Browns do when they score a touchdown?
Kids: Ummm... We don't know.
Riddler: They turn off the XBox and go to bed.

I die laughing.  This is a funny joke.  Good one, Riddler.  Then I hear this.

Riddler: And guys! The great thing about that joke?
Kids: What?
Riddler: I hate sports, but everyone else thinks it's funny and you can cater it to the audience based on your region!

I about peed my pants.  What 14 year old thinks of these things?

The Bad Geography Post

Maybe I take for granted the fact that all my sister wanted for her sixth birthday was a globe and we played with it non-stop as kids, but seriously, the geography of today's youth is astounding. 

Today we were giving presentations and this occurred: 

Student: Karl Landsomething...wait, how do you say his name? 

Me: Karl Landsteiner. 

Student: Yeah. Him. Anyway, Karl was from Virginia, Australia. 

Me: Um. Wait a second, I highly doubt that. 

Student: Yeah. That's what it says. 

Me: Try Vienna, Austria. 

Student: What? Where the heck is that? 

Me: It's in Europe

Other Student: Wait. I thought Australia was in a different state than Europe. 

Me: What? Europe is not a state! 

Other Student: What? Yes it is. 

Me: Negative, it's a continent. Those are two different places.  There is the country of Austria and the continent/country of Australia.  Vienna is in Austria. It's close to Germany. 

All Students: WHAT?? No. Those are the same. 

Oh well. You win some, you lose some. 

The Illunderstood Ring Post

I'm finally getting to a point where my students are fun to talk to.  I like to know about their lives and hear their funny comments. It's really why I'm a teacher.  Oh. And that part about inspiring young minds and molding the future generations.  That too.

Background Information: I recently started wearing a ring of my Grandmothers on my right hand.  It is silver and small and involves no diamonds.

So today we have a conversation that goes like this: 

Student 1: Um. Ms. Kinney.  Have you ever had a boyfriend? 

Me: I'm 25 years old.  Logic would dictate that yes, I have had a boyfriend. (Wrong answer.  I forgot about my relationship with my science book...I wasn't thinking on my feet. Teacher fail.) 

Student 1: Then why aren't you married? 

Me: Well, As you will find out in the future, not all boyfriends are worth marrying.  

Student 1: Oh. Well. Everyone's saying you're engaged, so I was just wondering. 

Me: WHAT?? Who said that? Why would they think that? 

Student 2: Yeah. That was me.  I just noticed you got a new ring, so I assumed it was an engagement ring.  

Me: No.  A flat ring on your right hand is NOT an engagement ring.  

I had a similar conversation with two other classes.  Apparently I have been one hot topic of conversation among the 13-14 crowd in Bourbon County.  I like.  

The Treasure Chest Post

So. I had a bad teacher moment this morning when I realized that I forgot to get the candy I promised the kids as a reward if they got all their homework problems right.  Oops.

My solution.  I found my school pictures from last year sitting in my desk drawer.  I whipped out a sharpie and signed them like the rock star that I am.

That's right.  I gave my students autographed pictures of myself as a reward.

I consider it one of my finer moments as a teacher.

I am starting a treasure chest with more useful items in it, such as band aids, nickels, dead batteries and paper clips.

I think the kids liked it more than candy.

Probably not.

Oh well. They're stuck with me whether they like my antics or not.

At least I think I'm funny.

The Bruce Willis Post

Yeah, I know. It's been forever. Don't hate me too much.

But this is hilarious.

School started today.  Nothing particularly noteworthy, except for the girl who found it necessary to tell us that she had a special gift.  The gift of seeing dead things.  She said if we ever caught her staring into space, to just ask for her attention, because she probably just got distracted by the dead things.  She says there is someone else in the school who has this gift as well, but she doesn't know who.  Tomorrow I plan to reveal my secret to her.  

Here's to a new school year everyone!

Peace, Love and The Sixth Sense,
Claire

Bloglovin

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

The Boo Yah Post

Now. I'm not normally one to blog about my relationships.  Mostly because there are about three people in the world I tell that kind of stuff too, so you can imagine that I'm not big on displaying my personal life for the world to see, although sometimes I wish I did...because it can get pretty hilarious.   However, you can know that I have a mildly dramatic dating history, which began when I was about 17 and really hasn't relented since then.

So. When I was 17 and dating my high school boyfriend, high school sweet heart or whatever other stupid name people have for those people you date for your junior and senior year of high school, I gave said boyfriend a birthday gift.  Now.  Gift buying for a significant other can be very complicated, as I am sure many of you are aware.  This is especially true when you are in high school and your communication skills aren't great (heck...mine still aren't great) and you don't know how much to spend, or what to get and you sit and worry three months prior to their birthday that they are going to hate what you bought them.  (Oh..that's just me? Well. I guess consider me a basket case of gift giving).  Not having any idea what to get him, a friend of mine told me that his backpack had seen better days (AKA it was duct taped together) and suggested that I get him that. I think, sweet, okay, better than the random DVD I had previously thought about.  So I give him a new backpack, he says he likes it, we move on, whatever.

Flash forward a year, I'm getting ready to leave for college and have just had an enlightening trip to Europe, and we are in the long and dramatic process of breaking up that shows like Dawson's Creek and One Tree Hill dictate we go through in a manner more ridiculous that necessary.  We are having multiple conversations about all the things we hate about each other.  Really nice stuff.  If you've never heard your boyfriend list all the things he doesn't like about you...you should try it some time...it's delightful.  So in this process, he brings up the fact that he did not like the backpack I got him for his birthday.  He thought it was lame and unthoughtful or something along those lines...I don't really remember, I've tried to block it out.  I am obviously hurt, so I'm sure I retaliated by saying something mean about him and we proceeded on in the essentially year long process that it really takes to truly break these things off (oh wait...that's just me too? Crap.)  Today I sat and figured it out.  I gave him that backpack in 2005.  It is currently 2012.  Seven years, my friends.

Today I get a facebook message, from someone I hadn't spoken to in about four years.  If you guessed that it was my boyfriend from high school.  YOU WIN.  The message read:

Hey. Just wanted to let you know I still use that backpack you got me forever ago.  I know I hated on it at the time, but it's worked out well. So ummm. Good job. 

Say it with me everyone! 

BOO YAH! 

Just call me Claire Kinney: Champion Gift Giver. 

To Those Of You Who Think I'm Crazy for Loving 8th Graders.

I have no antics for you today.  I'm not feeling much like laughing at my kids, I more feel like hugging them...which is rare, because usually they smell.

Recently, I lost my sweet Grandmother after a long time of being very sick. It was a terrible experience and I will miss her for the rest of my life, but some encouraging things always come of the bad things. One of which was the sweetest note from one of my students today, my first day back after being gone for a few days attending the funeral. This is how it read: 

Dear Ms. Kinney, 

I know this isn't much, or a real fancy card, but I wanted you to know I care. I remember when I lost my grandmother, it was very hard because I loved her dearly.  I know you will get through this with lots of prayer and God.  Think of it like this: If she was going through any pain, she isn't anymore. (How she knew this...I will never know)  Be strong, and I'm with you.  She's watching over you happily and I'm sure she loved you very much.  Have a blessed day. 

Love Always, 

Student

It's amazing how God can use the people I'm supposed to be setting an example for, and the ones that typically give me a headache, to comfort me during my hard times.

Now. I dare you to turn your nose up at me when I tell you I teach 8th grade.  My kiddos do have a soul sometimes, and a very sweet one at that.  

The Journal Entry Post

I am seriously obsessed with having my kids write journal entries.  It's maybe the best thing ever. The sweet and nurturing teacher in me says it's great because I can find out a lot about them and their hearts.  The person who always needs a laugh in me says it's great because it's hilarious. More so the latter.

Journal Prompt:
What are you doing over spring break?

Over spring break, I will have to go shopping.  I know it sounds kind of girlish, but I gotta get a tux for the dance. (Yes. 8th grade dance is that big of a deal.  tuxes...limos...we know no bounds) I'll play a lot of basketball and I'll watch it too on t.v. Although it's really not interesting anymore since the best team alive, North Carolina, is out. (Dern straight they're out. I used to really like this kid...now I'm rethinking it...) I might play some paintball, but I'll also be texting a lot.  You know, when you don't see your girlfriend for a long time, they get mad if you don't text them. (Poor guy...so young and so whipped). But it's okay, I like texting her. (I get really curious as to how involved these texts get sometimes...I mean...it's so arbitrary...We're texting...ABOUT WHAT???)  If I still have time, I might get Other Student to come over and ride 4-wheelers.

I think this adequately sums up the life of a middle school boy.  Basketball. Texting. Girls. 4-Wheelers.

Quite a life to lead.

The Plague Part II

I've taken a while to post this great story, and I'm not sure why...because it's a good one.  If you are a frequent blog reader, you know that back in October I had the plague.  You can read about it here.

I don't know how I did it, but somehow I avoided all illness save a tiny sinus infection last year.  This year is a different case.  Maybe these kids are just more germy or more touchy than last years kids, but I feel like I have been in a constant state of sick since mid October.  So after my last experience at the walk in clinic, I swore up and down I would never go back.  BUT. Then I got sick on a Sunday and there were rumors of strep throat going around and there really wasn't another option.  So back to the land of people who accuse me of being pregnant I went.  After all, I thought, what are the odds of me getting the same doctor? Those places have like 20 doctors on staff at random times.

WRONG.  After having my vitals taken and waiting in the room for like a small century, in walks none other than everyone's favorite shockingfasttalkerforanenglishlanguagelearner doctor, talking a mile a minute and being demeaning as usual.  The visit went fine.  He only asked me if I was pregnant once, which is a huge step up from the three times he asked me last time.  He figured out my illness pretty quickly, but also determined that I have allergies. Sure. Fine. Whatever.  He also determined I needed nasal spray. Okay. Great. Sure. Then this conversation ensued.

Doctor Crazy Pants: HOW YOU USE NASAL SPRAY!?
Me: Um. I don't know. Normally.
DCP: NO! YOU DO STRAIGHT OR TO SIDE?!
Me: I don't know.
DCP: PICK ONE!!!! STRAIGHT UP OR TO SIDE?!
Me: (I'm getting a little panicey here...I haven't been yelled at since I was pulled over for speeding my freshman year of college, and that ended with me in tears) I don't know!! Straight. Straight!
DCP: WRONG!!!!!!!! That okay. You aren't only one. You must spray to side. That where sinuses are.

Then DCP proceeds to put his ink pen up his nose (like not just a little...all the way) and demonstrates which way to point the nasal spray.  He even used the clicker on his pen as a pretended sprayer.

I was far too sick and tired to control my reactions.  So I laughed in his face.  Oops.

Oh well.  I guess that's just how the cookie crumbles sometimes.  I would say I won't go back there...but at this point...it's just getting pretty entertaining.  Maybe I'll even start requesting DCP.

In other news. It is abstinence week, which means I don't teach. Which further means my pinterest has greatly benefited.  I'm working on a little write up for you all concerning the awesome questions and comments these little delights are making.  I'll warn you ahead of time...these kids aren't as entertaining as last year, but they all still have that ohmygoshthisistheworstthingever look on their faces.  They also stare at their hands a lot.

The Valentine's Day 2012 Post

With the exception of abstinence training (coming up people...2 weeks), Valentine's day may be my favorite day in the school year.  The kids are a flutter with love and teddy bears and flowers and chocolate and generally everything terrible, that looks like valentine's day, that you can buy from the gas station. 

Because I needed a laugh, today I gave my kids the following journal prompt:

Valentine's Day. Love? Hate? What was your best Valentine's day ever?

Here are some of the most outstanding responses.  Keep in mind, I'm typing them exactly as they are written, so don't judge me for using bad grammar or spelling. Please note the drastic differences between girls and boys.

Girl 1:
Valentine's day is great.  I absolutley love it.  Every year I always enjoy Valentine's day, but my favorite Valentine's day was in sixth grade.  I had a boyfriend on Valentine's day and got a Valentine's gift from him.  I got a teddy bear and a note that had a poem on it and a letter to me.  I remember stuffing the bear in my bag because I was afraid my dad would see it.

Girl 2:
My best Valentine's day, hopefully, will be this year.  One reason why is because someone asked me to be their Valentine.  (Side note: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? do you get no love from the person except on Valentine's Day??) I think Valentine's day is okay.  I used to dread it.  All it is, is drama.  Why is it so hard to say, "Happy Valentine's Day," give someone a card or just say that you like them.  It's a day of love.  If you don't have anybody, hug your dog cause he or she loves you.

Boy 1:
I really don't care much for Valentine's day because if you are in a relationship, you got to go and buy your girlfriend something.  So it's expensive and a waste of money in my opinion.  But my best Valentine's day was when I was in elementary school when I could care less if someone got me anything or not.  Typically, I would get rid of my women around holidays because it is too expensive.  Now I just tell them I'm not getting them anything, so they don't have to get me anything.  So it's a win win for both sides.

Boy 2:
I have mixed feelings about Valintine's Day.  It's great for couples, but it reminds people who have no one, such as 40 year olds that still live with their mothers, or 30 year olds that still read comics (umm. guilty, except I'm not 30. So, acceptable?), how lonely they are.  Valintine's day also burns a whole in your pocket.  Money just seems to disapper.  Women always want expensive chocolate.  Then when you finally save your money up and buy it its gone in a minute.  Valintine's day is a day of love or humiliation.  Single people such as cat ladies or people who do math for fun become the laughing stock of the day.  (this seems a bit dramatic...but we'll go with it).  On the bright side is women get all the candy they ever need.  Also women are usually in a good mood.  This is good for the guys.  One day of peace and quit from a woman is like a miracle from Jesus. 

This is why journal writing is the best thing that ever happened to my homeroom class. 

Well. A Happy Valentine's Day to each of you.  May your day be filled with love and at the very least, a sugar high.