#and all of my teachers independently decided to ignore the actual finals schedule

[flfverse]

so btw it’s finals season for me but my last one is on the 10th and i’m moving out the 11th. my brain is too mushy for complicated longfics rn so apologies but it will likely be about that long until the new CTL chapter comes out. FF 11 i will try to put up next week since it’s already edited but there is a chance i will not for…idk. reasons. i don’t pretend to know how my brain works

however, my braincells are NOT too mushy to work on shiny new oneshots, so i’m taking advantage of that to build up a backlog to post during the summer hiatus.

currently in the works we have:

bakudeku sickfic/“getting together” (first year at UA)

bakudeku presumed death trope (age 20-21, so pre-CTL) (this one is basically finished i just have to figure out the actual wrap-up)

shinkami messing around platonically (first year at UA)

trans!sub!kiri Discovering Himself (1st-2nd year, also this one is complete woo)

trans!puppy!kiri (late 2nd year? i think?)

shintodo subdrop fic (2nd year?? 3rd??)

shinsou being adopted by erasermic (age 13)

those are just the current wips that i have started but not finished. my ideas list is MUCH longer. so those are things to look forward to! i am as always accepting ideas/headcanons/requests/whatever. no promises i’ll start or finish everything, even the fics on this list (i’ll try, though) because i do not control the brainworms. but yep, life update

[livingouttheworsttimeline]

Why am I so tired all the time?

4:30 am: youngest child wakes up after wetting the bed. change child, change bedsheets, replace drinks, turn night time music back on, convince youngest child that it is in fact still night time. Climb back into bed a 4:55.

5:00 am: eldest child comes to tell me that youngest child wants to play. I am aware, because I have heard her loudly declaring such since I left their room. Tell oldest child to go back to bed. Pray that, somehow, for the very first time, they will put themselves back to sleep. 

5:05 am: give up on hopeless prayers. Get up and take both children to the living room. Change the youngest into underwear. Log into tablets and override the “do not turn on until 6 am” setting. Wait for coffee to finish brewing.

5:23 am: extract self from underneath 2 children and a dog to pour first cup of coffee. It’s half caff, because spouse has a heart condition. Remind self that I can have several cups with impunity.

5:45 am: Eldest child is unhappy with the pre-made breakfast provided for him the night before. When asked what he would like to eat, he responds, “bacon, chinese food, or pizza.” Explain, again, that we need a variety of foods for our bodies to grow strong. Spend 15 minutes convincing him to eat $5 worth of blackberries as a compromise.

6:12 am: Finish 2nd cup of coffee, realize that eldest child’s night time pull up is overflowing with poop. Usher him to the bathroom for a bath. Feel humbled when I realize that I spent 10 years in grad school, and yet I am still reduced to wiping shit off another person. Calmly remind eldest child that he is capable of using the potty, and that I have confidence in him. 

6:30 am: Spouse awakes, complains that he slept poorly. Roll eyes and go back to drinking 3rd cup of coffee, in between being elbowed in the stomach and explaining that no, I do not know how to work the video game you just downloaded 15 seconds ago. Remind self that I am their physical and mental safe place, which is worth the literal bruises and mental stress. 

6:45 am: extract self from pile of children and dog by physically lifting each dependent off my lap. Verify that spouse is up for supervision duties, collect running clothes, and start treadmill.

6:47 am: stop treadmill because youngest child has entered the room and decided that I will not run today because it’s not fair. Remind self that arguing fairness with a 3 year old is the definition of futility. Gently remind her that I love her, she is a big girl, and she can play independently while I run. 

6:49 am: start treadmill again. Nagging calf pain seems to be back. Scale back workout, remind self that value of the run is not the distance. Do extra core workout to compensate.

7:30 am: shower. Mediate 2 sibling fights from shower. Fortunately, children are camped out in the bathroom with me, so I don’t have to leave a trail of water through the house to interact.

7:35 am: Marvel at the thought that spouse takes a 45 min shower. EVERY DAY. Note gratitude that I am working from home, and no longer have to style hair and makeup. 

7:36 am: Refill kid drink cups for the 3rd time today. Spend 30 minutes convincing, cajoling, and bribing kids to put on clean underwear. We no longer try for clothes. 

8:06 am: turn on work computer. Respond to a weekend full of emails. Handle 5 pressing tasks for side hustle, reasoning that if I get them out of the way, I can push the rest of that to do list to after working hours.

8:45 am: Answer persistent pounding on locked office door. refill drinks and provide snack. Reassure youngest child that mommy is still here, but she needs to work. 

9:03 am: debate whether going to the bathroom is worth leaving the office and the begging that ensues. Make wrong choice either way. 

9:15 am: morning meetings get shuffled later, because childless coworkers “are running late this morning.” Marvel at the concept of 9:15 am being early.

9:30 am: solid wall of meetings until noon. Update team on status at end of last week, despite not remembering what you just ate for breakfast. Realize that you haven’t eaten breakfast. Run training and introduction for new team member. You are the only woman on the team,  so you get do the training because “you’re so good at explaining things.” 

12:00 pm: Call youngest child’s preschool, make sure you can bring by her supplies and still adhere to Covid protocols. Preschool is also side hustle, so cram a parent and employee meeting into a single hour. Explain that new registration system will, in fact, be more efficient than old paper system. Remind preschool staff that we committed to going paperless. Make small talk with preschool teachers until the hour is up. Hop in the car and speed home.

1:00 pm: children adhere to my side the second I walk in the door. Spouse is in the shower. Children have eaten approximately 3 bites of their pb&j sandwiches, and demand different lunch. Remember that you have not eaten lunch yet. Refill drinks for 4th time, provide reasonable lunch alternatives. 

1:25 pm: Remember that you scheduled a meeting for 1:30, and. you need to be present. Calculate that extraction from children is not possible in 5 minutes, and take meeting with youngest child on lap. Despite having weaned 1.5 years ago, youngest child decides that you’re still nursing, and pulls down top on video call. Spend most of call switching on and off mute. Catch every 3rd word. 

1:45 pm: apologize to team, promise to reschedule a follow up with more focus. Hang up, extract youngest child’s arm from shirt. Refill drinks for the 5th time. Bribe children to get in bed for a nap with the promise of a visit to nana and pop this afternoon. 

1:48 pm: children’s beds have been stripped, due to accidents last night, but spouse “doesn’t know where the clean sheets are”, and so hasn’t remade beds. Children petition to nap on the floor. Explain floor is not comfortable. Find clean sheets, make 2 beds, take everyone to the potty, tuck both children in. 

2:20 pm: Realize that you have 40 minutes of actual work time left today, outside of meetings. Try to prioritize, with the knowledge that whatever you get done will not be enough. Deny request for drink refill.

3:00 pm: kick off afternoon meeting block. Try frantically to make the 40 minutes that you did get to work sound like a whole lot more. Wake children up during bathroom break so that they’ll be able to sleep tonight. Refill drinks for 5th time. 

3:45 pm: Curse the fact that youngest child has inherited your distaste for waking up. Gently coax her awake in between meetings.

4:00 pm: Wrap up last task from meetings, make list of all new tasks. Realize that today you have checked off one task, and received 7 new ones. Promise self that you’ll get your work laptop back out after the kids are in bed. Ignore the sense of despair that threatens to overtake you.

4:20 pm: Bribe children into putting on clothes with promise of fruit snacks at grandparent’s house. Feel mildly guilty as you put on your second round of workout gear. Load children in double jogging stroller, jog to grandparent’s house. 

5:00 pm: collect children to head home for dinner. 

5:10 pm: threaten no more fruit snacks if children don’t put on their shoes. Grandparents go get them more fruit snacks. 

5:23 pm: explain that the sun is going down in 24 minutes, and that we have to leave now to get home before it gets dark. Remember that time is immaterial. Wish for that blissful sense of ignorance.

5:37 pm: push 100 lbs of toddler and stroller up giant, hilly driveway. Spouse greets us with “what’s for dinner?” Politely remind him that he promised to plan and make dinner while we were gone. Grit teeth at his “I didn’t know what to make” response. Quickly run through available, easy, acceptable options and make dinner.

6:15 pm: serve dinner. Eat own dinner in 2.5 minutes, then spend rest of meal refilling drinks and plates, heating up or cooling down, and cajoling children to eat anything at all.

6:45 pm: Announce that tonight we don’t need to take a bath. Youngest child immediately melts down, because she wanted to take a bath. Eldest child melts down because, even thought he didn’t want to take a bath, he wanted to taunt his sister while she was in the bath. 

6:53 pm: Loose temper for 1st time today, scream that children need to brush their teeth. Step away to calm down. Spouse gets upset because “You can’t handle the children without yelling.” Bite tongue all the way through to avoid snarky reply.

7:10 pm: read 2 story books. Read one more. Explain again, that mommy cannot read anymore, and daddy will come read for a little while. Extract self from pile of children, and tuck both in. Hugs, kisses, and fist bumps. Twice. Then once more, after you’ve left the room.

7:15 pm: contemplate second shower. Decide that you didn’t really get that sweaty on the walk, and it’s not like you’re going out. Collapse on sofa with phone and mindless tv.

7:25 pm: spouse comes into the living room after harrowing duty of reading for 10 minutes. Hand over the remote, pull out side hustle lap top and finalize tasks for the day.

8:30 pm: remember that you promised to do main job work. Bring out that laptop to run some code while you continue side hustle work.

9:15 pm: Finish side hustle work, give up on main job work for the evening. Mentally apologize to team for not making more progress, promise to self that you’ll be more focused tomorrow.

9:30 pm: tell spouse that you need to go to bed. Endure his eye roll and disappointed face. Apologize for needing to go to sleep so early, and reassure him that you’re doing the best you can.

10:15 pm: eldest child has night terror. Comfort eldest child until he’s calm. Comfort youngest child, who is upset at brother’s screams. Realize that spouse is still watching tv in the living room while you comfort children. 

11:00 pm: listen to youngest child cry for 10 minutes until spouse begrudgingly tends to her. Remind self that it is not solely my job to comfort our children. Try to go back to sleep. 

3 am: eldest child wakes up with question about mushrooms that is vitally important. Answer to best of middle-of-the-night ability, acknowledge that you appreciate his curiosity, but that there are times when questions are not appropriate. Get him back to sleep.

4:30 am: youngest child wakes up.

[tyrusquacks]

Misdirections- Chapter 1: Nice Stranger

Read it on AO3

Previous: Prologue

One year later

A sleep-deprived Cyrus reluctantly drags his feet to his last period class. He is clearly having a bad day today. And as if that wasn’t enough, he has chemistry last. The mere thought of having to watch Mr. Wright dryly explaining how to do a stoichiometry problem while he fiddles with his pencil sends an involuntary groan down his throat. Cyrus isn’t usually quick to judge people, but two weeks into his senior year, he’d already decided that Mr. Wright must be the most boring person on this planet and that at best, this class would be a total waste of his time.

That’s probably what annoys him the most whenever he sits there wanting to be anywhere else. Lately, Cyrus finds himself running out of time so often that he can’t afford to waste any. For example, today is Friday so he should theoretically feel comforted by the quickly approaching relief of the weekend. In reality, he is anything but, because today is SAT prep day. Most people had taken the test once in the spring of their junior year, and maybe a second time during the summer, which Cyrus also had done. And yet despite scoring in the 1500s both times, he was determined to take the test one last time in October to make he sure he got as close to a perfect 1600 as he could.

But now as he waits outside his chemistry class, leaning against the nearest locker, eyes closed, and running on a meager four hours of sleep, he begins to rethink his decision. Just as Cyrus begins to think that he might be able to take a nap standing up, Mr. Wright strolls into the classroom, no more excited to be there than his students. Cyrus senses the movement of his classmates going inside and switches to autopilot as he opens his eyes and follows everyone inside, hoping to get through the next 50 minutes without boring himself to death.

To make matters worse, chemistry was the only class he didn’t share with at least one of his best friends, Andi and Buffy. As he looks up to the clock for the 1000th time, slumped in his chair with his chin resting on his hand, Cyrus can’t help but think about how much less agonizing this class could be if he could even steal a glance to one of his friends to silently communicate his despair. Cyrus looks at the clock again. It’s only been maybe 30 seconds since the last time. Right when he decides that this couldn’t get any worse, his stomach rumbles impossibly loudly as to prove him wrong.

Of course he’s hungry. Because he stayed up late last night doing the practice problems his private SAT tutor had assigned him for today, he had missed his morning alarm and was late to school, not that he is normally a morning person anyway. Per the school’s strictly enforced lateness policy, this meant that he could not leave the building to buy his lunch, so he was stuck with questionable cafeteria food. Buffy was kind enough to sneak in some fries for him when she’d gotten back from lunch outside with Marty, but if the second growl he’s hearing from his stomach is any indication, it wasn’t nearly enough.

Already bored out of his mind, Cyrus sighs, seeing no additional harm in reminiscing the rest of this godawful day. Things had gone downhill after lunch. This year’s first bake sale for the student government was, to put it mildly, an epic fail. All because people can’t do the simple task of keeping their promises. As a result, they only brought about a quarter of the baked goods they said they would bring for the bake sale. To add insult to injury, two of the three people who had agreed to help Cyrus sell completely bailed.

Even then, he hadn’t given up and was still hoping that he’d be able to pull it off and sell the limited amount of cookies and cupcakes he had. Unfortunately, today was Friday which meant that the longer lunch period and the fact people had more money early in the school year had incentivized a significant amount of the student population to eat outside. He can’t believe he wasted his free period trying.

Cyrus looks at the clock one more time. Ten minutes left. Mr. Wright is done lecturing and the students are left to work independently on a few problems. Though he couldn’t care less, Cyrus pretends to be working diligently because he still has to keep up his “good student” reputation. While he scribbles random numbers on the worksheet, Cyrus mentally makes a list of what he’s gonna do as soon class dismissed, reminding himself that every minute should be accounted for.

First, he’d run—or more realistically walk briskly—to his locker and dump his chemistry textbook and shove all the notes he’ll need for the weekend into his bookbag. On his way out, he’d probably run into Andi and Buffy and shout a goodbye at them. Maybe a quick hug. Then he’d rush to the train station and cross his fingers that the trains are running on schedule so that his twenty-minute commute to the Upper West Side goes as smoothly as possible.

If all goes to plan, he’ll be able to get a snack before his tutor arrives. After the session, he’d work on his college essay until dinner. Finally, he would FaceTime Buffy and Andi and they’d take turns complaining about the stresses of senior year. The weekly Good Hair Crew video call was the only thing he looking forward too, except that sandwich he may or may not have time for. If he wasn’t completely exhausted by then, maybe he’d get a headstart on his history project. But if he is being honest with himself, that was highly unlikely.

In the midst of all this mental planning, the bell rings, indicating the end of the period and of a dreadful school day for Cyrus. Nearly everything goes to plan, and he even gets to be in a group hug with Andi and Buffy who were conveniently waiting for him at his locker, aware of their friend’s earlier misfortunes. As the girls’ basketball team captain, Buffy has a meeting with the coach about this year’s tryouts after school and Andi is doing community service by helping the AP Art teacher, so they say their goodbyes and Cyrus promptly heads towards the exit, relieved that something today is going right for once.

With his faith in the universe renewed, Cyrus walks in long strides towards the train station, fueled solely by the thought of a hypothetical sandwich. It was only a three-minute walk, but today Cyrus makes it in two. Since every member of the Good Hair Crew lives in a different part of the city and took a different train, Cyrus had gotten used to taking the train alone. He wastes no time in looking for his student MetroCard, having stored it in his wallet phone case which his friends jokingly teased him about whenever they got the chance. But he didn’t care because it did the job. Cyrus swipes his card and pushes against the turnstile in one swift motion. He looks up at the countdown clock. One minute until his train arrives.

Perfect. It looks like I’m having that sandwich after all.

He continues to walk along the platform towards the head of the train because he’d figured out a long time ago that the third subway car was closest to the exit when he got off at his stop. He’s almost there when he sees the train arriving. As he takes his last few steps, he notices a fairly group of teenage boys. Quite frankly, they’re being so loud that it’s hard to miss them. The boys are standing right in the area where Cyrus likes to board the train, causing him to roll his eyes when he realizes he’s about to be in an enclosed space with them. Still, he decides not to get any closer and positions himself to use the other door.

The train slows down to a stop and all the doors open. While waiting for the passengers to get off, Cyrus shot one more glance at the mob of testosterone who at least had the decency of splitting up so people could get through.

That’s when Cyrus recognizes him. Actually, he’d recognize that head of blond hair any day, anywhere, anytime. Turns out, these guys go to his school. And they’re friends with him. Friends with Reed.

Fuck.

Cyrus is not expecting to see him here. It’s easy enough to ignore a junior at school, but there aren’t that many people in the subway car at this time of the day. He can’t risk Reed seeing him. Who knows what he might do? Especially with his friends around…

In the meantime, people start to step into the train. Lost in his panic, Cyrus doesn’t realize that he’s blocking the way, but a quick shove from an impatient middle-aged woman pulls him out of his thoughts. A voice comes through the intercom: Stand clear of the closing doors, please. Cyrus’ body goes into flight mode. He was as determined to avoid Reed as he was to eat that sandwich today. So he runs to the first door of the closest car just as the doors close behind him.

For a moment, he thinks he’s escaped the worst. Cyrus goes to move forward because he hates standing in front of the doors, only to be yanked back by his backpack. He knows almost immediately what’s going on: his bag is stuck in between the doors. But before he even has time to struggle, someone steps directly in front of him and reaches over his head and pulls the double doors apart with both hands to force them open before taking a step back.

“Oh my God,” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth. He is about to say something else when the train starts moving abruptly, sending Cyrus, who wasn’t holding on to the pole, stumbling to the side. He thinks he’s going to start falling for sure, but and hand firmly grasps his arm and brings him back to balance.

“Woah there,” his savior says, and for the first time, Cyrus looks up at him. Woah, Cyrus thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Suddenly, he is very aware of the stranger’s lingering grip on his arm and the vague scent of citrus that was definitely not coming from him.

The boy in front of him clears his throat and Cyrus realizes that he’s staring but he can’t help it. His eyes are just so… so green, and he was standing so close. After a moment, however, he looks away and collects himself enough to grab the nearest pole and straighten his posture with the little bit of dignity he had left. The other boy lets go of his arm and moves a reasonable distance away.

“You okay?” he asks with genuine concern in his voice.

“Um yeah. I- I’m okay. Thanks for...you know, thanks for the help,” Cyrus responds, trying his hardest to smile in the least awkward way possible. He feels the heat of embarrassment rise to his cheek and stares at his feet.

“Yeah, no problem.” Cyrus doesn’t know what to respond, so he doesn’t.

At the next stop, a seat empties next to where the boy was standing. He nudges Cyrus and motions towards the seat with his head.

“You wanna sit?” he asks.

“Sure, thanks,” Cyrus replies before taking off his backpack and sliding into the seat. Now that it was clear to him that he wouldn’t be making conversation with the other boy, he pulls out his headphones from his pocket, plugs it into his phone, and puts Troye Sivan on shuffle. It actually isn’t that unusual. New Yorkers in public transportation are quite impersonal, and people tend to be on their phones, listening to music or playing games during their commute. In fact, it would have been weird he’d attempted to start a conversation. He is a stranger, after all. A nice one, but still a stranger.

After a few stops, the “nice stranger”, as Cyrus begins to call him in his mind, gets off the train. Cyrus feels his body relax immediately and he takes a deep breath. Somehow, this triggers another growl in his stomach which reminds him of everything that happened in the day before his most recent incident. Inevitably, he is reminded of Reed and his obnoxious friends.

How had he forgotten? Forgotten that Reed also takes this train? He then remembers that a lot had changed over the summer. He probably wasn’t paying attention to it before, but he definitely knew that Reed took this train too. It’s just that it hadn’t been a problem before.

But everything is different now and he knows that too. He also knows that he can’t allow a repeat of what happened today. Sure, it wasn’t a guarantee that Reed and his friends would catch the same train as him every time, but the very possibility of it happening made Cyrus’ palms sweaty. No way. He couldn’t afford it.

On his way home, Cyrus decides to stop getting into the third subway car altogether. There was no doubt in his mind that taking a few extra steps to the exit was worth reducing the risk of running into the blond to zero. And who knows? Maybe it would increase his chances of running into someone else.

[jonelleguevara-blog]

sprouting from the root

Growing up with a negative self-image has led to the unimaginable. I hated what I saw in the mirror. I didn’t always feel this way. As a little girl, I was stress-free and didn’t feel the pressure of having to impress anyone. Society put the thought in my mind that to be normal you had to be a size 2, straight-A student, and most importantly White. Kind of impossible when you’re an overweight Mexican girl. From then on out my mental health continued to get worse. The only way to overcome this negativity was through motivation.

Although family can be a great motivator, it can also be an enormous stressor. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do in the world to give them a better life, considering what they have done for me. Growing up, both my parents came from low-income households with strong independent single mothers. Their fathers were not in the picture, but that never stopped them from doing what’s best for their kids. With the hope of giving us a better life, my father worked hard in school so that he could further his education and get a good job. He didn’t want us to ever worry about whether we had food on the table or a roof over our heads. Even though this motivates me to do better in school, it puts a lot of pressure on me. There is always a piece of me that feels like I am going to disappoint my father.

My brother and sister both have felt this same pressure on them. This has caused their mental health to suffer-especially my brothers. I tried explaining to my parents that they were too hard on us, but they didn’t understand. All my parents would say things like, “Why can’t you just be happy?” or “You don’t know what stress is.” The day my mom finally realized where we were coming from was when I told her that my brother had tried to kill himself. I remember that conversation like it was yesterday. “I don’t know why you and siblings complain about being stressed if you guys have a great life”. That was the day that I realized my mom wasn’t educated about mental health and the effects it has on people. “I know we have a great life; it isn’t even about that. You guys don’t know how much stress we have and how much pressure y’all put on us” “We don’t put pressure on you guys” “Really? Cause last time I checked, it isn’t normal for kids to feel the need to kill themselves”. Tears rolled down our cheeks as we sat in silence. It was uncomfortable but I knew that from now on things were going to be different.

When my mother was 7 months pregnant with me my father received news that his job was moving him to the United States. After being presented with the opportunity, my family hopped on a plane to head to Wilmington, North Carolina. My parents were excited to start their new lives in the “land of opportunities”. Living in Wilmington seemed like a dream with a safe neighborhood, great school district and amazing weather. It wasn’t until I started school that I realized everything was great, except for the people. Going to school was a living nightmare. The kids would look at me differently and judge me because of the color of my skin. I recall this one time a little boy told me I looked like a “Mexican jumping bean” and asked me if I “swam here”. I didn’t think anything of it because I didn't even know what that meant. I sat there confused as the kids laughed at the racist remark. Coming home I told my brother and sister about the incident that happened in class. They told to me that they were just being bullies and not let it get to me. Now that I think back to that moment it upsets me to think that kids that young could be so cruel.

Throughout the years I grew to ignore the things they said to me and accepted that I was never going to be “normal” to them. After all the hate I still found a way to make some friends and even met more Hispanic kids. Although things were getting better, I still felt that I needed to try a little harder than everyone else to fit in. As if it was my fault that kids didn’t like me. I didn’t feel happy, it wasn’t until the day I came home from school and my parents told us that my dad had been hired at a new job and that we would be moving to Sugarland, Texas.

It was exciting to know that I had another chance at making a good impression. I had no prior knowledge of Texas; all I knew was what Sandy Cheeks taught me off of SpongeBob. Because of this, I thought that it was going to be a hot desert and that I would wear cowgirl boots and shorts to school. I was completely wrong. We moved here during the summer, so it was hot, but it wasn't like a desert at all. Houston was big and bright (something I wasn’t used to since I grew up in a small town). Since I moved there in the summer, I didn’t really have much of a chance to make new friends, so I just had to wait it out until I went back to school. Going back to school was nerve-wracking because this would mean I'd have to make friends again and in the past being Mexican didn’t give me much of an advantage. Being Mexican in North Carolina meant being different, and not in a good way.

My first day at Dulles Middle School was nothing like I'd expected. The diversity in that school was ridiculous. Everywhere I looked I saw a different race. Mexicans, African Americans, Asians, Middle Eastern, it was like culture shock. The diversity I saw was overwhelming, and for the first time in my life, I felt as if I could fit in. It wouldn’t have been a proper first day if something embarrassing didn’t happen. Most of the middle schoolers were used to going off a 7-period schedule. I, on the other hand, was still so used to block classes. So, while everyone was in their 6th-period class I was in my 7th-period gym class. As soon as we figured out what class I was supposed to be in my gym teacher sent one of his students to show me where my class was at. Walking out of the gym the girl began to make small talk, “so are you new here?”, “Yeah, I just moved here” I replied. We had an awkward pause. “Well if you want, we can be friends”. Soon enough we were inseparable.

Before school started my mother had to fill out some papers and on one of the papers it asked what my first language is. My mom obviously put Spanish since that is the language I spoke at home. Assuming I only spoke Spanish, the school put me into an ESL class which is a class for students that just started learning English. At first, I didn’t think anything of it; I just assumed I was put in the class because I just moved to Texas. As the class progressed, I began to feel like the class was too easy, so I spoke with the teacher and requested a schedule change. The teacher began to rant to the class about me wanting a schedule change. “If you think that you are SOOO smart then how about you answer these questions”? She proceeded to ask me questions in front of the class and I got every single one right. That same afternoon I was pulled in the counselor’s office to switch me out.

Once they switched me into a regular class, everything fell into place. The girl I had met earlier was in the English class they switched me into, so I began to feel more comfortable. “Hey! Come sit next to me.” I sat quickly before the bell rang. “My name’s Kaylee, by the way.” “I’m Jonelle.” Soon enough we were inseparable. By the end of the year, I began to feel welcomed in a way I never felt back home. As time went by, I made new friends, friends of different races and cultures. The next year I even worked up the courage to try out for the cheer team and as a result, I wound up with more friends than I could even imagine. Life was going great; I was happier than as I’d ever been. As 8th grade came to an end, my family bought a house a little further down in the neighboring town of Missouri City. Sadly, this would mean I'd have to move to a different high school and leave all my new friends behind. I was scared that all the friends I had made in the past two years were just going to forget about me.

To help me transition into high school, my mom thought that it would be a good idea for me to try out for the cheer team. Sadly, I missed tryouts, so she told me that the high school I was going to attend had a dance team and asked me if I wanted to give it a shot. I always had a love for dancing but never actually took classes, so I decided to audition. Most of the girls that were trying out already knew each other from middle school so I stayed to myself throughout the whole process. At the end of the day, they posted the numbers of the girls who had made the team and I was one of them. I was so happy that I was going to start this new chapter in my life and get to know more people.

Once school rolled around, I started feeling that same sense of being left out. Going from an extremely diverse school to a predominantly black school was difficult to adjust to. I always felt like I was too Mexican for the white kids, too white for the black kids and too Americanized for the Mexican kids. It was a vicious loop. As the year went by, I struggled to fit in anywhere but dance. Dance was my way of expressing how I felt. I had just left a school where I had many friends. After moving to my new school, I barely spoke to any of my friends. This had a huge effect on my mental health which caused me to start slacking in my schoolwork. At this point, I didn’t feel happy anywhere, not even in my own home. Come sophomore year I was depressed, and not even dance could help me. I’d come home crying and begging my mom to transfer me back to Dulles but there wasn’t anything she could do. She would tell me to make the most out of it and just focus on my grades and dance.

I was in a dark place, I felt abandoned, not even my best friend was there for me. She would rather hang out with her boyfriend than me. The worst part was that he didn’t want her to hang out with me because he told her I was a “whore”. When she told me what he said I was devastated, I couldn’t believe some guy was calling me such horrific names without even knowing me. His racism was what kept me and Kaylee apart, he didn’t like the fact that I liked black boys or that I went to a predominantly black school. I truly had no one to talk to, not even my family.  

Knowing how my parents were, I was too scared to tell them how I felt in fear of them telling me I’m overreacting and that I have no reason to be depressed because I have food on my plate and a roof above my head. Instead of asking for help I bottled up my emotions and kept it to myself. I spent my days locked up in my room and refused to eat. At this point, I had lost 20 pounds in one month. To people I looked perfectly fine and happy but, on the inside, I was just rotting away. I hated the way I looked, the way I acted, I hated myself.

As junior year was approaching my grades went from C’s to A’s. The motivation I once had was starting to come back but even stronger than before. I reconnected with my friends Allie and Skyler and I began to make more friends because of them. Dance also helped me find my crowd. It wasn’t just a distraction at this point, dancing was fun and because of that, my team became like another family. The most influential person I met on the team was Ashlyn Sydney Gipson. She reminded me of the importance of self-worth and taught me to never let anybody walk over me. A sisterhood bond formed over the love of dance.

Although my social life was getting better, I still felt kind of lost. Mixed emotions filled my head daily. Was I happy? Was I sad? At that point, I had no clue. My initial thought was that my hormones were out of whack, so I just ignored it and went on about my year. The sound of the bell on the last day of school was like angels singing. That bell meant that as of that moment we were seniors and that summer was going to be the best one yet. I was finally happy and had lots of plans with my friends.

Throughout the summer I spent almost every day at the pool, I mean I was a lifeguard but even when I was off of work. If I wasn’t at the pool, then I was at Allie and Skyler’s house working on a tan or going on late night adventures. Even towards the end of the summer I still felt excited because that meant that this was going to be my last year of high school. The excitement of college was the only thing on my mind. My first week of senior year was a blast.

Towards the end of November, things started to feel rushed. I was so caught up on having fun that I forget that I had to take my SAT. Not only was I behind academically but I started to realize that I didn’t know what I was going to do in life. Somehow, I thought that the second I graduated I was going to be handed a slip telling me what I was supposed to become. I got accepted into Texas State and already had a roommate, but it still didn’t feel right. Was my happiness temporary? Why did I feel like a baby bird being pushed out of its nest with no clue that I had to fly? This wasn’t how I wanted things to go. I was supposed to graduate high school and have my career planned out so that I could make my father proud.

My whole life I was told that happiness was shown with a smile. What if underneath that smile was an unhappy person? No one told me that for one to truly be happy they had to be happy with themselves. This whole time I was letting what people said or thought about me affect my mental health. The key to my happiness.

[ A lot of things went through my mind while writing this memoir. When I first started the outline I wasn't being completely honest with myself. After doing some research I knew that for it to be a real memoir I had to be truthful. The outcome wasn't exactly what I expected but I think it came out alright. In the future, I could possibly see myself furthering this memoir, maybe even post more of my writing. ]

[favouriteentertainer-blog]

Chapter 2 - Imma Show You a Thing or Two

“I’ve done this before, not like this.”

Chapter 1 

My feet were aching, and I needed coffee. I so badly wanted to step into two beans where I knew Zayn worked, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t allow myself to fall down the big, beautiful boy shaped rabbit hole.

I’d just finished my 8am environmental communications class and I was absolutely knackered. My sleeping schedule was coming back to bite me in the ass.

I decided to push through it for the better and made the effort to walk an extra 15 minutes. I really bloody wanted the coffee.

Penny Lane was nice, the coffee was good too, better than two beans—in fact, the only reason I didn’t go there more often was because it was further away and because Dan hadn’t always wanted to walk. My new-found independence meant that I could do whatever I wanted—leg ache or not.

A small bell above the door chimed as I entered, I pulled my beanie off and tried to shove it into my tote bag—I sighed heavily as the handles tangled causing me to drop the hat.

“Oh here—“ someone picked it up for me.

“Thanks—“ I said in a huff as I cursed the handles on the scraggly bag. It needed to be thrown out, but it’d been given to me as a gift by my friend Lily and I didn’t want it to go to waste. I grabbed the hat from the stranger and finally shoved it into my bag. When they didn’t bother to move I actually took the time to look at who was standing in front of me.

“Hi.” Zayn smirked.

I almost choked on my saliva. “Hi.”

“Not at two beans today?” He chuckled lightly, pushing up the sleeves of his black sweater in the process.

“Neither are you.” We were both stating the obvious.

“Oh Jheeze really?” He said sarcastically as he looked around the room.

“Are you trying to be funny?” I was scowling but I really wanted to smile. ‘Stop it.’ I reprimanded myself—I needed to remember that I was supposed to be sad.

“Yeah maybe,” he still had a stupid grin plastered on his face.

“Okay well,” I walked past him, “I need a coffee, so go annoy someone else yeah?” I was trying to assert my ‘I don’t care about you attitude,’ but I wasn’t sure it was working.

“You’re the one who got here after me.” He rolled his eyes, “why are you even here?” He was following me to the counter.

“I was trying to avoid you!” I blurted it out.

“What?” He stopped walking.

“I was embarrassed about what happened the other day—“ I had to think quickly and thankfully my brain came up with a plausible excuse. “I didn’t want you bringing it up.” I hoped and prayed that my lie was enough for the behavioural science major.

“Oh, why would I do that?” He frowned.

I ignored him for a second, “hiya—“ I smiled at the girl working the counter, “could I please get a medium long black.” She noted my order down on a cup and I handed her the money. “I dunno,” I turned back to Zayn, “people usually like to harp on other’s misfortunes when they find it funny.”

“I didn’t find it funny.” He said curtly.

“Oh—“ my cheeks were burning up, “well I just thought—“

“You thought wrong.” He corrected me.

I wanted to tell him that I didn’t think badly of him, I just didn’t want to see him because I was scared I wouldn’t stop thinking about him for the rest of the night.

“Here you go!” The barista handed me my coffee over the machine.

“Thank you!” I smiled.

I walked towards a table and Zayn walked towards the door. “Where are you goin?!” I called out. I mentally slapped myself—I had no idea why I’d done that.

“Home?” He responded, as if it weren’t clear.

“Obviously—“ I scoffed, “but we were having a conversation, come back.” I was really calling him back and for no good reason other than the fact that I just wanted to spend time with him.

“You’re so strange.” He pulled out the chair across from me as sat down. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Wait, didn’t I tell you the other day?” I could’ve sworn that I did.

“You did not.” He spoke concisely.

“It’s Kali.” When I was younger my name embarrassed me, I hated it—a foreign name just didn’t sit well with anyone I knew; friends, teachers and even neighbours. It was hard for me to adjust to being different, I resented my Asian background. I woke up every day wishing I was white and that’s why I let pretty much everyone in my life call me K, it just worked better for them—even Dan.

“Kali,” he repeated, “the Goddess of destruction.”

“I’m not as powerful as my name.” I smiled. My heart was beating so fast and for what? All because he knew the meaning behind my name. Of course, he did, I reminded myself—he was probably from some sort of Asian background too. “You can just call me K though, probably easier.”

“What?” He screwed up his face, “there’s nothing hard about your name at all.”

“Most people find it too ethnic.” I shrugged.

“I’m literally brown, if I have a problem with your name that is a problem” he laughed.

I couldn’t help but smile, “yeah that’d be fucking weird.” I awkwardly took a sip of my coffee—the two of us maintaining eye contact. “So why didn’t you go get coffee from your actual workplace?” I questioned.

“It’s shit.” He answered me as he reached for his phone. He quickly checked the time before sighing—“I have to go, my shift starts in 20 minutes.”

I didn’t want to look sad, but I was pretty sure it was written all over my face. “Yeah of course.” I smiled, “sorry about being a bitch before.”

“It is what it is.” He got up, “we can all be a bit bitchy sometimes.”

I laughed lightly, “see you around.”

“See ya.” He winked before turning away and heading off.

My heart felt empty and I had to remind myself that I couldn’t and shouldn’t be feeling the way I did.

—

“Do you think I’m going crazy.” I was laying on the couch.

“No.” Hailee had just finished work, I missed her when she wasn’t in the apartment. She was both my flatmate and one of my best friends—therefore the fact that I hadn’t seen her for two whole days was terrible. “If you didn’t love him anymore why would you be sad? Especially because now that you’re reflecting you’re seeing how toxic he was.”

“You’re so right.” I agreed, “BUT I FEEL BAD!” I couldn’t help but feel a weird sensation of pity.

“There’s nothing to feel guilty about,” she reassured me, “if anything you should be praising yourself for doing the right thing and not leading him on anymore.”

“Again, you’re right.” She was making some points but it didn’t mean I was feeling any better.

“Stop beating yourself up, we’re all human.” She got up from the couch and walked towards the kitchen “would you like a cup of tea?”

“Yes pleaassseeeeee,” tea wasn’t going to absolve the guilt, but it sure was going to make me feel better. “You know how I like it.”

“Coming right up!” She said, flicking the switch on the kettle. “Do you have class tomorrow?” She was rumbling through the cupboard for a snack.

“Nope,” I yawned, “it’s my day off tomorrow.”

“I was thinking we could go to the museum before I head off to work?”

“If I wake up early enough then yes.” I was still dreadfully tired and I knew for a fact that I’d pass out as soon as I hit the pillow, and I was definitely going to be asleep for 10 hours. Making no promises was therefore the obvious choice.

“Hails.” I spoke warily as I adjusted my Captain America pyjama shorts.

“Mhm?” She hummed in response as she set my cup of tea down in front of me.

“Thank you,” I picked it up and took a sip. “There’s one more problem.” I could tell her about Zayn because she was my empathetic best friend, she and AJ were polar opposites. Hailee was kind and caring, whereas AJ was blunt and truthful.

“What’s that?” She questioned, raising her eyebrows in concern.

“I can’t stop thinking about this guy—I met him AFTER I broke up with Dan.” I clarified just in case she got the wrong impression.

“Keep going.” She motioned for me to tell her more.

“His name is Zayn and he works at two beans, he’s a behavioural science major—absolutely gorgeous, so gorgeous. I’ve only seen him twice, but after both encounters I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. Hails, everything about him just seems right!” I slapped my hands to my face and let out a groan of disgust. “That’s why I feel so guilty.”

“Stop feeling guilty!” She shouted at me, “You are human!!!!” She repeated what she’d told me before.

“But surely this isn’t right? Surely I should be feeling more remorseful?”

“K, you are completely fine. There’s nothing wrong with a little post-breakup crush. Who even said anything was going to happen huh?” She lay across the sofa and tried to sip on her tea, but it dripped down her chest.

“Here” I said handing her the roll of paper towel. She was right for the millionth time. Just because I thought Zayn was gorgeous and absolutely hilarious did not mean we were going to fuck.

“I just don’t understand why you overthink shit so much. You’re so much better than you realise, you need to give yourself more credit.” She wiped the tea off her chest and sat up.

“Yeah,” I sighed, “maybe one day I will.”

[rumpikerzzzworld]

[I’M NOT SURE IF THIS IS A BOOK REVIEW]

Finally, I finished reading this book after I got my mood to read books again. Actually, I’ve read some chapter of the book in November 2018, then I had my holiday for a week. I brought the book during the trip, but I couldn’t find the time to read as my schedule was very tight moving here and there. lol. After going home from the trip, I still had this holiday-fever until the New Year of 2019. I was even lazy to come to work, but of course, work is a compulsory so I keep doing it because I need money. lol.

Okay, that’s the intro. Let’s talk about the book! Before knowing this book, I saw some people said the book called 21 lessons for the 21st century is an interesting book. So, I googled it, saw the review, saw the author’s background. And here you are, I found the author was Yuval Noah Harari which I had seen his videos on youtube a few years ago, but I didn’t really pay attention to his books. I learned that 21 lessons for the 21st century is the third series of the previous books named Sapiens, and Homo Deus. So, I think in order to understand as a whole, I need to read it from the first book. Here it comes, Sapiens! Good that the book has been translated into my first language which is Bahasa. I do read English books, but never read for the book that have very formal language which have a lot of science terms or such things. And plus, the English one is expensive in my country. (funny that I think i’m going to buy the English version one for the third book).

Reading a lot of famous and clever people such as Obama, Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg giving the words as they also read this book made me enthusiast. Like, wow even those brainy people read the book and gave amazing review, it means this book is no joke. And they were right, as I read the first few sub-chapter, it’s indeed a very mind-blowing book. Let’s be honest, this book might not be accepted by most of people in my country as most of the things were so based on science. The people in my country are so into religious thingy, especially at this very moment. They’re offended easily if something kinda touching their religious belief which a lot of things here are served based on science and history, not involving what most religious people believe, which is God. Adding to that, the author’s background is a Jewish and an atheist (?), the two things that most muslim hate. Funnily, if the book was published about 10 years ago, i’d probably one of the people I mentioned above. 

This book really freshens me up because I’ve been in journey to seek about the things that I’ve been wondering about but never found the answers or a satisfying and make sense answers. I’ve been raised by dogma, most Indonesians are. When parents and teachers don’t know the answers about the question of history and science, they would just brush it off and say we shouldn’t ask that, let it be the God’s secret, if we keep asking it that and couldn’t find the answer, we would get lost. Somehow I obeyed it, but still my curiousty wouldn’t disappear. I read a lot of books that full of conspiracy theories about this and that, and I somehow believed it. As I’m getting older, i’m kind of tired reading those because those people didn’t give a satisfying answer. I stopped searching it and just facing life like what my parents and teachers said that our life started from Adam and Eve. There’s no human being before them. I’m sorry, but the answer could be no.

I was one of the people who against Charles Darwin and his Evolution Theory. History teachers in school taught about the theory, it’s also in school books. But when my teachers told about it, they would add this words “but as we trust in our religion, this person (darwin) just made it up. We believe Adam and Eve were the first human, so this theory is just for you to know, not to believe”. I took my teachers’ words as I was still having the same paradigm like them. Sorry to say, now I think they just couldn’t explain it better or didn’t learn well about the theory. Now, through the Sapiens book, thanks to Yuval, I understand it better. I used to brush it off, and now I have some faith in the theory. Sadly, I couldn’t witness darwin’s words about the next evolution as it will happen in the future which I won’t be here anymore.

I’ve been watching a lot of animation videos that explained how this universe was born, and I could picture it better when reading Sapiens. It was really mind-blowing how, we, human being have been on this earth in a very short period of time compare to the age of the earth and universe have been living. I have this love-hate relationship towards homo sapiens when reading the book. I can say that Yuval hate sapiens a lot as Human have been destroying nature and creature a lot since they evoluted and changed the game. It took millions of years for earth to have such a brilliant and also destructive creature called Homo Sapiens. 

First of all, let me say, Sapiens, you are truly amazing for ruling the world with your tiny body. How amazing we’re to build the world because we have different thought than any other animals, we make community and make it bigger to fill our interests and need. I think about it again, in this era I meet a lot of people online, I don’t know about their identity, never met them in real life, but I can talk and discuss with them about anything. We even held an event, collecting money, giving things for the celebrity we stan. We organized things from our own countries, and it works. Amazing. The thing that no one of animals can beat our ability [as of now]. That’s why, we’re so cocky that we don’t want to mention ourselves as animal. We made the term for ourselves as Human which is different creature than animals. We have a higher level and can’t be compare to them. That’s what we believe.

It’s just almost 74 years since the homo sapiens world have been changing so fast into (I wish) a better world. I don't know if I should thank Albert Einstein for releasing my country from the imperialist in 1945 or not. Yeah, at that time my country was colonized by Japan, and they were very cruel to my people. The time when the US defeated Japan by bombing the two region called Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and finally they backed off and abandoned the countries they colonized, a lot of countries could get their independence, including mine. The world moves into a faster change. No more major war around the world, eventhough it still happens, mainly in the middle eastern. But, still the world is way better compare to in the past. 

I can’t explain everything what I read in the book, because so many things were told and explained. Try to read it yourself with an open-mind then you can absorb the knowledge and you can decide either you want to accept it or not. As for me, it doesn’t make me change into an atheist person nor totally ignoring the religious belief I have. I still trust in the God I worship. But a lot of things were not told in the holy books, human have been trying to find the answers, and it’s fine. The book has a good structure of history. You can connect it based on the period of time since the pre-history era until now so that everything makes sense. Kuddos to Yuval for wording the book so well, so that it is not boring to read. I can say, this is one of the best books I’ve ever read. If i’m allowed to give ratings for this book, I would probably give it 8.5/10. I’m currently reading the second book called Homo Deus, i’m hooked already. I just can’t wait to finish it then purchase the third book, 21 lessons for the 21st century. I’m going to post my short-review again after I read those books. See you in the next book!

-mels-

[keepdancin1204]

Observation in my Happy Place

Observation Blog #7

I chose to observe in one of my classrooms, mostly for the sake of convenience as I knew with the commitments I had it would be difficult to carve out time to visit a more public establishment on two separate occasions. I knew that I would not be a disruption to the students because I am frequently in the classrooms. I decided to focus my observation on the students rather than teacher interactions. You will see from my field notes that that was not the easiest thing. I naturally gravitated toward notating teacher to student interactions rather than student to student interactions. In the end, I focused primarily on the Teacher Assistant (TA) and one of the students. Given my supervisory position, I decided to share the activity concept with the teacher so she was not concerned that this was a performance evaluation for her. In my opinion, my presence did not alter her interactions with students or a change in schedule.

Some of the questions guiding my observations were:

How are students of significantly varied ability levels engaged in guided learning?

What social interactions were occurring between students?

What was the relationship between the teacher assistant and students for on task behavior?

Participant coding:

Age: (8) 10 years old

      (5) 9 years old

      (1) 20-25 years

      (1) 30-35 years

Gender: 5 Female          8 Male

Diagnoses: Down Syndrome  4

                Autism   5

               Chromosomal Differences 2

               Cochlear Implant and InD 1

                Developmental Difference 1

Physical Space:

This setting is a 4th/5th grade classroom actually within a portable building. The space diagram is attached here. The classroom has a smartboard which was utilized for rotational groups. The classroom has 13 students and during this first observation, 3 of those students were excused 10 minutes into the observation to work on presentations with another teacher. See attached schematics of physical space and photos.

Relationship: 12 of the students have been in class together since August 2018. One student was visiting for the day. He was not included in photos but was included in observation notes.

Observation 1:

Upon entering the class, students were engaged in an activity known as Calm Classroom. This is a mindfulness activity used to assist in transition between activities. The physical environment was noted to have reduced lighting, a diffuser with essential oils and students seated at their desks. Some students were following the mindfulness directive and engaged with eyes closed. Others were looking around, observing other students. For the most part, students were quiet with the exception of one young girl with Down Syndrome. I chose her as my point of observation and interaction with others. She will be referenced as G.  She was seated in her chair with her upper body hanging down over her lap to the floor. The action of this student did not elicit a change in the behavior of the other students and was largely ignored.

When the mindfulness activity was completed, the students were directed to pair with other students. G.  growled and stated “Worst day ever”. The TA whispered in her ear and she easily redirected and got into group with the assigned student.

Students were paired by instructional abilities. Ability groupings ranged from 1:1 correspondence counting 1-10 to students completing single digit multiplication problems. In the pairing, G. was the more dominant student and initially restructured the activity to where she had all of the components. She vocalized her unhappiness about not being chosen for the smartboard activity first. She attempted to gain attention from others with laughter and did not involve her partner. The TA came over and reassigned the pieces, waiting for G. to engage with her partner and then immediately drew a happy face on her desk stating “Great job G – helping out a friend”. G. became interactive with the other student and led the activity between the two of them. G. was very socially motivated through praise and engagement with others. When the groups were redirected to the next activity, G. was compliant but transitioned very slowly even though she was moving to the preferred smartboard activity.

During the remaining time for this activity the teacher was engaged in direct instruction, the TA moved about the groupings directing and giving reinforcement through verbal praise and drawing happy faces on the desk.

Given the ages of the students and supports needed, I was impressed by their level of independence in these rotational groups.

Observation 2:

At the beginning of the second observation, students were returning from Music. Students were engaged socially while teachers were passing out water bottles. Cued that they were going to begin with a Calm Classroom activity, one student initiated turning the sign outside the door to discourage interruption during the mindfulness practice. They were again led in a Calm Classroom mindfulness activity to refocus and begin Language Arts. A. observed but did not actively participate in the activity. Upon completion of the activity, the teacher pulled small groups of students to complete reading assessments on independent goals and the TA led a verb charade game.

Students were sillier this afternoon and wanted more attention from one another. Charades was a good way to channel the energy. Students were chosen by having their name drawn from popsicle sticks. G. was especially shy and stood still so the students guessed “growing” 😊. She began to sing and they guessed correctly. The TA would whisper a verb to students who were shy or struggled with thinking of one. G. was visibly happier this afternoon. The TA used a whisper voice to regain attention. Finally, students looked at library books while the adults completed progress sheets for the day.

Possible research questions:  

1.     Did professional development assist this teacher is developing the classroom control that was exhibited on both unplanned observations?

2.     Would classroom management have been the same without the Calm Classroom transitional activities?

3.     Would these same techniques have been effective in a neurotypical academic setting?

[elleiam]

My Teachers ~

I’ve been sick in bed for quite a few days now, but I'm finally mentally better enough to start doing things. First on the list, a blog post. (Actually first on the list was double check that I have everything done for Infusion that I need to do. Check. More on that in another post probably). I'm so many blog posts behind in my mind, with so much I want to talk about and so little motivation to actually talk about it. Even as I type this my eyes are closing and my brain is thinking… maybe I'm too sick to be doing this NO LAUREN. KEEP TYPING.

I want to write about some people at my school I'm thankful for, so, introducing some lovely angel souls of my life, I present this cast of characters that brighten up my days at Gakri Middle School when the kids are just too much to handle. (Also names are hidden because I'm shy and what if someone finds this!)

The English Teacher

My saving grace at school. She is always willing to make conversation with me, sharing with me dilemmas in her home life, problems with Korean culture, and always being curious about America. Her English is incredible, but honestly I think even if her English was not as good she'd still have reached out. Sometimes I feel like she's a mom taking care of me, making sure I have somewhere to sit at lunch, making sure I don't even go to lunch alone. She's always watching out for how comfortable I feel and that makes my heart so warm and happy. Sometimes when I was still in college I just wanted to be independent and live my own life, but now that I've come to this super unfamiliar environment with a new job, it is amazing to always feel taken care of. So I'm so thankful for her, for being my friend but also for watching my back. It must be tiring to keep putting in that effort, but truly her good mornings to me at the start of each school day really does remind me why I love working here. Plus, might I add that she is the most helpful co-teacher I have and I always look forward to my classes with her because though still equally chaotic, they're just more fun.

The Science Teacher

We say pretty much no words to each other, but she's one of my favorites. Our "conversations" are just her pointing to the ceiling, saying "dirty," and the us laughing for many minutes about our crazy students who like to throw their shoes up at the ceiling. Our interactions are always so brief, but it's the little things she does that really make me smile, like dropping off a handful of candy at my desk every time I leave the cafeteria in tears because the lunch was too darn spicy, or slowly and "sneakily" stealing my key chain from my pocket to ask "what is this" in Korean, or just sharing a smile with me when we just have nothing to say. I even ventured a Korean question at her once and it was so sweet to see her think really hard to try and respond in English.

The Music Teacher

At first I thought she didn't like me, not didn't like me but at least did not have the energy to try with me. Day one she said I was cute but she can't talk to me because I don't speak Korean. I remember thinking LAUREN learn Korean faster! But obviously I can't become conversational overnight and I could tell she got tired of waiting. We live in the same apartment complex and finally one day we got stuck walking home together. In broken Korean, I asked her if she had plans for the weekend. In broken English, she responded! We had a good laugh and now she actually smiles at me. We'll walk to school or home together, exchanging maybe two sentences before just walking in silence. But she is such nice company and I love how our friendship is based pretty much solely on pointing and awkward laughs. It's the small moments too, the two clementines on my desk, her coming up behind me and nudging my shoulder before saying hi, meeting her beautifully awkward sons at Daiso, the fact that she didn't just ignore me at Daiso and actually came up to me to introduce her sons.

The Fulbright Co-Teacher

Even if we are not the closest of friends, I'm really thankful that she always does her job. Every now and then she tells me to signs this or that, or I hear her on the phone mentioning my name. It makes me realize just how much work it takes to have an ETA at your school and I really appreciate her always being on top of things. Though she's not required to tell me any of this, she'll always mention an event that's going on at school I could attend, or tell me about time schedule changes, picture days, other things that get sent to me via the messenger system I still can't understand. Recently we've been sharing more laughs together. She'll drop by my classroom during the cleaning time and give me all the latest gossip about the students or just talk about the previous ETA (and how much more organized I am haha). It's nice that our bond is growing, and maybe I should try to be less intimidated by her.

The Third Grade English Teacher

One of my faves, she hosted a welcoming lunch party for me and another English teacher during one of the first few weeks of school. She's just always there to talk and hang out after class to tell me about her weekend or how her husband wants me to meet his mother?? It's a really great time and I'm really lucky to have her in my life. Her baby daughter is so incredibly cute (even though she causes her so much stress)! I haven't been able to talk to her as much recently because the third-graders have been having their exams, but this coming week I'm really excited to see her again and find out what she has been up to.

The Special Education Teacher

She has quickly become one of my favorite people. She is so outgoing and extroverted, constantly wanting to talk even though her English level is not great and my Korean is awful. She never gives up, and I can tell she actually wants to get to know me as a person and for me to get to know her. She has already taught me so much about being a special education teachers, the bureaucracy she needs to put up with and the struggles of her students; it is so wonderful to learn about her life and to have someone to hang out with outside of school. I can't believe she reached out the first time and continues to reach out.

The Home Economics Teacher

She is so shy but I love her! Our friendship started when she messaged me to review her English composition. I loved reading those because they told me so much about her. Once she came into my office but didn't talk to me because she was too shy - she messaged me after saying when she saw all those people she got nervous! Recently she’s been thinking about giving up on English, which is a shame because she is actually quite advanced, but I understand the frustration of hitting a bottleneck. I hope she will still be willing to talk with me though... guess I’ll just have to learn more Korean! I love hanging out with her and laughing with her too much not to.

The Nurse

We've only ever had one true interaction but she is still so kind to me, giving me an over- exaggerated wave every time we see each other, occasionally coming to my desk to whisper a nice message. She's the youngest at the school at 27 years old so naturally I feel a bit closer to her. She came to chat in my office one day and asked me for an English name, which she actually now uses! I listed a bunch of options but she liked Miley the best. I think it suits her and actually sounds a lot like her Korean name!

The Teachers Whose Names I Know Not

There are teachers I still haven't met yet, and teachers who don't really look my way. That's cool. There's 70 of us and I'm glad to you I'm maybe just one of you. But there are some teachers who consistently send a smile my way, or give me a cute insa before deciding nah I'll just wave at her. I wish I knew your names so I could give you a proper hello, but just know I am so thankful for your kindness, for not giving up on me and still giving me your positivity every time we run into each other in the halls. It's these kind nods and laughs, the mutual understanding that we'll only ever nod and laugh but that it's great anyway, that makes my days at Gakri really quite wonderful (even if the kids wear me out).

[keiraelaine]

2017

This year I learned the compassion and caring that I’ve always felt shame for lacking. I learned how to listen and show up when someone tells me how they feel and I’m working out the kinks with making caring space for myself in relationships. I learned that I am worthy and I found love and I learned that I need to care about myself in order to take care of myself. I started learning how to do that. Long long post below. 

January: I flew into Green Bay like someone who doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation. I ignored the signs. Or, I worried that I was too anxious, and that it wouldn’t work because I couldn’t just trust a person. I was out of theory though, and I felt like I could breathe easier than I had in a year. Benson stopped me in the hall, surprised. Jan. 20 sucked. Landlord continued to not do his job. In coding, I felt like I was actually learning a cool thing. I spoke to no one. AfAm Writers seating was straight up segregated and we were intimidating. I learned more about the world at BGH than I did anywhere else. I suppose I felt shame, but I was away from the con. I couldn’t make myself care about getting out of bed. The voice search was frustrating, because no other students really showed up. 

February: I learned what I want to do with my life from a candidate. I had a reason to make myself get up in the morning. I offered crumbs because that’s what I did best, ask for nothing and feel anxious. We had one good night. People suggested walking away. I scared myself by not drawing a line and allowing some major bullshit. I should have known because every white girl I’ve been with couldn’t ignore me in public if she tried. My new friends showed me what respect looked like. In coding, my attendance and attention faltered. One night, I threw my phone. An apartment opened up and it seemed perfect. It took weeks for me to figure out he and we were going to stay unhealthy. I felt ignored and unimportant. My writing in AfAm was exemplary. My friend got really, really hurt by a shitty boy. I got hurt by a shitty boy too. I felt shame.

March: The coding project loomed just in time for me to realize I knew nothing about Java. The random girl in my class who I worked with made me laugh from my belly. The boy in our group was MIA and sexist. Cue the hardest project of my life with a partner who was brown but not a lesbian. I kept wanting to give up. I slowly figured out I thought and was afraid to think she was cute. My friends tried playing matchmaker. ACDA was magic and disappointing and educational all at once. I came back and made some quip about morning finals, and I gave back shit that wasn’t mine. I moved! I observed girl choir and thought it was impossible. I got a biopsy and was not dying. I passed coding barely, and AfAm with flying colors. I was nervous about history and about scenes, and anxious about the boundary I drew, but it turns out the Ignore Boring Girls in Public game continued regardless of how I tried to communicate. Some people I thought were friends knew and decided to not have my back. I decided to kiss the girl I wanted to kiss instead of waiting for some bullshit that would never not hurt. 

April: After kissing the girl I wanted to kiss, who was brown and not a lesbian and also cannot do Java, I went to the library with her, and then to breakfast, and then to a movie, and then back to bed! Beethoven haunted me. History started good and so did Race and Ethnicity, but RE went downhill fast. It was more 101 than I could even consider sitting through. They put me in with an orchestra and I sang well. I figured out that anxiety was now a loud, disruptive thing that I had to deal with every day of my life because of the shit I picked up from useless boys and men, especially theory. I apologized too much. I loved my new apartment. I was afraid to like this girl, but I pulled a Torres and UHauled faster than I thought proper. We said things to each other that were honest and caring at the same time, and kissed in my office.I stopped being afraid. Kadihjia left and I felt lost and angry and resentful. Spring scenes were fun!

May: Spring scenes continued to be fun because I barely had to speak to the directors, and thank god. They made me a witch with a knife and put me in white make-up. Choir became insufferable. I wanted to be in Cantala. I thought about dropping RE. I thought about dropping everything but singing and poems. Melissa gave me the tools for an excellent imitation poem and continued to trust me for reasons I can’t fathom still. I made friends with the Academy! They and Julie grew my brain bigger than I thought possible. I felt angry all the time. Every day. I learned jaw tension and migraines. I learned my recital rep. I wrote good program notes, and my mom came to visit. I didn’t weep this time. I sang very well. My people were there. My girlfriend was there, because that’s who she was. I looked elegant. Campus went to shit. My friends got hurt. I felt afraid.

June: I shaved the side of my head and rebleached the blonde bit and we three got tattoos and had a sleepover. My friend group kind of went to shit and I decided to not have friend groups anymore. I took an incomplete in history and then passed that shit like nobody’s business. I was so proud of myself. I worked an office job that seemed totally fine before it started sucking my soul out. Anger ran my life. Reunion weekend was a time for singing and remembering and confusion, but mostly a time for singing. I grew to resent the people I worked with. I missed my girlfriend but I trusted her, and missing someone you trust is a whole different game. I tried out veganism and yoga and both were good. Gaycation!

August: I scheduled box braids and tried bullet journaling and I got box braids and I felt Real. I felt ready and real and beautiful and worthy and loved. Except at work which continued to be bullshit. I worried about theory, but I knew I could at least try with a new professor. Still angry always. I felt like I could spend a good long time with my girlfriend. 

September: I thought all my classes would be exciting except theory. Turns out, a good teacher and an excellent therapist make theory perfectly good, and a teacher who doesn’t care to decolonize the classroom can make interesting content insufferably boring. I felt angry and anxious and safe. Facilities fired me. I had the worst panic attack of my life about my refund, and I felt angry at a white woman I typically trust more than most folks. PEDAL hit the group running. 

October: It was affecting me that half the queer Black women at school left. Anger abound. I was ready to slap some smiles off white girls’ faces. I was ready to schedule an actual fight with Richard. I was ready to drop Sonja’s class. My homework was getting done but I couldn’t say anything to a professor without also saying sorry. I did jack in my independent study. I thought about I wanted a Black Studies MA. 

November: Melissa convinced me about MFAs. I figured out that all I could do was give the best presentation in the class I wanted to drop. I took my hair out and panicked about it. I realized I needed to shave it off, so I did. Nothing I have ever done is as freeing as that I figured out that some white middle class women love technicality more than anything else. I learned that I can’t yet glare a shit-eating grin off a white face. I learned that I have trouble listening to my own needs, again. I learned that I’m allowed to work on it, that I’m allowed to feel overwhelmed and need to be comforted and held. I wanted to go home. We planned Costa Rica. I shaved all my hair off.

December: Straightness was a weight on my chest. I passed every single class. I got an A in music theory. I earned the grade of ‘A’ in MUTH 252. It felt unbelievable, like a miracle but also like a birthday, like a matter of course. I missed Rebecca. I had a massive breakdown about grad school. Melissa showed up for that anxiety. Girl choir was indescribable. I had a short quarter-life crisis about music education. I sank into a week-long lesbian unrequited shame melancholy and wrote some poems and asked for help and pulled myself out of it. I got into a professional choral ensemble. I applied to Cave Canem. We moved. I fell in love with our new house. We made a plan to go home to the sun after school lets out. I fought with my brothers and I broke down crying in the car and I ate real Mexican food and I apologized and made up with my brothers and I jumped in a cold pool and I worried about the future. On Christmas, I was Black for the first time. I had a panic attack about coming back. I had another panic attack about coming back. Anxiety sat like bile in my throat the entire time I was in the air. I came back and spent time with a really wonderful human, and I cleaned and reorganized everything, and I ate cookies, and now I feel like I can do this next six months, even though it’s so much bullshit. I realized that I need to make small changes this year that will give me ease in small ways. Lotion, swimming, sleeping, water. I graduate June 10. 

Resolutions:

Say no to things that distract me from my goals. 

Swim often. 

Learn to cook a few things!

Make some money. 

Fix my nails. 

Read one whole book for pleasure every month. 

Keep the apartment and garage clean. 

Do laundry on a schedule.

Do mornings on a schedule. 

Work more on apologizing. 

[delfiend423]

I hate that college sees me nothing more than a number.

I don’t have any experience with schools outside of the US, but for what I’ve been through, college--as well as a lot of high schools--reduced me, a unique individual with my own personality, set of experiences, and code of morals, to little more than my GPA.

I get that there’s a lot of students that attend a single university, and that to know each and every one of them personally is simply impossible. But, when you realise that students can be narrowed down into groups by major, and then furthermore by specialisation, and even more so by assigned counsellor, is it really so impossible for someone in a university staff to know how I am, other than the numbers that form my GPA? Sure, you may argue that that’s what getting to know a professor or professors is for; but in a class of a hundred students, being known by a professor becomes more of a contest of schmoozing rather than an actual opportunity to form an identity with a faculty member that isn’t reliant on my GPA.

College is a really rough time. Sure, it’s probably the best four years in one’s life, but it's also--at least to begin with--a time for major transitions from the teen that lives at home with their parents and followed a routine schedule enforced by said guardians to the adult who suddenly has to govern all aspects of their life that they likely never really had to worry about before. And on top of this already difficult trial-and-error transition into adulthood, one has to navigate the uncharted waters of college courses and time management. 

I’d be so bold as to argue that this transition is most difficult for the honours student, the kid with effortless straight As in high school, the kid who never once studied for a test or struggled to grasp a concept. The reason I think it's hardest for them? Struggle is a keystone part of life; everyone will face struggles at some point in their lives, both as students and working adults, and it's knowing how to personally deal with those struggles and overcome them that allows for success in life. Kids who had to work hard for their As in high school, and the kids who fought to maintain their Bs, and the kids who every now and again came home with a C or two: those kids are the ones who faced struggle while they were teenagers, who most of the time had parents and caring teachers and even tutors to help them learn how to overcome those struggles. These kids not only learned how to overcome struggles in academia, but they also oftentimes developed decent or even excellent study skills in order to do so.

The honours kid? They get to college, and suddenly not every single concept is understandable the way the professor explains it. Suddenly, the pacing of a course might be just a tad quicker than they are able to effortlessly keep up with. Course material is suddenly either too complicated or presented in too large of doses to learn it without proper studying. All of a sudden, the honours student is faced with struggle that they’ve never faced before, and they’re facing it alone. Sure, there are counsellors and TAs who can help out. But when 100+ honours students all realise the same struggle is upon them, resources end up too swamped to aid them all. And on top of this novel academic struggle, the honours kid, like everyone else, must learn to balance all facets of their life independently, and manage their seemingly unlimited free time responsibly. Both of these tasks are entirely novel to the honours student, and as the only way to figure things out is through good ol’ trial and error.

Sometimes, the “error” in trial and error means that the student’s GPA takes a hit, and oftentimes the honours student’s GPA even more so. 

A GPA is weighted, meaning that the grades you receive earliest have the biggest impact on your overall GPA. They set the bar, if you will. The weight of your grades acts similarly to the half-life of a radioactive substance, become increasingly less and less potent with each passing semester. This means that if a student has a rough freshman year--perhaps struggling both to manage their time and learn had to succeed in the typical college course structure--they are most likely going to have a GPA that is significantly lower than the student who does exceptionally their freshman year, but maybe hits a few rough patches in their sophomore or junior years. 

Another thing I despise about the GPA system is that every grade that factors into the GPA has a story behind it. In college, core classes like General Biology or General Chemistry have a massive number of students enrolled. This means there are sometimes a half-dozen teachers assigned to teach up to 5 sections a piece. Each teacher may have several TAs that are each assigned a lab section to oversee and determine grades for. Something one realises really fast in college is that not all professors were created equal. Just because your taking the same course doesn’t guarantee that you’ll even learn the same material, because professors have that much impact on the final structure of their specific sections of a course. My chemistry professor decided to teach his classes in what he called “reverse style”. This meant that he expected us, the majority of whom were freshman students, to teach ourselves chemistry from the textbook, and then in our lectures he would do practice problems. As a newly christened college kid, I was still trying to remember to get dinner, let alone block out the time to study chapter upon chapter of chemistry every nigh (not to mention deal with my hellish roommates, but that’s a whole other story). On top of my professor not actually teaching me anything, my lab TA who graded all of my lab reports (which were worth a good 1/3 of my final grade) was way stricter than the other lab TAs, and would take off points for every little thing where other TAs would hand out 100% just for including all 5 sections in the lab report. 

Was any of this noted beside the C- I ended up getting in the class? The teacher who didn’t teach? The TA who graded way harder than all the other TAs? Nope. I drew the short straw on chemistry professors and lab TAs but my C- weighed the same as any other C-. It kicked my GPA in the balls that first fall semester of my freshman year, and no amount of straight As can really repair that damage. As far as anyone looking at my GPA is concerned, that C- is a mark of laziness and lack of dedication to my studies. They have no idea the hell I went through to even pull through with a passing grade in the first place. And they probably never will, because they’ll see my GPA, find it lacking, and move right along to the next student/applicant. 

My subpar GPA shouldn’t reflect how hard I’m willing to work, how dedicated I am to learning, or especially how smart I am. It took me until near the end of my sophomore year of college to really figure out how to study in a way that works with the material I’m learning and most importantly works for me. I still struggle with time management and remembering to eat 2 meals a day (yes, I cut one out; three meals is too many to find time for). I’ve been applying for lab positions on campus, and all of them demand a GPA that wouldn’t have been so hard to achieve if I hadn’t taken that low blow from Chemistry on my first round of grades. I feel extremely trapped. I can’t realistically work any harder than I am now, and my GPA still will never climb back up to where these laboratory professors require it to be. I have so much to offer as a person and a student, but I know I’m being totally swept aside and ignored the moment these people glimpse that all-powerful number, that slandering GPA of mine. This makes me feel like I’m living in that Black Mirror episode where everyone is rated by everyone around them. But that’s not just a show, is it? That’s reality for students like me. We’re a number, on a scale of 0.00 to 4.00. If we fall below a certain mark, a population will turn a blind eye to us. If we fall below the next mark, and even larger population turns a blind eye. These lab professors are swiping left because of a simple number before they even bother to realise who I am outside of my GPA.

Worst of all, this number doesn’t stop haunting me when my BS is earned. In this world, a Bachelor’s degree doesn’t set me apart from anyone. 90-something percent of my generation is going to college and getting a Bachelor’s. No, in order to set myself apart, to swim my way into a more refined pool of opportunity, I need to attend graduate school. Graduate school doesn’t give two shits about me if my GPA isn’t where they want it to be. In what I’m majoring in, and what I want to do with it, a Bachelor’s is utterly useless if it doesn’t get me into a graduate program. And it can’t do that if my GPA is dragging too low to the ground. If I can’t get into graduate school, on account of my GPA< than my GPA has officially sunk my career before it can even begin. In that sense, my GPA can quite literally ruin my hopes and dreams. With such a simplified number carrying so much weight in the life of a student, why do we even have it? Why don’t we get rid of the GPA if it can cause such awful destruction and exclusion in the lfe of the college student?

Because it’s easier to ruin the life of a number than it is to ruin the life of a true individual. And in such a competitive environment such as college, ruining lives and thinning the herd is the name of the game. 

[thousandmaths]

[ Disclaimer: this post does not claim to represent the official policy of the University of Minnesota Mathematics Department! Consult your advisor, instructor, lecturer, and/or TA to talk about details, which may be slightly different for any particular course. ]

I’ve always dreaded the days that my students ask me how their final grades are determined because... well, the picture probably speaks for itself. Invariably I stutter at places and have to repeat things, plus it’s rather involved, and it’s just a mess. It takes tons of time and really you’re probably not going to remember it unless you write it down; nobody wins.

So!

The Nuts and Bolts

The picture above is attempting to describe a seven step process, which gives the basic idea of how we go from a bunch of assignment/exam scores to a letter grade. So suppose you’re a student in a lower-division math course (i.e. course number below 3000) at the University of Minnesota: how is your grade calculated?

For most of the semester, nothing surprising happens. You do assignments, you take exams. You take a final. And then...

Behind the scenes, the exams are put in a different stack than everything else, and your exam (weighted) average is computed separately from your overall (weighted) average. 

The overall weights for each category in the overall average can be found directly in the syllabus.

The weights for each category in the exam average are private. However, they are almost always either the same as in the syllabus (normalized to account for the fact that non-exams aren’t there), or entirely ignored except for the final. 

[ A possible exception, for instance, is Calculus II, where the “gateway” exam may be handled slightly differently. ]

 Each TA sends the exam average (anonymously) to the instructor of record, who has a particular distribution in mind for the course— this is partially dictated by departmental policy, and partially determined by their own experience with the course. The only person with access to this distribution is the instructor of record. In particular, your TA does not know how what percentage of people are expected to get any particular grade.

Based on the data and the desired distribution, the instructor tells the TAs the “course gradelines”, that is, the minimum exam average required to get an A, A-, B+, and so on. There is now enough data for your TA to theoretically determine your final grade.

Your TA will now take all of the exam average in your section, and use the course gradelines to determine: how many As they can give, how many A-s, how many B+s, and so on.

To be clear: the grade that you obtain with your exam average “belongs to” your TA, and theoretically doesn’t have anything to do with the final grade you receive.

Of course, your exam average makes up a very large portion of your overall average; usually about 80%. So in practice, your exam average will be very close to your overall average. (Unless you decided not to turn in any homework assignments all semester...)

At some point during this whole mess, your TA will have taken the overall average for everyone in your section, and given you a ranking among the students in the section.

Finally, your TA gives the final grades based on their order in the list from Step 6. The first several students get As, the next several get A-s, the next several get B+s, etc., with the exact quantities of each letter corresponding to the numbers determined in Step 5.

There is usually a bonus eighth step: if after going through all this business, you get (say) a 70% overall average but a final grade of D, that will be bumped that up to something in the C range. Similarly, getting an at least 80% overall average guarantees a B, and a 90% overall average guarantees an A.

( I’ve omitted some steps here which don’t really matter for computational purposes; namely there are points in the process where we have independent checks of the calculations. )

What is the Point of All This?

Yeah, I also had that question. Let me try to explain by talking about the problems that simpler schemes run into.

Why don’t we just do it purely on points?

Trust me, you don’t want this. If you happen to land in a section that grades your homework very harshly, you would have a much harder time getting a passing grade than your friends who landed in a section with an easy grader. 

Why don’t we just do a normal curve?

Same reason. Being more specific: since the exams are graded by all the TAs, they are the only reasonable way to compare students across sections.

Well, that’s true in this system. But couldn’t we just pass around the homework each week so that it’s also graded evenly?

Yes, we could do that. But then you would be doing work for a different grader every week, each with subtly different expectations, and you wouldn’t have any way of knowing what the grader of the week was expecting.

So why don’t we just base the entire grade on exam scores?

Think about what you just asked me. Are you really sure you want this? 

( More seriously: this is a totally valid way of doing things. In fact, this system is more common in Europe: if you get the chance to study abroad, you may find that your courses are graded entirely on exams, or even entirely on the final. In the States, we generally believe that exams are a good but imperfect way of testing knowledge, and so we want to have some non-exam component of the grade as well. )

So... What Should I Do?

Usually the reason that a student will ask me about grade calculations is because they’re not doing as well as they’d like, and they want some indication about how well they need to do on the next midterm or the final to get up to where they want to be.

The only helpful thing that can be said is talk to your TA privately: although they will also not have perfect information, they will be able to determine a student’s current rank within the section, and whether they’ve been exhibiting an upward or downward trajectory. These don’t translate to letter grades directly, but they are at least good indicators for important statistics that will eventually determine the course outcomes. 

The “privately” thing is important. The United States has a law called the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act which places very strong restrictions on what your teachers can say about your grades in a classroom or over email. Besides, we do not spend a lot of time thinking about class rank calculations, and we might have a vague idea about which half of the class you fall in, but probably not the more specific details that you’ll actually find useful. So if you want to know as much as possible about your standing in the class, it is best to come in during office hours, or alternatively, to schedule a face-to-face meeting.

[genesiskrps-blog]

KIWI MUSIC NEWS !

[+ 200, -12] Woah, Kang Nayoung is my favorite leader and vocal in CEL ! [+ 113,  - 2] Macaroon is lucky to have them, aren’t they?!

PROFILE !

FACECLAIM: kim ahyoung (yura) CHARACTER NAME: kang nayoung STAGE NAME: - CHARACTER AGE: august 24, 1994 COMPANY: CEL ent POSITION: lead vocalist TIME WITH COMPANY: four years POSITIVE: motivated, well spoken, affectionate NEGATIVE: calculated, picky, selfish STRENGTHS:  nayoung’s voice is her biggest strength. a natural talent, even when she was untrained she was pleasant to hear. but years of schooling only polished her talent even more. she has a good vocal range and can sing different styles of music with ease. she is disciplined, so even knowing that she is already really good is not enough to stop her from training and polishing her vocals. nayoung has her mind set in being recognized in macaron for her voice, and to bring attention to her group. focused, as much as she may think of a solo career later in her life, or of a solo debut while in macaron, she keeps these ambitions to herself. macaron is her focus now and she will work hard as hell to make them popular and successful. one of her biggest fears is her plastic surgeries being found out and the scandal of it being enough to burying her group.   she is a dedicated girl. she trains hard, even on the fields where she doesn’t excel at. and having debuted won’t stop her from keep on trying to improve (even though sometimes she feels like she is fighting a lost battle). she makes up for her lack of dancing skills with a good stage presence. nayoung knows what angles are her best, in what way to look at the camera while singing her parts. WEAKNESSES: if nayoung was asked what is her biggest weakness, she’d laugh because it’s just so obvious it already became a joke among her fans. nayoung can’t dance, at all. she tries hard, and trains and she’d kill anyone who tells her she can’t dance for lack of training, but she simply can’t. her body is stiff, clumsy, and even when she got the whole choreo her body still doesn’t move right. she is trying, however, to turn this into some sort of “charm”, something endearing for the fans. but truth be told, it pisses her off. for a perfectionist like her, seeing herself on camera, body stiff, all moves that look so fluid on some of her group mates looking all kinds of wrong on her makes her want to cry in frustration. another thing she knows she has to work on is her variety talents. nayoung is simply not funny and her humor is much more on the dry side than anything else, which doesn’t really fit macaron’s image. and when she does try to be funny for the camera, it never works. she’s insecure in front of the camera when she’s not on stage, and in the times she was invited or casted in variety shows, she faded on the background or ended up being called “uninterested”, which ended up resulting in some nasty comments about her.

BIOGRAPHY !

kang nayoung is the older child of two,, daughter of an important businessman, owner of one of korea’s biggest cosmetics industries and a famous international supermodel, way past her prime. girl has had everything she needed and deserved since very young. spoiled rotten.

however, nayoung never let that get to her head. she is mature, intelligent, always passed all of her subjects with flying colors. member of the debate team, nayoung is well spoken, and for a long time her parents were sure she would end up following a career as a lawyer or politician. but girl had other dreams: she wanted to be a singer.

since young nayoung knew she had a talent for it. her parents had put her on piano classes, but the teacher ended up asking them to give her singing classes. she had a natural talent and all she needed was just some polishing.

nayoung started having singing classes every day. at first, she wanted to be a solo singer, but as she grew older, she started having the dream of becoming an idol.

and that wasn’t such a far-fetched dream. she had the talent but nayoung had one problem: she didn’t have the face.

when she was 13 nayoung tried for the first time getting into CEL entertainment, only to be refused with a simple statement: you don’t have the face we are looking for.

which was probably an understatement. as good as her genes were supposed to be, nayoung was never a pretty girl. her jaw was too square, her head too big, her nose too large. she was chubby and clumsy. she tried getting into CEL two times more only to be refused with the same excuse.

when she was sixteen she moved to the usa with her parents since her father decided to spread his business. there, nayoung started to slowly do some plastic surgery procedures.

when she was eighteen, nayoung decided to go back to korea and live with her grandparents. she didn’t like the states, didn’t make many friends. by the time she arrived at the airport, her grandmother barely recognized her - her face was completely changed.

basically the only thing she didn’t change on her face is her lips.

in that same year, 2012, nayoung tried one more time to get into CEL. this time, she was accepted.

nayoung mother kept nagging her about maybe trying to join another company. CEL was already well known, and a lot of the rumors about the company were already around. her parents were worried about the tight schedules and the hard trainee life her daughter was about to face. but for nayoung, CEL was the right company. they were the ones with the most popular groups and the one that she was sure to have a successful debut. also, she was a big fan of royalty.

from a very young age nayoung found out the power that beauty has in this world. she knows that her talent was never enough to get her anywhere, it doesn’t matter how outstanding she was. this alone changed her, making her cold and calculated. nayoung thinks before saying anything, she looks cold and distant most of the time.

obsessed with her image, nayoung is extremely careful with her looks. goes to sleep early, is always on diets and all that.

even before she became a trainee she destroyed every evidence of her past self. she still lives in fear of some old classmate she doesn’t know of still have pictures of her in middle school though.

she was a trainee not for long, only three years. because she already had a lot of vocal training, that was the part she had less to train. she had a hard time with dancing practice, though, their dance coach always joking around that nayoung was born with two left feet.

it was actually because of her lack of dancing skills that nayoung wasn’t put in melodee. she trained with the girls for a while, but when their concept started to be centered around their sharp dancing, nayoung started to struggle to follow along. when she couldn’t even properly follow the choreography for their debut song, nayoung was cut from the final line up.

that, of course, pissed her off royally. nayoung is a hard worker, and she had always believed that working hard would be enough and she was just not used to get what she wants. she struggled for awhile, skipped some practices, almost thought of quitting CEL. but then, she came back.

in the end, nayoung ended up debuting with the group macaron, just one year after she was kicked out of melodee.

macaron’s choreographies are actually really better for her, and nayoung feels more at ease in her new group, less pressured. her only problem now is: their image. macaron has a bright, colorful, fun image that nayoung simply finds it hard to follow. her calculated, polite personality just doesn’t fit that well.

at first she tried hard to fake that sort of energetic vibe, to be bright and happy and funny in their broadcasts, but that didn’t work that well. now she is still trying to find her place in the group. in a group of nine girls, it’s easy to be left in the background.

she knows, though, that her vocals give her an edge. she was hoping her visuals would too, but in a group with as many beautiful girls as macaron standing out for being pretty is not that easy.

is still terrified that anyone will ever find out about her past face and her plastic surgeries. so far all she has gotten is the usual plastic surgery comments that all CEL groups get.

personality wise, nayoung is driven. she sets a goal and follows it with focus, no one can stand in her way. organized, almost obsessive with order. she likes things her way, and that can be extremely annoying. skeptical, critical, independent, determined. a lot of people like to joke around that she doesn’t have a sense of humor, which is not necessarily true. she does have one, though it is extremely dry. when with friends she can be extremely affectionate, though. if she likes you she almost acts like a guard dog - she will keep you safe and protect you from any harm. has a leader like personality, and is extremely loyal to macaron. will do whatever it takes to make them successful.

as long as love goes, nayoung never had a boyfriend. she blames it on her tight schedule and training life, but the truth is starting to come out: the fact that she likes girls is starting to get harder and harder to ignore.

[unspokensequence-blog]

The people we look up to.

I don’t have a normal family.

‘Normal’ left my vocabulary ever since I was three years old. That was when my mother decided she couldn’t stay here and left for a neighbouring country. The three of us - my brother, sister and I - stayed here with my father. That must’ve been scary. Left alone with three kids. Born on the same date. But my father told himself, “God gave me this, so I shall cherish them with all my might.”

Long story short, I grew up with two families. Both my mother and father remarried. My mother had a boy, Brody; my father had a girl, Felicia Aiko. But the more I grow older, the more I saw the difference on how they treated their children.

My father has always been indifferent sometimes. Not saying that he doesn’t love us. He just treats us so liberal that often times we take care of ourselves - make our own doctor appointments, complete school documents, pay for our own bills. It became understandable when we got older. But when we were young… I’d remembered being embarrassed, and rather disappointed, in parent-teacher conferences or school performances. Where my friends would be greeted by their parents. But my siblings and I had no one. I know my father worked hard to give us this privileged life, being a lone parent. I’m forever grateful for that. So it was something we’d gotten used to - the past can’t be changed. But as a child I would ask myself, “Does my dad not care enough to be here for me?”

My stepmother turned out the same. She was young, very young. So inexperienced, but my father loved her, and my mother loved him. I guess that was enough. The first few years were hard - she’d still drink, party, come home late at night. It’s better now. She does none of those things. But it’s not enough.

My mother is the complete opposite of my father. I guess that’s why they separated. She’s attentive to every detail and strict to the bone. Schedules, planning, very precise. There were so many rules to follow. Talk like that, dress like that, act like that. There were expectations to maintain. This was not like my father. While he made us liberal, she held us almost captive.

My stepfather turned out the same. He had values, traditions - very conservative. He wanted his children to grow up the same as he did. He was very protective and rigid at the same time. He was fun to hang out, truly - but when he got serious, he became a different person. It’s just sometimes I’m not sure if it’s a good thing.

When Felicia Aiko was born, I was happy that finally, someone in this family could experience a normal life. Two parents. Siblings who love them. Felicia Aiko had everything we didn’t - a perfect family. But life doesn’t work that way.

My father adored her. He showered her with gifts and affection. My father wasn’t really attentive in my life. He didn’t come to my graduations. To my school productions. To my competitions. Seeing him act this way gave me such emotion. I didn’t resent her - I fell in love with her soul as well. But behind all that, he was still a workaholic. He came home late. He couldn’t make it to some of her performances. Honest to God, he tried. I think he tried better for her than for us, which at this point I didn’t care. I just wanted my little sister to have a better life. But how could she when her mother wasn’t around as well? She didn’t drink. But she would hole herself in a room, inviting friends each day, blatantly ignoring the child she had. It wasn’t a surprise that Felicia Aiko once preferred to be in the arms of our housemaid rather than her own mother.

My mother adored Brody. My stepfather as well.  My mother wanted him to be a perfect, healthy, sociable boy - signed him for swimming classes, golfing sessions, piano lessons. He loved all of them, but sometimes their expectations was too much. My mother had been the same with us even if we were seas apart - she would tell my sister how to talk, tell my brother how to act, tell me how to dress. it was extremely suffocating, but at least we weren’t alone. But as an only child, all attention was on him, so all expectations was on him. He’d been a little boy, and when he made a small mistake, they would not take it lightly. My mother would scream at him. My father would threaten to hit him. I used to think it was normal. But as I visited each following year, it felt honestly disturbing. Brody was finding himself, but only through his parents’ guidelines. He needed to be set free someday, live life on his own terms.

But in all honesty, this all goes back to my family here. My father says as a child, his parents didn’t come to his graduations as well - I guess that makes sense. But is that the right way to treat your children as well?

Is this what you’ve reduced to? Missing your daughter’s big performance for a romantic getaway trip to Bali?

Okay, it’s actually not a romantic getaway. They have business there. But now, my little sister has no one. My aunt suddenly can’t go. I just knew about this performance today; I have plans. This whole situation is fucked up. This is why i decided to write this. You just had to make my little sister feel unwanted. And this isn’t the only time - they’ve done this before. Sometimes not for business at all. I thought they would be better for her. Turns out they’re just the same.

Two of my parents neglect. The other two are controlling. We are either independent but forgotten, or desirable but restrained. There is no grey area.

These are the people who raised me. These are the people that I look up to.

And I pray to God and whoever is watching that I grow up to be so much better than them.