Catholic Guilt, Anyone?

A week or so ago, I discovered that when I sub for a teacher (that time, the 7th grade/history teacher), I feel guilty for not being able to perform my own roles in the school. Today, that teacher was out again. I discovered that I feel guilty for not subbing. Go figure.

Support for My Thoughts

Not too long ago, in the general scheme of things, I posted some ruminations about the Blessed Mother, specifically with regards to her Magnificat. Today, I found support for my amateur musings at Busted Halo and wanted to share.

Happy Teacher Moments

They actually do occur every now and again. Here are three, because three happened this week, and three is a good number when you're writing.

1) I saw progress in my religion class! Not only are the vast majority of the students turning in the vast majority of their work, but they are starting to pick up on how to do things! It doesn't hurt that I have figured out the type of work that goes over best with this group. However, I will not stop insisting upon not using the exact words in the book. As recently as December, this novelty threw them off, so that they could not complete simple, fill-in-the-blank worksheets if I did not take sentences directly from the chapter. Thursday I handed them another fill-in-the-blank that did not even go in the same order as the information on the page. And no one missed more than two questions!

2) During lunch, one of my bright boys came up to me and asked, "Ms. Z, what's that thing where you use 'ain't' and 'y'all' and it's okay because people talk like that?" Reaching back through several conversations I've had with him about "ain't" and "y'all," I remembered : "Dialect." One of my students remembered something I talked about in a class that isn't reinforced or graded!

3) Ana and I had a good chat with one of the most emotionally mature 8th graders. Sometimes she does not fit in because of this, and we talked to her about being at this school. The idea of her meeting new people next year gives me great hope.

Thank You, Loyal Readers

Thank you, loyal readers and devoted friends, for helping me reach 7 comments on my race and Obama post. You guys rock my world!

That Pesky Little Question

George Clooney opened the Hope for Haiti Now telathon/benefit concert by telling his viewers that the one question on everyone's mind was "Why?"

I agreed. I have been asking myself that, especially as a second earthquake shook the debris of the first.

George Clooney carried on, "Haiti was poor before. Why should we help now? Why should we think that we might be able to make a difference?" The question underneath : Why is Haiti a good investment?

Wait. What? That was not the one question on my mind. That was not the question I expected to come out of his mouth. I expected to hear, "Why is this happening?" That's what my why asks. "Why, God, did you allow this to happen to your people? Why did you give so much sorrow to people who had so little?"

And underneath : Why didn't you stop it? What did they do to deserve it? How can anyone deserve something like that? Why didn't you spare the children? Why don't you stop the pain? How is it fair that the poorest country in our part of the world has so much need? How is it fair that the most vulnerable are the most hurt? Why do you let the poor become victims? Why do you let the young become victims? What can I do? How can I stop it? How can I keep my heart from breaking inside of me? If my heart hurts, how much more must hearts be hurting closer and closer to the damage? Is your heart hurting, God? My God, my God, why have you forsaken them?

Ra-Ra-Ah-Ah-Ah

Today during study hall, one of the girls was casually singing as she played a game on a friend's iPod. She had finished her language homework, so I didn't mind the game, but the words that came out of her mouth caused me to glance up sharply at her. "I want your ugly, I want your disease..."

She saw the expression on my face.

"It's not that kind of disease, Ms. Z! It's Lady Gaga," she explained.

Since I couldn't quote the entire song at her and am not sure I want to micro-analyze it with an 8th grader, I gave her my "I don't believe you" look and told her that Lady Gaga is creepy. If you're curious, here's the song she was singing.

I know there is truth to the idea that what surrounds you becomes a part of you. I miss the days of Michael Bluble, Sarah Bareilles, the Dixie Chicks, and Disney. Most of the time, I try to avoid hearing the music my students listen to, because it will end up as disturbing as Lady Gaga.

The question of the day is : What did she think the Lady Gaga song was about? I strongly want to know and strongly do not want to know. I don't know which would be worse -- that she has no idea and is singing the song anyway, or that she knows exactly what is coming out of her mouth.

And, just for the record, Lady Gaga is creepy. Have you listened to the lyrics of "Paparazzi"?