Uncanny Dream

Last night I had a pretty vivid dream that felt pretty close to reality due to the 100% (or nearly) true occurances. I was sitting in the back of the classroom with my colleague teaching the larger-class-that-everyone-knows-is-hyper (compared to the smaller-class-who-still-think-they're-kindergarteners). It was the total opposite environment than my own experience with the same group; everyone was quietly and attentively listening, talking in turns, discussing in a constructive manner, and actually learning something.

When I woke up I almost started crying. (That hardly happens unless I'm dreaming of my dad.)

It doesn't surprise me that I envy all the teachers at my school for managing each class with such efficiency and style without compromising themselves. I have walked often through the halls while I have been on break, and never hear a peep from any student. Each time I have a class it turns into a madhouse, where I have to strain myself to uncharacteristic anger to maintain some semblance of teaching.

I was hit with so many of those whisps of passing envies that accumulated over time in that dream, that I woke up heartbroken. This moment of truth came to me. Would I let my lifelong aspiration of teaching be defeated by a few short months of painful experience? That moment in the dream, when I watched the kids smiling and chatting confidently, was when I hit the deepest low. My will was weakened to the edge.

...

I won't give up. A dream is not fulfilling if it doesn't require effort. Or pain. Or blood, tears or sweat. Who needs a dream that can be gained with one thought and the wave of a hand?

This must be what it feels like when one is truly starting to understand oneself.

Generation Gap!?

I brought my violin to school today, expecting the last class of the day will be edgy and squirming (due to a long weekend starting tomorrow). A request was made for a Christmas song, but I didn't want to play the conventional carols so I played Christmas Time is Here by Vince Guaraldi.

After the piece was over, everyone had blank looks on their faces. "Miss, what was that?"

"Christmas Time is Here."

"..."

"What?! Haven't you ever watched the Charlie Brown Christmas Special?" (I was trying to figure out if they just didn't recognize the piece.)

The entire class shook their heads. "No."

If my jaw could have dropped into the ground, it would have broken through several layers of concrete.

What is completely paradoxical is that one student asked that I play the Ghostbusters theme (which I did, briefly), and everyone immediately knew it from the first few bars. Let's see... Ghostbusters: 1980's series. Charlie Brown Christmas: 40 years old and shown on every television channel nearly every fricking day, every December. Year of birth of these students: 1993.