Weekends

Everyone goes through the week counting down the days towards the weekend; looking forward to some time to get away and relax; get away from the hustle and the bustle of the activities that need to be fulfilled at work, at school and even at home. However, some weekends are filled with so many events, that you need a weekend to relax from the weekend. Then again there are some weekends that are just so boring because there is nowhere to go or no one to go out with.

Personally, I enjoy my weekends because it gives me an opportunity to meet up with family and friends whom I seldom see or talk to during the week. It also gives me a break from every day duties. On weekends I go out for lunch, go to the movies, talk walks, travel, read, write, go to plays, go to church and also it would be cruel to leave out the mall or the supermarket. (Nonetheless, I do enjoy going to the supermarket much more than the mall).

Although the weekend activities might seem the same, there are always different people along with me on these outings, which make them unique.

It has taken me quite a while to learn that, as a teacher, I should try to do all my corrections and lesson planning during the week and leave the weekends free to recharge my energy. Nonetheless, there are periods in which, some work needs to be done. Then it is stress galore.

(Written: October 21, 2013)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Being a Teacher

Being a teacher for over thirty years has taught me a lot. I have learned that I probably learn much more than I teach. My students keep me up to date on what is going on in their world, like in arts, sports, music and fashion. They also bring along their language. Not to mention gestures and other forms of acting and reacting in certain situations. More and more I learn about myself and reflect on the changes I need to make in order to become a better person. Mind you , when I walk into a classroom at the beginning of a new school year, I still get those butterflies as I did the very first time I stepped up in front of a class.

Being a teacher to me is a way to transmit to others what I know, in this case, the English Language and Literature. Nonetheless, there is no way in leaving out values and examples. Respect is one of my main words.  I respect my students and fellow co-workers and am respected by them. Perhaps not all students like my classes, but I know that I do my very best to make them feel at ease in using the foreign language.

        Today, October 15, is the date in which is named Teacher´s Day here in Brazil. Thanks to technology, I ´ve received many messages from former students, present students, family members and friends wishing me a great day and thanking me for how I´ve changed their lives.

        Gratitude is the feeling that fills my heart. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn each and every day. And I AM the one who thanks YOU for allowing me to be part of your lives.

Here is a poem written by Taylor Mali, which pretty much summarizes how I feel about a job I am so very proud of and couldn´t imagine doing anything else.

What Teachers Make
by Taylor Mali

He says the problem with teachers is
What’s a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life
was to become a teacher?
He reminds the other dinner guests that it’s true
what they say about teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.
I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the dinner guests
that it’s also true what they say about lawyers.
Because we’re eating, after all, and this is polite conversation.

I mean, you’re a teacher, Taylor.
Be honest. What do you make?

And I wish he hadn’t done that— asked me to be honest—
because, you see, I have this policy about honesty and ass-­‐kicking:
if you ask for it, then I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honor
and an A-­‐ feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time
with anything less than your very best.
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won’t I let you go to the bathroom?
Because you’re bored.
And you don’t really have to go to the bathroom, do you?
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
Hi. This is Mr. Mali. I hope I haven’t called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something your son said today.
To the biggest bully in the grade, he said,
“Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don’t you?
It’s no big deal.”
And that was noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.

You want to know what I make? I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write.
I make them read, read, read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math
and hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you’ve got this,
then you follow this,
and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this.

Here, let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
Teachers make a goddamn difference! Now what about you?

Mali. Taylor. “What Teachers Make.” What Learning Leaves. Newtown, CT: Hanover Press, 2002. Print. (ISBN: 1-­‐887012-­‐17-­‐6)

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( Written October 15, 2013)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Waiting for a Bus

She was waiting for a bus at the rather crowded bus stop. It was drizzling and she kept dry under the shelter provided by the bakery. She looked anxiously to see whether the bus was coming up the road. Nothing. She sighed. Out of nowhere an older man dressed in rags came up to her.

“Do you have any change to spare? I haven’t eaten all day and would like to buy some bread.” He begged.

“I am afraid I do not.”

“That is a mighty large purse hanging from your shoulder. Are you sure they are no coins lying around at the bottom.” He insisted.

Aware that if she didn’t give him at least a coin, he wouldn’t stop bothering her. So, she opened her bag and took out a two Real bill.

“Here you are. It is more than enough for bread and you can even ask for some coffee.”

“Thank you so much. I am truly grateful. God bless you.”

He was supposed to walk away, but he just stood there staring at her. She looked away and started praying for her bus to arrive.

“You know. I have been here all day. Not one single person helped me. But I knew you would.”

She just ignored him.

“Can I give you a kiss?”

She was starting to get scared. She consented by nodding her head slowly. But her gut hurt her.

Not only did he give her a kiss on her left cheek, he also tried to hug her. Suddenly she realized what he was trying to do and broke away from his grip. He smiled and walked away. Only then did she notice that she hadn’t closed her purse and he was heading for her wallet. No one. Not one single person at the bus stop helped her.

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(Written October 4, 2013)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.