The 5 a.m. Wake Up Call Begins

Tomorrow I begin my 24th year as an art teacher. I’m by all definitions and experiences considered a “Master Teacher”. I am not new to this rodeo. I know the drill and with the rare exception I will know all of my students this upcoming year. Yet, just as every year before I’m nervous, excited and a bit afraid I’ll oversleep.

I worry about the upcoming school year. Will it be a good year, like the last few? Every year, every class, has it challenges, and I can hope that I can smooth those over and create a safe environment that my students can feel they can take risks. I know I have reached many students and fostered a lasting connection with many of them. That’s evident when they come to spend their downtime in my classroom, working on their art or just hanging and talking. My heart hurts when I think of those who passed by my room who were not so fortunate.

I look forward not only seeing my students but my colleagues as well. We have a lot of fun and our staff lounge is of a place of laughter, pranks and jokers rather than a gossip chamber. I’ve made such good friends and I’m going to miss those who are retiring something fierce. If I’m being honest, I’m already a bit sad about saying goodbye.

So tomorrow I’ll wake up just a little after 5am, drink my tea and attempt to center my thoughts before I begin the routine of getting ready for my day. I’ll walk into the building with a smile and brave the new year and whatever it brings.

Song of the Week #2

This week has been insanely busy. It’s also been one full of emotion. My Uncle’s Celebration of Life was yesterday. While it was lovely to see my extended family again I hate meeting under these circumstances yet again.

So without much surprise I’ve had some problems falling and staying asleep as my brain would not shut off. I was glad I brought my iPod and headphones with me so that I could listen to something and turn my brain off. For this, I turned to one of my current favorites, Johnny Flynn. Johnny Flynn was one of the acts that rose out of of the British Folk revival called Nu-Folk/Indie Folk along with Mumford & Sons and Laura Marling. In recent years Flynn has focused more on his acting career than music but this shouldn’t distract from his musical genius. Not only does he sing and play guitar but he is classically trained in violin and trumpet. He has taught himself to play multiple other instruments, such as the banjo, mandolin, and multitude of traditional folk instruments. His lyrics are spiritual but not in an in-your-face-Christianity kind of way. They revolve around loss, nature and love.

One of my favorite songs is Country Mile. This particular version on that’s on YouTube is not on his album. It’s just him and his guitar. Stripped down to the very basics. Give it a listen. Check out his work if you like it.

An Update of Sorts

“The past is done. The future is uncertain. All you’ve got is this one moment, right now.” – Dirty Like Zane Jaine Diamond

The quote above is from a Romance series that I discovered this past year by Jaine Diamond. Please don’t laugh too much. This quote is from one character speaking to another about addiction and finding sobriety, and while that’s not what this blog is about the quote still fits. I’ve been an avid reader the majority of my life, my favorite genres being Sci Fi/Fantasy and Historical Fiction, and I’m not referring to historical romance novels here. I’ve read my fair share of non-fiction and I do delve into classic literature that isn’t assigned to me to read by a college professor. The reasoning is because I needed to know things. Yeah, I was that girl who read Shakespeare’s The Tempest and The Holy Bible all because I wanted to. I’m a great big dorky nerd.

That’s not to say I didn’t partake in my own fair share of trashy Romance novels, or smut books as I like to refer to them, back in my youth. I was a big fan of the historical romance novels by Johanna Lindsey that always featured hyper-chiseled Fabio on the cover. I’m not going to lie and say that I read those books for more more than the sexy bits (or so I thought). They were predictable: Extremely beautiful innocent girl meets over-the-top handsome dude in some impossible situation, like being sold into his brother’s harem or being kidnapped by pirates. At first they hate each other, innocent girl loosed virginity to handsome dude and eventually fall happily-forever in love and live perfectly ever after. The End.

Sometime this past winter I accidentally fell back into reading smut. I had a hard time focusing on the current Fantasy series I was reading. I am not blaming the book, because it was well written and a great story but with everything going on around me in my real life I needed something that didn’t take much effort. Amazon has this great thing for their Kindle called Kindled Unlimited, where basically for a very small monthly fee you have access to more books than you can ever read in 20 lifetimes. One day I stumbled upon The Boy I Hate by Taylor Sullivan, which was basically what I know now as a second chance/best-friend’s brother/roadtrip romance with a HEA (that’s Happily Ever After). I thought, “What the hell?” downloaded it, opened it and got sucked into the tale of an awkward, not very self-assured heroine and a (seemingly) moody asshole hero who hated each other over a misunderstanding that happened way back in their youth. Much hilarity, more misunderstandings, steamy sex and heartache ensued before the two worked their heads out of their arses and found their HEA. Entirely predictable. Entirely certain and entirely what I needed at a time when in real life my Dad was dying from a terribly ugly disease and my husband’s depression/maybe borderline personality disorder was again in full bloom. My life was anything but happy and predictable. So I kept on reading those Romance novels to find the balance I was lacking.

(Side-note: Romance novels today are very different from those I read in my youth. There are so many sub-genres, some that intrigue me and others not so much. The heroes and heroines have faults, traumas and surprisingly there is not always HEA ending in sight. Not every book has a Fabio and super-beautiful innocent maiden anymore. I’m quite fond of the ones that usually involve some darker issue(s) but still have a HEA have a humorous streak about them, like the Cake novels by J. Bengtsson or the Dirty series by Jaine Diamond).

My life still is still full of uncertainty and it can be uncomfortable. But that’s life, isn’t it? Some seriously sorry stuff has happened over the course of this year; my Dad’s death and funeral, his younger brother’s death a mere 3 months later and the passing of two people who for a time where my surrogate parents. There’s been stress involving work and the ever present stress of my husband’s disease and what, if anything, he’s willing to do about it. I care deeply for my husband, but I’m not going to lie, this is very hard on a relationship, on me and the future is full of uncertainty.

I have made a concentrated and completely conscious effort this spring/summer to not let all the sadness consume me. I cannot let it. I went in search of finding some “joy”, sometimes by myself or with my daughter in-tow. I rediscovered my art, or rather dusted-off because I don’t think I ever really lost it. I brought music back into my life. I’ve made reconnections with old friends who I missed way more than I realized. Walking through my old college campus with two important people from that time was gloriously sentimental. Going to see my best friend from High School was the best medicine I could have asked for. We could still talk and confide in one other like we only seen each other yesterday, instead of over a decade. With other friends, forgiveness was given and received, which just might be the greatest feeling of all. I have great co-workers that make me laugh and value my quirky humor. The trip out East to see my beloved niece graduate and time spent with my family just…being, was greatly needed.

My life isn’t predictable, it never was nor likely will it ever be. Nothing is ever certain, but oh, there is happiness to be found. I didn’t end up with a HEA like they do in the romance novels and that’s okay. I had a stinking awesome youth and quite frankly a fun time trying to navigate through my 20’s and 30’s, even if I didn’t always seize every opportunity I coulda/woulda/shoulda. I can’t change any of it anyway. Predicting the future is something I cannot do, it’s uncertain, instead I’m going to do what I can today. Focus on the now.

I’m still going to read trashy romance novels however.

Question of the Day

**Note I am currently without my laptop so I am writing this on my iPad. It’s not ideal, and really weird to type on, not to mention the formatting is not user friendly.**

It may come as not surprise but I have a weak spot for journals. It’s quite dangerous for me to go into that section at Barnes and Noble because guaranteed I will find some pretty little book with a dragon or fairy on it begging for me to buy it, take it home and deface it’s pages with my chicken scratch. Then there are the journaling books that offer inspiration or suggestions on what to write. Last spring I came upon on of those entities One Question a Day. The journal poses one question per day for a year. When you finish the year, you repeat the process, same questions, for 5 years. I suppose its to see how your answers change over time. The answers are to be short and sweet. Some questions are silly and others a bit more serious. I thought it might be kind of interesting to choose 10 questions randomly and answer them here.

What colors do you wear most often?

Being that blue is my favorite color I tend to lean towards blue clothing. Shocker. I also tend to pick up a lot of green as well.

What is your biggest fear?

I have a couple phobias but generally I can work my way around those, except pigs. They give me the creeps. As for my biggest fear is something awful happening to my daughter. An accident where she gets hurt or even worse, someone harming her. Everything else I can conquer, even nasty pigs, but harm befalling my daughter scares me.

When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday. I was driving home listening to music on shuffle and Blue October’s For My Brother, from their live album Argue With a Tree came on. Like every other time I’ve listened to the song I was wiping away the tears. I think it’s one of the most achingly beautiful songs I have ever heard. I wish I could find words to explain this song, but everything I come up with is woefully inadequate. I’ll include the YouTube link. Please give it a listen to the end and you’ll understand.

https://youtu.be/RC0tIrHjTIM

What do you wish you could tell your younger self?

There is probably lots of advice I could give my younger self. Mostly, I think I’d want to tell myself back then, to stop being afraid of what others think and take some chances. I wonder if I could just take the attitude, knowledge and experience that 48 year old me has and put it in 23 year old me what that would have been like.

What is one item on your bucket list?

There are still many things I want to see which require some travel. But experience wise? This is tough for me. I really can’t say I want to do anything daring like, sky-dive or drive a race car. I just have no desire for that kind of stuff. I might have to put some thought into this later.

What issue do you tend to rant about?

The general stupidity of humans. This can be anything from politics or terrible drivers.

What is your usual breakfast?

Hot tea, green or black varieties are my preference. Scrambled eggs and fruit, or out meal if I’m feeling not very energetic. I’m not a morning person but I do need my breakfast to be a decent human being.

Who are you surprised is still your friend?

I have many good friends and I’m blessed to have several “best” friends that have been with me for decades. I’m very lucky and I’m also quite surprised that we are still friends. No, its not that I think I’m some unlikable person but I’ve moved around a lot and its quite hard to maintain relationships long distance. There have been times, before social media and texting, where I haven’t heard from one of my friends for a very long time. Writing is hard. Phoning for a phone-a-phobic like me, and some of my best friends, is downright scary. I have discovered this weekend and the last few weeks of visiting with old friends that you pick that relationship right back up where it left off.

What is the oldest thing in your home?

I think it would be the portraits of my 3x Great-Grandparents Caroline and Heinrich Biebeshimer. They came to the United States from Germany, settled in New York for sometime before moving to Iowa. Heinrich was brewer and grocer. He also was a musician. As the story goes, he bought a wooden flute soon after getting off the boat. I don’t know too much about Caroline other than the basic biographical facts. As for the portraits, I’m not sure on the exact date, but I can deduce that they probably were painted in New York around the 1860s.

What part of your body do you like to show off?

I was tempted to pick another random question because this one is just so…bleh. Currently, nothing. Except maybe my fingernails. I recently started growing them out and they are kind of pretty. Other than that I’m really kind of self conscious about my looks. When I was younger I still had confidence issues regarding my body (who doesn’t?), but I was told I had nice lips and I felt kind of good wearing a crop top.

Seeking the Balance

I’ve been wanting to write this for weeks, ever since a talk I had with my friend weeks ago when we took our trip back to our old college town, but life happens. I can’t recall exactly what it was that directed out conversation onto this topic so perhaps the how’s and why’s aren’t so important.

The topic? Balance.

In all things…balance. You’ve got to take the ugly with the beauty.

There cannot be good without evil; order without chaos.

There is no light without the darkside. (Yes, that is a Star Wars reference. Apologies to Han, but I kind of have a thing for hokey religions and ancient weapons).

In order for one organism to live another must die. The balance of nature, the good old Circle of Life that Mufasa kept talking about.

I’m not an overly religious person. Spiritual, sure, with a heavy dose of agnosticism thrown in. I believe there is a higher power (for lack of a better word) but I don’t feel that it’s existence can, nor should be, proven. I was raised in the Catholic faith and while, I still go to mass and find a certain peacefulness in the ritual I feel that my personal beliefs are more in sync with some Native American cultures. (“God” is more of a force, an energy, that flows and ebbs through all things. Through the rocks, us, all living things…everything, making everything connected). There is a feeling of balance and harmony that I do not find within the confines of my Catholic upbringing.

For quite sometime my life has been way out of whack, the balance has been heavily leaning towards the negative. Much of it has not been in my control, and I acknowledge those bits I can’t change. Like a bear out of hibernation, I feel like I’ve awoken from a long nap, and I’m going to start finding my balance, my positive again.

In recent months I’ve lost my Dad, my Uncle and yesterday, a former student. My husband’s ongoing battle with depression has been stressful and often has left me feeling wilted and unhappy. These things are all horribly sad. They are also things that are beyond my control and they are not my battles to fight. It’s been a struggle at times, but through this darkness I have found my light. The balance I was looking for. It has always been there, its light dulled, but it has always been there waiting for me. I started painting again and it felt so good! I’ve reconnected with old friends that have brought so much joy into my life. Music has returned, bringing with it exciting new artists. I have a smart, fun kid who likes to hang out with me, even though enforcing the rules and boundaries set up for her, has earned me “The Meanest Mom in the World” title.

In all things…balance. Let me not forget this.

Back in Time

I’m rewarding myself this upcoming weekend with a road trip with my oldest friend back to the place we went to college. It’s been a trying last couple of years and I deserve this time away to focus on my own happiness. Selfish maybe?

We’ve made some tentative plans with a friend who still live in the area. Other plans may develop, or not. I plan on an early morning walk around campus and see what’s changed. I haven’t been back on campus since the year after I graduated 20 odd years ago and I’d like to see if I can find my old dorm. I think it’d be a trip to visit the painting lab. Maybe we’ll have breakfast at Mike’s Cafe or some late night cheese balls at Perkins. I’d even drive out to Trailways if it was still open.

Also, the agenda is some Chicken Connection. I don’t know how long this place has been around and if I had to guess I’d say its near forever. Its a simple place that serves basic fried chicken with a side of broasted potatoes with the most delicious sour cream/onion dip. I’m drooling just thinking about it. Simple, inexpensive but tasty college fare. I still dream about those broasted potatoes.

Later on our way back we’re planning to stop and visit other college friends (one of my closest friends and her husband) at their home for dinner. It’s been too long since I’ve seen those two beloved people. I hope to stay better connected with them and all the others who mean so much to me.

It will be a good weekend, no matter what’s accomplished.

Current Work

Music and painting have always been two very important things to me. In my late 20’s and into my 30’s I spent no small amount of time going to shows seeing my favorite bands. It’s one of my favorite times of my life and I still enjoy going to see good music. The lights, the thudding of the bass and drums…ahhh, I loved it. I don’t know why I never thought to bring this experience of mine into my painting.

That is until I was going through some photos I took years ago. I was fascinated with the colors of the lights and how they changed the actual colors of the musician’s clothing, skin, etc. My first painting was the close up of the man singing and playing guitar, followed by the orange lead singer. Last was the purple duo.

These are not supposed to be any one particular person. Instead I like to think of them as everyone and no one. I was more after the feeling of a show, rather than someone specific. In fact I borrowed parts from different images to create each painting.

While I am proud of each of these paintings for different reasons, I think my personal favorite would be the orange one. It by far was the most difficult one to achieve of the three simply because orange does not play well with other colors. I feel like I was very successful with the bright white light behind the hand holding the mic stand. With this painting I actually feel the urge to jump up and down and yell as if I was at a concert.

I aim to continue working on this series for awhile. I have several ideas in the back of my head, but I think I’m going to be a bit more leisurely about it. All of these paintings were done within a months time. I finished the first blue painting right before my Dad’s death and the other two were part of a challenge I was participating in. Acrylic April or Artsy April is where you do something creative and post it on social media once a day for an entire month. I finished the purple painting last week. While I have another painting planned I cannot finish it within this month so I’ll take my time and post it when it is complete.

Misinformation Reigns

I’m beginning to see a lot of misinformation being spread about Notre Dame. The Catholic Church does not own Notre Dame. The French Ministry of Culture owns it, as it does most other historical buildings (including other Cathedrals throughout France). They do have an agreement with the Diocese of Paris that allows the Diocese to use the space for free in perpetuity. The cost of continual restoration on a building of this age is staggering. Yes, the Diocese of Paris contributes as do other entities, but they do not own Notre Dame. You can read more about it in this link if you choose.
https://www.google.com/…/Notre-dame-cathedral-fire-owne…/amp

Should the Church contribute? You bet. And no doubt they will.

I guess what is also bugging me about people saying the money is better spent elsewhere, such on the poor. I cannot argue against that point that feel we should take care of those less fortunate. I agree! We should be treating our fellow man better and we (mankind) do a pretty crappy job of it. However, I also feel very strongly that this building needs to be restored.

Why? Notre Dame is not just a church. Just as the pyramids are not just tomb for some rich ruler. Monuments such as these are temples of human ingeuenity and asthetic beauty. They are lasting testements of mankind overcoming obstacles to create something. Ideas to make something better than it was before. Those famous flying buttresses you hear about that hold up the aspe wall on Notre Dame? Without them the thin, tall, windowed walls would collapse. Some Middle Ages engineer(s) noticed the stress fractures forming during the construction and devised a new support system to save the building. Enter the flying buttresses. He/they did this without the aid of modern equipment and computers. The same can be said for the dome at the Hagia Sophia. These things are beautiful beyond words and are a a testiment of what mankind can achieve.

Notre Dame is not just a church. The Great Wall of China isn’t just a wall. Let it Be isn’t just a song and David isn’t just a statue. Mesa Verde isn’t just an abandoned town. They all are records of the collective human experience and our achievements. They are our shared human history. Every civilization, every culture has these monuments. They all deserve to be preserved and shared. When we lose one, such as The Buddhas of Bamiyam, we lose a part of us.

The road in creating these monuments isn’t always nice. We especially should not forget those ugly moments to avoid repeating them.

Notre Dame

Over a decade now, I went to visit my future husband in France. One of my wishes was to go to Paris to see Notre Dame, amongst other things. Being from France he was a bit passe about all things Parisian and impessed upon me that he was not excited in the least. When we arrived in Paris our taxi took a route around the Ile de la Cité on which Note Dame resides. You could see her towers soar majestically above the other buildings. I was speechless. Even my jaded David, was in awe.

Later that day we would stroll down the Avenue des Champs-Élysées and visit her. I can’t say that I had the greatest time. Too many people, jostling me, taking photos when it was clearly prohibited. Afterwards we wandered around the Cathedral, found a place to have our picnic lunch where I could admire the flying buttresses, an engineering and architecturural feat that is still unrivaled in it’s asthetic beauty. That moment was and always be one of my most treasured memories.

I was fortunate to later find and purchase a small painting from a street artists with my favorite view of Notre Dame.

I am shocked and sickened by this loss of history and to this monument of human ingeuenity and asthetic beauty.

It’s Who I Am

Last night I found an old article from my high school newspaper where I was interviewed for being Artist of the Month and it got me thinking a bit about my path to becoming an art teacher. It’s more than a job to me. Being an art teacher is a part of my identity

The decision to be an artist was easy. I have a clear memory of myself, age 8, writing a letter to my Grandma that I was going to be an artist when I grew up. While school on the whole was difficult for me I excelled at drawing and all things art related. It was the one thing I was better at than nearly everyone else. More importantly, I loved it. Without question I was going to do something with art, but the “what” didn’t become clear until much later.

Sometime during my senior year in high school the yearbook handed out these questionnaires concerning post graduation plans. I was sitting in Ms. Goddard’s class, my absolute favorite place to be in high school, trying to fill it out. I was drawing a blank about what to put as my major for college. I looked up at Ms. Goddard and thought, “Huh, I wouldn’t mind doing that.” Art Education it was.

I like to think I have the best job in the world, if you take away all the political bullcrap that pollutes education. What other job do you get paid to play around with art supplies and watch kids grow to their potential? The first several years of my career was spent teaching elementary aged students. I loved their energy and unhindered creativity. However, the bulk of my career has been spent teaching Middle and High school age students. I really like this age group and I feel that its where I was meant to be. A lot of fun is to be had in my art room as well as learning (Don’t tell the kids that!). Making art happen and getting to share that newly discovered joy in one of my students is great but the best part of my job is being able to build relationships with my students. Making connections. They know that I am and that my room is a safe place. After 23 years (I think?) of doing this I feel that I’ve reached my stride and that I’m pretty awesome at what I do.

It hasn’t always been so. It is a fairly common practice, though I didn’t know it at the time, that some school districts would hire a teacher for a year or two and no matter how good of a job they did they’d lay the teacher off and hire someone else fresh out of college. It’s a way to keep the salaries low, a bit ethically questionable but it does keep the costs down. This was done to me, at least 4 times in the first 7 years of teaching. It was heartbreaking having to leave the group of students I’d grown to care for time and time again. The worst was when I was cut after teaching for 4 years in the same district. I really was contemplating finding something else to do. It was too much heartbreak and it just seemed wrong to me that a job at Walmart seemed to be more stable than a teaching career.

One night after I had been given my pink slip I went out to a little dive bar with some friends that I didn’t get to see often. It was a lighthearted night for the most part with lots of laughter and easy conversation. My friend, (I’ll call him Matt for the sake of anonymity) asked how’d I been since we last saw each other. Though my intent had been to forget work and the stress of my situation, it all came pouring out about how I really thought I couldn’t deal with it anymore. Matt, possibly the most zen person I’ve ever known, in his infinite wisdom said something to me that I will stick with me till my end of days.

“You know, J., if quitting and finding something else to do is really what you want to do, that’s cool. But you can’t quit being you, because being a teacher, a mentor, that’s what you are. No matter what what job you end up with you are always going to be that person people look too. You’ve got a gift. So if you want to keep with it, that’s cool too.”

And Matt was right. While I didn’t exactly make the decision to keep plugging away at the teaching gig that night, that little nugget of advice ear-wormed its way though my brain. I did eventually apply and I found another position easily. It lasted a year before I was recalled back the previous district. I’ve been in my current district for about 20 years now. The days I feel like giving up are few and far between, but when they do crop up I remember Matt’s advice and realize I’m right where I need to be.