Monday of Mondays

The beginning of a new work week is always a long, drawn out drag.  Laundry, school, and anything else that finds it’s way into my schedule.  I’m not complaining, just stating a fact is all.  It’s the same story every Monday.  I’m just writing about it for a change.

I begin the day feeling well-rested and motivated to take on any chore.  By the time school is over, and all homework is completed, I feel as if I’ve been run over, mentally, by a freight train.  One of the many negatives to being a writer, but it’s an occupation I love to hate.

I’m revisiting a lot of rough drafts I previously thought were polished stories.  Either that, or I’ve really grown in the last 6 months.  Between revising a short piece I titled ‘Chicken Slick’ about a recipe that’s been passed down through several generations, and another short piece titled ‘Christmas Crash Site’ I’m rewriting to submit to Chicken Soup for the Soul, I’d say my week is pretty well planned.

I really hope it doesn’t sound like I’m complaining about my job, because really I’m not.  Writing is my release.  I don’t like complaining to people about my woes because we all have them, whether we like, love, or hate our jobs.  As a homeschooling mother, I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.  Every job, every position has it’s ups and downs.  I prefer to stress myself out making sure my daughter’s grades are where I think they should be and working one-on-one with her, to stressing over the dreaded phone call I used to get from her brick and mortar school, everyday, because she was misbehaving so badly her teachers couldn’t handle her.  What a nightmare that used to be!

In Science class today, while her teacher is trying to teach about Newton’s ‘second law’, only a few were making an effort to participate.  So, her teacher nicely told everyone to virtually raise their hands to let her know they were present and actively participating.  The turnout wasn’t so nice.  Ten times, the teacher repeated herself, “Raise your hands if you are with me and can hear me.”  Ten times.  Out of 44 students, only 21 virtually raised their hands.  Not good.  So, she kicked them out.  I know it sounds harsh, and maybe even rude, but that’s why I like her Science teacher.  She’s no nonsense for the most part… as long as her students are following directions.  I’ve thought about becoming a teacher, but no.  I’ll stick to writing.

This evening I’m revising and rewriting ‘Chicken Slick’ because I know I can make it sound so much better than it’s current draft.  I seriously need to stop being afraid of my abilities.  It’s like I’m afraid of succeeding, or scared of my own potential, but it is only Monday.

Again, until tomorrow… and thanks for reading.

“School Shootings and Gun Control”

When will the violence end?  How many people have to die at the hands of guns mixed with mental health before we start taking it seriously?  It would seem the system is ‘slipping’, or background checks aren’t as thorough as they used to be, or they need to be doing a more thorough background check with our forever evolving technical services.  We’ve seen footage now from 18 different school shootings this year, and it’s only February.

I am so thankful I’m able to work from home, so I can home-school my daughter because it’s just not safe in public schools anymore.  It doesn’t matter what the situation is.

I wonder why no one said anything?  Nearly every student thought the same where the shooter was concerned; that he’d be the person to shoot up the school.  Why didn’t anyone say anything?

Back when I was in high school, sometime after the shooting at Columbine High School, a girl I used to be best friends with made a threat of the same kind.  She said it in the middle of French class.  I couldn’t believe it.  I shook my head because she’d been running her mouth, trying to sound big and bad around a few guys in our class.  Well, her ‘not so’ big and bad attitude landed her in the office after class was over because after she made the statement, one of the guys stood up and walked out of class–heading straight to the principal’s office.  For the rest of the day, kids were called out of their classes to the principal’s office for questioning on the incident.  My name was on that list of students who heard her make the statement.  Everyone who spoke with the principal told me I was on the list, but the principal never called me into his office.  The only reason I can figure is because she was my best friend, he had enough witnesses to punish her, giving her 3-days of out-of-school suspension, and he didn’t want to put me in that position.  Telling on my best friend.

The three days she wasn’t in school, everyone was asking me questions, wondering how I was doing without her.  Better actually!  It’s funny though because if I had done that, I would’ve been grounded for the next month and no phone calls, so I didn’t call her for the three days she was out.  When she came back to school, I found out her mother was badmouthing me because I didn’t call to check in.  Does that make any sense?

For the record, if the principal had called me into his office for questioning, I would have told him exactly what my friend said, and I would not have felt bad about it.  I’m not saying I’m a snitch and would snitch on my friend in a heartbeat–that’s not me.  I’m saying I would do what is right regardless of how it might affect a friendship.

Somehow, we have to get a much stronger grip on our gun issue.  Too many innocent people and children are dying at the hands of those mentally incapable of handling firearms.

I apologize if this offends anyone, but guns are meant for hunting animals and protection.  As a mother, I can’t imagine sending my daughter to school with the possibility that she may not come home because she was shot by an angry classmate.  When she was in Kindergarten, I received a call from her school once.  It was an automated phone call, but it was a recording saying they were on lock-down because of ‘a person of interest’.  Immediately, my heart went to my throat with worry.  I don’t want to even imagine it, but I feel, to the absolute depths of my core, for the parents of the children who didn’t make it, and the wife of the Coach who gave his life to shield the kids.

My thoughts are with the staff, students, and parents of Parkland, Florida high school.