A certain handsome young man innocently pointed out to me this weekend that I haven't blogged in an eternity.
"Yes, I know!" I snapped in reply. "I haven't had anything to write about, okay?"
Did he deserve this attitude? No. Why did I do it?
At his acknowledgement of my lack of writing, the guilt that I've been suppressing broke forth and swept over me like a tidal wave. I've let my faithful readers down for almost two weeks! How are they coping without a daily dose of Miriam's witty commentary on her life as a fabulous socialite in the exciting town of Macon? If the Sex and the City girls are NYC's "Glitterati", then I am this place's equivalent. And it is my obligation, my "noblesse oblige", if you will, to let others in on what my life is like.
Excuses? No. A mere apology is all I have to offer for my negligence. Please, my adoring fans, forgive me.
HA! Seriously, folks, sorry I haven't written. I've not felt an ounce of inspiration lately. Not an ounce, that is, until now! What is it that's inspired me, you ask? Something simple. Something everyday. Something wonderful.
An eyelash curler.
Huh? That's right, my friends. An eyelash curler. Perhaps it wasn't so much the item itself as it was the location in which this particular tool was found: the ladies' bathroom in the teachers' lounge.
I know you are all wondering where in the heck this is going. Bear with me, okay?
Think back on your past experience with middle and high school teachers. What is the pervading image? If your education was anything like mine, you're conjuring up the middle-aged, frumpy, makeup-less spinsters with short, no-nonsense hair and personalities to match. They're wearing jumpers or rompers or something equally as waist-less and comfortable, black (or taupe) orthopedic shoes, and an appliqued sweater adorned with an "I love my teacher" apple pin. If they were feeling particularly festive and feminine when they dressed in the darkness of the early morning, they might be wearing apple button covers to match. Lovely.
So what does the eyelash curler in the faculty restroom have to do with anything? Everything! As my eyes fell on the object perched atop the paper-towel dispenser, I felt pride swell up in my heart for my fellow teachers. Would any of those antitheses-of-all-style-women from back in our day have EVER used an eyelash curler? Would they have even known what an eyelash curler was? I'd be willing to bet not.
So, the eyelash curler, to me, signified a change that is taking place in the world of female teachers. No longer can one assume that, should her chosen profession be teaching, a girl will live out her days wearing shapeless clothes, styling dull and lifeless (and -heaven forbid- unhighlighted) hair, donning her very ordinary glasses to read a very ordinary book in the quietness of a very ordinary and lonely apartment, and keeping up conversation with no one but her two very bored cats.
No, my dear friends. The new teacher is above that. The new teacher owns (and uses!) an eyelash curler. Hope springs eternal!
(*This post written by a spinster teacher who lives alone in an ordinary apartment, reading ordinary books and talking to her bored cats for entertainment. Her latest undertaking, as of last Wednesday night, is learning how to knit. Take all of her assertions and self-righteous ramblings, therefore, with a grain of salt.)
1.30.2006
1.19.2006
If Christmas only comes once a year,
mine is over and done with.
I just had Christmas carolers come sing at my door!! HA!
This week is Spirit Week at my school. For those of you who, like me, had a public school education and don't know what Spirit Week is, let me try to explain.
During Spirit Week, each of the four high school classes competes against the others in several different competitions. There are relays (potato sack, 3-legged, Dizzy Izzy, etc), limbos, grape tosses, and -perhaps the biggest of all- a HUGE lip sync competition. Each class adopts a theme for the week, and their apparel, hall decorations, signs, and music choices for the lip sync hinge on this theme.
One of the areas in which the classes are judged is "Overall Spirit", which is shown through the way the classes act throughout the week. It's a pretty broad category. Very hard to judge.
This year, the Juniors' theme is Winter Wonderland. They've been littering the campus with santa hats, snowflakes, and candy canes, and, if you listen closely, you can hear spurts of Christmas songs playing in a distant hallway every now and then. It's like Santa's elves have escaped from the North Pole and gone crazy, spreading their cheer like snow all over.
So here I am, minding my own business, sitting on my couch in my comfortable apartment watching Dancing With the Stars, when there comes a knock on my door. I thought it might be Janet. I open the door without checking out the peephole.
Imagine my surprise when I find 3 adorable Juniors, decked out in their class color (orange) and Santa hats, singing Deck the Halls, then Joy to the World. In an effort to show their spirit to any teacher who might possibly be a judge, they had gathered a list of addresses and were petitioning their cause door to door. I was their first stop; the girl in charge had been in Belize with me and knew I'd get a kick out of it all.
They didn't seem too disappointed when I informed them that I'm not a judge and don't even know who the judges are; they were having too much fun. I invited them in for hot chocolate (because isn't that what you do for carolers?), but, although they came in for a few minutes to see my place, they had to hurry on their merry way to see how many other teachers they could sing to before it got too late.
How fun! And so foreign to me, this world of private schools where students know where teachers live and use that knowledge for good rather than evil. Most of the time, at least.
So... Merry Christmas, everyone!
I just had Christmas carolers come sing at my door!! HA!
This week is Spirit Week at my school. For those of you who, like me, had a public school education and don't know what Spirit Week is, let me try to explain.
During Spirit Week, each of the four high school classes competes against the others in several different competitions. There are relays (potato sack, 3-legged, Dizzy Izzy, etc), limbos, grape tosses, and -perhaps the biggest of all- a HUGE lip sync competition. Each class adopts a theme for the week, and their apparel, hall decorations, signs, and music choices for the lip sync hinge on this theme.
One of the areas in which the classes are judged is "Overall Spirit", which is shown through the way the classes act throughout the week. It's a pretty broad category. Very hard to judge.
This year, the Juniors' theme is Winter Wonderland. They've been littering the campus with santa hats, snowflakes, and candy canes, and, if you listen closely, you can hear spurts of Christmas songs playing in a distant hallway every now and then. It's like Santa's elves have escaped from the North Pole and gone crazy, spreading their cheer like snow all over.
So here I am, minding my own business, sitting on my couch in my comfortable apartment watching Dancing With the Stars, when there comes a knock on my door. I thought it might be Janet. I open the door without checking out the peephole.
Imagine my surprise when I find 3 adorable Juniors, decked out in their class color (orange) and Santa hats, singing Deck the Halls, then Joy to the World. In an effort to show their spirit to any teacher who might possibly be a judge, they had gathered a list of addresses and were petitioning their cause door to door. I was their first stop; the girl in charge had been in Belize with me and knew I'd get a kick out of it all.
They didn't seem too disappointed when I informed them that I'm not a judge and don't even know who the judges are; they were having too much fun. I invited them in for hot chocolate (because isn't that what you do for carolers?), but, although they came in for a few minutes to see my place, they had to hurry on their merry way to see how many other teachers they could sing to before it got too late.
How fun! And so foreign to me, this world of private schools where students know where teachers live and use that knowledge for good rather than evil. Most of the time, at least.
So... Merry Christmas, everyone!
The Same Old Stuff
I've been scared to blog lately. It's a little bit of writer's block, I guess, but not brought on by the usual excuses. No, this time it's due to the intimidation I feel when I read Rebecca's worthy-of-publication-in-a-bestselling-devotional-guide-for-intellectual-Christians blog. If you're not reading it, you should be.
Anyway, I've been enjoying her tales of job hunting, vintage party dresses, and overall Bohemian lifestyle there in her newfound home of Asheville, and I find myself wondering (again) whether I've lost my edge. My spunk. My individuality. So I'm here to prove to myself and to anyone else who might care to read why this is NOT the case.
Over the summer it was easy to blog because of two reasons: 1) I was doing things, and 2) I wasn't doing anything. Huh? you ask.
Well, first of all, I was traveling a lot, right? I had places to go and people that I was visiting. I mean, how easy is it to write about a spontaneous trip to Vegas, or a scary non-flushing trip to Belize, or a smorgasbord of International restaurants in Savannah, or a visit with my never-once-boring-in-her-life friend, Meredith, in Jackson, or a move to a new apartment across town? Pretty easy.
On the other hand, I had lots of time. When I wasn't traveling, I was sitting in my tiny little house doing nothing but eating Thomas's English Muffins (lite), watching The Price is Right, or blogging. I wasn't exhausted from a day at work, my brain wasn't fried from teaching grammar to middle schoolers for 7 hours, and I was getting at least 10 hours of sleep a night. Embarrassing, but true.
Nevertheless, when I find myself questioning why I can't come up with anything to blog about, and when I come to the frightening realization that it's because I haven't done or thought anything worthy of blogging about, I get a little worried that I'm losing something. That I'm slowly becoming someone who's okay to just be or exist. This notion scares the heck out of me.
I feel certain that my lack of adventure lately stems from typical middle-of-the-school-year busyness and exhaustion, one that hits this time every year. I have time to do fun and exciting things like suddenly deciding go to a rock concert on a weeknight in Atlanta, but do I really want to anymore? Not at the moment. Over the summer, when I can sleep late the next morning, it'll be a different story.
I've been thinking on all of this for almost a week now, and I haven't come up with any solid answers. One thing I do know, however, is that I don't want to become content with just living a humdrum life, going to work, going to the gym, coming home, and sitting in front of my television.
I want to be challenged by something, to maintain that strong individuality that was developed and honed during my time in Athens. I pray to that end. And because of this desire and prayer, I haven't given up hope. Having a yearning for an edge or passion is, itself, some form of edge or passion.
Right?
Anyway, I've been enjoying her tales of job hunting, vintage party dresses, and overall Bohemian lifestyle there in her newfound home of Asheville, and I find myself wondering (again) whether I've lost my edge. My spunk. My individuality. So I'm here to prove to myself and to anyone else who might care to read why this is NOT the case.
Over the summer it was easy to blog because of two reasons: 1) I was doing things, and 2) I wasn't doing anything. Huh? you ask.
Well, first of all, I was traveling a lot, right? I had places to go and people that I was visiting. I mean, how easy is it to write about a spontaneous trip to Vegas, or a scary non-flushing trip to Belize, or a smorgasbord of International restaurants in Savannah, or a visit with my never-once-boring-in-her-life friend, Meredith, in Jackson, or a move to a new apartment across town? Pretty easy.
On the other hand, I had lots of time. When I wasn't traveling, I was sitting in my tiny little house doing nothing but eating Thomas's English Muffins (lite), watching The Price is Right, or blogging. I wasn't exhausted from a day at work, my brain wasn't fried from teaching grammar to middle schoolers for 7 hours, and I was getting at least 10 hours of sleep a night. Embarrassing, but true.
Nevertheless, when I find myself questioning why I can't come up with anything to blog about, and when I come to the frightening realization that it's because I haven't done or thought anything worthy of blogging about, I get a little worried that I'm losing something. That I'm slowly becoming someone who's okay to just be or exist. This notion scares the heck out of me.
I feel certain that my lack of adventure lately stems from typical middle-of-the-school-year busyness and exhaustion, one that hits this time every year. I have time to do fun and exciting things like suddenly deciding go to a rock concert on a weeknight in Atlanta, but do I really want to anymore? Not at the moment. Over the summer, when I can sleep late the next morning, it'll be a different story.
I've been thinking on all of this for almost a week now, and I haven't come up with any solid answers. One thing I do know, however, is that I don't want to become content with just living a humdrum life, going to work, going to the gym, coming home, and sitting in front of my television.
I want to be challenged by something, to maintain that strong individuality that was developed and honed during my time in Athens. I pray to that end. And because of this desire and prayer, I haven't given up hope. Having a yearning for an edge or passion is, itself, some form of edge or passion.
Right?
1.13.2006
It's a Girl!
Anna Claire Reams was born last night to my sister, Julie, at 10:41 after an incredibly quick labor. She weighed 7 lbs, 3 oz, and she was 21 inches.
The best part? Reports are coming out of Greenwood that she looks like her grandfather (my dad) and her Aunt Miriam! Complete with (wait for it)... CURLY HAIR!
Hurrah!
1.10.2006
Good thing I'm a teacher
How is it that I've just gotten back from an 11-day holiday (not including weekends) and I'm already chomping at the bit for MLK day on Monday? How do people with real jobs do it?
(PS -- That last statement is NOT inviting comments from non-teachers about teaching not being a real job. In case you haven't ventured into that territory with a teacher before, you should know that it's a grave mistake. It's very similar to the whole I-can-talk-about-my-mama-but-you-can't thing.)
(PS -- That last statement is NOT inviting comments from non-teachers about teaching not being a real job. In case you haven't ventured into that territory with a teacher before, you should know that it's a grave mistake. It's very similar to the whole I-can-talk-about-my-mama-but-you-can't thing.)
So I'm a nerd. Get over it.
I realize that I'm incriminating myself by sharing the link to this grammar article that I was so excited to see on MSN this morning. Oh well. If you didn't know it already, you might as well know it now. I'm a geek. A major one.
What sealed the deal on my satisfaction with the article was the very last mistake she mentioned. The loose/lose mistake. It is, without a doubt, my all-time biggest grammatical pet peeve. Possibly my biggest in general pet peeve. Even bigger than the words "moist" and "lover".
And that's big.
What sealed the deal on my satisfaction with the article was the very last mistake she mentioned. The loose/lose mistake. It is, without a doubt, my all-time biggest grammatical pet peeve. Possibly my biggest in general pet peeve. Even bigger than the words "moist" and "lover".
And that's big.
1.09.2006
A matter of Biblical proportion
Isn't it funny how we can form an attachment to something, simply based on the time of our lives during which we used that object?
Case in point: my little, brown Bible.
Back when I used to live in Athens and went to Redeemer, I was friends with a certain girl there named Meredith. Meredith and I were joined at the hip from the moment we met, and one thing that I loved about her from day one was her tiny, brown Bible. I liked it so very much that I went out and bought one of my very own.
As most of you know, my time at Redeemer was one of huge spiritual growth for me. Not only did God draw me closer to Him during those years, but He also provided me with friends -like Meredith- who became more dear to me than I could have ever imagined. Leaving that church and those friends was the hardest part about leaving Athens.
Every time I looked at my little brown Bible, bought at the beginning of my time at Redeemer, I was reminded of God's blessings in my life and of His faithfulness to pursue me, even through the earlier years that had been much darker.
Every time I looked at my little brown Bible, that is, up until about 8 or 9 months ago. That's when I lost it.
I searched high and low for that thing; I asked around at church, in my Sunday school classroom, the house where we met for Bible study. Nothing. It was gone.
Today, however, the reminder is back. At my request, my sister and her husband picked up a new Bible, exactly like my old one, when they went to the Christian bookstore the other day.
I'm still sad about the loss of the irreplaceable things -the underlinings, the notes, the little mementos that I had stuck in the pages for safekeeping- but just holding that little brown Bible in my hand gives me hope for a bright future, full of the fulfillment of God's promises to me, His daughter. It represents to me a fresh start, and I am overcome with joy and anticipation as I know that the future (with or without a little brown Bible) holds nothing but the God of the Universe's absolute best.
Case in point: my little, brown Bible.
Back when I used to live in Athens and went to Redeemer, I was friends with a certain girl there named Meredith. Meredith and I were joined at the hip from the moment we met, and one thing that I loved about her from day one was her tiny, brown Bible. I liked it so very much that I went out and bought one of my very own.
As most of you know, my time at Redeemer was one of huge spiritual growth for me. Not only did God draw me closer to Him during those years, but He also provided me with friends -like Meredith- who became more dear to me than I could have ever imagined. Leaving that church and those friends was the hardest part about leaving Athens.
Every time I looked at my little brown Bible, bought at the beginning of my time at Redeemer, I was reminded of God's blessings in my life and of His faithfulness to pursue me, even through the earlier years that had been much darker.
Every time I looked at my little brown Bible, that is, up until about 8 or 9 months ago. That's when I lost it.
I searched high and low for that thing; I asked around at church, in my Sunday school classroom, the house where we met for Bible study. Nothing. It was gone.
Today, however, the reminder is back. At my request, my sister and her husband picked up a new Bible, exactly like my old one, when they went to the Christian bookstore the other day.
I'm still sad about the loss of the irreplaceable things -the underlinings, the notes, the little mementos that I had stuck in the pages for safekeeping- but just holding that little brown Bible in my hand gives me hope for a bright future, full of the fulfillment of God's promises to me, His daughter. It represents to me a fresh start, and I am overcome with joy and anticipation as I know that the future (with or without a little brown Bible) holds nothing but the God of the Universe's absolute best.
1.05.2006
Showing Gratitude
I've written 14 thank-you notes to students for gifts given to me for Christmas, and I have 29 more to go. I'm discovering that there's only so much you can say about how much you loved the fudge and the cookies and the chex mix and the sugared pecans and the homemade cinnamon bread and the caramel candy and the 32 holiday-scented candles and the 12 ornaments (usually snowmen, angels, or gingerbread men holding apples that say "I love my Teacher") and the 13 different flavors of lotion or bath salts from Bath and Body Works.
It's a blessing and a curse, this teacher gig. Gifts galore, but the appreciation afterwards is a bear.
On the bright side, I will never ever again in my lifetime have to buy an ornament to fill up my tree or a bottle of lotion to make me smell good. I think I'm set.
It's a blessing and a curse, this teacher gig. Gifts galore, but the appreciation afterwards is a bear.
On the bright side, I will never ever again in my lifetime have to buy an ornament to fill up my tree or a bottle of lotion to make me smell good. I think I'm set.
1.02.2006
All of Athens is howling with laughter.
Yes!! I didn't even try! I promise! So ha! to all of Athens who claimed I could never be anything other than a preppy, bubbly, "pretty little head". (and you know who you are. Darren Grem.) I'm a punk/rebel!
You scored as Punk/Rebel.
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