Spend a dollar, spread the word! Thanks lovelies!! :)
http://m.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-camper-b-n-hall/1120175009?fmt=200
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Short story now available!
https://www.createspace.com/4933828?ref=1147694&utm_id=6026
Hey guys! I've finally published my first of hopefully many more short stories! Help me out by going to purchase it and leave feedback!! Thanks loyal fans! :)
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Why Those Who Can Prefer to Teach
It has been said that "those who can't do, teach." Society will find this message conveyed almost anywhere, through social media, television, radio, even perhaps, their own parents' words of wisdom. I, however, do not agree with this paradigm. In order to explain why, I will first tell you a little about myself.
I am 23 years old. I have recently married, and I am currently on the search for a teaching position. I have been coined my whole life as 'the smart girl,' and quickly discovered in elementary school that some kids only wanted to be my friend so they could cheat off me. As a child, I did not realize that this would affect me and them both later on in life. It would affect them because they did not actually learn the material, rather they relied on me to help them pass the tests. As for myself, it caused me to think less of myself. What good did it do for me to be smart when the other students would just laugh or use me to get through high school? I knew I could do whatever I wanted when I grew up, but I lacked the confidence to pursue it. This, however, is not why I chose to teach instead.
At the same time that little Billy James* was cheating off my third grade math tests, I was also developing an interest. My aunt and grandmother were both school teachers, my aunt in high school and my grandmother an assistant in Kindergarten. I remembered my grandmother bringing home leftover worksheets from the end of the school year, ones that had too many copies made for whatever reason. She brought them with the intention of giving me something to do, but I had a different plan. I used these worksheets, and in a young child's way, demanded that my parents complete them so that I could check their work (Lord knows if I even knew the correct answers myself, but I still pretended I did.). When my parents became less than willing to participate, I turned to my rather large collection of stuffed animals. They, being a very patient audience, allowed me my first opportunities to "teach." By this point, I had collected a couple of old text books from various sources. My favorite, though, was an old math book. I would take my white board and teach these silent creatures about multiplying (which we were currently studying in third grade), adding, subtracting, and sometimes even decimals. After which, I would assign them homework from this single book, and later would make a test which I would pretend they had taken. I thought I had found my calling, but this was still not why I chose to teach.
It wasn't until many years later, after several debates on what to major in; after teaching myself in 8th grade how to do basic Trigonometry from my mom's old college book; and after finally deciding to do Elementary Education in college, that I realized exactly why I was doing what I was doing. It wasn't because I loved it as a child, and it wasn't because I couldn't do the work myself. My parents would always say, "You are so smart and could do anything you want, doctor, lawyer, psychiatrist...why do you want to teach?" At first, I didn't know, but when I did figure it out, this is what I told them. Because I want to make a difference. Because I want little Billy to not have to rely on the smart girl in class as he will have learned it himself. Because it won't matter if someone else has the ability to learn faster than others as long as they know they are capable of learning the same things. Because I know that if children love what they are learning, they will love to learn. Because I want to help them know that school doesn't have to be boring or hard. Because I want to help prepare those who will do in the world for their future careers. It thrills me whenever I am helping a student who is struggling with a concept, and then in a flash, see the light bulb go off in their head, the a-ha moment, and realize they finally understand. I live for the moment when I help a child discover their interest and try my best to feed it and not let the spark, the love for it die.
Einstein said, "If you can't explain it to a six year old, you don't understand it yourself." So I guess my number one reason why I prefer to teach is because I want to shift this paradigm. You see it's not because I can't do the work that I'm a teacher, but because I can do it that I am able to teach others how as well. "If you can't teach it, you can't do it!" That's why.
I am 23 years old. I have recently married, and I am currently on the search for a teaching position. I have been coined my whole life as 'the smart girl,' and quickly discovered in elementary school that some kids only wanted to be my friend so they could cheat off me. As a child, I did not realize that this would affect me and them both later on in life. It would affect them because they did not actually learn the material, rather they relied on me to help them pass the tests. As for myself, it caused me to think less of myself. What good did it do for me to be smart when the other students would just laugh or use me to get through high school? I knew I could do whatever I wanted when I grew up, but I lacked the confidence to pursue it. This, however, is not why I chose to teach instead.
At the same time that little Billy James* was cheating off my third grade math tests, I was also developing an interest. My aunt and grandmother were both school teachers, my aunt in high school and my grandmother an assistant in Kindergarten. I remembered my grandmother bringing home leftover worksheets from the end of the school year, ones that had too many copies made for whatever reason. She brought them with the intention of giving me something to do, but I had a different plan. I used these worksheets, and in a young child's way, demanded that my parents complete them so that I could check their work (Lord knows if I even knew the correct answers myself, but I still pretended I did.). When my parents became less than willing to participate, I turned to my rather large collection of stuffed animals. They, being a very patient audience, allowed me my first opportunities to "teach." By this point, I had collected a couple of old text books from various sources. My favorite, though, was an old math book. I would take my white board and teach these silent creatures about multiplying (which we were currently studying in third grade), adding, subtracting, and sometimes even decimals. After which, I would assign them homework from this single book, and later would make a test which I would pretend they had taken. I thought I had found my calling, but this was still not why I chose to teach.
It wasn't until many years later, after several debates on what to major in; after teaching myself in 8th grade how to do basic Trigonometry from my mom's old college book; and after finally deciding to do Elementary Education in college, that I realized exactly why I was doing what I was doing. It wasn't because I loved it as a child, and it wasn't because I couldn't do the work myself. My parents would always say, "You are so smart and could do anything you want, doctor, lawyer, psychiatrist...why do you want to teach?" At first, I didn't know, but when I did figure it out, this is what I told them. Because I want to make a difference. Because I want little Billy to not have to rely on the smart girl in class as he will have learned it himself. Because it won't matter if someone else has the ability to learn faster than others as long as they know they are capable of learning the same things. Because I know that if children love what they are learning, they will love to learn. Because I want to help them know that school doesn't have to be boring or hard. Because I want to help prepare those who will do in the world for their future careers. It thrills me whenever I am helping a student who is struggling with a concept, and then in a flash, see the light bulb go off in their head, the a-ha moment, and realize they finally understand. I live for the moment when I help a child discover their interest and try my best to feed it and not let the spark, the love for it die.
Einstein said, "If you can't explain it to a six year old, you don't understand it yourself." So I guess my number one reason why I prefer to teach is because I want to shift this paradigm. You see it's not because I can't do the work that I'm a teacher, but because I can do it that I am able to teach others how as well. "If you can't teach it, you can't do it!" That's why.
*All names are fictional.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Every story starts with a scar
This is the beginning of a short story I'm currently working on to pass the time between major bursts of inspiration. There will be more coming, but I wanted to give my dear readers (the few I have right now) a teaser! :)
"I wonder who people see when they look at me. Do they see a lost, little girl stuck in a perpetual state of youthfulness? Do they see someone who is actually wise beyond her years? Probably not. No one ever sees the real you even if you reveal it to them. There's always another underlying part that would probably alter their entire view of you. They don't see that damage, the burnt ashes, of your life. Everyone regrets their scars. I don't. I regret the sticky residue left around the scar. The band-aid I so meticulously placed on my wounds in the futile hope that no one would ever see the mess I put myself in. The band-aid that, once a scar did form, I had to painfully rip off, leaving that blasted residue, and reminding me of the now healed wound. The scar just served as proof that my patchwork, bandage attempts had failed. That I had failed. No, I don't regret that jagged scar. I regret the hope I once had that I would be able to hide it, keep it from ever forming, and hide from everyone else the real me. I lost this hope with the unveiling of the scar. The hope that all began on that cold, October evening, just outside the town of Peace."
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Short story- pt. 2
Sorry it has taken so long to get this next, short section. It's been a pretty crazy month.
It's a little ironic living in a town called Peace especially considering all that has happened there. We are the number one crime capital of Mississippi. That's not to say that good things don't happen, they are just very few. There was one good thing in my life though, my daughter. She was born on October 8, 2009, and was absolutely perfect. Despite spending the second semester of my senior year pregnant, I would not think of having it any other way. She was my saving grace, so fittingly, I named her Grace. It seems cliched because everyone thinks of their child in this way, but for me it was more than just a thought. She was my whole life, well what little I had left. We'll get there, but to understand the extent of my wound, I must first tell her story. Her story, the hope I cling to so desperately in these dark times, begins long before she was born. It started with a boy.
Her father, if you could call him that, left us shortly before she was born. He didn't even show up at the hospital, not that I expected him to. However, it did sting considering all that we had been through. See, he wasn't always like this. I remembered happier times. He and I had been grade school sweethearts having practically grown up together. His family and mine were close friends because we all went to church together. We officially became a "couple" in sixth grade when we were playing baseball outside after church one sweltering Sunday. I had hit him in the head with the ball while pitching and embarrassed, I cried fiercely while trying to hold a bag of ice steady on his now swollen forehead. He laughed it off, and later divulged that it was at this moment that he fell for me, the clumsy, knock-kneed girl with the tender heart who despite everything would manage to take care of him. We referred to this moment as the Newton's apple moment, like when Newton had the apple plop on his head and discovered gravity in action. It was a metaphor in a way for his falling in love with me, when the idea struck him, literally.
We continued dating all through high school. He played baseball and I was a band geek, not your ideal couple that you would imagine. He wasn't your typical, self-centered jock though. He was different. At lunch, we sat with a little boy in our class who had Down syndrome. They were best friends! But his personality was not the only thing I loved about him. He had toasted, brown hair with natural flecks of honey blond mixed in. His eyes were the color of the ocean water off the coast of Hawaii, that deep, clear blue with an almost transluscent effect to them. I teased him that someone would trip and fall into his eyes and never be able to escape. He would always laugh at my cheesy attempts at flirting, not my strongest suit. To say the least, he was very easy on the eyes and I would sometimes catch myself staring when we were together. He never noticed though. He was too modest to think anyone would be interested in his looks. It was just this about him that made me so blind as to never see coming what he did.
.................................................................................................................................................................
Until next time loyal friends! :) If you haven't read part one, you can check it out here.
Thanks for being so awesome!!!
It's a little ironic living in a town called Peace especially considering all that has happened there. We are the number one crime capital of Mississippi. That's not to say that good things don't happen, they are just very few. There was one good thing in my life though, my daughter. She was born on October 8, 2009, and was absolutely perfect. Despite spending the second semester of my senior year pregnant, I would not think of having it any other way. She was my saving grace, so fittingly, I named her Grace. It seems cliched because everyone thinks of their child in this way, but for me it was more than just a thought. She was my whole life, well what little I had left. We'll get there, but to understand the extent of my wound, I must first tell her story. Her story, the hope I cling to so desperately in these dark times, begins long before she was born. It started with a boy.
Her father, if you could call him that, left us shortly before she was born. He didn't even show up at the hospital, not that I expected him to. However, it did sting considering all that we had been through. See, he wasn't always like this. I remembered happier times. He and I had been grade school sweethearts having practically grown up together. His family and mine were close friends because we all went to church together. We officially became a "couple" in sixth grade when we were playing baseball outside after church one sweltering Sunday. I had hit him in the head with the ball while pitching and embarrassed, I cried fiercely while trying to hold a bag of ice steady on his now swollen forehead. He laughed it off, and later divulged that it was at this moment that he fell for me, the clumsy, knock-kneed girl with the tender heart who despite everything would manage to take care of him. We referred to this moment as the Newton's apple moment, like when Newton had the apple plop on his head and discovered gravity in action. It was a metaphor in a way for his falling in love with me, when the idea struck him, literally.
We continued dating all through high school. He played baseball and I was a band geek, not your ideal couple that you would imagine. He wasn't your typical, self-centered jock though. He was different. At lunch, we sat with a little boy in our class who had Down syndrome. They were best friends! But his personality was not the only thing I loved about him. He had toasted, brown hair with natural flecks of honey blond mixed in. His eyes were the color of the ocean water off the coast of Hawaii, that deep, clear blue with an almost transluscent effect to them. I teased him that someone would trip and fall into his eyes and never be able to escape. He would always laugh at my cheesy attempts at flirting, not my strongest suit. To say the least, he was very easy on the eyes and I would sometimes catch myself staring when we were together. He never noticed though. He was too modest to think anyone would be interested in his looks. It was just this about him that made me so blind as to never see coming what he did.
.................................................................................................................................................................
Until next time loyal friends! :) If you haven't read part one, you can check it out here.
Thanks for being so awesome!!!
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Nighttime
And now, some bedtime haikus!
Dark like a black veil
Surrounding my every thought
Terrors I can't shake.
Warm in my silk sheets
Soft as an ocean's carress
Odd as it may seem.
My mind is screaming
Never ceasing, never calms
I can't seem to rest.
Help is on it's way
The medicine to soothe me
Your still, quiet voice.
Breaking the chaos
It reaches every neuron
Peaceful I am now.
Just some lasting thoughts before I head off to bed! :)
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Upon the Murder of Mary's Lamb
For some strange reason, I just love this! It's so dark but emotional. I can up for the idea when a music major friend of mine played "Mary Had a Little Lamb" in a minor key on the piano. It struck me as someone killing Mary's lamb. I thought how sad that would be. I've had people liken it to the crucifixion of Christ, but regardless of religious beliefs, it's still pretty deep. I might be a little biased though. Why don't you make your own judgment? So without further ado...
Upon the day that Mary's lamb
Would not go astray
The precious thing so white as snow
Now clothed in red did lay.
No happy shouts no joyful play
From children of the world
For dark the cloud that bear above
Echoing cries unheard.
A silent world full of despair
The questions whisper why?
No mortal man He ever hurt
Yet man said He had to die.
With no end in sight for burdened
Souls to quickly flee.
Upon the murder of her lamb
Mary wept so tenderly.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Meanwhile...
Rome wasn't built in a day they say, so to can a story not be written in a few days. Therefore, while you lovingly await the next part, I will try to post some of my older stuff (mostly poems with a few thoughts on things). So keep a good lookout for these! Don't be afraid to leave feedback. I love constructive criticism. You're all awesome!
Brittany N. :)
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
The First Chapter
It seems to me that everyone who aspires to be anyone great has a blog, so here I am, starting my own. I haven't the slightest idea what I hope to accomplish from this. It could be a major hit or a great waste of time. Regardless, I thought it would be worth a shot. I plan to mainly post my writings, but I may occasionally post on my life or anything related to my hobbies. I hope you enjoy! Feel free to leave feedback!
Love to all,
Brittany N.
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