"Mrs. Ferri, are you really telling kids that they can't say 'no homo'?"
The question took me aback for a minute, just like hearing a few boys casually toss this phrase around my classroom the week before had. I love my middle schoolers dearly and think the world of them, which makes it even more disturbing to hear such ugly things come out of their mouths sometimes. I spent a few nights stewing on this and sent an e-mail to our counseling department to circle back and teach intentionally to these moments. When I started to look through the resources they gave me, the whole thing got bigger for me. What if, I thought, the expository writing we need to practice anyway is timed at a perfect intersection with some real life applicability? What if my students would actually be the better teachers?
I spent the weekend putting together a project for my Pre AP students, including the class with the harmful phrase hockey, where they will do the work to teach each other w…
In case you're ever wondering what the rules of etiquette are for talking to a woman about her body or her weight, and especially for those who aren't wondering and think they already know, here are a few tips:
2. Don't talk about her weight.
3. At all.
4. Unless you are her doctor or trainer or nutritionist... then it might be okay.
5. Otherwise, don't do it.
News flash- I'm pregnant. My body is doing the miraculous work of growing a baby, one that I hope and pray is healthy. If she is, she's getting bigger. If she's getting bigger, then I am too. That's the way it works. I can see this in the mirror as I try to find clothes in my closet that will stretch over her for the home stretch. I can feel it in my cankles and my puffy feet through long days of teaching. I notice as I'm trying to sneak through tight spaces but bulldoze instead and as I catch bits of lunch on the bump that might have previously fallen to the floor (talk about a …
Despite having the appetite of a
truck driver and an intense aversion to vomit, I was diagnosed with having an eating
disorder numerous times. I was never diagnosed by a doctor because I never
actually had a disorder, but that didn't really matter to the number of people
who came to their own conclusions anyway. This diagnosis was made by the critical
eyes of strangers and the unkind whispers behind my back from “friends” and
people with “concerns” who voiced their opinions through most of my teenage
years. Up until that point, I had experienced enough unconditional love from my
parents and “Ah, I remember the glory days when I was that thin… was I ever
that thin?”comments that I had a healthy sense of self-confidence in my “skinny
minnie” status. As a teenage girl, however, the things people said about me
became who I was and how I saw myself. The confident toothpick turned into a
blubbering mess in a dressing room being lectured by her mom that she would
never love the clot…