And so, school has begun again.
Some new things have happened in my life. I'm a sophomore now, for one. For another, I ordered a new laptop that was delivered today, so I'm typing this from a ~brand new laptop~ which is all nice and shiny and tiny and I love it a whole lot. I have all new teachers and classes, except for my French teacher, who was our student teacher last year.
It's been nice to see my friends again, to give tackle hugs and exchange laughter, and bring up inside jokes from last year. It's interesting to see the dynamic that people have with freshman when you aren't a freshman. Last year, I didn't really notice the whole "unloved freshman" idea, but I have definitely noticed the upperclassman saying "I don't like them at all, ugh!"
My friends and I already have plans to go to the Homecoming game, but also decided that we don't want to actually go to the dance, and will probably stay home and watch TV together. (Which, knowing us, will include lots of giggling and way too much sugar.)
Even though my friends and I didn't really see too much of each other over the summer (other than the occasional get-together with one or two of us, and then one party, I didn't really see any of them), we immediately clicked back together as if we hadn't just spent two months apart, which was super lovely. Homework has already started up again, even though school only started yesterday, but that wasn't much of a surprise. Really, it's mostly slips for parents to sign and lab fees for various classes, but there is a nine page math packet I need to finish by Monday.
I wasn't ready to go back to school, and then I was, and then I wasn't again, and now I'm back at school and I don't know how I feel about that. Friends are nice. Homework and tests and teachers already talking about essays? Not so nice. But I know that I'm stuck with this for another ten months, so I really shouldn't decide I hate it on day two.
The Dandy Lioness*
*Due to the fact that I just got this laptop three hours ago, there are no photos in this post, because I haven't transferred my files yet. That'll change soon, but for the moment, this is one big empty computer, so you lovelies will have to deal without any pictures for a little bit...
Okay, really, with my track record it's quite likely that by the time I actually post again, this laptop will be fully updated and everything, but y'know. Whatever. Thought I'd let you know.
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Almost Done
Eighteen days.
A few little trips.
Some shopping.
And then, it's back to life outside of the summer bubble.
It's weird. Summer really is a bit of a bubble-- it goes by in a haze of lazy mornings and late nights filled with TV, and afternoons with friends. And then all of a sudden, you realize it's August, and you to back to school in just over two weeks, and life comes crashing back down around you.
Your schedule comes in the mail. Back-to-school sales flood the stores. You start thinking about what it's going to be like to see your friends again. Planning for the first day of school outfit. A mad dash to do all those things you promised yourself you were going to do this summer.
And then it's back to waking up at 6:35, and nearly falling asleep during first period, complaining loudly with your friends about teachers, and trying to finish your math homework during break. Life goes from shorts and tank tops and not having to move for six hours straight, to running from one class to the next, trying to complete all your homework on time, laughing with your friends during lunch.
And I have to say, I'm a little bit excited. I have tackle hugs planned for more than one of my friends, and can't wait to be regaled with stories from the summer. And yeah, I'm not so excited for math class or sitting down for French. But I knew that summer would come to an end, and okay, the end has snuck up on me a bit.
But I know that I'm going to make the most of these eighteen days.
There's not really much else you can do.
A few little trips.
Some shopping.
And then, it's back to life outside of the summer bubble.
It's weird. Summer really is a bit of a bubble-- it goes by in a haze of lazy mornings and late nights filled with TV, and afternoons with friends. And then all of a sudden, you realize it's August, and you to back to school in just over two weeks, and life comes crashing back down around you.
Your schedule comes in the mail. Back-to-school sales flood the stores. You start thinking about what it's going to be like to see your friends again. Planning for the first day of school outfit. A mad dash to do all those things you promised yourself you were going to do this summer.
And then it's back to waking up at 6:35, and nearly falling asleep during first period, complaining loudly with your friends about teachers, and trying to finish your math homework during break. Life goes from shorts and tank tops and not having to move for six hours straight, to running from one class to the next, trying to complete all your homework on time, laughing with your friends during lunch.
And I have to say, I'm a little bit excited. I have tackle hugs planned for more than one of my friends, and can't wait to be regaled with stories from the summer. And yeah, I'm not so excited for math class or sitting down for French. But I knew that summer would come to an end, and okay, the end has snuck up on me a bit.
But I know that I'm going to make the most of these eighteen days.
There's not really much else you can do.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Strange
Well, it's over now.
By "it", I mean school. I am officially 1/4 of the way done with high school. It's weird to think that it's summer now-- it hasn't quite set in. I've only been out of school for seven hours now, and the knowledge that I won't have to go back until September, that come Monday morning I won't have an alarm set and that a week from now I'll be at the ocean, is foreign feeling.
It always feels this way at the end of the year, and I always forget.
It still feels like I'll be seeing my friends on Monday, that I'll tackle them in the halls and tell them about my weekend. It still feels like I have fifteen different things looming over my head at once, even though my finished assignments and full workbooks are strewn all across my room. It still feels like I shouldn't watch TV or spend hours reading, because I have to do homework instead.
Yet I won't have to do any of that until September. I know the time will come when I'll return to tan tiled floors and royal blue lockers, the airy math building where my friends and I ate lunch every day this year, and classrooms I have yet to be acquainted with. But for now, I'm free. I'm free to read books for hours, spend my time sprawled on the upstairs deck in the sunshine, reading or daydreaming. I can knit and sew and go to the pool, and wander the city on weekdays.
But for now, when just seven hours ago I was still on school grounds, lounging in a nook by my math classroom surrounded by about eight of my friends, while the kids in my math class watched episodes of The Twilight Zone, it feels like I'll be returning come Monday. It's a strange feeling, this. Knowing that I won't be back until September, and being glad of it, yet also feeling like well, of course I'll be going back on Monday. Of course I'll see my friends again on Monday.
Yet I know that my best guy friend, who I'll probably only see once or twice this whole summer, who picked me up and swung me around in a hug today-- just as he did to all his friends standing in a circle exchanging hugs-- won't be seeing me on Monday. I know that my friends and I won't be able to listen to his tales of his many siblings, or steal his food or read his books over his shoulder. I know that I won't see many of my friends again for some time. Between scheduling differences, and the sheer laziness of summer, it's unlikely that, unless we gather for a party or something, I'll see any of the multitude of friends I've gathered this year, over the summer.
It's a strange feeling, knowing that I won't have them around, once Monday comes. I know I'm glad to have a break. That after seeing them almost every day for nine months, I need one. Yet it still feels strange. I'm not quite used to summer yet, I suppose.
And this concludes my one week of blogging every day. Starting last Friday, I decided to write a blog post every day, ending on the last day of school. I didn't say anything about it, mostly because I forgot, but I wanted to get myself back into the swing of writing blog posts. I'll be making an effort to be back a lot more this summer than I have been for the last year or so-- if I can write a post a day during finals week, then surely I can write a post every once in awhile over the summer? Also, you should go and check out Mirriam's giveaway, and make sure to check out Monster on Amazon tomorrow, for the Amazon Blitz!
The Dandy Lioness
By "it", I mean school. I am officially 1/4 of the way done with high school. It's weird to think that it's summer now-- it hasn't quite set in. I've only been out of school for seven hours now, and the knowledge that I won't have to go back until September, that come Monday morning I won't have an alarm set and that a week from now I'll be at the ocean, is foreign feeling.
It always feels this way at the end of the year, and I always forget.
It still feels like I'll be seeing my friends on Monday, that I'll tackle them in the halls and tell them about my weekend. It still feels like I have fifteen different things looming over my head at once, even though my finished assignments and full workbooks are strewn all across my room. It still feels like I shouldn't watch TV or spend hours reading, because I have to do homework instead.
Yet I won't have to do any of that until September. I know the time will come when I'll return to tan tiled floors and royal blue lockers, the airy math building where my friends and I ate lunch every day this year, and classrooms I have yet to be acquainted with. But for now, I'm free. I'm free to read books for hours, spend my time sprawled on the upstairs deck in the sunshine, reading or daydreaming. I can knit and sew and go to the pool, and wander the city on weekdays.
But for now, when just seven hours ago I was still on school grounds, lounging in a nook by my math classroom surrounded by about eight of my friends, while the kids in my math class watched episodes of The Twilight Zone, it feels like I'll be returning come Monday. It's a strange feeling, this. Knowing that I won't be back until September, and being glad of it, yet also feeling like well, of course I'll be going back on Monday. Of course I'll see my friends again on Monday.
Yet I know that my best guy friend, who I'll probably only see once or twice this whole summer, who picked me up and swung me around in a hug today-- just as he did to all his friends standing in a circle exchanging hugs-- won't be seeing me on Monday. I know that my friends and I won't be able to listen to his tales of his many siblings, or steal his food or read his books over his shoulder. I know that I won't see many of my friends again for some time. Between scheduling differences, and the sheer laziness of summer, it's unlikely that, unless we gather for a party or something, I'll see any of the multitude of friends I've gathered this year, over the summer.
It's a strange feeling, knowing that I won't have them around, once Monday comes. I know I'm glad to have a break. That after seeing them almost every day for nine months, I need one. Yet it still feels strange. I'm not quite used to summer yet, I suppose.
And this concludes my one week of blogging every day. Starting last Friday, I decided to write a blog post every day, ending on the last day of school. I didn't say anything about it, mostly because I forgot, but I wanted to get myself back into the swing of writing blog posts. I'll be making an effort to be back a lot more this summer than I have been for the last year or so-- if I can write a post a day during finals week, then surely I can write a post every once in awhile over the summer? Also, you should go and check out Mirriam's giveaway, and make sure to check out Monster on Amazon tomorrow, for the Amazon Blitz!
The Dandy Lioness
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Reading and Teachers
Last year, I was reading constantly.
I always had a book in hand, many of which were marked with post-its or had reading logs stuck in the pages.
Last year, I loved reading, yet I was forced to do it. So I did it constantly. When reading at least twenty pages a day is your homework, you do it. You have to. You have to force yourself to sit down and read those twenty pages. And if you're me, then you can sit down and read forty or fifty or a hundred or three hundred instead of the required twenty.
After talking to a friend of mine, who had the same language arts teacher that I did, last year, I discovered something interesting. She, like me, loves reading. Both of us used to read constantly, especially last year when we were forced to do so. But both of us, starting directly after last school year finished-- when we were no longer forced to read twenty pages a day-- stopped reading as much.
Last summer I read perhaps five books. Last spring break, only two months previously, I read seven. Last year, I was in a constant state of reading.
This year, I've been reading, but definitely not as much.
Something about being forced to do it last year, made me read more than ever before. But now that I'm no longer forced to read, that I don't have to sit and think, "Oh, well I'd better get my reading done so my teacher doesn't get mad at me.", I don't read nearly as much.
It'll take me two weeks to get through a 200 page book nowadays, whereas I would have read a 200 page book in a night before.
This makes me sad.
This teacher that I had, who was trying to inspire us to read, trying to get us to enjoy it, who forced us to read, got me to the point where reading was homework. Where when I didn't have to do it, I was happy. I was happy I didn't have this constant assignment hanging over my head. Where I'm turning in more books to the library half-read or unread than actually finished.
It makes me kind of angry, actually. I know that this teacher was just trying to get us to love books. To love to read, to get us to a point where reading wasn't a chore, it was for fun. For me, reading was already fun. I adore it, actually, it's one of my favorite activities. But after last year, I consider it a chore. When you're forced to do something you love, rather than choosing to do it yourself, it makes it so much less fun.
Yet... she did the opposite. I haven't read even close to half as many books this year, as I did last year. This year, when sitting around doing nothing, I'm less likely to think, "Oh, I should grab a book and read," because it isn't this ever-present assignment.
Another thing about teachers and reading, is something that my current language arts teacher said to me, recently. He overheard me and a friend talking about a book that I gave her that she had recently read, and how much we loved it, and one of the characters in it. And he came up to us, and said, "You know, I really think it's time that you start branching out from teen literature. Try some classics! They're so much better!"
And I just didn't appreciate that at all. I love the YA genre-- there are so many good books in it, so many left undiscovered, so many to read and experience and fall in love with. And I've read several classics over the years-- granted, many of them were in class, but had I been reading them on my own, I know I wouldn't have either enjoyed them or finished them. For me, the YA genre is where I'm comfortable and happy. I do also read books classified as "adult" books, although I've definitely found that I love the YA genre best. Out of everything I've read, YA is where my heart lives.
And so telling me that classics are better than YA, makes me angry. I want to write YA literature-- whether or not I become an actual author isn't all that important in this scenario. I just want to write it. And one of the best things for me to do, is to read YA literature.
So really... sometimes I think that language arts teachers need to step back a bit, and let their students read as they please. Read what they please and when. Let them discover genres for themselves, let their students discover their love of reading, rather than have their teachers diminish it. I know that it's language arts teachers jobs to inspire reading and writing and creativity, but, to be quite honest, I've never had a language arts teacher who has truly inspired me.
My own creativity, my own love of reading comes from within, and I hate that over the years my teachers have tried to change it and mold it to what they think it should be. They think I should read classic books. They think I should read more, or read other things. They think that the best way of reading is this or that, when really it's something completely different for me.
Books, reading, writing, creativity... they're extremely personal things. And for me, teachers trying to shape my thoughts on these things that are so personal to me, doesn't work. It changes my original thoughts, and not in a good way. Teachers shouldn't care what you read, or how you read, I think. They should just care that you read. Of course, they're allowed to dictate what you read if it's a book for their class, but if it's just a book that you're reading on your own? I don't think that teachers should judge on what you're reading, be it comic books or YA literature or a classic. Does it really matter what it is that you're reading, as long as you are?
The Dandy Lioness
I always had a book in hand, many of which were marked with post-its or had reading logs stuck in the pages.
Last year, I loved reading, yet I was forced to do it. So I did it constantly. When reading at least twenty pages a day is your homework, you do it. You have to. You have to force yourself to sit down and read those twenty pages. And if you're me, then you can sit down and read forty or fifty or a hundred or three hundred instead of the required twenty.
After talking to a friend of mine, who had the same language arts teacher that I did, last year, I discovered something interesting. She, like me, loves reading. Both of us used to read constantly, especially last year when we were forced to do so. But both of us, starting directly after last school year finished-- when we were no longer forced to read twenty pages a day-- stopped reading as much.
Last summer I read perhaps five books. Last spring break, only two months previously, I read seven. Last year, I was in a constant state of reading.
This year, I've been reading, but definitely not as much.
Something about being forced to do it last year, made me read more than ever before. But now that I'm no longer forced to read, that I don't have to sit and think, "Oh, well I'd better get my reading done so my teacher doesn't get mad at me.", I don't read nearly as much.
It'll take me two weeks to get through a 200 page book nowadays, whereas I would have read a 200 page book in a night before.
This makes me sad.
This teacher that I had, who was trying to inspire us to read, trying to get us to enjoy it, who forced us to read, got me to the point where reading was homework. Where when I didn't have to do it, I was happy. I was happy I didn't have this constant assignment hanging over my head. Where I'm turning in more books to the library half-read or unread than actually finished.
It makes me kind of angry, actually. I know that this teacher was just trying to get us to love books. To love to read, to get us to a point where reading wasn't a chore, it was for fun. For me, reading was already fun. I adore it, actually, it's one of my favorite activities. But after last year, I consider it a chore. When you're forced to do something you love, rather than choosing to do it yourself, it makes it so much less fun.
Yet... she did the opposite. I haven't read even close to half as many books this year, as I did last year. This year, when sitting around doing nothing, I'm less likely to think, "Oh, I should grab a book and read," because it isn't this ever-present assignment.
Another thing about teachers and reading, is something that my current language arts teacher said to me, recently. He overheard me and a friend talking about a book that I gave her that she had recently read, and how much we loved it, and one of the characters in it. And he came up to us, and said, "You know, I really think it's time that you start branching out from teen literature. Try some classics! They're so much better!"
And I just didn't appreciate that at all. I love the YA genre-- there are so many good books in it, so many left undiscovered, so many to read and experience and fall in love with. And I've read several classics over the years-- granted, many of them were in class, but had I been reading them on my own, I know I wouldn't have either enjoyed them or finished them. For me, the YA genre is where I'm comfortable and happy. I do also read books classified as "adult" books, although I've definitely found that I love the YA genre best. Out of everything I've read, YA is where my heart lives.
And so telling me that classics are better than YA, makes me angry. I want to write YA literature-- whether or not I become an actual author isn't all that important in this scenario. I just want to write it. And one of the best things for me to do, is to read YA literature.
So really... sometimes I think that language arts teachers need to step back a bit, and let their students read as they please. Read what they please and when. Let them discover genres for themselves, let their students discover their love of reading, rather than have their teachers diminish it. I know that it's language arts teachers jobs to inspire reading and writing and creativity, but, to be quite honest, I've never had a language arts teacher who has truly inspired me.
My own creativity, my own love of reading comes from within, and I hate that over the years my teachers have tried to change it and mold it to what they think it should be. They think I should read classic books. They think I should read more, or read other things. They think that the best way of reading is this or that, when really it's something completely different for me.
Books, reading, writing, creativity... they're extremely personal things. And for me, teachers trying to shape my thoughts on these things that are so personal to me, doesn't work. It changes my original thoughts, and not in a good way. Teachers shouldn't care what you read, or how you read, I think. They should just care that you read. Of course, they're allowed to dictate what you read if it's a book for their class, but if it's just a book that you're reading on your own? I don't think that teachers should judge on what you're reading, be it comic books or YA literature or a classic. Does it really matter what it is that you're reading, as long as you are?
{This is a photo you've seen before, but it was the only one I had on my computer that seemed to fit with this post. Sorry.}
{Also I'm sorry that this post is so long, I had a lot to say. }
The Dandy Lioness
Friday, August 17, 2012
The Summer During Which I am a Lazy Blogger
It's true. There's no getting around it.
This has been the summer during which I am a very lazy blogger.
I mean, you can't get around that fact. I had planned to have multiple posts a week, filled with photos and interesting things I'd done, and all sorts of fun stuff.
In reality, I've just been really, really lazy.
I've gone to two camps, a writing camp, and an Irish dance camp. Other than that, however, I have been home. All summer. I start school back up the Wednesday after Labor Day, and if anyone asks what I did all summer, I'll probably be at a loss.
To be honest, my summer has mostly been spent lazing around the house, eating otter pops, reading books, going on Tumblr, meaning-to-but-never-really-getting-around-to editing my NaNoWriMo 2010, wondering where all of the summer went, browsing blogs, wishing I was being more productive, and watching all sorts of new TV shows. Also knitting. There has been a lot of knitting. At least in the past three weeks.
I'm going on a short vacation on Sunday through Wednesday, so at least I can say I did something. I also went to the ocean at the beginning of the summer, which you may remember me posting about. But... ah... yeah. Most of my summer has been at home. Which is lovely, it really is, but I do have to wonder where it all went. It seemed like I had so much time, but now it appears that I have very little left at all.
I start high school this year, which is weird. Weird as this sounds, I don't really have any particular emotion toward starting high school. I'm not excited, nor am I terrified. I just kind of figure it's coming up, and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not particularly excited to go back to school in general, though it will mean that I get to see my friends more. (During the summer I am notorious among my friends for uh... not actually seeing anyone. In fact, I think during the entire summer, I've actively gone to seek a friend out maybe... fifteen? twenty times? if that. Probably more like ten.
I know, I know. It's the summer, I should be hanging out with my friends!
But I'm a rather solitary creature, generally, and it often won't occur to me to seek out a friend. I'm happy being by myself, just kind of floating around the house. I don't really need others around to entertain myself. Not to say that I don't enjoy seeing my friends, which I do. I'm just probably not the most reliable when it comes to making plans, returning phone calls, going places...
Somehow, I'm a rather solitary person who has lots of friends. I have to say, I'm not quite sure how that happened. But I like it. I like having friends, and spending time with them. I like flopping on bedroom floors, reading dumb magazines, or chatting about books, or having impromptu photo shoots with the dress-up box. I like walking to the store and getting candy and a soda, or jumping up and down because of a TV show we both like, or a book, or a movie. I'm just not the best at getting around to seeing people, when left to my own devices. Really, if you're friends with me, it's likely you'll have to invite me to do something, or I'll never leave the house, unless my mother makes me. I can spend days at home, by myself, entertaining myself. Eventually, I'll call up a friend, but it can take up to four days before it occurs to me. I'm weird that way.
The Dandy Lioness
This has been the summer during which I am a very lazy blogger.
I mean, you can't get around that fact. I had planned to have multiple posts a week, filled with photos and interesting things I'd done, and all sorts of fun stuff.
In reality, I've just been really, really lazy.
I've gone to two camps, a writing camp, and an Irish dance camp. Other than that, however, I have been home. All summer. I start school back up the Wednesday after Labor Day, and if anyone asks what I did all summer, I'll probably be at a loss.
To be honest, my summer has mostly been spent lazing around the house, eating otter pops, reading books, going on Tumblr, meaning-to-but-never-really-getting-around-to editing my NaNoWriMo 2010, wondering where all of the summer went, browsing blogs, wishing I was being more productive, and watching all sorts of new TV shows. Also knitting. There has been a lot of knitting. At least in the past three weeks.
I'm going on a short vacation on Sunday through Wednesday, so at least I can say I did something. I also went to the ocean at the beginning of the summer, which you may remember me posting about. But... ah... yeah. Most of my summer has been at home. Which is lovely, it really is, but I do have to wonder where it all went. It seemed like I had so much time, but now it appears that I have very little left at all.
I start high school this year, which is weird. Weird as this sounds, I don't really have any particular emotion toward starting high school. I'm not excited, nor am I terrified. I just kind of figure it's coming up, and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not particularly excited to go back to school in general, though it will mean that I get to see my friends more. (During the summer I am notorious among my friends for uh... not actually seeing anyone. In fact, I think during the entire summer, I've actively gone to seek a friend out maybe... fifteen? twenty times? if that. Probably more like ten.
I know, I know. It's the summer, I should be hanging out with my friends!
But I'm a rather solitary creature, generally, and it often won't occur to me to seek out a friend. I'm happy being by myself, just kind of floating around the house. I don't really need others around to entertain myself. Not to say that I don't enjoy seeing my friends, which I do. I'm just probably not the most reliable when it comes to making plans, returning phone calls, going places...
Somehow, I'm a rather solitary person who has lots of friends. I have to say, I'm not quite sure how that happened. But I like it. I like having friends, and spending time with them. I like flopping on bedroom floors, reading dumb magazines, or chatting about books, or having impromptu photo shoots with the dress-up box. I like walking to the store and getting candy and a soda, or jumping up and down because of a TV show we both like, or a book, or a movie. I'm just not the best at getting around to seeing people, when left to my own devices. Really, if you're friends with me, it's likely you'll have to invite me to do something, or I'll never leave the house, unless my mother makes me. I can spend days at home, by myself, entertaining myself. Eventually, I'll call up a friend, but it can take up to four days before it occurs to me. I'm weird that way.
The Dandy Lioness
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