Proust writes extensively about memory. He has a way of coiling and uncoiling his descriptions. He is able to relate memory to taste, color, dreams, sound. In Swann's way, he describes the little phrase of Venturi's sonata as a catalyst for love at first sight. *I'm working my way through Proust's epic series Remembrance of Things Past. The translated books that I own are fantastic, and I am also listening to the book on Audible, which helps me to process the lengthy descriptions and massive text. "The year before, at an evening party, he had heard a piece of music played on the piano and violin. At first he had appreciated only the material quality of the sounds which those instruments secreted. . . . But then at a certain moment, without being able to distinguish any clear outline, or to give a name to what was pleasing him, suddenly enraptured, he had tried to grasp the phrase or harmony—he did not know which—that had just been played and that had opened and expanded his soul, as the fragrance of certain roses, wafted upon the moist air of evening, has the power of dilating one’s nostrils. . . . This time he had distinguished quite clearly a phrase which emerged for a few moments above the waves of sound." —Marcel Proust, from À la recherche du temps perdu, vol.1: Du côté de chez Swann My husband and I were having a discussion about music recently. Certain albums or songs are a living soundtrack to different stages in our life. We can each look back to 1999 or 2001, whenever we hear a certain song or artist, we are transported to those moments and memories.
During our conversation, he said, "It's crazy how music can represent a little slice of your life" as he gestured along on an imaginary timeline. We've been listening to a lot of Beastie Boys, Led Zepplin, and David Bowie lately. We are a little out of touch with current music and artists....we just got tickets to see Ben Folds and Flight of the Concords---neither have a new album, as are intermingling music from old slices of our lives into our current experience, I wonder how that will impact our memories. In the future, when we hear a song, will we be transported to our past when we first heard that music, or to now....when we are looking at the music with new eyes, hearing it with a new outlook and appreciation and more life experience and perspective. I wonder what songs will emerge as the sound track to the current 'slice' in my life?
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As a car hop at the Sonic Drive-In, I learned how to count back change really well. I learned how to clean the slushy machine, how to carry a really heavy tray of food and Route 44 drinks across the parking lot without getting hit by a car or dropping anything and I learned how to make a really great ice cream sundae. It was a fun job, I made a lot of friends and actually made pretty good money in tips. Back then, people rarely used debit cards so they always paid with cash which meant they had change and they would usually just tell me to keep it. I'm sad that I don't keep in touch with the girls in the photo below, we have some great memories, but after high school, we lost touch. (Sonic Car Hop 1999-2001) When I started college at MSSU, I worked in the Financial Aid Office through the work study program. I was only allowed to work 20 hours a week, so the schedule was very flexible and worked around my classes. I never had to work weekends and I learned how to file paperwork, use computer programs, how to talk to people on the phone, how to be a professional and basically how to work in an office. I'm sad that I don't see the ladies in the photo below, but we still keep in touch. We've supported each other as bridesmaids, references for jobs and one even has a daughter in my school. (Financial Aid Student Work Study 2001-2003) The financial aid job led to an even better opportunity. Throughout my last few years of college, I worked for the Missouri State Highway Patrol. I learned how to type really fast, how to talk to adults and police officers, how the crime reporting systems work, how crimes are investigated, and how to work in an office full of men in uniform. My job was to enter traffic tickets into the reporting system. Sometimes I answered phones and dealt with the public, but it was like working in a cave. I had one job to do, and it was pretty easy. Even when I had a mountain of tickets, I could usually enter them quickly so I had some free time at work to study or do homework and they were great about working around my schedule. It was a great job. (1,000 Hour Employee at the MSHP 2003-2005) It is interesting to look back at my old jobs. Even though none of the jobs having anything to do with art or becoming a teacher, each job helped me to learn a valuable life skills. I learned how to work with others, how to talk to people, how to act professionally. Through those old positions, I built relationships with others that helped me in future jobs. Old bosses gave good recommendations on my abilities, punctuality, quality of work and dependability.
The only job I ever quit.....was the Olive Garden. Shortly before I began my student teaching, I worked at the Olive Garden for one week. I went through all of the training, and after my first shift, I knew I never wanted to go back. Thankfully, I already had a job as a teacher lined up to start a few months later and here I am, in the same job, my position has changed a little, but I've been doing the same thing since January 2006! Spent my first few moments at school putting together some final posters to advertise the big basketball game Friday night for the Webb City Middle School staff verses the Webb City Police Department. One feature of the fundraiser event is a ceremony before the game to crown a staff member as King and Queen of the game---sort of like homecoming. Throughout the week students vote for their favorite by putting coins into a box. This year, the candidates are working on campaigning for themselves through posters and signs around school advertising their nomination in order to drum up votes and money. I am one of the candidates for queen this year, and I have a few slogans on my posters. One slogan I am quite fond of is 'Put your Money on Mitchell'. Has a nice ring to it. The other poster has a dollar bill with Vincent Van Gogh in the center, the slogan on that one is 'Just Go Vote For Mitchell.' I got lucky recently and stumbled upon some pop art money on Pinterest, I wasn't sure how I would use it, but it came in handy on my posters. Students, if you are reading this, you should definitely put your money on me. I deserve your votes because today I saved the entire school from burning down. If that doesn't qualify me for queen of the school then I don't know what does. After my last class, my plan was to finish hanging up a few posters and use my hot glue gun to tack up any that might have fallen throughout the day. I plugged in the glue gun around 1:30 so that it would be hot at 2:00---after my last class. Around 1:45, I pushed my chair backwards to grab something from the shelf next to my desk and I heard a loud POP sound. A student standing near me exclaimed, "MRS. MITCHELL, YOUR HOT GLUE GUN IS ON FIRE!" As calmly as possible, I turned around to see a bright orange flame shooting out of the back of the glue gun. Sure enough, it was on fire. I pulled the plug, picked up the gun, and blew out the flame. A metallic smokey smell filled the air. My heart was racing, I was scared that something else might've caught on fire since the glue gun was right behind my computer. Thankfully, nothing else was damaged. When I was sure the flame was subdued, I chucked the gun into the trash. I'm not sure how rolling my chair backwards caused the glue gun to short out or how it got hot enough to catch fire in that short amount of time. A few seconds later, I turned back to the student I had been helping and carried on as if nothing had happened. Half a dozen students standing nearby had no idea that anything was going on and didn't even notice the smell, the fire, or the fact that I was a little frazzled after LITERALLY PUTTING OUT A FIRE. And that is what teaching is like...sometimes you are putting out fires all day long. Usually they aren't literal fires, but they are a big deal in the moment, and then you just have to carry on like nothing happened because the students are counting on you. And that's why you should put your money on Mitchell. This morning I couldn't sleep. I woke up at 3:20 a.m. and never went back to sleep. At 5:00 I gave up and put my tennis shoes on. It was still dark, but the weather was warm. My headphones buzzed with the sound of the Guermantes Way, a French novel I'm trying to finish. After about 6 blocks, the smell of warm fresh donuts wafted along Main Street. The closer I got to the donut shop, the stronger the smell became. Inside I could see the bakers, hard at work in the warm glow of the windows. The scent of the fresh donuts was intoxicating. The sign above the register said CASH ONLY. Too bad I didn't have any money with me, because those donuts were calling to me...... When I was a kid, donuts were a thing. A Saturday morning donut run to the little donut place in Neosho was a frequent treat in my family. I have fond memories of the taste of Highland chocolate milk, strawberry filled glaze donuts and a little bag of donut holes I would eat on the drive home. To my husband, donuts are not a thing. His family did not make a habit of Saturday morning donut runs. He doesn't see the appeal. He never craves a blueberry crueler or a long john, like I often do. We rarely visit the three donut shops within 2 miles of our house. Such. A Waste. When I got to school, a student surprised me with a homemade brownie.
He must've known I had a craving for sugar early this morning. What a great start to the day! The unbearable pressure to choose a good book. The extreme frustration of starting a book and never finishing it because you just couldn't 'get into it'. The sorrow of finishing a book or a series, and accepting the fact that those characters will never get a sequel, their story is over. READING!!! How do you pick a book that is both entertaining and worthwhile? Is everything you read worthwhile? Are some books a waste of time? Should a book make you think? Should it change your mind? Choosing what to read next is a daunting task. It is hard for me to find books that I can't put down...AND that make me think. It is usually one or the other. A friend in my book club loves the book 100 Years of Solitude. She generally suggests good books for us to read, so I put this one on my list when I found it for $2 at a used book store. The book was in rough shape. After a couple of chapters, the cover fell off. The edges of it were crumbly and the pages yellowed and musty. It was a book that I could not put down. When we went to breakfast, I did not look through my phone, I read my book while waiting for our food. While driving through town, I did not look out the window, I read my book. It kept my attention and made me think. The reoccurring themes in this story intrigued me. The author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez won the Nobel Prize for Love in the Time of Cholera so he knows how to tell a story.
Made me really think about my 97-year-old grandmother living in Helena, Montana. How am I similar to her? How does my life relate to her legacy? How does my mothers? My mom's mother's? What if we lived in the same house? We've only met a few times, so I only know her from photos....but what if we interacted each day? Is our life directed by fate or by chance? Anyway, I just love books that make you think. This book definitely made me think about my outlook on life. Yesterday was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the wind wasn't blowing 40 miles an hour. It could've been a recipe for the best day ever. But it wasn't. Well, it wasn't the WORST day ever. But if I could pick the 3 things that annoy me...that make me tired...3 things that equal a recipe for the worsts... it would be the 3 things that we did on Saturday. While I will try to have a good attitude in future posts, you need to know that this blog isn't about sharing all the sweet, fun, happy stuff that I do all the time. Life isn't like that. Sometimes, you have to deal with hard experiences. Too often on social media, people over-share to the point that their life looks perfect and pretty all the time. Or they complain so much that you unfollow them because you don't have time for all that negativity. Writing is about telling the truth. Owning up to the good, the bad, and the ugly. I love writing because no one else can see things like I see them. I have one voice and it is mine, and only I am prepared to tell the stories the way I tell them. So today, I'm going to tell you about three things that I hate. And why I hate them. Because that's life and this is what my life is like right now. Obviously, there ARE worse things like illness and injury and losing a loved one, but these are the annoying little things that I HAVE to do because I am an adult...and sometimes it is hard to fake joy. Unless something funny or wild happens, these stories never get told. They are just little annoyances that get lost in my memories...I just go through the motions, take care of the chores and the errands, and never spent time thinking about why I hate it or hopefully, someday learn to love it. Here is a tried and true recipe for the WORSTS: 4 boxes of junk mail, 10 pounds of aluminum, 13 dozen glass bottles.....Recycling is a pain. It is annoying to sort and store all the garbage, and then to spend an entire Saturday morning loading it up and hauling it to the recycling center where it has to be sorted into the receptacles. One year, we were on our way to the recycling center with all of our aluminum, glass, cardboard and plastic and THREE times we had to pull over to chase down a trash can lid or secure the load since it was an exceptionally windy day. When we finally got to the recycling center, it was closed. Apparently, the day after New Years was a day it needed to be closed that year.....it was so maddening to have to haul all of the bins and boxes home, unload everything and wait a week before we could get rid of it that I announced we were through with recycling! NO MORE!!! And we didn't recycle for almost a year....but then I got some cute recycling stickers and some little trash cans at the Dollar Tree, and I found spot in the back room to organize the paper, glass and plastic....and we started recycling again. Every month, we spend a Saturday morning at the recycling center. Yesterday, we had to take all of our garbage to the recycling center. I spent an hour sorting cans, cardboard, glass, paper, and plastic. Half a dozen dog toys, one giant rawhide, two plastic frisbeesWhen I was in college, I brought home a puppy. Did I need a puppy? NO. Did I have time for a puppy? Definitely not. Did I know anything about owning pets? Nope. That puppy was a long haired dapple dachshund that I named Charlie. After a few short weeks, it was obvious that I did not have time to train a dog, so Charlie went to live with my mom and he became hers. She told me often that he was the best present I ever gave her. 7 years later, my mom was in the hospital and I had to take Charlie to the vet. He was injured and had to be put down. Watching the life go out of his eyes was incredibly sad and heartbreaking. My mom wasn't there with him and she was devastated. Since then, I do not like going to Pet Smart. Especially on Saturdays. The place is full of puppies and dog toys and reminders of him. Any time we need fish food or aquarium junk, I try to wait in the car. All the barking and the smells of the dog treats....I love dogs, but that store is just not a happy place for me. Yesterday, we had to go to Pet Smart to buy dog toys for a silent auction gift basket. I spent an hour browsing the toys and treats for items that would be good for the basket. 50 Scoops of dirt, 13 bags of leaves, 199 handfuls of weedsI love owning our my home. We have lived in our little stone cottage for 10 years. Our house was built in 1915, so it is 100 years old. The best part of owning your own home is that you can paint and update anything any time. It is also fun to entertain and host family events---our house is small but it is actually good for entertaining. The worst part of owning a home is the maintenance. Countless hours spent on big projects always take longer and cost more than you bargain for. The other bad part of owning a home: yard work. We have a relatively small yard. As often as possible, we plant perennials and bulbs and bushes that down't take a lot of work. But we live on a street with a lot of mature trees so every fall, we get TONS of leaves in our yard. The front yard has two big sweet gum trees. Beautiful and full, they provide amazing shade in the summer, but every winter, they drop TONS of spiky brown gum balls. Between the leaves, gum balls and weeds our yard can be quite hostile. Some people get pure joy from 'gardening' but it is YARD WORK. Miserable, dirty, back breaking work. With bugs. And blisters and back aches. Gardening sounds so sweet and tender....but it is nothing like that. I would get just as much satisfaction from paying someone to pull weeds from the flower beds and pick up sticks in the yard and bag up the gum balls and leaves. Yesterday, I spent 3 hours bagging leaves, pulling weeds and getting the back yard ready for spring. Is there a moral to this? No. I just wanted to take a second to complain about the stuff I hate doing. Now it is Sunday and my back hurts from all the heavy lifting and bending down I did yesterday. The wind is blowing 40 miles an hour, and I have a basket full of laundry and a sink full of dishes to do.
First world problems, right? **(A lot of great/fun things happened in between all of the annoying chores and errands, but I'll save those for another post. And I'm sure I'll write an obligatory 'grateful' for post....but it feels good to explore all the things I don't enjoy). In 5th grade, my teacher Mrs. McCleary was preparing for her retirement. She was the most favorite elementary teacher in the entire school and everyone wanted her as their 5th grade teacher. I felt incredibly lucky to be in her class on her final year of teaching. She decided to go out with a bang. She made sure we were able to do all the BIG, FUN, AMAZING projects she had developed in her career. That year, we made inventions, learned everything there was to know about the civil war, learned every tree and leaf in the state of Missouri and we researched our genealogy. I had never heard of genealogy until Mrs. McCleary challenged us to contact our grandparents and find out as much as we could about where we came from. We put together a book, a family tree and she painstakingly photographed (in the days before scanners), old photos so we could use the copies and return the originals. I still have some of the information that I gathered. I wish I would've taken the time to revisit that research when I was a little older. I wish I would've called my grandparents and asked them stories and questions about their family. At that time, all of my grandparents were alive....now, very few are still around to ask. One element of my heritage that is very interesting is my family crest. Now that I am married, I am technically a Mitchell. But when I was in Mrs. McCleary's class, I would've been a Trowbridge so I will share that one first. I found two versions of the crest, so I am sharing both but they are a little different. Trowbridge Name Meaning English: habitational name from Trowbridge in Wiltshire, named from Old English treow ‘tree’ + brycg ‘bridge’; the name probably referred to a felled trunk serving as a rough-and-ready bridge. The head of the crest is the helmet of a knight. This represents the bravery and courage in the family. Also, during the English civil war there was a major battle in Trowbridge. During this battle the citizens of Trowbridge took asylum in the castle that is also a part of the crest. The knights helmet is covered in an elaborate headdress to represent the wealth and prestige of the Trowbridges in England. Official blazon
The two garbs of barley in the chief represent agriculture, the mural crown symbolizes local government. The fleece represents the textile industry in the town.The crest shows an English lion (indicating that Trowbridge was a Royal Manor until Henry VIII bestowed it on his brother-in-law Edward Seymour) and a canting bridge. ***I LOVE that the motto is Respice Prospice, I definitely look to the past and to the future in my scrapbooking hobby! Mitchell Coat of Arms Mitchell Name Meaning from the Middle English, Old French personal name Michel, vernacular form of Michael.nickname for a big man, from Middle English michel, mechel, muchel ‘big’.Irish (County Connacht): surname adopted as equivalent of Mulvihill. The name Mitchell in Ireland was introduced into the country by settlers from England in the seventeenth century and has since become quite widespread. The native Gaelic O'Maoilmhichil Sept of Connaught Province also sometimes used Mitchell as the anglicized form of their name as well as the more usual Mulvihill or Mulville. Originating from the Hebrew Michael, Mitchell's introduction to Scotland was through the French Michel. The original pronunciation in Scotland was ‘Michel’. The name evolved as Mitchell in many parts of the country. It appears in 1354 on the Treaty of Berwick, freeing David II from imprisonment by the English. Also, a John Michell was rewarded in 1489 for holding Dumbarton Castle. Official Blazon
The Mitchell Ancient tartan is a predominantly blue and green tartan with black and red. It is registered with the Scottish Register of Tartans for the Mitchell name and motto. My husband and I recently read a couple of Ernest Hemingway books. After reading several long series, it was refreshing and fun to read his simple descriptions and 1st person narratives in The Sun Also Rises. I could go on an on about how much I hated the dialog but LOVED the descriptions of the bull fighting and fishing trip in Spain. The other book that we both enjoyed reading, A Moveable Feast, is set in 1920s Paris. After two friends recommended the book, I knew I had to read it and I am so glad I did. Also, forgive me but I've been doing a LOT of reading this year so several of my posts will probably be about books. Hemingway gives personal accounts of his life and friendships with other ex-pats like Gertrude Stein and F. Scott Fitzgerald. I was incredibly jealous of his lifestyle. I nearly cried when he said he would wander into the Louvre or the other Paris art galleries in the afternoons to enjoy the masterpieces DAILY. So jealous!! He talks of being poor---but he spent his days in Paris cafes writing. He might not have had much money, but his experiences were incredible!!! Last night, Jeremy and I went on a little date. We started with bacon wrapped deep friend pickles at Instant Karma. And then we shared a small plate Rueben sandwich and chips---at another little place downtown. He told our waitress that we were bouncing around to multiple places downtown having a moveable feast.....made my heart so happy!! We live in a SELFIE society.
My iPhone tracks my selfies. To date, I have 210 selfies stored in a folder on my phone. Hundreds, maybe thousands of my selfies are stored in digital files. I've been taking selfies for at least 10 years. Probably more like 15. Perhaps we are the selfie generation. People didn't take selfies 20 years ago. They definitely didn't take selfies 32 years ago. We live in a RE-Take society. Don't like the angle or the lighting on the photo, retake it. Forgot to wear a nice shirt on school picture day, retake it. Weird angle or background in the picture, move over a few steps, retake it. People didn't have that option 32 years ago. One or two or ten photos from a given event were locked in the camera for weeks or months until the film was processed. The number of copies are finite. A relatively small box of photos are all that remain from my childhood. A few were pasted in a yellowing photo album. Some were loose, randomly assorted between pictures from Christmases past, and others were stuffed into envelops amongst film negatives and polaroid coupons. Over the weekend, I was sorting through my old photos and noticed a theme in several of the photos. The ones above are particularly special. No selfies. No retakes. No perfect poses. No filters. Just candid moments. Photos of people holding me as a baby. But they aren't just holding me. They are looking at me, smiling. Showing their love. There I am....helpless and unaware....just being a baby. My Pawpaw, my Grandma Pat and my mom are all engaged in a special moment. They might vaguely register that someone around them is snapping photos with a camera, but they aren't paying much attention. They aren't posing perfectly, we aren't wearing matching outfits and they aren't interested in taking a selfie for selfie's sake. Whomever was holding the camera, an aunt, a grandma or my dad must've seen a special moment and wanted to capture it on film. I'm forever grateful to whomever that was who took the time to take these pictures. Instead of turning the camera back on themselves, pushing out their duck lips, popping up a peace sign and winking into the lens, the photographer recognized the special moments happing right in front of them and captured it forever in one click. All of the memories captured in the photos above remind me that our lives are finite. My mom, my Pawpaw and my Grandma Pat are all gone. Even though I was too little to remember the moments in the photos, the way they are looking at me, full of love and joy....it is a humbling reminder to stop looking at myself, and start noticing the special moments happening all around me.
Being a teacher is sort of like this scene from Groundhog Day.
Easily one of my favorite movies of all time, I love this part and I relate so much to Phil's character. He says to the kid, "You've never thanked me!" But day after day, he is there, with his arms stretched out, ready to catch the kid, even though he knows that tomorrow the kid will still not say thank you. The movie is a metaphor for our lives. We do the same thing, day after day, and our actions dictate an outcome and the level of our satisfaction. It is a good reminder to 'choose your attitude.' At the beginning of the movie, Phil has a horrible attitude about being stuck in the day, but eventually, he realizes what a wonderful opportunity it is to do amazing things for other people. In the end, he is changed for the better. Dedicating your life to teaching is like reenacting this scene, over and over and over. You may not catch every kid, you may not always get a 'thanks' or even an acknowledgement, but you made a difference for that one and if it matters to you, then it is important and worthwhile. And you try as hard as you can. You don't do it for the props, you do it because it is the right thing to do and in the end, your life is better because you tried. Sometimes we use 'thank you' as a filler. We say it in response to someone helping us or holding the door open or for handing us our change in the check out line. It isn't that we don't mean it, but it is just something you say. One thing that I really try to make an effort to do, is notice when someone has gone out of their way to make an effort, and tell them 'thank you' and really mean it. A 'thank you' at the right time, can be incredibly powerful. |
Mrs. Mitchell
This is my 'slice of life' blog. Archives
March 2020
My Art Teacher Blog:
This Little Class of Mine CategoriesOther Slice Blogs:
For Good I Like Big Books Life is a Slice The Cardinal Way KochUnaSlice YouWannaPieceofMeBlog Dr. Zornes' Slice of Life Sunshine Rays Two Writing Teachers Favorite Everyday Writer: Reesie Writes |