Monday, June 29, 2009

Logically Emotional

Why do we have to be ruled by our emotions?

Why are emotions so fickle?

Maybe vulcans have it right.

My emotions by affecting me – affects others.

I realize this logically, but ironically, it is those very emotions that keep me from acting on such logic.

Emotions run deep and can cause such conflicts. They continually get us in trouble as they trample our logic and speed haphazardly ahead to our downfall.

"Wait! Stop!" screams our logic, but the emotions stumble on, tripping and falling yet moving continually forward.

How do we tame them? How do we keep them in check?

Yet, there's the rub. Keeping emotions in check equals keeping them pent up inside. Keeping them pent up inside equals stress and physical maladies.

So the more difficult question is how to let the emotions out effectively keeping them bottled up until such outlet can be gained.

"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread."

Emotions make us human. Define us as individuals; allow us to experience some of the most jouful and intense moments of our lives.

Maybe it is vital that we experience such negative emotions in order to make the positive ones much more powerful.

But the eternal question will always remain how to balance emotional reactions with logical thought. To force ourselves to stop in a heated moment and again only when logic has had a chance to speak as well.

Such coupling will forever remain a task, easier for some, but a task all the same. But in order to experience the beautiful, life-changing, exciting moments, it is a task that is well worth the struggle.

When emotions trample my logic and stifle my productivity, logic must be allowed to stand up, wipe itself off, and take a breath.

It is a balancing act in need of a practiced acrobat.




Thursday, June 25, 2009

Let's see the ten things I like about summer:

1. Getting to see my daughter!
2. Spending time with friends.
3. Sitting on the back porch and reading.
4. The break from grading.
5. Getting to see my brother and his family.
6. Napping, napping, napping.
7. Sunshine and cool breezes.
8. No real schedule (at least starting Saturday).
9. Waching movies.
10. Getting to see my daughter.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Choking on Silence

Chocking on Silence


The silence was deafening.

The empty desk, the shocked classmates.

He's dead.

The news conveyed through an email.

What? Not possible!

He was in class just yesterday,

Healthy, happy, joking around.


His brother found him.

His brother will never be the same.

Rumors abound,

Students whisper,

Parents speak out.


A once lively young man, deceased.

And anger mixes in among the sadness.

Why?

Because of the deadly "game" the student "played,"

A young life is literally choked out.


Space Monkey, the Choking Game, Blackout….

This so-called game answers to many names –

Names both educators and parents should learn to recognize.


Keeping it a secret won't keep the kids from trying it.

They already know the details.

It's the educators and parents who need educating.

Ask the students – they'll tell you exactly what this game entails.


Why play?

The euphoric feeling experienced without drugs or alcohol.

Well-adjusted students find this a "legal" way to get high.

Kids egg others on – "It's no big deal, feels great, can't get hurt."

Wrong! NO safe way to "play".


Why dangerous?

Choking, cutting off the airway –

A necessity to achieve results.

And even if luck should have it, and death is deferred,

Brain cells die, brain damage occurs.


Yet the biggest danger may be the lack of adult knowledge

About a "game" that will only continue to morph

Into something

More addictive and secretive.


What can we do?

As educators and parents –

Arm ourselves with information

That we are not afraid or embarrassed to pass on.

Become familiar with the many different names:

Space Monkey, Fainting, Pass Out Game, Rising Sun,

Cloud Nine, Ghost, Purple Dragon….


Become familiar with the signs:

After being alone – disorientation,

Around the neck – red ligature marks,

Around the eyes – pinpoint bruising,

An unusual need for privacy,

Items – belts, t-shirts, bed sheets – tied in odd places….


Listen, listen, listen:

Pay attention, take a step.

We may be the last chance

Between that child and a noose –

Between a life saved and a life lost!


Knowledge is power –

Let's arm our children, not bury them.



Melissa Wilson

Dumas High School


For more information:


The DB Foundation: Dangerous Adolescent Behavior Education

www.thedbfoundation.com


GASP – info, along with a powerful video

www.stop-the-choking-game.com


Tweens & Teens News

http://teenandtweennews.com


Downs, Martin. "The Highest Price for Pleasure." Medicine Net

www.medicinenet.com





Wednesday, June 17, 2009

A Cycle of Influence

A family surrounds the hospital bed,

The raspy breath of a beloved becomes shallow and weak.
"How much longer?" her daughter questions shakily.

The silence – deafening,
Their tears – flow freely,
Their memories – rewind like an old movie,
Her death – heartbreaking,
Her influence – never forgotten.
The doctor whispers, "She's gone."

A family fills the waiting room,

The anticipated cry of a new life echoes stronger and louder.
"How much longer?" a new brother shouts excitedly.
The crying – musical,
Her smile – contagious,
Her memories – yet to be created,
Her birth – miraculous.
A grandmother's influence remains.
The doctor grins, "It's a girl."

A grandmother passes,
A grandchild is born,
Though their spirits may cross,
Their lives never touch.

They share a name,

They share a lineage,

They share another's love.
Forever separated in body,
Yet forever connected by a mother's influence.

The grandmother taught the mother,
The mother now teaches the daughter.
And the grandmother's beliefs, passed on by the daughter,
Become the bridge over the chasm of life and death.

And an influence now deceased,
Remains alive in another.

The years unfold – the child matures.
The mother passes,
A daughter remains,
A child is born.
And influence bridges the chasm between life and death,
Once again.

Melissa Wilson