Flunking out of teacher's college

I don't think I am cut out to be an education student. There are times when I really do enjoy the act of teaching, learning, hunkering down with students, getting to know them, etc. But before I get to any of that good stuff there is the impossible task of planning units and lessons. Is there a real teacher out there somewhere who actually does this shit?

I'm all for having a plan. But, as you well know, I cannot be caged. And all of these god-forsaken unit and lesson plans have to be typed up, categorized, and fit into horrible little boxes on my computer screen. And as cliché as it sounds, I really do not think inside the box.

We have learned (in the very few classes that they give us at the university before they fling us into the unknown) that different students learn different ways and that, as teachers, we should not only respect but embrace the diversity of learning styles in our classroom. We learn to make room for the introspective types by letting them write a journal instead of an essay. We learn to make room for the musical types by letting them rap the passage of an apple through the digestive system instead of taking a test. We learn to let the dramatic types act out the archetypes of Jungian psychology instead of filling in a worksheet. We learn to stop privileging text exclusively and start embracing art, movement, music and nature.

And then they make us write. In little boxes. And put ourselves and our big ideas in little boxes.

But I, as you well know, cannot be caged.

~g. mango don't want no education

Nest, sweet nest

FROM THE DUSTY KEYBOARD OF GREEN MANGO

Dear Internets,

When last we spoke I lamented the arduousness that is packing. Since then, I have been reminded of another labourious task to be avoided at all costs: unpacking. Please note that though packing/moving is still first on my personal list of grievances, unpacking comes in at a close second.

Perhaps it is the fact that the Intern and I had to combine two households in the space of one that made unpacking such a seemingly unsurmountable challenge. Perhaps it was the fact that we had neither garbage nor recyling facilities at our disposal, and the subsequent looming pile of cardboard boxes that overtook our kitchen. Perhaps it was the thick, hateful honey mustard drapes that blocked out the sun from our hateful honey mustard living space. Perhaps it was the unfortunate timing of two unwelcome monthly visitors. But for reals, y'alls. I thought I was gonna hate this place.

However, now that the boxes and the most oppressive bits of the mustard have been removed, and the city has decided to collect our refuse, and the monthly visitors have gone on to destroy another helpless female soul, things could not be better!

The Intern and I even succeed in putting together four pieces of Ikea furniture without me devolving into a petulant child. And that is a miracle in itself.

So do drop by and see our new place!* We look forward to having you here.


Cordially,

G. Mango (and the Intern)

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*Now with 50% less mustard!