Celebrity Status

This morning I worked at another school, but in the afternoon I subbed at Matthew's school in second grade. When I picked up the students from lunch, one of the other second grade teachers told me she had a funny story for me. Her own students saw the other teacher leaving and asked if her class was going to have a substitute. She told them they were. Then one of her students said, "I bet it's Mrs. Nakai. She's a celebrity."

That's right. I won't let it go to my head, though. If anything makes me feel like a celebrity, it's the fan mail I receive. Today, a few sweet girls spent their "Fun Friday" time writing notes to me and drawing me pictures. Awwww.

Substitute teaching is a little like the Grandma Effect, I think. We get to learn a little and have a lot of fun. Before we have time to get sick of each other, our seven hours is up. I really do have the coolest job.

Are You Kidding Me?

I've been working at Matthew's school all week. There was a sudden push on teacher training, so I am in the middle of a few half-day assignments. I spent this afternoon in Matthew's third grade classroom, and his teacher left me a book to read aloud at the end of the day. It was this book:

What the heck? What kind of cruel woman is she?

I kid. I like her. I'm wondering if she likes me, though!

I reluctantly picked it up off the whiteboard and told the kids that I've cried every time I've read this book. They looked at me with confused faces as if to say, "Why would a book of a baby sitting next to a toilet make you cry, lady?"

I took a deep breath, assured myself that it's probably not as bad as I remember, and began reading aloud. I think I got to the fourth page before my voice started to shake. A little girl in the front exclaimed, "You're crying!" There was no denying it, so I grabbed a tissue and carried on as best I could. Half the kids thought it was hilarious that a book was making their substitute teacher cry, and soon the other half followed with giggles and laughter. Thankfully, there was another girl up front who finished the last few pages for me.

I'll love her forever.

Three Weeks Later

My Congressman finally got back to me. After waiting three weeks for a response, I know I shouldn't have been surprised to receive a canned response that he likely sends to every constituent who contacts him regarding firearms. But I was.

He said he appreciated hearing from me on this important issue. Then in the second paragraph he belittled my concern by stating, "It is never more important to fight to protect the rights of individual citizens than in the wake of a tragedy that tempts us with easy 'solutions' that limit the rights of all."

In other words, the rights to have a gun are more important than the right to stay alive? It got worse from there.

"As an avid gun owner and hunter, I join millions of Americans who refuse to allow my rights to be limited because of the action of a few; that is not America." He also wrote, "Gun restrictions give our families a false sense of security." Really? Less guns out and about is a bad thing? Clearly he doesn't know me, and he's certainly not willing to listen to me.

Maybe he's right about America. Perhaps we all need guns simply to feel secure. What a morbid outlook for our country. So pessimistic. What a grim picture he paints.

If we need guns to feel secure, I don't want to be here. I sometimes joke about wanting to go out and live in the woods away from all the violence and heartache and madness, but then I read this article today. That's proof there's no place in this country where one is safe.

O, Canada. You look better and better to me every day.

Thoughtful Thoughts

After the events in Paris on Friday, my mind went through such a blur of emotions. I felt the following in this order: distraught, sad, angry, disgusted, frustrated, and then finally pity for the aggressive attackers whose hate caused so much suffering for so many. That I ended up at pity shows that there may be some hope for peace in this world after all.

I've pondered it a lot in the last few days. I even made a trip to the library to consult some of my favorite teachers on the matter. Ironically, as I was pulling into the library parking lot on Saturday morning on a mission to fetch insightful literature regarding human behaviors and relationships, I encountered two policemen escorting a man in handcuffs to a police vehicle. I don't know what he had done, but the presence of so much law enforcement both outside and inside the library did nothing to reassure me that peace within the City of Chandler was possible, let alone the world.

I let out a huge sigh, checked out my books, and came home to read them.

They really helped.

A person has to work hard at this staying peaceful business. Hate is blamed for everything, but what's at the root of hate? Fear. Why do some people hate African Americans? Fear. Why do some people hate homosexuals? Fear. Why do some people hate Muslims? Fear.

Fear leads to hate. Hate leads to anger. Anger leads to violence. Violence leads to harm, suffering, death, and more suffering. Aren't you tired of it? I am. And that's why I've vowed to try my hardest to work through feelings and emotions so that I end up in the right place. I want to be able to always end up at peace, and I mean about everything--even the little stuff. I've never been so angry that I wanted to kill anyone and I don't anticipate ever getting to that point, so I need to focus on these feelings at my own level. I don't want to grow impatient by the slow, elderly person in front of me in the grocery store check-out line. I don't want to be annoyed by the student who continuously talks back to me. I cannot give the lady who tried and almost succeeded at making me believe I was the horrible person that I always knew I really wasn't any more of my time and energy. Instead of dwelling on bad stuff, I want to be filled with gratitude and radiate peacefulness.

To do that, I have to work through my fears. If I sit with them and truly explore them, I can rise above my anger.

This gentleman and his groceries might make me late, but what's the worst thing that can happen if I'm late? 

This kid likely has a tougher life than I'll ever know; teaching him kindness through example rather than this math lesson is more important today. 

Her problems are far greater than mine, and if she finds comfort in blaming me for any of them then I am strong enough to endure it.

What if we all worked through our fears like that? Could world peace become a reality? Maybe. One thing's for sure: If we don't, Paris happens. 9/11 happens. Hiroshima and Nagasaki happen. (We mustn't forget that America is capable of and has done arguably worse than what we've seen of terrorism these past twenty years.)

I hope we never resort to such measures ever again. Maybe the only way to prevent such a re-occurence or wars or terrorism is to raise a new generation of peacemakers. What if we made it our job to not only work on finding peace within ourselves (in everything from being stuck in traffic to fighting wars) but to also teach our children to find their peace before their anger gets out of hand?

Beating that small stuff is just the start. If we as a human race master overcoming our fear, just imagine. War is such an outdated, barbaric practice. We humans are better than that. We're not wild animals; we're capable of reason. Why don't we?

Sports are Wasted on the Non-Sporty

I went to an NBA game last night. Hey, I'm surprised as you are.

Brian was awarded two tickets for working so hard on a project the last few months. He had to go in for a few weekends, work until 9 or 10 some nights, and answer several calls in the middle of the night. He deserved an award!

Our seats were at center court and in Row 5. Also included was a parking garage pass and admission to the arena's Blue Moon Club where we were treated to a free buffet meal including drinks.

Though we would never pay the $190 face value for those tickets and benefits, we had a good time living it up like we had. Except for when I felt guilty and like it was wasted on me. I think my brother would have loved this even more.

Pittsburgh. Mighty. Beautiful.

I was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Though I don't have plans to ever move back there, I will always consider it home.

Like any big city, there are some rough patches in Pittsburgh, but this video commercial for the city shows just about every bright spot. I have to wonder if they filmed it all on the same sunny day; I don't remember many of those, and I certainly don't miss the seemingly ever-present gray skies. However, I do miss the lack of sales tax on clothing. And my family. Of course, my family!

If you've never been, here's a quick overview of my hometown in glorious, fast-paced snippets.

Change in the Weather

How do I know it's finally fall in Arizona? The coconut oil in my pantry is solid again.

Maybe I'll use it to make pumpkin muffins tomorrow.