Graph#1 and Graph#2

                                                                  My Hands

            When I look at my hands, I see oversized knuckled fingers with wrinkled skin. I’m part oriental; shouldn’t I have nice smooth tiny hands? What happened there? Can you say “Awkward!” going to have a manicure done by a little oriental girl with hands twice as small as mine? Ok, so maybe I am overly exaggerating a little, but they are “my” hands.  However, when I look over to my left hand and see all those shiny diamonds, I can’t help but to feel finally accepted and truly happy. But it also reminds me how my hands got to be the way they are now. Seeing the obvious doesn’t always speak for itself, but to look back in life, it makes more sense.  Look, I am a forty year old woman and not on my first marriage. In between lives I worked very hard as a single parent. Most single parents understand what I mean. You are hands on at everything and work diligently at whatever had to be done, never stopping to care for one’s self. So, in fairness of the rough outlook on my hands, it had soothed my children when Mommy held their hands or wiped their foreheads when they were sick. Of course working at its best is when I would groom my hands through their hair after a nightmare or just holding them on a bad day. It made them feel secured and loved, as it still does. On a humorous, yet personal side, my husband loves to kiss my hands. It makes me feel like royalty! I know, it’s crazy, but he wants to let me know how much my hands are important. Get your mind out of the gutter! It’s called love and appreciation. It’s because of all the hard work I do at home; dishes three to four times a day, scrubbing the floors, digging in the garden, folding laundry, walking the dogs, so on and so on. And that’s after we get home from work! So, I guess regardless of how or what I think of my hands, I have learned that there are others who appreciate them and see them differently. Apparently, having caring and hardworking hands is what life has given me and that I can be proud of.

                                                            

                                                            Worse Teacher

                        I have to say that it took all the way until my senior year of high school before I truly experienced a “bad teacher”. And not like the movie either! I have come across a few teachers that I could care less for, but obviously they did not impact my life enough to remember them.  I did have a teacher for half the year for a Government class and not to name any names, so let’s call him Mr. Wag. First I want to say, by no means, was he a mean or rude teacher, but he was “jock” posing as a teacher. When I mean is his brain was thinking sports, when his mouth was supposed to teach government. Do you know what I mean? He would sit at his desk and dictate what chapter to read in class, while he sat at his desk and read Sports Illustrated! No interaction at all, except when he tried to relate the similarities between Congress and  baseball. Who learns this way? And if so, what do they learn? In my case it was to not like the class. And I like baseball! Even better, when we had our quizzes, it served as our “Chapter review”. Answers you had which were wrong, you had to figure out why. Wow, what a great class it was, not! I always tried to find something intriguing about all of my classes, but  it just was not working in this class. Needless to say, I don’t remember anything that I learned or did I learn anything? Just that it was the worse class and the worse teacher that I had. I would have expected more from a teacher and even though there were some teachers I was not too fond of, I grew to understand why. They pushed me to work harder and to achieve my abilities and accomplishments. When I was younger, I did not appreciate them as much. As an adult, I can understand the difference and this is where I realize what makes the worse teacher. It is not the ones that made you feel stupid because you got your answers wrong or wanted you to stay after school to get extra help, but it’s the ones that do not put the effort in to really teach, hence the word “teacher’. They are the worse teachers in my book. With that said, I am glad I only had to endure that situation once in my life and in hopes it stays that way.