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mardi 21 avril 2009

HUH ?

Something has been bugging me lately.
Not in the sense of annoying but has go me thinking alot.
Let me explain.
I get this comment at least once a month, sometimes once a week and every time I get this comment, the same question arises ?
Huh ?
My perplexed facial expression usually accompanies it.
I get it from my Sec.2 kids but mostly from my Sec.4`s and lately from my Sec.3`s whom I don`t teach before next August.
Here`s what they say in general :
" We like you teaching us, you`re like a mom. "
Huh ?
And honestly, I am happy to hear it, pleased with the compliment, flattered by the honesty, it`s simply the sweetest thing to hear from your students, but I don`t understand it.
Am I a teacher, a mom or teacher-mom to my kids, I mean, my students ?
Do I mother-hen them too much ?
Is it because I treat them like they are my kids when they are in my class ?
Guilty.
Should I stop ?
Well, to be brutally honest, I couldn`t even if my life depended on it.
I`ve always taught that way.
Is it because I was an elementary teacher at the very beginning of my career ?
Probably.
But then again, I don`t treat my students like elementary students.
But what if I do ?
The students always tell me this because they appreciate and enjoy the mothering but the question is : WHAT MOTHERING ?!
I really do not have the impression I mother my students.
So I give them caramel once in a while.
Other teachers do different but very similar gestures also.
I didn`t reinvent the wheel here.
So what is it the " mothering " thing.
Thing I have always wanted to stay away from to the point of not wanting any kids of my own ( I`m so glad I changed my mind concerning that issue ).
Do I enjoy being told this by one of my students : Yes siree Bob !
Do I get it ?
No.
But then , why fix something that isn`t broken or overanalyze something that is quite simple ?
Some things are just better left unsaid.
On that, mom is going to get dinner ready without burning it and the house down.
Wish me luck .
No rest for the wicked.
Tata,
Annie

dimanche 19 avril 2009

HIGH DEFINITION / HIGH QUALITY TIME= JOY

At my age, you question lots of stuff in your life, your choices, your status, your profession, your life.
I call it the SECOND teenage years. You reflect on major choices you made in the past before making new ones .
I`ve been doing that a lot in the last few monthS.
You don`t take B.S as much ( like I EVER did ) and you appreciate the important things more( my favorite hobby ).
And lately, I must admit that being my age is quite refreshing and a plus. Well except for the mechanics which remind you just how old you really are: more make-up, more hair colouring, your kids like to remind you....
I had the privilege of taking some serious family time with my kids and husband lately and am having one heck of a good time.
I feel darn lucky and blessed.
If I could stop time, I would stop it right now.
What did I do to deserve all these blessings ? I don`t know.
I do know I appreciate and savour every second.
These perfect moments and happy life are the result of many choices I did many years ago and I realize: Wow, I was very smart to make such great choices.It `s not always easy but then it`d be a dull life now wouldn`t it ?
I`ve also been blessed with the capacity of wanting what I already have and not what I don`t and can`t have . I believe it`s a Frohlich thing.
When I first was married, Pierre and I had nothing but huge student loans, and part-time jobs and we were very happy.
20 years ,a husband, 2 kids,a dog, a house, 2 cars and lots of material stuff later, we are still very happy.
Bottom line: stuff doesn`t make you happy. You do. You relationships you have with others do.
I am not the stuff I own, I am not my job, I am not just a mom and wife.I am the sum of all that.
I am more.
With that, here`s one of my favorite poem by a great poet who`s still very alive and kicking : Maya Angelou.
It`s all about INNER beauty, we all have it .

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Rock till you drop people,
Annie