Ordinary Woman, Extraordinary Life

Yes, I count.  Not because I want it to go faster, and certainly not because I hate my job, as you know.  I have to keep track of our curriculum and the calendar to fit all of the required info in; and so I count.

This week was a rollercoaster ride for the kids and for me.   Monday was their first lunch time in the cafeteria, as last week was all half days.  It was also their first outdoor recess with the general population.  All went fairly well, and there were only a few kids in tears.  But officially, as of Tuesday, the honeymoon is over.  Reality has set in for my babies that they will be doing this everyday.  Because of this realization, and because they are just plain tired after their first full week, yesterday afternoon was our first disaster.

It didn’t help that one of the children was celebrating his birthday.  This is a child who is a bit “spectrum-y” meaning his social abilities are off and his impulsivity levels are high.  It also didn’t help that I have several other students who are like Ricochet Rabbit on steroids: ping ping piiinnnng! By the end of the day, the classroom was a mess, half the kids were crying, the kid allergic to peanuts had eaten the cupcake that the birthday boy later declared was made of peanut butter (it wasn’t but it took hours to get a hold of his parents and make sure), no one was listening to their teacher, and it was general chaos.  No worries, really; all to be expected.  But I had only slept fitfully the night before and my patience level was on empty.  I did hold it together, I’m proud to say.  And those babies today will learn a valuable lesson about consequences.  It’s good to be the teacher.

So off I go to finish out the week.  In general, it was a fantastic second week.  We now have a four-day weekend for the Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashana, and although we are moving and have tons of things to do and mom is coming Sunday to make matzah ball soup, I am looking forward to getting a bit of well-earned rest!

It was a warm, sunny September morning, the second week of school. I took my first graders outside for snack and a short recess to help them get started on the right foot for the year.   A delivery man walked by me and asked, “Did you hear? The twin towers fell!”  I told him that wasn’t funny, and then a mom came up and said it was true-that they had each been struck by an airplane and had come down.  Before I could answer her, the principal came out of the door and sternly told me to the get the kids inside.  Now.  I lined them up, walked them in, and settled them in the room with some books to read.  Then I stepped out into the hallway.  Across from me was a first grade teacher standing outside her room crying.  Others were hanging around the doors, one eye on the kids, asking what was going on.  No one knew.  The principal came over the intercom and announced that we would have indoor recess for lunch, and that the the water fountains were to be taped up and not used. Rumors circulated that the water system might have been poisoned by the terrorists, and that there were still four planes in the air unaccounted for.  As soon as I could get in front of a television, I heard and saw what the world had already heard and seen.

We had  an emergency faculty meeting at lunch.  The children were to be told nothing.  Parents were beginning to come and pick them up.  We had to conduct ourselves with professional decorum in front of the kids at all times and stay calm.  At this point, several of the teachers had not heard from fathers, mothers, husbands, siblings who either worked in the area of the trade center, or were fire fighters and police officers.  By three o’clock the children were all gone, and we were released from the building.  Neither my husband, myself or any of my children had cell phones at the time and I was frankly freaking out.  I got to the car and turned on the radio.  News, news, and more news, all bad on every channel. It would be two weeks before there was an advertisement heard on the news stations again.

I raced home to find my kids had been released early from school.  The girls were in ninth grade and our son in seventh, and they were waiting to tell me what had happened in school.  As the morning progressed, students had been called to the office and did not return to class.  The curiosity among the other students must have been intense, and someone with a  rare cell phone got a call from his mother and spread the word.  The kids who had been called to the office had parents working down at the trade center.

My husband and I were glued to the television to the point where my son asked if he could please go outside and play.  There we saw signs of an apocalypse of breath-stealing proportions.  A traffic sign posted at all bridge crossings: NYC CLOSED.  People running uptown covered in ashes.  Empty EMT gurneys waiting for wounded that never came.  Video of burning bodies falling a hundred stories.  It was all too much.

When it was over, we personally lost our next door neighbor- a retired man who had gone to Windows of the World that morning for a breakfast meeting; the father of one of our girls’ classmates; a firefighter father of one of my students; the husband of one of my husband’s employees.  The stories of who died and how they died were the talk for a long long time.  There were memorials at the high school where Glenn Close, a local resident, sang; dinners prepared and brought to grieving families, worries about my police officer cousin who spent two weeks in rescue and recovery.  One of my husband’s clients worked for Con Edison, who had to be one of the first on site to shut down electric and gas, and came home after two weeks unable to get himself out of his car in his driveway from shock.  The photos he gave us are haunting beyond belief.

Eleven years later, the wounds are still fresh.  The horrors are easily relived.  I could not bring myself to even approach the trade center area for nearly four years after it happened.  The first time I did, I went into a minor rage at the tourist families taking souvenir photos in front of the gaping hole. I took a cousin visiting from Europe inside the church to see the temporary memorial, and almost suffered an anxiety attack.  The towers came down just before the Jewish holidays, and on our way to Grandma’s for dinner we drove over the Whitestone Bridge- the skyline without the towers was an eerie flashback of my childhood before the towers were built.  Walking south on Fifth Avenue, where the towers could always be seen is still bizarre.

I doubt these feelings will ever go away.  And so each year at this time, we remember.

In other words, what goes around, comes around.  My advice: Follow the Golden Rule.  For those of you who have forgotten or never knew this one, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  I’m a firm believer in karma.  I’ve seen it too many times to deny it; people who deserve it really getting their asses kicked by life.  It scares me straight.  Of course, there are people I know for whom I am seriously hoping karma gets back to them soon, and publicly, so I can feel satisfied.  But in the end, whether I am aware of it or not, I know they will get what is coming to them.

There are just some people out there that are mean.  My husband, in his life as a contractor, meets them way too often- mostly clients, for whom he bends over backwards and jumps through hoops, treating him like unworthy dirt.  These people somehow think they are better than my hard-working, honest, kind, full-of-integrity and midwest politeness man; and they harass him, cheat him, and make him beg for the money he earned.  People I have known through my career, parents, teachers and principals, are no exception.  They bully and treat me (and others) impolitely, to put it nicely.  When we compare notes at night, we come to one conclusion about these people:  they are miserable because they are miserable.  They are bitter, angry, jealous and/or resentful of us for some reason, and they are lashing out.  Realizing this helps me see that karma is already at play.  And we decide that the best revenge is a life well-lived.  In other words, I have a great life, and theirs stink.   Enjoy that… I do.

On the other hand, when you put out positive vibes, you get those back too.  I walk around my school and my town with a smile on my face.  I catch the eyes of people around me and smile at them, and I see their frowns turn upside down.  People can’t help it- a smile begets a smile in return.  Try it and you will see. It’s actually comical to watch their faces.  They are in intense unhappiness, looking straight ahead or down, lost in thought.  I smile at them, and they look up.  First they look a bit puzzled, like is she smiling at me? Then their eyes soften and a smile pushes their cheeks up.  A lot of times I say, hi how ya doin’ just for kicks.  They almost always respond in kind.  Whispers get back to me:  why is she so happy all the time?  I have one answer for those people: I am alive.  I’m lucky and I know it.

And while I am alive, I’m going to do whatever I can to make this world a better place.  I’m a stone thrown into a lake: everything little thing I do and say ripples out and touches other ripples.  Every response, action and reaction is a choice.  So why choose negative when you can choose positive? I have spoken with friends and family members about this and discovered that when things are bad, people cannot see the choices and feel like life has dumped on them unfairly.  And for sure, bad things happen to good people; I’m not claiming otherwise.  But on a daily, normal-life basis, you do have a choice whether you place an experience in the good column or the bad column; and you do have a choice about how you will deal with things.

I have learned to stop taking myself so seriously, but that does not mean I have stopped taking my power to make positive change seriously.  And it does not mean that I have given up my passion and struggle to improve the things on my personal radar that I think I can help change.  It just means I have become comfortable in my skin; comfortable enough to feel, on a deep level, beatific and serene as I go through each day.  My teenage rage has become a finely-tuned instrument of motivation, selection, proaction and balance.  Oh, I’m no angel; that would be boring.  The little devil on my shoulder is alive and well.  I’ve just learned a good dose of lessons about how things play out.  Karma’s a bitch, so behave yourself.

It’s Sunday, the day of rest according to the new testament.  Today is the day when everything in your life is supposed to be put on hold so you can take a stay-cation from your life.  Go to church, read a book, take a walk, watch a ballgame, stay in your pajamas all day- that’s what Sunday is supposed to be about.  Nowadays on Sunday, most of us actually are quite busy: kids’ sports, cleaning the house or grocery shopping, taking care of the business we didn’t get to on the other no-work day of the weekend.  It’s too bad that we don’t make ourselves have more downtime; our minds and bodies really need it.  Still, if you ask most people what their favorite day of the week is, they will say Sunday.  There’s just something special about it. 

What about the other days of the week?  Let’s go in order….

Monday, oh dread Monday.  There are songs about how bad it is, and expressions too.  Most people just expect it to be horrible.  “How was your day, dear?”  “Groan, typical Monday.”  Funny how we know exactly what the means without explanation.  Monday is a grumpy day for a lot of people.  They are probably ticked off about what they didn’t get done over the weekend, and they are probably thinking about how terribly far away the next weekened is.

The best thing about Tuesday is that it means Monday is over.  Your survived, and it should be a better day than the day before.  Poor Tuesday is not special in any way, in general.  No songs about it, no special name, it just doesn’t stand alone.  It’s a place holder between Monday and Wednesday.

Wednesday is Hump Day! I believe this term was probably coined by some rock-n-roll radio station that wanted to give people energy to make it through the rest of the week.  Hump Day means you are half way there!  Everybody’s workin’ for the weekend, according to one song that is often played on Wednesday.  We are on the hump, we can see that Friday and Saturday are standing on the other side, waving and yelling, “hey c’mon…let’s party!”  We are on the top of the week hill, and wheeeee down we go on the other side!

Thursday used to be another groan day, like Monday.  Back then it always felt like, holy guacamole this week is taking forever to end.  That has changed, and once again I think we have radio stations, as well as college bars, to thank for that.  It’s Thirsty Thursday, the day before crazy Friday, so come on out and get your weekend started early!  At the very least, even for those of us who aren’t in college, on Thursday we are hyper-aware that the week is almost over and the glorious weekend is truly right around the corner.

Friday, ode to Friday! TGIF…it’s over!  I put in another week, made some money or finished another week of school, and now it’s party time!!!  Funny how upbeat we all are on Fridays.  Casual Fridays at places of business are a prime example.  For a while there, before common decency took back over, people at high pressure companies wore shorts, t-shirts and sneakers to work on Fridays.  This is either ridiculous because it puts paid to the idea of ever wearing a suit, or because you just look ridiculous sitting in a plush office looking like you just returned from a picnic at Central Park.  Even those of us who have to work six days a week or have lots of homework and projects to do love Friday.  It’s a bit unreasonable to feel this way about a day of the week, but we do.

The second favorite day of the week that people will name has to be Saturday.  You can sleep in a bit, you are more relaxed, even if you have something you have to do.  Besides, you get up in the morning with a smile on your face, knowing that you still have Sunday.  In fact, I always tried to get everything done on Saturday just so I could enjoy Sunday more.  All chores that I couldn’t get to while I was working were scheduled for Saturday.  I always felt lighter on Saturday, even when I had a long to-do list.

People that I know who have retired don’t feel this way.  Neither do people who don’t work “regular” schedules.  To the former, every day is Saturday.  Most people I know that are retired are living the life of Riley- no set schedule and they get to watch the rest of the human race literally race through their weeks.  I think I see a secret smug smile on some of their faces when they think no one is watching.  I’m not jealous or anything.  I love my job, and my life the way it is.  But one day, and I know it will come faster than I think, I’ll be hiding a smug smile.  Just sayin’.  People who work what I would call odd schedules or irregular ones, take their weekends on other days.  I know that they enjoy the time off as much as anyone, but I think it must feel a bit out of sync with the rest of us and that must take some of the joy out of it.  I could be wrong on this, I’ve never been in their shoes.  This is just my working joe-centric view.

So which is my favorite day?  I do love Fridays.  And Saturdays.  And Sundays.  For all of the reasons I stated above, these days stand out for me.  And as much as I do love my job, I would not be human if I didn’t look forward to the weekends.  I try to enjoy every day as a freestanding period of time, but it’s not easy to do that, since it’s all part of a seven-day package. 

The curious side of me wants to know who started this whole thing anyway? Who decided we should work Monday through Friday, leaving the two S-days as the weekend.  You might say it was biblical, but for Jewish people Saturday is the day of rest, so that doesn’t really fly.  I also see that more and more of us are working six-day weeks, although some of us are actually packing in ten-hour days and working only until Thursday.  So if you step back, it seems kind of random that way we raise the weekend up on a pedestal. 

You know what?  This is way to deep for Sunday morning.  I’m going to go have some breakfast and coffee and think about what to do with the rest of this day.  Enjoy yours.

I was born on this date, fifty one years ago.  As I write this number, so many thoughts run through my head. 

First, that’s a damned large number.  When I was a teenager, that was beyond ancient.  I made a pact with a good friend the year we turned fifteen to find each other the year we turned thirty and commit suicide together.  I write this now with no compunctions for a number of reasons.   We were not depressed or suicidal at that time; it just seemed to our adolescent minds that no one would want to live to be that old, that we would no longer be having any fun in our lives, that there would be nothing to look forward to,  that, essentially, our lives would be over so why drag it out.  The year we turned thirty, I actually called her and reminded her, and we both had a giant laugh about it.  Now, twenty-one years later, I find it even funnier.  But I am glad that I never forgot the thinking we had at the time- it has helped keep me grounded.  And it has helped me make sure my life is still fun.

Second,  so much has happened to me over this half century that it is hard to keep track.  And so much of it was unplanned, at least in my conscious mind, that it takes quiet time to reflect on it all.  I have a shortage of quiet time right now in my life, but I grab a few minutes here and there.  It’s important. 

Third, my priorities are so clear right now, it is a bit scary.  My kids, first and foremost, my heirs, my genetic connection to the future;  they mean everything to me at a cellular level.  They know, and if they are reading this, they are feeling it in their hearts, that I would do anything for them that it is in my power to do.  Their satisfaction with their lives and choices is my #1 living, breathing, every waking moment.  No pressure kids! 🙂 My husband is right up there with them- my soul mate that holds my hand as we traipse and slog through this life together.   Maybe I’m over the top about this, but I can’t help it, so we all have to deal.  Hey, it’s my birthday and I can say whatever I want.  I’ll apologize and gloss it over tomorrow.

Fourth and finally, mainly because I have to get to work, it’s not over for me!  Who knew, way back then, that after all of these adventures and happenings, there would be more fun and games in store.  We are off on a new venture that is givng us agida, excitement and new energy all at the same time.

I have one birthday wish that I know cannot come true, but here it is.  I wish I could come back one hundred years after I am gone, just to see what mischief mankind has gotten itself into.  I think about how the world would appear to my Oma, if she were still alive.  And my curiosity keeps me wondering what life will be like on this planet in the 22^nd century. 

As I go through this day, already filled with Facebook wishes and a lovely card from one of my daughters, and a whistled Happy Birthday from my husband at 6 a.m., I will enjoy every moment as a gift to myself.  And I look forward to the next 51 years!

I haven’t slept well in two days.  I know why- I’m too excited/nervous about the first day of school.  When I was growing up, I used to get so anxious that I cried every single September.  Funny when you consider that I was in the same school with the same neighborhood kids every single year of elementary school.  Didn’t matter at all.  Then I became a teacher and I had nightmares about things not going well for weeks before the beginning of the year.  And I cried every September…for the first twenty-five years of my career.  Now, after all of these Septembers, I don’t cry and I don’t have bad dreams anymore; but I still get first-day jitters.

Over the last two weeks, I have put my classroom together so that it is warm and welcoming to the little cherubs that will be coming in just two hours. I have met with my colleagues to plan the first few days; all is prepared and waiting.  I have my new outfit all picked out, and my school bag is packed with everything I need.  Someone should take a photo of me standing by the front door.  So why the butterflies in my stomach??

I think it is the unknowns…how will the kids present today, and each of the 182 days to come? How will the parents behave?  How will my plans go?  How will my colleagues act this year?  How will the principal do?  How will I do?  We are off to a good, solid start- the Superintendent’s speech yesterday gave a rousing reminder to foster creativity and passion in our charges, in spite of the pressure to perform on standardized testing.  I gave him a standing O; I was the only one in the room standing.  Oh well, I felt that speech all the way to my toes. That is exactly what I intend to do; in fact it is what I have always done and I ain’t stopping now.

Some people seem to be able to go with the flow every Autumn.  No apparent butterflies for them.  Teachers who just seem to roll with it, even my ten-year-old neighbor/”rent-a-kid” (that requires an explanation; good topic for another blog) who showed off her new cool sneakers and bookbag; all of them more psyched up than psyched out.  Wish I could be. 

I know it is going to be fine.  I’ve done this before.  But here I am trying to keep my breakfast down, and stay focused.  Well, it’s time to get dressed and get ready to head out.  I will let you know how it goes. 

I just read about an effort by Panera Bread Bakery and Café to run restaurants based on the honor system. The idea is that if you can afford it, you pay what the menu says, but if you can’t, you pay what you can or you work it off at the restaurant. Whatever profit is made at that particular restaurant is donated to local food banks.  I think this is a brilliant idea and I hope that other places emulate it.  I’m aware that some independent restaurant owners around the country already are. 

This got me thinking about philanthropy, charity, generosity, and altruism.  Who gives, why do they give, how much and how often, and to whom?  Many wealthy people donate millions to a variety of charities annually.  Do they do so purely for the act of giving, or is there always some small glimmer of influence from our tax code that allows such donations to be written off?   Many of the people who give time to soup kitchens are working class people themselves, and may be one misstep away from having to be on the other side of the counter.  Many of us give tithes to our religious organizations, or participate in fund raisers such as races/walks for medical issues.  Lots of people donate items to Toys for Tots at the holiday time or to the Red Cross when there is a disaster.   Whenever the mood strikes you to give, there is someone in need waiting.  And it does make you feel good, doesn’t it?

In a book by Matt Ridley, Origins of Virtue, he claims that altruism is in fact based on a Darwinian survival instinct.  This is a text-booky paperback well worth slogging through to get you thinking about the issue.  His ideas are controversial and cause lots of debate about the issue.   At the basis of his theory I found this; that humans are born wanting to cooperate, discriminate,  trust, gain a reputation, exchange goods and info, and divide labour.  He believes that this is part of the evolution of our species.  Therefore, giving to others is an exercise in self-preservation or at least preservation of the species.  Interesting thought, that we are generous because at a genetic, cellular level, we have to be.  Takes some of the fun out of it, though.

My husband and I, as well as our children, believe in sharing as much as possible.  We look to help the maximum number of people- best bang for our buck, as it were.  Our favorite place to start is local; charity begins at home after all.  So we support the Deveraux Millwood School for Autistic Children and the Neighbors Link program for new immigrants. But we are not adverse to spreading the wealth to other places, mainly because political boundaries should not affect the human ones.  So our children went to Nicaragua to build homes when they were in high school; and we support an orphanage in Cali, Colombia where the proprietor (a family member by marriage) takes care of 350 children from newborn to 18 pretty much single-handedly. 

No matter what or where or when or to whom, generosity with spare time or money is, in my opinion, a social obligation.  There, but for the grace of God go I… That being said, I won’t give to young adults and teens taking handouts on the street instead of working; although I have given a stranded kid a train ticket.  I also love to throw a quarter into an expired meter to help someone out.  I’ve heard that this is actually illegal, but I’m willing to take that risk.  It just feels good.

You can read up on Panera’s efforts at:  http://paneracares.org/

Also if you are looking for a place to donate, check it out first at http://www.charitynavigator.org/ to get background info.

Okay, I’m getting ready to unleash again.  What you are about to read may seem random to you, but they have one common thread.  These are all things that really tick me off.

1. When you are driving on a two-lane winding road with double yellow stripes and there is an obstruction in your lane such as a mail truck or bicycle rider, do NOT cross the yellow line and drive directly at me so that I need to slam on my brakes to avoid a head-on collision.  If the obstruction is on your side of the lines, then it is YOU who have to slow down.

2.  When you  are driving down a three-lane highway and the car in your lane is going too slow, do NOT cut me off by jumping in front of me in my lane when there is not enough room.  Why should I have to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting you so you don’t have to break your stride?

3.  When you are pushing your shopping cart up and down aisles, slow down when you get to the end of each aisle to see if someone is coming across.  Do NOT come charging out of the end of your aisle at full speed and then act surprised, or worse, rude,  if you hit someone with your cart.

4.  Take care of your children, most especially the littlest of them.  If you do not think this is important, then please don’t give birth to them.  Among the many things you should not do: DON’T take them to a casino and leave them sitting outside the gambling floor while you spend their grocery money-I have seen babies and elementary school-age children there.  I’m not sure why this is legal.  DON’T  allow them to run through active parking lots. They are too short to be seen by drivers. Hold their hands.   Safety and health first in all decisions relating to raising children.

5. If your dog craps in my yard, clean it up.  I know you saw him do it. ‘Nuff said.

6.  If I upset you, just tell me, damn it.  The hateful glances, whispers with your friends and cold shoulder are not mature ways of dealing with it.  Why is it so hard to just spit it out?

7.  If you are working in a store serving people, be nice.  Customer service is #1, just like the commercials say.  If you are unpleasant, I am less likely to come back and spend my hard-earned money.  If a lot of people stop coming for the same reason, you are likely to be laid off because of a drop in business, or just outright fired for your gnarly-ness.  Business 101.   We all have bad days; leave it at home.  How would you like me, as a teacher,  to take out my stress on your child?  I thought so.

8.  Use your manners.   For cryin’ outloud, do I really need to say this??  Please, thank you, excuse me, sorry, can I hold that door for you, can I help you reach that…these are social niceties that go a long way towards making the world a more pleasant place.  Also, as my husband likes to remind me: you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.  Kill ‘em with kindness and they won’t know what hit ‘em. Take  your choice of homey sayings- they are all true. Thanks.

9.  Automated phone systems.  Press 1 to charge you a dollar for every number I have to press and every minute it takes me to reach a human being, all while listening to aggravating sounds loosely defined as “music.”

10.  Be quiet in the movie theater or play theater during the feature presentation.  Just be quiet.  Is it that hard?

11.  Stop throwing litter out of your car window while you are driving.  I get that you don’t want a messy car.  But I don’t want a messy planet.  Planet trumps car, keep a plastic bag in your car until you find a garbage can.

Gee, I feel better….I know nothing is going to change, but at least I got it off my mind. Anything bugging you?  Feel free to share. 🙂

I am glued to the television, watching Hurricane Isaac pound two of our southern sister states.  They are really taking a beating as this slow-moving behemoth of  a category 1 storm dumps water in incredible amounts while whipping winds tear at anything loose.  It is hard to fathom how strong nature can be unless you are there, and it’s hard to imagine living through it.  My thoughts are with those that are doing just that.

The news reporters for some reason think it’s a good idea to stand in the middle of it all, unprotected except for their news station rain gear. Really? Does the job pay enough to risk your life for a bit of showmanship or in order to one-up the competition?  I have been watching these women and men blowing around on the street, drenched and yelling into microphones to be heard above the roar of the storm.  I don’t know about you, but I would be just as satisfied with a report from behind a safe wall or window.  I don’t need  the kind of thrill that comes with watching someone else do a death-defying act unless I’m at a circus; so don’t do it on my behalf.

I also don’t get the people who stand on the coast watching the hurricane come in.  Is it for bragging rights?  I am not sure that stupidity and irresponsible risk are good for bragging.  Is it for some personal thrill? Well, good on ya; just don’t call the emergency workers to risk their brave behinds to save your ignorant one.  The same goes for people that don’t clear out during a mandatory evacuation.  The man on the cell phone with the news station this morning  who is in his attic with his wife and baby because there are twelve feet of water inside his house, and he refused to follow orders to leave,  and he had to shoot a hole through his roof with his rifle so they can breathe…How in the world do you put your child at such risk?  If he was determined to stay, although I am not sure why he would be, at least send your wife and child to high ground.  Oy.

It is a natural event like this that reminds me how small I am, how tiny a part of the big picture, how puny and helpless.  Yes, we are on top of the food chain, but there are forces way, way bigger than the food chain.  The same forces that ended the reign of dinosaurs and large mammals right here in the good old USA; the power that created the Grand Canyon and caused ice ages; the dynamic strength that continues to move continents; all put things in perspective.  I live my life to the fullest each day knowing that it is a precious commodity that should never be taken for granted.  I strive to be a productive, empathetic, content human being, because pretty much every day somewhere out there, others are not so fortunate.  To the people “down there” that are living through this epic storm today:  Best wishes and hopes from me to you.

Did you ever walk by a group of people and all of a sudden they stopped talking, or they start talking really loud about the weather?  It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out they were talking about you or a friend of yours, and it probably was nothing very kind.   This has happened to me on more than one occasion and although it used to really bother me, I have come to understand that: a) This is one of those things I cannot control or stop;  b) These people are either bitter, angry, or jealous, and certainly small-minded;  c)These are not people that I would ever want as friends since they cannot be trusted or nice; and d) It’s really funny that I’m gossip-worthy.

I am happy to say I don’t participate in gossip at work or among my friends. I know it drives some of them mad, but they have learned that I won’t give any information about someone else, and that I don’t like to listen to it either.  It just feels like an invasion of privacy to me.  And honestly, it makes me wonder which of my personal bits have been passed on.  This makes for some interesting relationships due to the fact that it seems a lot of people gossip.  And men, don’t stop reading now, it’s not just the ladies.  Is it human nature to make fun of others, share their confidential information and tear them apart for entertainment? If you look at the statistics, which say that while recent overall U.S. magazine sales dropped 6.3%, People magazine actually rose 5.2%, I guess that it is (source: http://observer.com/2008/08/magazine-sales-down-63-percent-ipeoplei-iin-stylei-actually-up/).  Sometimes my friends will say, “well I need to tell someone what this other person told me, and I know you won’t tell anyone else.”   I’m not sure what this is, exactly- the need to tell someone else a person’s intimate confession.  It’s like they feel they are going to burst if they don’t tell.  I get that some of this is really juicy stuff; I am human after all…but if someone begs you not to tell others then please don’t! At least don’t tell me.  It makes it hard for me to look that person in the eye.

Most of the people who stand around gossiping are very obvious about it, whether they realize it or not. Maybe they don’t care, or they think everyone does it so it’s fine.   One person I know actually cups her ear so she can hear what is being said across the room, and makes no bones about it.  When I caught her doing so once, I said loudly, “Don’t just sit over there, if you want to know what we are saying, come sit here.” She did.  I hope she got what she was looking for…wait, maybe I don’t.

I have learned over the years not to talk about confidential things in the teachers’ lounge, and to be very, very careful who I share personal info with. It’s a little sad.  I have also learned to manipulate this gossip telephone line, and am pretty good at leaking something I want to get around.  Sometimes I do that just for fun to see what comes back to me.  Now that’s entertainment.