Insomnia: Teacher Weights

Can't sleep. I'm up worrying about my student in the hospital.

It was such a good day. A summer Sunday. I slept in, finished Anne Tyler's A Spool of Blue Thread. Bisque and I walked two miles to the beach. We were sticky upon arrival, so the mighty cold lake felt refreshing. The life guard plopped his row boat three feet from us, the only swimmers, who were perpetually humming "Jaws" and splashing around. I watched the Tig Notaro doc on Netflix, curled up into my grey hoody, and napped because the sun was coming through the windows just so. And this new couch (we got a new couch!) was ever so inviting. Suddenly, I needed to be productive. I cycloned around the apartment for two hours cleaning the closets, recycling old documents, organizing my lip glosses hurled under the bathroom sink. Bisque went for a run, and we agreed to meet up at sunset on the rooftop pool at our gym. Humidity retired for the day, I laid contently in a sun chair watching the orange sky melt. I walked to CVS to use my coupon, and chocolate dusted almonds were on sale for six measly dollars, would you believe it?

Finally, in the deep dark of night, we turn off all the lights, dunk ginger snaps in milk, and watch MTV's Scream. Bisque reads aloud to me from a young adult book. Before bed I notice I have a work email. It's from this kid's mother.

This kid, this sweet, cheery (one would assume) kid is struggling again. Severe depression. Things were unsafe. What does that mean? Are they certainly safe now? I'm worried this good student is going to fail. This is the last week of the term. I'm worried this good person is going to die. I can't stop thinking about it and wondering what else I could have done. Did this kid know I cherish all of my students? That the essays this kid writes are excellent, and that's not something I write on every paper? Please keep this kid alive, I keep repeating. Repeat One, like the button on a Discman. Keep this kid alive.

And now I'm worried for them all. Tomorrow is the final exam. I want them all to pass so badly it bunches my guts. They won't. That one missed, like, 6 classes and two essays. He doesn't have the practice hours in. This one can't implement verb agreement. And this person doesn't understand "logic" "proof" these things are nothing to him. "Meet me before the exam! Anytime. Email me. Send me practice paragraphs, grammar questions. I'm here from you." I checked my email devoutly all weekend. Nothing. And some of them really needed it. Nothing. Until now. Now I have one new email from the mother of the special kid. Please keep alive.

Little Feeling of Freedom

Hunny texted me to ask if I had seen the video Taylor Swift put on her Insta tonight. Apparently she was hosting her best friend's birthday, so she hired a member of Dashboard Confessional to sing an old favorite song of theirs live. The song is "Hands Down"--an old fave of me an Hunny's also. Aw, it's like, their friendship is the same as our friendship. Except for a few million dollars. I went to the Instagram account and immediately remembered why I wasn't following it. Taylor Swift's life in pictures makes me hate mine.

In reality, I'm doing pretty well, and I am generally happy. I wouldn't ask for much to be different right now. I think I'm where I need to be. But...maybe I could have a mansion and hire rock stars for fun and also have very cute blond hair. I KNOW for a FACT, it's not as easy or exciting as it seems in pictures. I KNOW, but it's so hard to believe when all the squares are just so.

Why do I follow any celebrities on Instagram? I guess I figured I liked them so I would like seeing them? But, um, hold on, can we talk about how destructive that is. Waiting for the bus, casually scroll through people way richer and skinnier and "loved" than you. And then go on with your life. It seems like a highly unhealthy way to pass time throughout the day.

I have stopped following all the celebs I did on Instagram. I wondered, "But I want to keep up." With WHAT? I'm going to see the TV Show/movie/hear the record etc. I don't need to see the boats and the trip to Europe and the new headshot with fifty thousand comments. There are other things that are more important! Look at those.

"Mental Health Issue"

It is totally valid to say the amount of violence in this country is rooted in mental health issues. But that doesn't mean guns aren't ALSO an issue. Surprisingly, large societal problems can have many factors! Who knew! People say the unwell will be violent if their mind is set. Sure, but I'd still much rather meet a crazy person on the street with a knife rather than a crazy person with a gun. Also, don't tell me people will have guns illegally no matter what. That's true, but the amount of guns all over the dang place WILL decrease with stricter policies, more background checks. They just will. Decreasing is important. Decreasing matters to the person who wasn't shot.

So, anyway. I have a lot to say about this topic, but my particular soapbox for this evening is no one is doing anything about the mental health issues. The only time I even hear about the mental health problem is when someone is like "Hey, consider supporting more gun control in this election." "Will you sign this petition?" And then people opposed to gun control are like, "Yeah, no because it's a mental health issue" and then they usually proceed to do nothing to contribute to better mental health. If you don't want to help end violence by writing your congressperson, signing the documents, etc. then fine. But, come on, do SOMETHING.

You walk by someone being strangled. The victim screams, "Help me! This person is trying to stab me with a broken bottle!" You don't say, "No, I'm pretty sure you're being strangled." You don't get into a debate about it. You don't make a Facebook status about if broken bottles or strangling is worse. You solve the problem anyway you can.