Creepers Gonna Creep

I finally got to run outside yesterday! Fresh air! Sunshine! Breeze! No more hamster-wheel feelings on the treadmill!

It was glorious, other than the one thing that happens to all of us females when we run (or heck, when we stroll) outside at one point or another in our lives: stupid cat calls.

Somehow, at some point, a horrible tradition began somewhere that made it socially okay to yell taunting things at girls who are walking or running in your general vicinity. It happened all the time in Spain, Pilsen, and it happens here too. We live right next to the Illinois Prairie Path, in a little suburb west of Chicago. Anywhere you go, it seems, people think it's okay for this to happen.

I hate the mind games that this makes me play in planning my response. How should I play this? No eye contact? Make mean eye contact? Pretend they're not there? Cross to the other side of the street to avoid people as I run in a never-ending game of Stranger-Danger-Frogger? Am I wearing the wrong thing? Should I respond with a snarky rebuttal, or completely ignore it to show that I'm not playing into their stupid power play?

When I'm running, I'm constantly looking out for the situation where I'm alone with another runner/walker/bystander (thanks dad, for the years of training on Situational Awareness!) who happens to be male, and run the mental gymnastics routine of questions listed above on how to respond to the situation.

In this case, I ran past a little restaurant, where two men were smoking outside, and instead of crossing the street to the other side, I decided I wouldn't give in to that obvious gesture that often causes even more descriptive things yelled at a street's distance. One of the old dudes whistled and called out, "Hey there! Want some company?" as I ran past, and started to take a few steps chasing me as a joke. I know this last part happened not because I saw it, but because I heard his keys jingling in rhythm with my steps for a few seconds in my direction as I kept my eyes fixed firmly on my own feet. Don't give them the reaction they want, I kept thinking to myself, so it took all of my willpower to not increase my pace or turn back to address them.

I started thinking: Are my shorts too short? Did I provoke it by running right in front of them? Nope. Stop Anna. Wrong Questions. I had on shorts and a t-shirt, but that is besides the point. The questions should be more along the lines of Why is this okay? and What do we have to do to stop it from happening? 

I asked Brian once if he had ever worried about being attacked in his life. He said he hadn't. I asked him if he had ever taken precautions not to draw attention to himself out in public. He hadn't. I asked if he had ever walked to his car in a parking lot, or been at home alone, or taken a jog on a Saturday afternoon, and have to confront the fear in his head about being assaulted. He said he hasn't. He is understanding of my crazy thoughts, feels badly that it is that way, but like me, is at a loss of how to change things. I hate the amount of mental energy I spend on being aware of these things. It's not fair that women have to jump through mental hoops to be so proactive for the sake of their own safety, instead of spending their time running thinking about productive things like work, friendships, spirituality, and how Jennifer Lawrence would totally want to be your best friend if she just got the chance to know you.

I've decided to do three things in response:

1. Call it out when it happens (hence this post), and tell smart people like you to do the same. Tell people that you think this is ridiculous so we can start changing the attitudes out there in the ether.

2. Look at insecurity and fear that causes people to act like this. Laugh at it through things like the video below, recognizing the pathetic motivators behind it.

3. Take a note from Taylor Swift, and just keep on going when the Creepers gonna creep, creep, creep. I'm just gonna jog, jog, jog. No need to give in to the fear and banish myself to the tread mills forever. I'll be out there again next weekend. You should join me.

Ah.

These days I'm getting fingerprinted and renamed, unpacking and setting up, learning new curriculum and coworkers. I'm waiting in lines, filling out forms, and catching up with friends for the last few times before the new school year starts and it's all kind of hit me like a hurricane. Devotions, cleaning, and exercising have, of course, all been pushed aside (as I am so easily self-persuaded to do). Why the rush around like this, the false impression I give myself of self-importance to the point where I am out of touch with who I am and what I'm doing here? Maybe it's a first world problem, being caught up in a lot of schedule-y nonsense that keeps the main things from being the main things. I cringe at first-world-problems, that in my comfortable life I trip into a shallow view of the world so easily, but Jesus wasn't joking around with the bit about the camel and the eye of the needle, I suppose. I believe my comings and goings to be so earth shattering that I forget a trip to Target is a luxury and a meal at Chipotle is a delicacy when I really think about my life. Yet here I am, drowning in schedules and getting ready and running around.

And that's when it hits me.

Ah. Yes. Silly me. Psalm 46:10 of course.

The solution to my chaos? I need only to be still. 

In that stillness, I need to order my life after One who ordered the universe into existence before I  ever ditched a workout, ignored the laundry, or neglected to read the next passage in my Bible. Jesus Christ is Lord, and so it's all Good. God has it under control, and He has me. So my obedience is what comes next, naturally. Now the hard part is to just practice this sacred art.

Of Being Still.

Growing Up Strong

I spent an amazing Saturday morning on June 1st doing an amazing thing. It wasn't anything special that I did, but it was the event that was truly remarkable. I was a running buddy for a third grade girl from my school at the Girls on the Run 5k event in Toyota Park (where the Chicago Fire play!) as the finale to the program she completed this spring which focused on fitness, healthy lifestyles, and building self-esteem.

Girls on the Run is a really cool organization created to support girls as they grow up in becoming confident, passionate, and healthy as they pursue their dreams. It sounds lofty and even a little silly, but after experiencing the 5k, I've really been thinking about how necessary organizations like this are. They want girls to grow up strong and to go conquer the world. My running buddy did an amazing job (she is NINE years old and only asked me to walk three times during the whole race!) and we had a blast. The event's atmosphere was fun, encouraging, and completely supportive. People were yelling "You can do it!" "You're so great!" "You're beautiful!" "Keep going!" the whole way. At times it dawned on me that my nine-year-old running buddy may have only been hearing those words for the first time in her life right there at that race. It's not often that my kids have people cheering them on, believing in them, staking bets on their side. In the midst of all the triumph, it set a bittersweet note in my heart, as I know this one optimistic Saturday morning is very different from the world where that same nine-year-old girl actually lives.

My mind has been full of this kind of stuff ever since that race. (Here's one blogger who's really insightful on this particular issue who I have been reading lately.) We need more events like this and messages like these sent out to little girls. Now I'm no tiara type, and I'm hardly one to claim Girl Power as reason to celebrate anything. I was perfectly happy to be the only girl on my soccer team in fourth grade; after all, the boys were more aggressive and I liked that better anyway. But I do see the crazy junk that goes into the minds of girls in America every day. I see my second grade girls hike up their shirts so they're showing some skin and have seen notes passed with hyper-sexualized language that no seven or eight-year-old should even know. I, just like any girl, sometimes have a hard time remembering that it's who I am and not how I look that is the truly important thing. The messages out there for us are messed up. And being a girl is an awesome yet confusing life. Thanks to my parents, friends, and God, I don't have to struggle with the confusion quite as intensely as lot of other girls I know. And girls don't have the monopoly on this kind of confusion. The false messages are everywhere for everyone. Money, power, appearance, sexuality, materialism, and popularity are brainwashed into the mind of every kid with a pair of eyes to see a billboard, TV screen, video game, iPhone, or window display in the mall. Someone has got to start setting the record straight. 

We need more people telling all kids that they are created for a purpose, not for a picture frame. We need more people helping kids work on their brains to work for their dreams. We need more people who help kids develop confidence, not in some skewed sense of popularity, but in their values, beliefs, and sense of self. 

We need more people who help kids to grow up strong. 

You Better Believe It

So I noticed the date this past Sunday. It has been a YEAR since I graduated from college and I absolutely cannot believe it. I’m an adult! (Yep, read that sentence just like you SNL-lovers all read it.)

That feels wrong. It feels wrong to say that I’m an adult because I honestly have no idea how to change the oil in my car. I feel like that’s something adults should be able to do, and I don’t know how to do it. I feel like a 14-year-old trying to fly under the radar and hope nobody notices that I’m playing hooky from 7th period only to send me back from whence I came. I usually feel like a complete imposter in this adult world post-graduation.

 Last week, however, I had someone at work pay me the compliment that they were surprised that I was 23. They thought that I acted more like a “27-year-old or something”, not a newbie right out of the gate. I have to say, I took a moment to note the statement. It’s not everday you feel like that at work in your first year of teaching. And during that one small moment of satisfaction it dawned on me how I’ve managed to stay afloat in the adult world. The secret lies in these six words:

Fake it ‘til you make it.

 You’ve heard it before, but it is the single most helpful phrase to shake off those I’m-an-inadequate-fresh-piece-of-meat-who-has-no-clue-how-to-function-in-the-real-world blues. It’s kind of been my mantra since August 1st, when I, who had no business educating in the neediest of school districts in the country, was in charge of the 2nd-grade-fates of 23 children. I had never been in an education class, let alone did I know what a 7-year-old even looked like. I didn’t know what “best practices” were for teaching and I had no freaking CLUE what RTI or IEP or PLC meant. But if I could give any advice to fresh graduates or young adults who feel like they’re in over their heads in the working world, I’m telling you to just go ahead and fake it.

Start telling yourself that you are competent, successful, and independent, and you will start to become those things. The famous George Costanza once said, “It’s not a lie if you believe it,” and to be honest I’m starting to think there’s more wisdom there than I initially thought.

Believe all the things you want to believe about yourself. Need to go to church alone for the first time? Just believe that that’s what normal people do and march right up that aisle with Starbucks in tow. Have no clue what the educational term your advisor just used in an email actually means? Google it and reply as if you knew all along. Need to navigate a weird new city with psycho drivers? Simply believe you can merge with the best of them, check the mirrors often, hang on tight, and go to town up that freeway. Afraid to walk up the steps to your apartment by yourself? Believe you are a badass girl, check up and down the street, ready the keys between your knuckles just in case, and get inside without a sweat. Not sure what is going on at work? Believe that you are one of the most competent people in the room and present yourself that way. Stay engaged, take notes, dress more professionally than you should, participate when you can at staff meetings, and be a positive energy in the room – don’t be the new girl cowering shyly in the corner. This sounds so silly; it’s an odd idea to take extra care to go at the everyday things of life with an intentional gusto, but it works. It starts to rub off on your subconscious and you start to actually become a brave, smart, independent person.

My best days of teaching are those days when I believe I’m a good teacher. My best experiences with behavior management are when I make it clear to my kids that I am an adult who will not back down.

My most fun social gatherings with new friends happen when I believe I’m a fun person whom people will like.

 My most successful days of grad school are those when I believe I’m an energetic person after a long day of teaching, ready to learn something cool and new. They’re the days when I’m highlighting, note-taking, raising my hand, and forcing myself to nod my head.

 If you go through the motions of a confident person, you start to be that confident person. The more adults I meet in this work world, the more I realize we’re all the insecure 22-year-olds at heart; it’s not just you and me. This year I’ve seen 56-year-old professors get completely flustered in front of a classroom only to have everyone take a 20 minute break, I’ve seen school leaders break down into tears because of stress from district pressures, and I’ve seen coworkers say how they feel left out of the social scene at work. We’re all fighting feelings of inadequacy. Some people have just mastered the art of believing that they can. And so they can.

Believe me, for every one day I feel like an actual adult, there are seven others where I feel like a complete loser. I recently just wrote about the necessity to be real about your struggles and your difficult days. You need not always be an impenetrable wall of confident thinking and optimism. I just have found that, when put in sink-or-swim scenarios (and I can quite confidently say that was my scenario this past year), turn to confidence before you turn to cowardice.

This year has taught me that when they throw you in the pool before you learn how to tread water, tell yourself to swim, no, COMMAND yourself to swim, and you WILL. 

 Just don’t tell anyone you still need your rubber-ducky-arm-floaties to do it.

Love Letters

I have a hard job. There are, however, perks that I enjoy that get me through the weeks. One of these perks are all the millions of notes placed on my desk by little (and sometimes large) 7 and 8-year-old people. The following is a sampling from the last two months that I've kept and had to photograph before I threw them out. A few are repeat offenders, and some of them aren't all that funny, just extremely endearing to my heart that is turning to jello as I'm looking over these again.

Dear Miss Gesch, I've have fun on break but. I want you to have my best thing that I had. It is something that you would be happy. Here it is.  (She gave me her favorite trading card to keep after spring break). 

Please note that she had the courtesy to write F*** in the note. She didn't have the courtesy to censor it when she said the word originally. Next time maybe. 

Sorry teachers I was so bad. And I will be good next time. I will be respectful. I will be good. I will be safe. And I will do all of that a lot. 

In the housssseeee!!

I die. 

I am so sorry for playing during math when my teacher was helping other kids to learn math. When math time I will not play with people during math time when math time. 

I'm sorry I didn't do my homework. 

Hello! My name is Ms. Gesch and I like to play volleyball and play soccer and go out to eat and shop. I love to be pretty. VIP passes attached, to the right of my short bio. 

 

Lost and Found

I have to tell you about how I just watched an amazing movie. I suppose I should say I just watched an amazing FILM, because FILM is the term you use when a movie turns into something more than just a movie. FILM is also a term you use when you want to sound like a snobby-indy-flick-type, but I digress. I'm out here in D.C. visiting Alex and Heidi and we three watched it tonight after the Easter festivities died down.

It's a documentary called Searching for Sugar Man, and it tells the poignant story of Rodriguez, a musician who produced two albums in the early 1970's that completely flopped in America, but were underground megahits in apartheid South Africa. Long story short, this flick tells the tale of a music journalist who tracked him down in 1997, 20 years after his records released, and found him living modestly in Detroit working manual labor. His anti-establishment message spoke to the South Africans who were under a tightly censored regime at the time, and circulated from a bootlegged copy of his album Cold Fact. It spread like wildfire through the nation, inspiring fellow musicians to make music with similar free-thinking messages. His album was censored but still sold over a half million copies in spite of the ban. In South Africa he was considered to be in the same ballpark as Simon and Garfunkel, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and Bob Dylan, yet no one knew anything about him. All they had was his photo on the album cover. Urban legend told the story of how he had supposedly died by a dramatic on-stage suicide and that was that. But that wasn't that. He was alive and well, living in obscurity in Detroit, the victim (I presume) of some sleazy record company people who didn't pay dues to where dues should have been paid. But there he was, all the same, unaware of his superstardom across an ocean. They flew him out in 1998 to perform in a half dozen sold out shows, where he was finally accepted and adequately recognized for his remarkable talent. Rodriguez was back from the dead and performing in front of sold out crowds at last. What a story.

What got me the most was the where is he now? element of the documentary? This movie had him wrapped in mystery the whole time; we didn't get to actually meet him until over halfway through the footage. Now we've finally found him! He's alive, performing music, and gaining recognition! Roll out the Beverly Hills mansion and new record deal, right? Wrong. The guy still lives in Detroit in the same house he's lived in for over 40 years. He gave the proceeds from his sold out shows and promotions to his friends and family. He continues to work hard in construction and renovation. I'm not saying that people who embrace their financial success are doing something wrong. But I am saying that it is a wonderful thing to see a true talent who loves what he does for the sake of what it is and not for the purpose of what it can get him. He is a thoughtful, sensitive, profoundly humble guy.

There's something about a poet or singer or writer or artist that can get at the real heart of stuff. I found Rodriguez to be a heartbreakingly great human being. The film ended with a shot of his walk home to his rundown residence in Detroit. Out of a pretty wretched place shines a brilliant talent. It makes me want to be in the business of helping to tell stories like this. We all need to hear stories about truth breaking through the hardship and darkness, giving way to a beautiful song.

Dream Weaver

This one will make your heart melt. Or at least mine did. In honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. day last month, we got all inspirational in Room 22 and became influential leaders ourselves. Each of my 23 students wrote their own "I Have a Dream" speeches modeled after MLKJ himself. We used the format of the speech and they filled in the blanks with things they had a dream for and where they wanted their future to go and what they wanted to change in this world for the better. Then they each delivered their speech in front of the class (a big step for second graders!). This is the best part: after each presenter was finished, we all gave a toast and clinked our Juicy Juice apple juice boxes and took a sip in his or her honor (I stole this idea from my friend Sam who did it with her sixth graders this summer during Institute). It was so precious. Below are a few actual quotes from the speeches. Sometimes I'm amazed at the visionary minds seven-year-olds can have. I wish I could tell you the backstory for each kid that makes the speeches that much more relevant and close to home. Beautiful. 

Cheers! 

I have a dream that families would get along and love each other instead of arguing.

I have a dream that nobody would get shot.

I have a dream that people will just stop fighting.

I have a dream that we will help homeless people.

I have a dream that kids can be allowed to play outside all day. 

I have a dream that someday someone will say to me that you have made a difference in the world. 

Friendsgiving

I am thankful for good people. I am thankful for good friends.

There were more than these people here, but this was the Trinity crew that was present. 

Let me tell you a little about this group of people. They are not my college roommates, nor are they the people with whom I spent most of my weekends. These were the friends I met when I was doing things in college. These are the friends I met while participating in Residence Life activities, playing in soccer practices, acting in improv, debating in Student Association meetings, and leading in freshman orientation week. These are my kindred spirits. People who love to be involved, think critically, and have great conversations about real things. These nerds probably enjoyed attending class as much as I did. I love these people because they are open, articulate, hilarious, and original.

Liz. The hostess with the mostest. 

Let me tell you about Liz Brice. She is not a touchy person and she hates how I exploit this with my hugging/arm nudging ways. But more important, she is a friend of mankind. She loves to bring people together. So last week she hosted Friendsgiving. It was wonderful. Basically, about 30 of us came together from all different friend groups and hung out and ate like crazy at a huge potluck. (I made a big plate of truffs and they went over really well. Click the link for a recipe.) It was a great time.

Jon, Jacqui, Sasha, and Cat. 

My new friend Luke. Sorry for cutting off your face, but this picture looked artsy so I kept it! 

The chalkboard that greeted us. 

Sam and Jon. You've met Sam before. If you haven't, go scroll down a few posts. 

Going through the line. Yumm.

Little talks. 

This is one tradition that I hope I always uphold: getting together with good people, being thankful for them, talking about real things, and eating lots and lots of good food. 

Beeeeeee Yourself

(The title was meant to harken back to my Disney days. Oh wait...I still am in my Disney days. Either way, click the link and you'll find one of my favorite scenes of all time.)

"You DOIN' too much!"

That means that you're trying too hard. My second graders say that to each other when they need to settle down. When they need to stop trying to get attention by doing what they think is cool. To give you a frame of reference, a perfect example is my student named M. M takes any opportunity to yell gospel music, break into the MC hammer dance, scream, throw a fit, steal things, throw things, whatever it may be, in order to get the spotlight. He is a happy kid and gets along with others, but he just needs to feel that approval from others in the form of being the performer. He's a crowd pleaser by nature (I know how he feels). But my one girl, T, tells it like it is. She calls him out every time when he is being ridiculous and trying too hard. She throws up her hands and says, "M! You DOIN' too much!" T is on to something here. My children are wise beyond their 7 years. It's something that I'm still trying to get straight myself. They have taught me this lesson:

Be yourself. 

Stop trying too hard. Stop busying yourself with impressing everyone. The best attention you can get does not come from being a pleaser but comes from being yourself. I come from a family of people who are very good at being themselves. To be a Gesch means something very particular to a lot of folks because we are a family full of people who are unashamedly weird, smart, talkative, and eccentric. And they live it out on a daily basis, whether it is popular or not. My second graders have this same sense of self. They are loud, emotional, impulsive, happy, sassy, and confident. I think it's all in the secret of being real with yourself and knowing who you are. Find that one thing that makes you YOU and DO THAT on a daily basis. I'm not speaking in terms of a career or job or calling as many people from my church say, but I'm talking about your YOU-ness. Your personality. Your vibe. Everyone's got their own stamp. Their own flavor. Are you sarcastic, whimsical, unconventional, loud, understated, or offbeat? Be those things. Are you weird? BE WEIRD.

I was addicted to Calvin and Hobbes from 2nd-8th grade. One of the things that
always drew me to love Calvin's character is that he is always completely himself. 

It's obvious when you try too hard to deny your own weirdness or other flavors; it's clear when you try to make your brand of YOU fit into someone else's. I think girls in particular (maybe guys are too...I just don't understand their brains to be honest) are prone to this for some reason, myself certainly included. I know a girl who so painfully cares about talking and acting cool to adapt to the particular party, people, wedding, or workplace that she finds herself around. A lot of people do this. These are the kind of people who all dress alike, talk alike, and really want the whole world to know on a daily basis what they are saying and wearing so we can all be jealous of them on twittagrambooktrest (In case you're wondering, that's the combination of twitter, instagram, facebook, and pinterest that I think will happen when they all merge to form one mega time-sucking site to consolidate our attention in one place. You heard it here first). Then, people who check these things are supposed to believe that this is "normal" and be jealous. That works for the short term popularity boost, but in the long term I think we can all agree that just totally isn't cool. Or interesting. At all. Who wants that? And how exhausting for people to try that hard? I just want to say: "Hey. You. You DOIN' too much. Cut it out." And let me say, I am totally guilty of this. I love social media too much and love connecting to people out there who are doing interesting things with their lives. I always have to check myself to make sure the things I do are out of the joy of making connections and not out of the thrill of seeking approval, as is the pitfall of all this social media stuff. This is why my second graders are so good for me in ways like this. 

Ellen Page. A celebrity very good, in my opinion, at being herself in a world were most people aren't. 

When they start to walk, talk, and do things like themselves, that's when people become cool. I think I'm getting a little bit better at this as I get older and out of the high school and college contexts. Or at least I'm trying to bet better at this; I'm trying to find my voice and embrace it. One of the perfect examples of this is my friend Ann Marie. The girl is so gorgeous and could very easily play into that "stupid-hot-chick" thing if she wanted to, the way that so many pretty people do. But instead, she unashamedly loves to go fishing, works her tail off for her masters degree, fixates on random foods (Salty Stix all through high school!), has no concern over climbing up a social ladder, constantly engages in extremely intelligent conversation, and is weird and silly all at the same time. To me, that's cool. And you know what? I'm an optimistic, sarcastic, smart, loving, adventurous, and extroverted person. That's who I am, and that's how I think I'll always be. The hip apathetic-laid-back-super-chill-understated thing just won't ever totally be me. If it is you, that's great! Then you do that thing, and I'll do my thing. I think one of the biggest compliments someone could give me as I grow up and do this whole adult-life thing would be to tell me that I'm very Anna-y these days, that I'm really myself. I'm always in a struggle to just embrace who I am and being THAT to the best of my ability. As I keep working on it, I hope you do too. Find your brand of weird and make it cool. Find the things that make you YOU and do them (this blog is one of my "things"). Set yourself free from figuring out what people want, relax, and beee yourself. Quit doin' too much. 

A-ha Moments.

So I haven't been able to blog in the past week because of a glitch with posting photos. Super lame. I have to start posting them through a different website than blogger, but long story short I couldn't keep this quite as updated as I would have liked in the past few days.

ANYYYWAY.

I wanted to write about an amazing moment. It was short. It almost could have been not a big deal, but it came on a particularly tough day during a particularly tough week. It was today. Not going to lie, for the past four days I've been feeling sort of out of control of this whole teaching gig. Obviously one of those minor downs in the grand scheme of things, but still. It is what it is. Let me tell you about this beautiful moment.

One of my girls, a shy, sweet, and extremely-long-eyelashed kid, had a breakthrough today that I got to witness. Our class is reviewing the concept of telling time from last year. The first grade teachers said they had a tough time and still needed to master the idea. We had all these clocks printed off and she was trying to write the time beneath them. The ones that read 2:00, 3:00, and 5:00 on the dot were no problem, but she was lost for the others. I worked through the first two with her using the strategies that she already knew, and then I asked her to try a third with a different strategy. She kind of got it and then we did another problem with the different strategy.

Five minutes later, she called me back practically jumping out of her seat saying "Ms. Gaaaaaashhh! Ms. Gasssshhhhhh!" And then said the best thing ever:

"Ms. Gesch you taught me to do clocks! I never thought I could do clocks before but now because of today I can do it!"

And while earlier today someone allegedly stabbed someone else with a colored pencil, someone ripped their worksheet in half, and someone screamed in my face in the hallway, when I go to sleep tonight I will choose to remember that (adorable) girl and her clocks.

Sweet dreams :)