An Edgy Mind

Sometimes, edginess is more of a mindset and less of my refusal to wear a sweater set. It can mean pushing the limits with new trends, but it can also mean getting a little too involved with your students. And no, I do not mean the Mary Kay LeTourneau kind of involved. I consider myself to be a compassionate person, I mean, why get into teaching if you don't actually care about the kids (you'd be surprised...). Besides caring about the kids, anyone who knows me knows that another passion of mine is animals (or are they one in the same?) Put the two together and I'm in big trouble.

The students learned pretty early on about my love for four legged creatures. On the first day, they were greeted with my bearded dragon, Julius Caesar, as well as a collection of photos of my other pets at home. When we read our first novel about starvation in Africa, I could not hide my tears when the protagonist had to say goodbye to his beloved pet, Khamba. For these reasons and more, a student, we'll call her T, approached me one November morning.

"Ms. Edgy, can I talk to you about something?"
"Of course!" (boy trouble, too much homework, fighting with mom?)
"So, I know you like animals and everything, and I have a problem with a cat..."
"A cat??"
"Yeah. My neighbors had this cat and one day they decided to throw it out and now it always comes around my house crying and begging for food. My mom won't let me bring it inside and I don't know what to do. I really want to help him."

First of all, her neighbors "threw it out"? Is it a banana peel? Or is it a living, breathing, adorable creature? What is wrong with people? I'm not going to dive too deep into my feelings here, because I might never come back to the surface, but let's just said it took a lot for me not to knock on this neighbor's door and give her a piece of my mind.

My first thought was to call Animal Care and Control, but I was told they often euthanize animals due to overcrowding. It's heart breaking, but sometimes I wonder if that's a better option than succumbing to life in a tiny cage. Then, a lightbulb went off. I volunteered at a shelter in the summer and they were wonderful people. Better yet, they don't even have cages. Instead, the cats get free reign of the top floor of the shelter with city views, comfy beds and food galore. It's basically cat heaven. I contacted the owner who said she would be happy to make room for this poor kitty if we brought him in. Here comes the problem. How to trap a cat who roams the streets of one of Chicago's roughest neighborhoods (another reason why it would  not have been a good idea to give that neighbor a piece of my mind).

I brought T my cat carrier and told her I would be willing to come help her out, but even she looked at me like I was insane.

"Ms. Edgy, no way! There are bad people in my neighborhood!"

Yet another bigger picture issue here: the fact that my own students have to live in the midst of horrible gang violence and crime, but I digress. T said she would try her best to lure the cat with treats and we'd go from there.

Anyone who knows anything about Chicago knows that besides it's horrible gang infestations, it's also unbearable come winter time, this particular winter especially and it pained me to think about that cat shivering on the streets. I was thrilled when T texted me, "I got him!" Now the problem became transport. T lived in basically another world from me, and relied on public transportation. I considered driving out to grab the cat, but was even warned against going to this area by a police officer friend. What to do...

Our only hope was for T to keep the cat overnight and bring it on the bus to school the next day where I could meet her. It was a risky plan because A.Her mom wouldn't let her bring the cat inside the house for the night and B. Could she really bring this cat on a 40 minute bus ride?

I thought we would have to abandon ship when T's aunt said the cat could remain overnight in her basement. This amazing young student even transported him all the way on the bus, amid a screaming cat and deathly stares from other passengers. Long story short, I met T at the bus stop and brought the cat to the shelter where it lived three happy months before its adoption.

Sometimes being edgy pays off. 

The Father, The Son, and The Holey Top

So, I really wanted to go with the trendy teacher, but alas, it was taken so edgy educator it is! But truly, I am an educator, (I teach 9th grade English) and as for the edginess-- I guess I can be rather edgy. I've been blogless for awhile now, and I was waiting until I truly found a unique idea to pursue my blogging career. Maybe you remember me from, "The Many Things I Hate," a blog designated to exactly that. While there are always things to hate on, I felt the negativity was weighing me down, so hopefully this will be (slightly) more positive. Anyway, back to trendy teaching and edgy education, in my mind, both sort of oxymorons.

Fashion and teaching. They just can't seem to coexist and this is a big problem for me because I really love both. Unfortunately this predicament almost cost me my career in my first year of teaching. There I am, Spring of 2011, pastel palettes abounding, skinny jeans skimming the runways. So, I'm working in a Catholic school (I'm Jewish- but that's another story), and I get a curious email from the principal wanting to see me in her office. There had been a smattering of teacher dress code violations as of late, but looking down at my crochet top, cardigan and pale blue pants, I could see no issue at hand. My coworker had been called out earlier in the week for her "too-short" skirt. Apparently it was a distraction to the young Catholic school girls. Her pasty, unshaven legs were making the ladies hot. Back to my story, I saunter down the hall casually checking out my adorable tunic in the mirror as I pass. Crochet was all the rage back that season. Today that top sits in a salvation army bin in the city, as it was just so 2011. Clearly, Principal (we'll call her C) does not read In Style. She gave me one look up and down and shook her finger. "Oh no no no, we can't have that!"
At this point I knew she meant my outfit, but I was unsure of which part.

"What?!" I asked, shocked and red in the face.
She didn't seem to know what exactly she was looking at, so she replied, "Your dress, it's too short!"

Dress? WTF Principal C? It was a tunic from Anthropologie. Tunics had been around since the dawn of time. Her main man Jesus Christ even rocked the tunic.

"Dr. C, surely you are mistaken. This is a tunic! See, I'm wearing pants." I did a little twirl. She was unimpressed.

"Okay, well then, your top. It's inappropriate. It's see-through. There's holes!"

Again, it was a tunic and yes, it was crocheted, hence the white camisole underneath. There wasn't an inch of skin for these apparently hot and bothered Catholic girls to catch a glimpse.

At this point, I was on the verge of tears.

"I only see two options here. You can put on a school uniform or go home for the day."

School uniform?! These girls wore the classic plaid skirts and polos, knee socks and sweaters. How on earth a plaid mini skirt would be a better option baffled me. At the same time, it was a beautiful Spring day, and I felt like a shopping spree might be just what I needed. I was out.

"Dr. C, I think I am going to call it a day."

Later, I received an email from Dr. C informing me that it wasn't her doing to dismiss me for the day, it was one of the Sisters who had complained. A Sister? How could a Sister judge fashion. The antithesis of fashion, the "habit", hadn't changed since the days of yore. Couldn't the Pope, or whoever the nuns report to, allow for a shorter hemline over the years? Maybe jazz it up with some color? I mean no disrespect, I'm truly amazed that there are still women in the world that are willing to give up their lives for God and religion, however, I don't judge you for your penguin-like get up, so let's agree to disagree here.

Looking back, I so should have put on that Catholic school girl uniform. Show 'em some leg.