Recently, I have been posting a lot on my blog about moments of success in my job. Moments that bring me joy and give me purpose and motivation to go on. These moments, though, are not my whole day. Not even close. I hold on to these moments and share them because I need to in order to counteract the time I lost my temper and yelled at a student. Or the time that I was lazy and handed out a worksheet just so I didn't have to teach today. The times when a class looks back at me with distant eyes or those 20 minutes I lose regularly just trying to get everyone to sit down and not talk.
I'm sharing this, not because I am in a bad mood or because want to post a negative blog, but because I have encountered many family members and friends in the last month that feel lost. They feel stuck in their career or town and are unsatisfied. I want to show, despite many people's perceptions, I do not have it all together. Very few of us have a obvious purpose and dream job. One day in school, a girl asked me if I always wanted to be a teacher. I truthfully told her no and explained my plans to be a journalist for a while. In actuality, it wasn't just this one phase. Even though I am happy most days at my job, I probably think for a moment at least once a week, "Is this what I want to do with the rest of my life?"
Some days I want to go to law school. Many days I want to stop life and write and write and read and write some more. Over fall break, I had the itch to travel. I wasted hours imagining how I could best do that. I changed from teaching English to teaching Reading in my first two years and am now working to teach English as a Second Language. Maybe I'll switch subject areas 10 more times. Or become a counselor. I don't know. The only thing I am sure of at this moment is that I remain open to every possibility. I have not "grown up" and hit the end point. I love my job. I love that I get to help people every single day. I don't have it all together. So, to every family member and friend that feels the same way, it's going to be okay. Listen to your heart. Never feel stuck. Keep looking forward.
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
Sunday, October 16, 2016
A Few More Wonders of Teaching
1. Like most of students that are in Reading class, one girl adamantly "hates reading." She never wanted to check out a personal reading book, rolled her eyes when I suggested a book, and spent a lot of time fake reading. This girl is half Lakota and often wears Lakota jewelry and is obviously very proud of her heritage. One day in the library, I said, "You know there are books here about Native American tribes." This time, I didn't get a snooty look, sigh, or roll of eyes. Instead, just one word: Where? She has been reading these nonfiction books for 2-3 weeks now and doesn't want to stop at the end of reading time.
2. Something I have found really amazing in my time teaching is the gap of knowledge so many of my students have about high school and college. So many of them have families that didn't go to college. Many more have parents that didn't even attend high school in the United States. Nothing captures their attention more than starting something off, "In high school, you will..." Whenever I mention college, I get bombarded with questions. What are credits? How many classes do you take? What kind of papers do you write? Where do you live in college? How many students are in a class? And although I sometimes move off subject for these conversations, they are some of my most memorable teaching moments, when my students look beyond the chapter they have to read today and wonder and make goals for themselves. I really think these kids need more of this in their lives.
3. I have one student who is a collector of words. She was born in a refugee camp in southeast Asia and moved her only a few years ago. She learns very fast and is always listening attentively to everything around her. Her favorite thing is new English words. She carries a journal around and when she hears me say something unknown or reads a new word in a book, her face lights up and her hand raises quickly. I come over and give a definition and an example. She writes it down and for the next few minutes, I can always see her lips moving, as if testing it in her mouth over and over. It makes my day.
4. I called a student's mother recently to ask for the student to stay after school in order to catch up and get some extra help on an assignment. She gladly agreed and we worked for an hour. Then I sat with the student in the parking lot until his mom could make it to pick him up. She showed up in a cleaning van, wearing a white uniform with a young child sitting next to her, screaming. She leaned out the window and apologized for making me wait and thanked me for helping her son. I shook my head and said, "No, thank you for changing up your schedule. Thank you for helping him." She didn't respond, but I think about that smile she gave me all the time.
5. The Latino Club at my school sells Mexican candy as a fundraiser every month or so. I found that I am a big fan of Bubu Lubu, a chocolate candy with marshmallow and jelly stuff in it. I have one student that is working very hard to get all As this year and comes in after school to get help with not only my class, but his English class too. Each time I help him after school, he gives me a Bubu Lubu. I told him this isn't necessary. My job is to help him. He said, "Nah, I want to. Cause you helped me be good." I asked why that was. "Last year, you told me you knew what it was like to be the oldest kid and want to be a good example for my little brothers. You said if I worked hard, my mom and little brothers would be proud. And now they get to watch me get honors." If I'm completely honest, I don't remember this conversation he mentioned at all, but evidently he did. I enjoyed that candy he brought, but there has been nothing more satisfying than his words all year long.
2. Something I have found really amazing in my time teaching is the gap of knowledge so many of my students have about high school and college. So many of them have families that didn't go to college. Many more have parents that didn't even attend high school in the United States. Nothing captures their attention more than starting something off, "In high school, you will..." Whenever I mention college, I get bombarded with questions. What are credits? How many classes do you take? What kind of papers do you write? Where do you live in college? How many students are in a class? And although I sometimes move off subject for these conversations, they are some of my most memorable teaching moments, when my students look beyond the chapter they have to read today and wonder and make goals for themselves. I really think these kids need more of this in their lives.
3. I have one student who is a collector of words. She was born in a refugee camp in southeast Asia and moved her only a few years ago. She learns very fast and is always listening attentively to everything around her. Her favorite thing is new English words. She carries a journal around and when she hears me say something unknown or reads a new word in a book, her face lights up and her hand raises quickly. I come over and give a definition and an example. She writes it down and for the next few minutes, I can always see her lips moving, as if testing it in her mouth over and over. It makes my day.
4. I called a student's mother recently to ask for the student to stay after school in order to catch up and get some extra help on an assignment. She gladly agreed and we worked for an hour. Then I sat with the student in the parking lot until his mom could make it to pick him up. She showed up in a cleaning van, wearing a white uniform with a young child sitting next to her, screaming. She leaned out the window and apologized for making me wait and thanked me for helping her son. I shook my head and said, "No, thank you for changing up your schedule. Thank you for helping him." She didn't respond, but I think about that smile she gave me all the time.
5. The Latino Club at my school sells Mexican candy as a fundraiser every month or so. I found that I am a big fan of Bubu Lubu, a chocolate candy with marshmallow and jelly stuff in it. I have one student that is working very hard to get all As this year and comes in after school to get help with not only my class, but his English class too. Each time I help him after school, he gives me a Bubu Lubu. I told him this isn't necessary. My job is to help him. He said, "Nah, I want to. Cause you helped me be good." I asked why that was. "Last year, you told me you knew what it was like to be the oldest kid and want to be a good example for my little brothers. You said if I worked hard, my mom and little brothers would be proud. And now they get to watch me get honors." If I'm completely honest, I don't remember this conversation he mentioned at all, but evidently he did. I enjoyed that candy he brought, but there has been nothing more satisfying than his words all year long.
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
The House That Built Me
On Sunday, my brother, father, and I all sat on a couch, the lone piece of furniture in an empty house. We said goodbye to the rooms filled to the brim with 25 years of memories. We had spent many hours moving furniture out and filling box after box. My mom and sister had already walked out the door for the last time. We were prepared, but the moment was still bittersweet. Our eyes filled with tears and our voices were caught in our throats.
The physical boxes were packed, but we took a moment to mentally pack up. We packed up the the countless holiday meals and birthday parties spent in the dining room. We packed the many hours spent remodeling a kitchen: picking the best paint colors, wandering around Menards every weekend for months, my mom painting each cabinet by hand. We remembered the railing where three kids sat at desks doing homework and watched TV while promising to at least try a bite of the vegetables on our plate. We packed up the bathroom, once highlighted by green carpet until after a spill of pink nail polish; a place where hair was curled and crimped and straightened.
Loaded were the stairs which had caused carpet burns from all the times we sledded down on our stomachs. Boxed up was the top step where Max watched over the house. We wouldn't forget the hallway that staged wars of Power Rangers, Beanie Babies, and Pokemon cards. We cleaned out each perfect hiding spot for hide-and-seek. We packed the rooms where we had slept and cried and listened to music at ear-splitting levels, the ones that transitioned from Disney themes to bright colors of Husker red, hot pink, and blue. I took the sunporch with me; the one that held so many toys, the one where I first became a teacher to Barbie dolls, Betty Spaghetti, and a collection of zoo animals.
Outside the house was packed in too. The circle of grass that was once shaded by a trampoline. The splashes and squeals of a pool where we played Marco Polo and mermaids. The patio that sometimes smelled of roasting marshmallows. We could never forget to pack our loyal pets Comanche and Chelsea, though they physically remain buried in the yard. The treasure hunts, climbs up the fort, games of HORSE, and even a summer turtle sanctuary came with us.
The good news is we fit it all. Each of our minds held the precious cargo with ease. In the years to come, our home will transition. We know it is capable of doing so. We've seen it. But the memories will remain. Thank you to the house that built me.
The physical boxes were packed, but we took a moment to mentally pack up. We packed up the the countless holiday meals and birthday parties spent in the dining room. We packed the many hours spent remodeling a kitchen: picking the best paint colors, wandering around Menards every weekend for months, my mom painting each cabinet by hand. We remembered the railing where three kids sat at desks doing homework and watched TV while promising to at least try a bite of the vegetables on our plate. We packed up the bathroom, once highlighted by green carpet until after a spill of pink nail polish; a place where hair was curled and crimped and straightened.
Loaded were the stairs which had caused carpet burns from all the times we sledded down on our stomachs. Boxed up was the top step where Max watched over the house. We wouldn't forget the hallway that staged wars of Power Rangers, Beanie Babies, and Pokemon cards. We cleaned out each perfect hiding spot for hide-and-seek. We packed the rooms where we had slept and cried and listened to music at ear-splitting levels, the ones that transitioned from Disney themes to bright colors of Husker red, hot pink, and blue. I took the sunporch with me; the one that held so many toys, the one where I first became a teacher to Barbie dolls, Betty Spaghetti, and a collection of zoo animals.
Outside the house was packed in too. The circle of grass that was once shaded by a trampoline. The splashes and squeals of a pool where we played Marco Polo and mermaids. The patio that sometimes smelled of roasting marshmallows. We could never forget to pack our loyal pets Comanche and Chelsea, though they physically remain buried in the yard. The treasure hunts, climbs up the fort, games of HORSE, and even a summer turtle sanctuary came with us.
The good news is we fit it all. Each of our minds held the precious cargo with ease. In the years to come, our home will transition. We know it is capable of doing so. We've seen it. But the memories will remain. Thank you to the house that built me.
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
Little Wonders
This post is titled based on one of my favorite Rob Thomas songs. I have always believed it is the little things, the tiny twists and turns of fate, rather than the big things that define our lives. It is those little wonders that make me love my job day in and day out. Maybe I'm frustrated by a change in curriculum or exhausted after dealing with the same behaviors over and over. But then a moment comes along and I remember why I'm doing this. Here are some of my recent "little wonders."
1. One student, who I am constantly at odds with, came in with a grin one day. He handed me an envelope. Tucked inside was a letter he wrote to me. He apologized for his behavior and explained that he wanted to be better. He said he could communicate his feelings better in writing. I wrote him a letter back. We have been pen pals of sorts ever since.
2. I have a student who hates reading aloud. I never make him in front of the class, but I am required to listen to him for a fluency grade several times a quarter. I sat with him as he struggled word by word to read me a story. At the end, I thanked him and started walking away. He stopped me and said, "Thank you Miss Siel. You're a good listener."
3. Last year, I had one student who always forgot to turn in his homework. Every time. We talked about accountability. I teased him that I should put a tattoo on him that would say "Never forget to turn in the work for Miss Siel." He laughed, but about 15 minutes later he raised his hand. I came over and he asked me for my arm. I held it out and he wrote his initials on my arm in marker. "Your turn," he said and handed me the marker. I was a bit confused, but I signed his arm. "Now you will always remember to be patient with me and smile more and I will remember to bring my homework every day." This only worked for about a week or two. He is in 8th grade this year and no longer in my class, but still in my building. I saw him the other day in the hall. He said, "I still remember my tattoo and I bring my homework almost every day," he bragged. I had to admit I remembered my tattoo too and it reminded me to be patient and smile.
4. I had a boy come to me before class the other day and ask me what he should do when taking a girl out on a date. I wanted to laugh, but he was dead serious and I was flattered that he felt comfortable asking me, so I gave him some suggestions on how to be polite and where he could go, etc. I couldn't help myself so I asked him who the lucky girl was. He smiled and told me it was his mom's birthday and she never went out because she was too busy taking care of him. He had saved up some money and was going to take her out on a date to celebrate because she deserved it.
5. A little girl, about 7-8 years old, walked into my room during parent-teacher conferences and started talking to me. A few minutes later, her mom came in and apologized and tried to get her daughter to follow her. The mother looked exhausted. I knew her from last year and knew that she was a single mother of three girls. I told her not to worry, Tessa and I would hang out together and she should just finish conferences and come pick her up later. I never had too many parents come as a reading teacher anyway. We watched funny videos and talked about books and drew pictures for the next 30-40 minutes until her mom came back. The relief in her mother's eyes and the numerous giggles from Tessa made it the best conference of the night.
1. One student, who I am constantly at odds with, came in with a grin one day. He handed me an envelope. Tucked inside was a letter he wrote to me. He apologized for his behavior and explained that he wanted to be better. He said he could communicate his feelings better in writing. I wrote him a letter back. We have been pen pals of sorts ever since.
2. I have a student who hates reading aloud. I never make him in front of the class, but I am required to listen to him for a fluency grade several times a quarter. I sat with him as he struggled word by word to read me a story. At the end, I thanked him and started walking away. He stopped me and said, "Thank you Miss Siel. You're a good listener."
3. Last year, I had one student who always forgot to turn in his homework. Every time. We talked about accountability. I teased him that I should put a tattoo on him that would say "Never forget to turn in the work for Miss Siel." He laughed, but about 15 minutes later he raised his hand. I came over and he asked me for my arm. I held it out and he wrote his initials on my arm in marker. "Your turn," he said and handed me the marker. I was a bit confused, but I signed his arm. "Now you will always remember to be patient with me and smile more and I will remember to bring my homework every day." This only worked for about a week or two. He is in 8th grade this year and no longer in my class, but still in my building. I saw him the other day in the hall. He said, "I still remember my tattoo and I bring my homework almost every day," he bragged. I had to admit I remembered my tattoo too and it reminded me to be patient and smile.
4. I had a boy come to me before class the other day and ask me what he should do when taking a girl out on a date. I wanted to laugh, but he was dead serious and I was flattered that he felt comfortable asking me, so I gave him some suggestions on how to be polite and where he could go, etc. I couldn't help myself so I asked him who the lucky girl was. He smiled and told me it was his mom's birthday and she never went out because she was too busy taking care of him. He had saved up some money and was going to take her out on a date to celebrate because she deserved it.
5. A little girl, about 7-8 years old, walked into my room during parent-teacher conferences and started talking to me. A few minutes later, her mom came in and apologized and tried to get her daughter to follow her. The mother looked exhausted. I knew her from last year and knew that she was a single mother of three girls. I told her not to worry, Tessa and I would hang out together and she should just finish conferences and come pick her up later. I never had too many parents come as a reading teacher anyway. We watched funny videos and talked about books and drew pictures for the next 30-40 minutes until her mom came back. The relief in her mother's eyes and the numerous giggles from Tessa made it the best conference of the night.
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
Shouting: A Poem
I worked on this poem a while back. It was inspired by a graphic novel I read in college called Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi. My favorite quote of the book was "I had learned that you should always shout louder than your aggressor." Doesn't that seem to be so true in our political debates recently? After all the battles I have witnessed lately on Facebook and at lunch hour and in the media, I decided to pull the poem out again today. This is my product so far.
Shouting
They are shouting.
Words become bullets; piercing small, uncomprehending ears
or eardrums drowned in sticky wax from years of blind
opposition.
But they are missing their mark.
They are shouting.
Frustration boiled over through your radio or television.
A volcano charring the country's foundation with denial.
Or sputtering lava of blame onto one another.
We scramble and search for a button labeled
mute, but the volume only gets louder.
The speakers are shaking,
shaking closer and closer to the table's edge.
They are shouting.
With picket signs of blood red words and bandanas tied
around their foreheads, they scream words like "equality",
"freedom" or "corruption" over and over until ideas become
war chants that sound like "E-dum-shun" or "Corr-free-ty" but never
"Compromise."
Friday, September 16, 2016
The Case of the Missing Tall Girls
Shout out to my friend Sarah for inspiring this blog post! As she and I were talking about books we were reading last weekend, we discovered that all the main characters in our recent books were tiny girls. If I list all the books I have read this year, any that had a female protagonist made a show of how that protagonist was petite. Why in the world is this? Where are the tall girls?
I think that authors try to give their characters a flaw or disadvantage to overcome in the books they write. Girls like Tris in Divergent or Clary from Mortal Instruments are more impressive because they are tiny and strong. Tiny girls in romances stand in contrast to their big, burly men. For some reason, tiny girls are supposed to be sweet and timid, and then when they are actually fiery, we are supposed to be surprised. We're not. Your body type doesn't define your personality.
This is, unfortunately, not a new issue. I remember a few years ago when Jennifer Lawrence was cast as Katniss in The Hunger Games and some people said she seemed way to tall or too "big-boned" for the role. Although I personally think Lawrence did an amazing job, here are some direct quotes from the book:
- "small in stature"
-"very slender"
-"strong for her size"
- "not very tall"
(-She also had olive skin and black hair, which were my main complaints, but that's another story.)
Suzanne Collins, as well as almost every other author ever, wrote about a small, white girl who could do big things. And, as Sarah said, how can the rest of ever relate to characters when they never look like us? This is a much, much bigger issue that deals with race representation in books, but I'm not going to go into it because it will just rile me up. I try to keep this blog fairly light-hearted. Back to height. Where was I? So, I'm brainstorming now and I can only think of one book ever (That Summer by Sarah Dessen) that had a tall girl as the protagonist. My Goodreads account recently told me I've read over 500 books, so you'd think more might pop up in my head. They not.
Sure, tiny girls might not be able to reach things or see over crowds. But tall girls aren't living a life of luxury. I'm only 5' 9" (not that tall) and I'll tell you it has disadvantages too. How about the fact that I have to bend over awkwardly for most photos? Or that I have to worry about not buying heels too high and looking like a giant? Or that I can't ever find shirts/pants/skirts that are long enough? Or that for some reason guys feel emasculated if you are even an inch taller than them? And people will always assume you play(ed) basketball or volleyball because of your height. We aren't perfect either. So, dammit, someone write a story about us!
I think that authors try to give their characters a flaw or disadvantage to overcome in the books they write. Girls like Tris in Divergent or Clary from Mortal Instruments are more impressive because they are tiny and strong. Tiny girls in romances stand in contrast to their big, burly men. For some reason, tiny girls are supposed to be sweet and timid, and then when they are actually fiery, we are supposed to be surprised. We're not. Your body type doesn't define your personality.
This is, unfortunately, not a new issue. I remember a few years ago when Jennifer Lawrence was cast as Katniss in The Hunger Games and some people said she seemed way to tall or too "big-boned" for the role. Although I personally think Lawrence did an amazing job, here are some direct quotes from the book:
- "small in stature"
-"very slender"
-"strong for her size"
- "not very tall"
(-She also had olive skin and black hair, which were my main complaints, but that's another story.)
Suzanne Collins, as well as almost every other author ever, wrote about a small, white girl who could do big things. And, as Sarah said, how can the rest of ever relate to characters when they never look like us? This is a much, much bigger issue that deals with race representation in books, but I'm not going to go into it because it will just rile me up. I try to keep this blog fairly light-hearted. Back to height. Where was I? So, I'm brainstorming now and I can only think of one book ever (That Summer by Sarah Dessen) that had a tall girl as the protagonist. My Goodreads account recently told me I've read over 500 books, so you'd think more might pop up in my head. They not.
Sure, tiny girls might not be able to reach things or see over crowds. But tall girls aren't living a life of luxury. I'm only 5' 9" (not that tall) and I'll tell you it has disadvantages too. How about the fact that I have to bend over awkwardly for most photos? Or that I have to worry about not buying heels too high and looking like a giant? Or that I can't ever find shirts/pants/skirts that are long enough? Or that for some reason guys feel emasculated if you are even an inch taller than them? And people will always assume you play(ed) basketball or volleyball because of your height. We aren't perfect either. So, dammit, someone write a story about us!
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
The Last Five Guys to Hit On Me
I've been wanting to write this blog for some time because some experiences just need to be captured on paper. Hopefully all names or locations or withheld and all identities hidden. To disprove the common misconceptions from family and friends, I, of course, understood that all the following guys were hitting on me, and I was very polite to all of them (although that might have not been my best choice honestly.)
Guy #1: I saw this man as soon as I walked into Walmart with a list of random items to get. He stood near the door and stared at me as I got my cart. I wondered if he had a question or if he worked there, but he was only wearing a t-shirt and jeans. I smiled politely and walked into the store, heading to the electronics section in the back. A few minutes later, I felt like I was being watched. Turned around and there he was, trailing me. Still didn't have a shopping cart of anything in his hands. As I meandered around the store, taking forever as I always do, I saw the guy at least 10 more times. Always staring. Never shopping. I was a bit freaked out and wishing I had asked a friend to come with me at this point. He finally came up to me as I was in the allergy medicine aisle. He spoke in broken English and asked me for my phone number. I declined as nicely as possible and decided to check out. He followed me all the way to the check-out line, looking like a sad puppy and as I was bagging my stuff he yelled out "Pleeease." Yep. That happened.
Guy #2: I was working at my job at the baseball field and trying to find something in the storage room. I was climbing up on a counter to look for something (Souvenir cups I believe) and suddenly I could feel somebody right behind me. So close he was like breathing on me. I turned and greeted the guy, who I knew as one of my co-workers.
"Just here to make sure you don't fall," he said.
I thanked him, found my item, and got down. We had a conversation about how cold it was in that room and I said I hoped to do outdoor chores the rest of the day and maybe get a tan.
"Then I will too," he said, "I'd love to sunbathe with you."
I didn't really know how I was supposed to respond to that, especially since I worked with his girlfriend most days in the kitchen. I ignored the guy for the rest of the day, but for weeks after that he would find me in the kitchen regularly (literally right next to his girlfriend) and sing the song Roxanne to me, or ask me what my plans were for the weekend.
Guy #3: Another coworker for the summer. This guy was probably 20 years older than me. We were super friendly with each other and talked every day. He made flirty comments a lot, but never anything inappropriate. So when he added me on Facebook, I gladly accepted. Until suddenly my Facebook messenger was being blown up by crazy, inappropriate messages. I promise, I am not a prude. If you've ever played Cards Against Humanity or any kind of Truth or Dare game with me, you would know I can be wildly inappropriate myself, but my immediate response was to delete and block him. Just not okay.
Guy #4: Walked into a convenience store after work one day to get a pop. The cashier mentioned my work polo and asked about the game I had worked at that night. The guy had gauges in his years and a streak of green in his hair. No judgement--just giving you a picture. As he took my money, we chatted about the fireworks they do on Fridays and how it always scares him. I grabbed my pop and he said something about seeing me around and then proceeded to pull his notebook from underneath the counter that was filled with Nazi signs.
Guy #5: Back at school now. Chilling in the teacher's lounge during my plan period. I'm sitting on the couch writing up lesson plans on my computer. A guy walks in and says hi. I've known him for the whole year I've been there. Usually talking about his kids or his ex-wife or the "good old days" when he played football. I offered him a cookie (I made a batch to share with all the staff that day.) He took one and sat at a nearby table.
"You seem a lot more friendly this year. I see you around all the time. You seemed really shy last year," he said.
I smiled and said I was working on it.
It was silent for several minutes. I went back to work. Then out of nowhere:
"I like your hair. Usually I like long hair, but yours is good for me."
What in the heck do you say to that? "Good for me"? Am I doing my hairstyles based on your preferences now?
I muttered something about how it was easier to take care of at this length.
"Yeah I bet. I kinda like a high-maintenance girl though. So it's my birthday this weekend..."
He proceeded and went on and on for like 10 minutes about what he should do for his birthday and how I should hit him up on Facebook and how we should go out to a bar together and I should pick the one I liked the best...on and on and on.
I did not hit him up on Facebook. In fact, I avoid him most of the time now. Is that rude? Probably. But now you see the guys I'm dealing with. Do you blame me?
So, if anyone reading this has any guy in mind, I really am open to meeting new people. I mean if they aren't 20 years older than me, a stalker, already in a committed relationship, or a neo-Nazi, chances are I'll be super impressed.
Guy #1: I saw this man as soon as I walked into Walmart with a list of random items to get. He stood near the door and stared at me as I got my cart. I wondered if he had a question or if he worked there, but he was only wearing a t-shirt and jeans. I smiled politely and walked into the store, heading to the electronics section in the back. A few minutes later, I felt like I was being watched. Turned around and there he was, trailing me. Still didn't have a shopping cart of anything in his hands. As I meandered around the store, taking forever as I always do, I saw the guy at least 10 more times. Always staring. Never shopping. I was a bit freaked out and wishing I had asked a friend to come with me at this point. He finally came up to me as I was in the allergy medicine aisle. He spoke in broken English and asked me for my phone number. I declined as nicely as possible and decided to check out. He followed me all the way to the check-out line, looking like a sad puppy and as I was bagging my stuff he yelled out "Pleeease." Yep. That happened.
Guy #2: I was working at my job at the baseball field and trying to find something in the storage room. I was climbing up on a counter to look for something (Souvenir cups I believe) and suddenly I could feel somebody right behind me. So close he was like breathing on me. I turned and greeted the guy, who I knew as one of my co-workers.
"Just here to make sure you don't fall," he said.
I thanked him, found my item, and got down. We had a conversation about how cold it was in that room and I said I hoped to do outdoor chores the rest of the day and maybe get a tan.
"Then I will too," he said, "I'd love to sunbathe with you."
I didn't really know how I was supposed to respond to that, especially since I worked with his girlfriend most days in the kitchen. I ignored the guy for the rest of the day, but for weeks after that he would find me in the kitchen regularly (literally right next to his girlfriend) and sing the song Roxanne to me, or ask me what my plans were for the weekend.
Guy #3: Another coworker for the summer. This guy was probably 20 years older than me. We were super friendly with each other and talked every day. He made flirty comments a lot, but never anything inappropriate. So when he added me on Facebook, I gladly accepted. Until suddenly my Facebook messenger was being blown up by crazy, inappropriate messages. I promise, I am not a prude. If you've ever played Cards Against Humanity or any kind of Truth or Dare game with me, you would know I can be wildly inappropriate myself, but my immediate response was to delete and block him. Just not okay.
Guy #4: Walked into a convenience store after work one day to get a pop. The cashier mentioned my work polo and asked about the game I had worked at that night. The guy had gauges in his years and a streak of green in his hair. No judgement--just giving you a picture. As he took my money, we chatted about the fireworks they do on Fridays and how it always scares him. I grabbed my pop and he said something about seeing me around and then proceeded to pull his notebook from underneath the counter that was filled with Nazi signs.
Guy #5: Back at school now. Chilling in the teacher's lounge during my plan period. I'm sitting on the couch writing up lesson plans on my computer. A guy walks in and says hi. I've known him for the whole year I've been there. Usually talking about his kids or his ex-wife or the "good old days" when he played football. I offered him a cookie (I made a batch to share with all the staff that day.) He took one and sat at a nearby table.
"You seem a lot more friendly this year. I see you around all the time. You seemed really shy last year," he said.
I smiled and said I was working on it.
It was silent for several minutes. I went back to work. Then out of nowhere:
"I like your hair. Usually I like long hair, but yours is good for me."
What in the heck do you say to that? "Good for me"? Am I doing my hairstyles based on your preferences now?
I muttered something about how it was easier to take care of at this length.
"Yeah I bet. I kinda like a high-maintenance girl though. So it's my birthday this weekend..."
He proceeded and went on and on for like 10 minutes about what he should do for his birthday and how I should hit him up on Facebook and how we should go out to a bar together and I should pick the one I liked the best...on and on and on.
I did not hit him up on Facebook. In fact, I avoid him most of the time now. Is that rude? Probably. But now you see the guys I'm dealing with. Do you blame me?
So, if anyone reading this has any guy in mind, I really am open to meeting new people. I mean if they aren't 20 years older than me, a stalker, already in a committed relationship, or a neo-Nazi, chances are I'll be super impressed.
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