Mondays tend to suck for various reasons.

Today's reason(s) are as follows: my awesomely awesome sunburn. We're talkin' sweet lobstah red. I'm sayin' it hurts to bend and unbend my legs. Mission Beach was gorgeous yesterday, but too much frisbee and a very interesting issue of Yoga Journal left my back and legs looking like someone had painted me a vibrant shade of "The Sun Hates You and Thinks You Should Burn". My fair French Canadian skin stood no chance against the mighty rays.

Last, but not least, I was just notified that my position at High Tech High would not be continued this fall. While it is quite a blow, I was not entirely surprised by it. Budgets have been really tight and funding for extra positions like "Tutors" or "Academic Coaches" has become unavailable.

Fran, my supervisor, found out last Thursday and decided it was best that we know as soon as possible. It is a bittersweet feeling for me. While I was looking forward to seeing my freshman become sophomores, I was not looking forward to another year of working with my ex. I am concerned about the economy and the lack of jobs, but I also welcome the new challenge that survival offers. Along with growing comfortable in a position, I also forget just how incredibly capable I am. This is something no one else truly knows but me. Even Patrick did not truly know how capable I can be until our break up became imminent and I was propelled to pack up and leave the apartment within a single weekend. Even I surprised myself then.

The only terribly awkward moment was Fran's intial address. I noticed that, though Holly, my roommate and coworker, was in the room, Fran spoke to me and the three other tutors, but would not look at Holly. Holly herself was doodling on a note pad, seemingly paying no mind to the conversation. I understood that this meant she had not lost her job and that she felt uncomfortable about the news and sad for the rest of us. She later confirmed my suspicions when we had time to talk at home. Regardless, it is not her fault and I harbor no anger toward her. Mostly, I feel frustrated with myself and the way my job performance took a nosedive after the break up. But that's an issue for another entry...

stumble, eat dirt, stand up, do it again.

We had a group of students today completely bomb their presentation on China-U.S. relations. The scope of the assignment was that each student take on a different perspective looking from the U.S. into China's own way of life and how U.S. officials can assist China in affecting change (My disagreement with this project premise is the least of my worries at this point). Granted, they are freshman, and they are still learning... but they've had all year to refine their research and presentation skills. I would hope that at this stage in the game they would at least be able to identify when it's time to ask for help. But alas... I return to making up lists and rubrics for them after the fact.

This frustrates me. Perhaps because there was no rubric in the first place. No specific guideline stating, "Here is what I want to see..." But that is not my fault. My main responsibility is to now help my students, "my kids", as I call them, as much as I can.

In other news, yoga was even better today. I felt a better stretch, and Mark came over to help me straighten my leg once or twice. "Breathe through it," he said after noticing my wince. And so I did.

No wonder the Third Reich was such a big hit.

So, this week has been pretty low key. I've spent most of my time getting back into the swing of being with the kids and being a responsible adult. The students prepped for their STAR testing next week, which will hopefully keep next week pretty low key too.

However, one of the Humanities classrooms that I frequent was watching a documentary on the Third Reich and the start of WWII. I had never seen adequate footage of Hitler speaking before, and to be honest, I was blown away. Granted, the man promoted unspeakable acts against a mass of people undeserving of such behavior (although no one is deserves genocide). I had always heard in passing that Hitler's movement was so popular due to his unmatched charisma and speaking ability. To my horror, I watched this man speak and despite the impending doom he spoke of and the fact that it was in German, I was moved by the power.

Yes, this sounds sick to say, but I can't deny what I saw. The hundreds of thousands of people swept into this "extraordinary" club of Aryan Germans that seemingly blindingly pledged allegiance to this man's decrees. It was intense and astonishing.

I in no way promote or advocate what Hitler did, but I feel as though I understand more now why things happened. My heart went out to the Jews being shoved into the streets to scrub sidewalks, those shoved in dark, dank boxcars to be shipped off to concentration camps where they would become no more than the numbers tattooed on their arms, and then faceless corpses in a ditch.

Nevertheless, so much pain and so much anguish makes me appreciate who I am, and all that I have. I do not like that it is another's pain I look to to remind me of why my life is precious, but what else can we do but learn from the past and glean some sort of hope for the future? I only hope that I can give such an understanding to the students I teach. If I do nothing else with the rest of my life, that will be enough.

A real conversation.

Teacher: So, what is ethnicity?
Student: Race.
Teacher: Well, then what is race?
Student: Black people.

If you knew this student, you'd understand. Nevertheless, a golden moment in teaching. Dios Mio.