almost there

The sweet fragrance of the weekend is breathing down our necks and we can hardly wait to get there. Josh woke up in the middle of the night last night with a sore throat and I woke up with a stuffy head. Not so fun. But we are almost there.

Justin, as it turns out, did not die from an over dose or anything like that. We think (are pretty sure that) he died from an infected burn on his arm. He burned himself cooking last week, didn't clean out the blisters, they got infected, and now his body is getting buried today. Because most of the kids are at the funeral today, we are just taking it easy here and talking about Justin, going to the library, and watching movies or playing board games. Nothing that will get the kids really upset. The kids here at school want to make some sort of memorial for him. The window that he broke a few months ago (he was angry and threw a chain through it) is still boarded over, so I suggested that instead of replacing it, we paint a mural on it or something. I was kind of joking, but everyone seems to think that it's a decent idea.

I can't wait to get out of school at the end of today.

catch-up and dreams

Maybe not quite as appetizing as ketchup and eggs in the morning, but still, hopefully, interesting.

Yesterday was really really hard because of Josh's getting pepper sprayed and tear gassed. All day sucked because I was worrying about him and wishing that he didn't have to go through something that I knew would be painful for him. He came out ok. Apparently tear gas is nothing but pepper spray is the evilest vile thing on Earth ... just plain nasty ... and he hates it. It was 20 minutes, after getting sprayed, before he could even open his eyes. Water reactivates it, so every time that he sweated yesterday it hurt all over again. His eyes were all puffy last night and his skin looked like someone had slapped him. It really sucked for him and I hated it a lot, in a very selfish way, because I couldn't even kiss him to console him. I think that I'd much rather not know, and not anticipate, when something bad is going to happen to someone I love.

The kids at school are having various interesting reactions to Justin's death. Thank you to all the people who called and emailed me about it (esp. Dad and Grandma). Some of them flat out don't believe that he is dead. Some of them are suicidal. Some of them are happy (it's hard not to slap them). And some dealt with it fairly normally.

I just have to say that I am SO looking forward to this weekend. I get to see all my family (yay!!!! I'm so excited!!!) and I have an extra day on Monday and Josh's "fun run" on Monday got cancelled. I am so so so so so so so very excited!!!

In other news, I got a call from the principal of W. Christian, and he is trying to see if he can put together enough classes for me to come and work there next year. That would be so cool, as all the other teaching jobs in the area that are open are at least an hour's drive away, one way.

I dreamt twice last night, and then woke up a lot thinking about my dreams. They were both interesting, the second more so (to me) than the first because the first was rather obvious in its meaning.

In the first dream I lived at my house here in M-, only it was two stories and a boarding school. The kids that I teach, and my mom, lived with me. One day I went out with my mom (in my dad's Element no less) to go shopping and there were five tornadoes on my street (even though I told the news services that there were only four). I was rather put out at how hard it was to close the car door because of the wind, and muttered about how earthquakes are fine but honestly, tornadoes? My mother drove recklessly around them onto the neighbors lawns, narrowly missing little old ladies and such, and we proceeded to the store. When we got back the tornadoes were gone, although it was still cloudy, and the contents of my house were strewn across the street and the boys that I teach were throwing and ripping everything. I knew that it was not the tornadoes that had caused the damage, but the boys. I got really angry and yelled at them, "Look what you did! I can't even laugh normally any more and make jokes because of you! I can't be happy like I used to because of you! Put my stuff back!" Because of course the stuff that they had thrown around the neighborhood, my furniture, was actually my emotions.

Then I woke up. The second dream was much more interesting to me because I haven't figured out all the symbols yet, and because it was about Josh, and not me.

I was in a town that I am familiar with in my dreams, because it is the dream town where my sister lives, single, in her cool retro-70's apartment complete with shag rug where she does cool things like watch movies on t.v. until midnight while eating popcorn and has a roommate. But I wasn't there for my sister this time. I was there for my husband. So instead of setting off for the apartment (which has stained glass windows by the way), I set off for the junior college. As I went up the steps I saw a class of Navy recruits (representative of the police department) warming up for their 3 mile race, only they were doing a really poor job of it and I walked past them, smug, that I my husband was in the marines (the sheriff's department), and not the much-less-together Navy. I went on in to the J.C. and was surprised to find him in an Art class. He was sculpting. All of the sudden so much about him made sense to me. He's an artist!!! That is why he is moody and temperamental! It made so much sense! So I watched him sculpt for a while. After a while he fell asleep on top of a 3 inch binder full of pictures of his past that I had never seen before. It was labeled on the spine, "Family Pictures, friends, and Sin." I was immensely curious, because it was part of his life that I had never seen before, so I slipped it out from under his sleeping head and began to look at the pictures. By looking at the pictures I realized that he had been married before me and never told me about it. There had been a very pretty little asian girl in his homeschool group who he had fallen madly in love with and when he was 17 1/2, and she was 15, they had run away and gotten married (much to Josh's Father's anger) and, soon after, had a darling little girl. He was so happy with her and so in love that I cried looking at the pictures because soon after their daughter had been born she, and her mother, had died in a car crash. I was horrified that Josh had lost his first true love and I was heart broken for him. I don't know how long I cried (in my dream) over Josh's loss, and I could understand why he would never want to tell me about it because he was so sad to remember his dead wife. I felt really sad for him, but like I knew him a lot better. Then I woke up.

Reality time. Josh never had a first wife (before me), nor a child. And he is not a sculptor, although he is temperamental and prone to odd emotions like an artist. I can't figure out what those symbols mean or are about. Huh.

a week already

Josh has a lot coming up this week - specifically, on Tuesday he gets sprayed with pepper spray and then tear gas. This is the beginning of week 18.

My week here at school. I just found out that one of our high schoolers passed away over the weekend. He went home on Friday with a stomach ache, took pepto bismol, went to sleep on Friday, and then never woke up. I always sort of think that these kids have a short life expectancy because of how they behave. I never really thought that they have a short life expectancy because of other reasons. The first thing I thought of, I know it is weird, is of my hermit crabs and how odd their dead bodies looked when they died ... how a living thing suddenly becomes a repulsive bit of matter ... and then how big Justin's dead body must look so odd and strangely repulsive now that he is not in it. How strange our existence is. Anyways, please pray because it is going to be a hard day, week, something for the kids and us here.

Tuesday tuesday, again

::grin!:: but this Tuesday morning I not only read my Bible, but also had a good 15 minutes left over to read The Fellowship of the Ring. School went well yesterday. I finally figured out that these kids, even with medication, are really really ADD, and so I've shortened all my lessons to about 20 - 30 minutes and just go through all the subjects once in the morning and once more in the afternoon. So we still cover the correct amount of material, but we just do it in shorter increments. It worked really well yesterday, and we got everything done, which is not normal because with how I was teaching it before we would usually lose at least 1 period's worth of work because someone was having a melt down. The method of instruction really does matter.

Josh is doing well. He had another "fun run" on Saturday. The cool thing about it was that his folks were in town and they got to come and see him run. It really meant a lot to him to have them there and he was glad that they got to see some of what he does at least once before he graduates. =) He is stressed though. This week is his second "Will to Survive" which is where they physically exhaust him and then make him fight people, only this one will be harder and will involve a lot more exhaustion. He has several tests this week (a communication skills test today), and others, one of which is Spanish. tee-hee! So I have to work with him on his Spanish tonight, and probably go on a run as well.

anyways, I have to go and start my class now. Love ya'll!

fluid

The days feel like stained glass windows. Light streams every where and the trees blow so fluidly that I would believe I was watching seaweed pulled by the tide. Sunlight filters through my windows in the afternoons. It feels like a breath that I can't breathe deeply enough or a smell that I caught, that caught a memory, and I can't smell quite enough of it to remember. I am caught in a Rembrandt. Life is so beautiful that it is hard to believe.

I'm not going to teach these kids again next year. It is just too hard. I could either be a good wife, or I could be a good teacher, I cannot be both. There is a limit to the emotional energy I can bestow and I've reached it. The last few weeks I've been walking around like a broken zombie, crying (not at school) for no reason, or at least very small reasons. I cannot do it all. I can do some, but not all. And I'm terrified of being a Spanish teacher. I don't believe in myself, or my abilities. The world can tell me that I am smart, capable, and many other things, but I don't believe it. Part of why I handle these broken children so well, and pour myself out for them so eagerly, is because they remind me of me. I hope that I can save them, to somehow prove that I myself am salvageable. I see them so clearly - their pain and worries, because that's how I felt when I was their age. I never acted out on it like they do, they are almost emotional caricatures of normality, but I felt them. If they who are so broken, so hurt, and so needy can somehow be whole, pleasured, and content ... and successful ... maybe I can too. If I can see them and their needs so clearly, maybe someone can see mine. If I can see the solution for them, maybe one exists for me. But I cannot save them and maintain my sanity or health ... not them and my husband. It is too much. I cannot hold it all. I feel like I am a sword swallower, both at school and at home, only it's gone terribly wrong and the sword ripped out the back of my throat instead of traveling in and out safely. If I carry everyone else's burdens, who will care for mine? The only reason that I am feeling better is because I talked to Monica and remembered that there are people who care for me, and two of my worst students left last week - one to be with his father, and one to a mental hospital.

Today I sat in a white room with one of my students and stopped him from choking himself to death with his sweatshirt. Once I had taken that from him, he tried to use his hands instead. Even though once he passed out he would have started breathing again, I stopped him (I was scared that he would crush his throat). I grabbed his wrists and said very sternly, "I am not going to let you choke yourself. You are too precious. You are worth too much to destroy. So stop it." He did stop it, and then started crying. I patted him on the back like a baby and told him that I loved him. He disagreed, saying that no one loved him. I told him that love does what is best for the person who is being loved; it does not do what the person wants. And that by doing what was best for him, I loved him. He got really quiet after that. Later on, back in class, when I was making him take his history test and he was about to throw a fit over it, I told him that again, this is what love looks like. He finished his test and got a B on it. I think that he needs to be taught about love like a baby playing peek-a-boo ... there it is! ... there it is! ... there it is! ... there it is!

It really sucked though. Every time they scream in that piercing wail my body sends a shot of epinephrine through my veins, very much against my will. I know, mentally, that I am not in danger and that my physical body can do nothing to save them, but my body responds none-the-less. I am tired. But today was much better than last week. And the week before that.

Josh is doing well. I think. He is class sergeant this week, the doom of all academy doom, but he is doing well. I think. He looks brilliant in his uniform - all trim and healthy - and continues on successfully in his courses. He heard a very excellent speaker today on ethics ... it is the one subject that they teach him that he will not be tested on because they can't figure out how to test for ethics. Funny, that.