one of the things about being an educator is that you hear what parents want their kids to be able to do a lot. they want their kid to be an astronaut or a ballerina or a politician. they want them to get off that damn phone. be better about socializing. stop spending so much time indoors. learn to control their own temper. to just "fucking listen", which means to be obedient.
one of the things i learned in my pedagogy classes is that it's almost always easier to roleplay how you want someone to act. it's almost always easier to explain why a rule exists, rather than simply setting the rule and demanding adherence.
i want my kids to be kind. i want them to ask me what book they should read next, and i want to read that book with them so we can discuss it. i want my kid to be able to tell me hey that hurt my feelings without worrying i'll punish them. i want my kid to be proud of small things and come running up to me to tell me about them. i want them to say "nah, i get why this rule exists, but i get to hate it" and know that i don't need them to be grateful-for-the-roof-overhead while washing the dishes. i want them to teach me things. i want them to say - this isn't safe. i'm calling my mom and getting out of this. i want them to hear me apologize when i do fuck up; and i want them to want to come home.
the other day a parent was telling me she didn't understand why her kid "just got so angry." this woman had flown off the handle at me.
my dad - traditional catholic that he is - resents my sentiment of "gentle parenting". he says they'll grow up spoiled, horrible, pretentious. granola, he spits.
i am going to be kind to them. i am going to set the example, i think. and whatever they choose become in the meantime - i'm going to love them for it.
5K notes
·
View notes
THIRTY-ONE DAYS OF GHOST ⛧ DAY ONE
first song you heard — Mary On A Cross
September 1969; Papa Nihil and the beginning of the Ghost Project take to the stage at the Whiskey a Go Go club in Los Angeles, under the watchful eye of Sister Imperator. Fifty-three years later, in Tampa, Florida, Papa Emeritus the Fourth performs Mary On A Cross, unaware that he is singing the story of his parents—and that of himself.
372 notes
·
View notes
Friends who mold clay together stay together.
Previous / Next
Caleb: Your idea of a night on the town is crashing your former campus?
Helena: It’s my happy place, okay? The last time I remember feeling safe I was here.
-
Helena: Huh. Foxbury has gotten more creative. Still assholes, though.
-
Caleb: Are you picking the lock?
Helena: Are you an undercover cop? Relax.
Caleb: I just wouldn’t have guessed casual breaking and entering was your style.
Helena: I’ve already done worse things than the old me could even imagine. Committing a petty crime seems hilariously quaint in comparison.
-
Caleb: Tell me this isn’t about finally getting revenge on some professor who once gave you a poor grade. Clay?
Helena: Ulrike made me take a pottery class with her one summer. I was terrible at it, but for once I didn’t care. It was oddly meditative. My brain was at peace. I could really use that feeling now.
-
Helena: Caleb, look! [hisses dramatically]
Caleb: [laughing] Stop! You’re distracting me.
-
Helena: Will you show me the rest of the story now?
Caleb: Tomorrow. You should really try to get some rest first.
185 notes
·
View notes
one punch man is great bc it's ONE going "hey here's varied variations of fucked up lil guys n gals"
1K notes
·
View notes