Phone Fear

I used to be an awesome receptionist, even if I do say so myself. I wasn't perfect, but my work evaluation certainly made it seem so. I was well-liked by my boss, had a few callers who became my "fans" (which I did have to ask some of my guitar department buddies to help me fend off when they came to visit the voice they always called to hear), and my co-workers often appreciated the work that I did that made their jobs easier. I memorized over eighty phone extensions and was able to manage multiple incoming calls quickly, sometimes switching languages (up to three, or four, if you count interpreting thick Southern American accents) to accommodate our customers' needs.

With that said, I hate talking on phones. I much prefer communicating with people by e-mail or a Facebook message.

There are three reasons for this:

1) I am a FOB. I don't really have an accent, unless you count my "ol" problem as attributing to an accent. However, my written grammar is far better than my verbal grammar. Sometimes, I catch myself talking like Yoda, so I am very self-conscious when it comes to public speaking, even with close friends. How, then, can I be a teacher? I don't feel as judged by my students as I do with peers. Just my feeling. I could be wrong. Or maybe not.

2) I am a visual learner. I'm one of those people who remember details and the punchline, but because I am like Yoda, the punchline comes before the details. I need to have something before my eyes or else I forget what to say or what is being said. That's why, when D and I were dating, for example, I had to write down things I wanted to say to him because I didn't want the phone conversation to fall into an awkward silence and ruin my chances of being with him. I was like a telemarketer with scripts that prompted me on what to say after each potential answer. Don't laugh...I'm married now!

3) I'm not good at small talk. I think sometimes I almost sound rude because when I approach people to talk, I just go straight to the point. Sometimes, I might politely ask, "Hi, how are you?" Wait for the response. Then, depending on their answer, continue with the topic. Most of the time, I just say, "Hi, ____. So, I was wondering when I can get those reports?" or "...have you checked my e-mail?" or "...did that parent speak with you yet?" I also don't know how to say goodbye. I always seem to add some lame "last word" in an attempt to make the receiver of the conversation laugh before we end off. This applies to face-to-face conversation, as well.

God's got plans about my phone fear. Recently, my care group has started a challenge where we all pick one thing that we would work on and each of us would be held accountable to our own challenge by another care group member. We drew names out of a hat and then we would connect with that person to ensure that the challenges are being met on a regular basis. I picked a person who doesn't use FB, doesn't really use e-mail either, and doesn't talk much. Sounds like my husband, but that's not the case, which would be so much easier to handle. So, I have to talk to this friend on the phone. He said I can text him, but I think God wants me to be stretched outside of my comfort zone and just pick up the phone and call. But, I can imagine what the phone calls would be like:

"Hey, how are you?"
"Good, thanks. And you?"
"Good, thanks. So, how's your Bible reading coming along?"
"Good."
"Good. You're not listening to the audio version, are you? (awkward chuckles)
"No, I'm not."
"Oh, ok. Have a good day!" (click)

Be Careful With What You Post

I read an article today about a bus driver who was fired over what could be perceived as questionable comments on his blog. The bus driver wanted to discuss the challenges of being a bus driver, while the company felt that he was very critical of how the business was being managed.

As for myself, I have written entries about trials and triumphs I face as a teacher. There are some issues I choose not to talk about on my blog like the FSA's (Foundation Skills Assessment) or teaching Social Justice 11/12 in schools because they are politically-charged. I love a good debate when everyone participates respectfully, but some things should be said in person because much can be misconstrued when they are written, especially online! I certainly would not want to get fired because of my perception of what constitutes as honest and candid recollections of life as a teacher.

Besides, isn't what happened to the bus driver a form of censorship? When is it necessary to silence someone's need to vent or speak his/her mind over an issue in a personal forum? I hope I haven't overstepped boundaries, but at the same time, I hope I would have the integrity and audacity to speak out for something (or someone) that I think is valuable to know and worth fighting for.

Inappropriate Language

The topic of swearing has cropped up quite a bit in my life in the last three days. Personally, I don't like to hear people swear and I've told my students before that swearing are for people who haven't expanded their vocabulary enough to know how to express their frustration in a more positive fashion. That's my roundabout way of saying, "Please don't swear."

I might forgive swearing in situations where the person was very angry or hammered his thumb into the wall or attempted to make a BBQ grill that doesn't quite look the way it does in the catalogue. The other exception I make is for movies that have a good storyline. Crash is one example. Excessive swearing in some movies, like in Knocked Up, gets distracting, but sometimes, I let that go, too.

Yesterday, I had a conversation with my friends about what's appropriate to say and what's not. To me, I lump "That's gay" with forbidden four-letter words. After I mentioned this, one of my friends chuckled and admitted that he uses that phrase. I told him that I actually would stop a lesson to discuss why that phrase is offensive, but I wouldn't do so for a friend. In fact, I have a number of friends who swear casually. I let those go, too. My friends know very well that they should not use the Lord's Name in vain in my presence, but I haven't gone as far as to tell an acquaintance to stop saying, "Oh, my God!" for little things like seeing a really nice pair of shoes in the flyer; I had a co-worker who was brave enough to. One of my students muttered, "Holy crap" and I told him quite sternly that poo can never be holy. Some students who were nearby giggled and immediately, that student apologized.

Recently, one of my students has been caught saying some extremely inappropriate things, but one of the things he said was a word he didn't even know the meaning of until a teacher told him. The other kids kept making him say it and when he saw how they howled with laughter, he kept saying it. See, in his world, laughter means good and he loves to make people happy. Bluntly, I told him, "When other kids make you say the same thing over and over again and they laugh after each time you say it, it doesn't mean they like you. They are laughing at you." I'm not sure if I could have taught him differently or if what I said even filtered through to him. But, I felt I had to be frank with him today because on Monday he swore over something that was shocking to him and he didn't want to calm down; for the first time since I started working with him, he refused my suggestions to use alternate actions and words when expressing something in public. I will have to try a different approach.

So, swearing bothers me in some context and not so much in others. Am I being wishy-washy? Is there an ok time for people to swear? How did a term for female dog or donkey become used to curse? Who first used the f-bomb? How did curse language evolve over the years and over continents?

Misunderstood

The other item was on a bookshelf. It was a tiny wagon about the size of my fist. It was made of wood and looked like it might have been an antique toy. It was piled high with pebbles. Several other pebbles lay about the wagon wheels.
I pointed to it. "You collecting stones, or what?"
"It's my happy wagon," she said. "Actually, it could just as well be called an unhappy wagon, but I prefer happy."
"So, what's it all about?"
"It's about how I feel. When something makes me happy, I put a pebble in the wagon. If I'm unhappy, I take a pebble out. There are twenty pebbles in all."
...
"How close to empty did the wagon ever get?" I said.
"Oh..." She turned her face to the ceiling, closed her eyes. "Once, down to three."
I was shocked. "Really? You?"
She stared. "Why not me?"
"You don't seem the type."
"What type is that?"
"I don't know..." I groped for the right words.
"The three-pebble type?" she offered.

Stargirl is the type of character that I believe we all are within ourselves. Some of us are just sprinkled with this sort of stardust, some of us are as dusty as the desert. The story setting begins in an ordinary school with ordinary students. Plain Janes and Joes. They're not boring or anything, but they are characters each one of us may identify with. Stargirl's reputation preceded her actual appearance in the novel -- she is someone who is eccentrically delightful, someone who could not be linked to any one person that I know, but that we all can see just parts of her within ourselves.

One of Stargirl's problems is not with her, but how others perceived her. Her intentions are misunderstood by the students around her who don't quite know what to do with her ukulele-played birthday songs, her cheering for the other team, her attendance at a funeral of someone she doesn't really know, her lack of concern for what others think. She's for everyone and yet she's for no one. She's this wonderful person that everyone hated. She was stoned with her own happy pebbles.

I don't think I'm Stargirl, but on Friday and all through the weekend, I feel hated despite trying to have good intentions. I would've taken two pebbles out of my wagon.

On Friday, what I had thought was advocating for one of my students turned into an offensive comment toward my colleague's professionalism. She felt that I undermined her ability to provide a safe environment for our students. In my eyes, I was merely trying to inform her why my student might have a "freak out" in her classroom. He was scared by the content she showed him in class on Friday, so I went to talk to her about it. That's when I felt that my words were misconstrued. I never intended to pass judgment on her teaching; I only wanted to look out for ways to change the environment so that my student would feel safe. She demanded to know why, if he was so scared, did he continue to stay in the classroom? Why didn't he say anything or ask to leave? I tried to tell her that the nature of the beast we call Autism prevents him from being able to express himself properly and that teachers must look out for their students, learn to initiate for them some of the things they couldn't themselves. She said she couldn't change the content just for him. I said she didn't have to. She said I offended her. I apologized for coming across that way. She said, "But you did." Those words stung like a slap to my face. I cried that afternoon. That's one pebble out.

Why I cried, I wasn't sure. When I know someone hates me, I hate myself. I doubt what I can do and what I can be. To make things worse, I came home to an empty house because my husband was on a business trip. I called local friends to see if they wanted to have pizza and watch a movie with me. They were all busy. I thought of calling friends and family in Vancouver/Richmond on the phone, but I was afraid I'd burst into tears and be a burden on them. I called out to God, but the response was more silent than a rock underwater. I was so lonely. That was pebble #2 out.

Things started to look up. I put on some music and danced in my kitchen to "4 in the Morning," "Life is a Highway," and "Lady Marmalade." I took a bubble bath and soaked until the water turned cold. I shaved my legs; now they are as smooth as silk. I ate five Ferrero Rochers.

On Saturday, I dusted and vacuumed the house. I watched Benchwarmers. My husband came home. We had pasta for dinner at a Greek and Roman restaurant, which I have never been to before.

And now Sunday. The climax of worship. God isn't so silent after all.

Tomorrow is another day. Though I am a bit nervous at meeting with my co-workers, fearing that anything I say will now be offensive, I have vowed to return any hostility with kindness. I will continue to say hi to others, yes, even to her. I will turn the other cheek, so to speak.

I hope I will never become the three-pebble type.

"In our minds, we tried to pin her to a corkboard like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew."

(Thank you, CT, for recommending this book to me.)

Saying the Wrong Things

Recently, there have been a number of verbal faux pas committed either by myself or others around me. I have a friend who was forced to become a comment moderator on her blog site (hopefully it wasn't because of me). A co-worker made a racist, derogatory remark toward me; although, he meant it as a joke and I took it as a joke, others who heard what he said were aghast and he felt incredibly badly about it and asked for my forgiveness later. I, myself, have made a comment to a co-worker; thankfully when I apologized to him about it later, he laughed at me and said that he had thick skin, so not to worry about it. These are a few local examples that I can think of.

In our politically-correct-mad world, I feel that everyone must tread lightly. Even comedians, who make a living poking fun at some serious issues, have to beware of exactly how they word their jokes. "Telling it like it is" appear to occur through fictitious characters -- a safe medium for those who want to say what's on his or her mind. Characters that come to my mind are Dr. Gregory House, Juno MacGaff, or Homer Simpson. Young children are also excused from communicating honest opinions.

When can I really speak my mind? Am I safe to do so even in my own house?

Update

For the first time since high school, I have watched the entire Emmy Awards show. There were some funny bits, so I don't regret spending the 2.5 hours watching the entertainment.

In other news, I have discovered, or rather others are discovering for me, that I cannot say any words with "ol" in it -- old, cold, gold, whole, etc. Somehow, my tongue cannot glide from the upper back part of my mouth to the upper front smoothly enough for me to form the sound of "ol." My tongue drops halfway. For example, when I say "cold," I sound out "code." Furthermore, I have the tendency to "flap," the act of not fully enunciating the "t" sound and causing it to sound like "d", as in butter. Try to figure out what I'm trying to say: "My brudder, Coby, ate a hoe bag of code goad coins." Talk about FOB. It's a wonder that I've chosen to be an English teacher as my profession. God help those kids.

Speaking of teaching, I have begun my first day as Case Manager/Program-Oriented Guidance Counselor/Teacher of International Students/Learning Assistance Support Team Member. This title I have given myself will not be printed on any business card because no one fully understands what my job description entails. Although it's been exciting and the staff at C&G Howe Middle have been very supportive and friendly, the job position requires a lot of paperwork and public relations management, tasks that I have already deemed daunting. I'm not willing to quit, though; I'd give it at least two years because I'm sure it would take that long for me to get used to it (that is if the district decides to re-hire me for the 2008-09 school year). There have been many jobs in my life that I've tried that was not what I had "trained" for and most of them were fun and taught me valuable lessons. Maybe this will be one of them.

The Story of My Life

I've always been a B-average student. My GPA in both high school and university was at a 3 point something which translates into a B. In almost everything that I do and am, I am just average. I'm not pretty, but easy on the eyes. I'm a mediocre athlete. I sing ok. I come from a middle-income family and my parents' house literally sits in the middle of the west-east divider (well, maybe two blocks away). I don't do a half-baked job on assignments or tasks, but the end result is usually just Meh! Look up "average" in the dictionary and my picture will be right there (see "Homer Defined," Episode 8F04, Season Three).

I turned on the TV yesterday to watch the Simpsons, but because D and I were watching a video the night before (Flushed Away), our TV was set on Channel 3. Being the English teacher/nerd that I am, I caught someone saying "English Teachers Team" then a round of applause and cheer. It turned out that the show was "Test the Nation: Watch Your Language" .

I had mentioned Test the Nation in a previous post, but that was done online. This TV show consisted of seven teams of people who generally would use literary skills on a daily basis and they compete for a trophy for being the smartest in literary aptitude. Not only were the studio audience participating in the test, but so were several schools across the country and viewers at home. I took out my pen and paper and started answering the questions during the two-hour show. By the end of the show, they have revealed the answers and I came out with 77%. According to the scoring chart I got "A for Astute", but 77% is a B. Of course. The embarrassing part of my mark is that I failed miserably (in that I did not get one single answer correct) in the one category that I had taken a university course in. Can you guess which one out of the following?

Language Terms, Modern English, Everyday Mistakes, Text (Messaging) Talk, Plurals, Canadian Language (Jargon), Nursery Rhymes, Euphemisms, Expressions (Idioms), Word Origin, and Spelling.

Semantics

Taking Things Literally

I saw the following photo in someone else's blog and it made me laugh so hard! It was taken in a cafe/restaurant in Shanghai. The couple asked for a "Summer Berries" ice cream and after the couple asked if they could split the pint-sized dessert in two, they got this:
The ultra-funny thing is it looks nothing like the promotional photograph!

Actually, idioms and slang are very difficult to translate in another language. I remember watching a Jet Li interview on Jay Leno and he said that when the first time someone asked him, "What's up?" he looked up. I also have a hard time translating some Chinese into English, like when I say a food is "hot air," only Cantonese-speaking people would know what I'm talking about. Or even between Cantonese and Mandarin -- some expressions can only be understood in one dialect. It confuses my grandmother sometimes when she talks to my dad because he uses all sorts of Cantonese expressions.

In class, I have to be careful using some idioms because a few of my students don't understand slang or sarcasm. A student once asked me for my opinion and after I gave it, I said, "That's my two-cents." She told me that I didn't give her any money.

As a little kid, I had a few favourite story characters and one of them was Amelia Bedelia.
She's notorious for taking things literally. Once she played a baseball game and the kids told her to run home after she hit a homer. I'm sure you can guess what she did!

What would the world be like if everyone thought like Amelia Bedelia! Chaotic? Blissful? Honest?

We Are Sinking

In my first year of teaching, one of my students asked me to help him proofread one of his paragraphs. It was titled "My Favourite Whore." I won't describe the specifics of the paragraph as it does become quite graphic and offensive, but please understand that my student is dyslexic. What he was trying to say was "My Favourite Horse." Some of what he wrote in his paragraph helped clue me into what he was really trying to say.

I came across this commercial while surfing the web and I wonder how others get lost in the translation:

Rural Juror

In January, a fairly new show called "30 Rock" had an episode called "Rural Juror." I've seen the first episode of this show and although it was funny, I haven't been able to catch another show because I keep forgetting what time it's on. That episode name is the hardest phrase to pronounce for me, but I'm glad I'm not the only one. Tina Fey has difficulty pronouncing that, too! And there I was thinking what a FOB I am. :)