After every interaction between us

It's there -

A knot of anger twisting inside me

Made from a string of hope

Meddled by imprecations

I make on myself

For being so daft to hope for such a thing.

It swells until my breathing quickens

And I nearly choke on the tangled mess.

But my composure I keep as my strength I regain -

Stronger the longer

You are away.

The knot unravels

And I nearly forget

All the trouble this was -

Until we meet again.

You will never change,

And as well you will never know

How I suffer each time we get close.

~Heidi Joens

I love field experience in being a teacher!!

"Hi Ms. Joens!"

I stopped in the middle of writing Math problems on the board and turned to see José, Carolina, and Leo, three of the 4th graders in the class I assist in twice a week. Now crossing the room to meet them, I returned the greeting, "Good morning guys!"

"Can we come in?"

Their teacher had stepped out of the room and left me with the task of creating Math warm-up problems before her class arrived for the day. Usually she had them wait outside in a line if she was not yet in the room. Not wanting to disrupt her morning routine, I hesitated in my response, debating whether or not it was a good idea.

"Well...I'm not so sure your teacher wants you in the room without her here."

"But you're a teacher!" Leo protested.

"Actually I'm not quite there yet. Still studying to be one.."

"But you look like one," José added.

I laughed at this and over dramatically brushed some hair back with my hand while using the other to gesture toward my clothes saying, "I try, I try."

They all laughed at my sudden change in character and then asked it they would be having another sub today (they had had one the past two days).

"No, your real teacher's back today!"

They were grateful for that, and I decided to inform them that I would have the chance to teach them a Math lesson a week from today. "But, you will have another sub on that day," I told them.

"Oh man! Too many subs!" Leo complained.

"But I'll be here too!" I tried to offer.

"Yeah but you're never here the whole day!" José reminded me (I only stay until 10am)

I couldn't help but smile because nearly every day that I am there someone lets me know they are disappointed that I always have to leave "so early". It's nice to know they like me!

"I'll tell you what, I will let you in if you promise to sit quietly for your teacher and start those Math problems on the board."

"Yes ma'am!"

They really are such a polite bunch.

Those kids are getting comfortable with me now and are raising their hands asking for "Ms. Joens" when they don't understand a problem and are always trying to tell me little stories and figure out some more information about me. As I was standing by Ana's desk today she asked, "Do you still have my bunny?" About a week ago she had drawn me a picture of a bunny eating carrots with the words "From Ana". It was so precious I had to keep it. "Yes," I reassured her with a smile, "I have it at my apartment."

And as always whenever I have to leave, the class burst out in a chorus of "Bye Ms. Joens!" and "See you next week!" all wildly waving their arms. They truly have captured my hearts and I know I am going to love, absolutely love, being a teacher! :)

"...What a transfiguration it is to love! Notary clerks become gods. And the little shrieks, the pursuits in the grass, the waists encircled by stealth, the jargon that is melody, the adoration that breaks through in the way a syllable is said, those cherries snatched from one pair of lips by another - it all catches fire and turns into celestial glories. Beautiful girls lavish their charms with sweet prodigality. We imagine it will never end. Philosophers, poets, painters behold these ecstasies and don't know what to make of them, they are so dazzling." - Victor Hugo in Les Miserables

There was never a man like Rhett

I can't quite describe what it was like reading through Gone With the Wind. Yes, it was a long book (959 pages!), but so worth the read. I learned so much from the novel, not just about the characters but about the time period. The Civil War completely changed our nation, and this novel, as author Margaret Mitchell says, is not one of romance, but rather a story about survival.Even with that being said, I cannot tell you how entertaining it was to read the dialogue between Scarlett and Rhett. I have never before read about characters such as these...they're so unique and so... devilish. I included a bit of their dialogue here just to give a sample of their interchange,but honestly, you have to read the book and get to know their characters in order to truly appreciate it.

It makes me sad to think about how when this book was published in the late 1930's it was as popular as Twilight is today. Can you imagine everyone you know picking up a book that is almost 1000 pages, written the way it is, and actually reading through the whole thing just for pleasure? These things don't happen anymore, unless the book involves vampires and teen romance. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed reading the Twilight Saga just as much as the next person, but what has happened to our desire to truly read?? I am the only one my age that Iknow of who has actually read Gone With the Wind, and I can honestly say it is my favorite novel! And because of how unpopular it is today, I feel like it is my own little secret. Such brilliance lies within those pages.

"I don't care for such personal conversation," she said coolly and managed a frown. "Besides, I'd just as soon kiss a pig."

"There's no accounting for tastes and I've always heard the Irish were partial to pigs - kept them under their beds, in fact. But, Scarlett, you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. All your beaux have respected you too much, though God knows why, or they have been too afraid of you to really do right by you. The result is that you are unendurably uppity. You should be kissed and by someone who knows how."

The conversation was not going the way she wanted it. It never did when she was with him. Always, it was a duel in which she was worsted.

"And I suppose you think you are the proper person?" she asked with sarcasm, holding her temper in check with difficulty.

"Oh, yes, if I cared to take the trouble," he said carelessly. "They say I kiss very well."

"Oh," she began, indignant at the slight to her charms. "Why, you..." But her eyes fell in sudden confusion. He was smiling, but in the dark depths of his eyes a tiny light flickered for a brief moment, like a small raw flame.

"Of course, you've probably wondered why I never tried to follow up that chaste peck I gave you, the day I brought you that bonnet - "

"I have never - "

"Then you aren't a nice girl, Scarlett, and I'm sorry to hear it. All really nice girls wonder when men don't try to kiss them. They know they shouldn't want them to and they know they must act insulted if they do, but just the same, they wish the men would try... Well, my dear, take heart. Some day, I will kiss you and you will like it. But not now, so I beg you not to be too impatient."

--Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

I was skimming through my journal today and came across this entry I made last June. I thought I might as well put it here...I still remember how scared and sick I felt after this dream.

Saturday, 6-12-10

Last night I had a dream that was absolutely terrifying. It was the end of the world, catastrophes were happening, and me and my family needed to leave our home immediately. It deeply depressed me that a life I had built would be left behind to be obliterated in destruction. All the things I had worked so hard for: mementos, memories, photographs, records of what I did and who I was. I knew there was no time but I grabbed a suitcase and hurriedly shoved things in from left and right. Everything I saw was something I wanted, something I had to keep. It was hard to make decisions and soon I couldn't think because I was so dizzy. My family rushed me to the car and I threw my things in the back - I had packed more than the other five combined. We jumped in and raced off, for danger was right at our heels.
It was the end of the world - the end of the world! Nothing would be the same. I started reviewing in my mind the things I had grabbed, and suddenly I realized - I had forgotten my Bible. It was only the single most important thing to own in the end times and I, in my haste to preserve the memory of my own life, had left it behind. I felt absolutely sick realizing my mistake, for it truly proved where my priorities were. How could I have been so selfish - so foolish? How would God forgive me then?


This was just interesting to me because especially recently I have been realizing that my priorities are not where they need to be. I've been letting myself get distracted by just a whirlwind of life and have not been putting God first before everything. This is not ok.

Dangerous Game

Roll the dice

And here we play

At this table -

A dangerous game.

The odds are only

In your favor,

At any moment I could lose.

I passed quietly

Behind your chair,

And then you turned

And saw me there.

You grabbed me quickly

And with a sultry smile

Placed in my fist

The cursed die.

I should have cast them

To the ground,

Should have ignored

Your wink and grin.

Your touch should have never

Caused blood to rush,

Coloring cheeks

With a rosy blush.

But this game I play

As your invitation convinced

Me - I was blind

To your few cheap tricks.

Rolling and tossing,

I continue this bet,

But my name is

Amateur,

And I lose all I get.

Please tell me to quit,

Shoo me away,

I've had enough of casinos,

Enough of cards,

I'm done with suits and cigarettes.

Tell me,

For I haven't believed yet.

~Heidi Joens

"No sooner did I see that his attention was riveted on them, and that I might gaze without being observed, than my eyes were drawn involuntarily to his face; I could not keep their lids under control; they would rise, and the irids would fix on him. I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking - a precious, yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony; a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless."

Well put, Charlotte Bronte, well put.