Category Archives: Thought of the Day

Thought of the Day

Being a Teacher: Does it ever get Better?

I’m one of those stupid people who decided at a very young age to become a teacher.  I knew there wasn’t money in it, but at the time, teachers made enough to get by and I figured that was good enough and that I would be happy.  Teaching was all I ever wanted to do, and I couldn’t wait to have my own classroom.

Teaching was fun.  It was my passion and my life.  I loved the kids, the faculty and even my principal.  I lived in a small town and taught kids of former classmates and later on, kids of former students.  I woke up most days looking forward to my day.  I’ve taught over 20 years and felt like I had a pretty good handle on things, but lately, I’ve come to realize just how miserable teaching has become and how broken-hearted I’ve become over the corruption of my profession.

Due to money and politics, we’ve thrown common sense out the door as well as anything that was important for the well-being of our students.  Now, instead of teaching, we test.  And once we have data, we test again.  Then we test again to see if THAT test correlates with the last test we gave them.  Then we look at data, and look at data, and look at data. We post to the wall of shame so that all the other teachers see how low our kids are and whether or not we’ve “moved them up” or “let them drop.” And then we put the kids in front of these nifty little computer programs we purchased for a cool million or two.  (I wish I could say this is a joke, but it’s not!)

Then we teach in small groups while the rest are working on computers again. Then we retest.  And if the poor kids haven’t figure out how to test better, they end up missing out on their “fun” classes so they can go to intensive classes where they can use DIFFERENT but equally expensive computer programs. Being a kid in school today absolutely sucks!  Being a teacher isn’t much better!  After all, the districts are so busy trying to “teacher-proof” the curriculum, a professional educator no longer gets much choice in how to teach their lessons anymore.  Remember those great lessons you had from the teachers you’ll never forget?  Well, they don’t exist anymore and YOUR child will never have those experiences.

You see, the problem is that we’ve lost our minds.  Education has become a source of big bucks for these testing companies.  They make the tests and give the tests.  The teacher can’t look at them to even know what’s on them or if they are accurate tests.  The company sells the tests to the school districts and then grades the tests and delivers the scores.  The score levels are subject to change based on some super secret formula they use to determine what is passing and what isn’t.  And if kids are failing (many of them do) The company then has a nifty little two-million dollar program available to your students to keep your school from being a failing school.  Being a failing school is bad and only kids who have no transportation to better schools get stuck at the failing schools.  Then the failing schools lose more students and with the loss of students comes the loss of teachers which causes classes to be overcrowded. We all know that BIGGER classes help kids get higher scores on these stupid tests, right?  The poor teachers that remain are threatened that if their school continues to fail, they will be punished even though they are doing the best they can with the students they have.   Does any of this make sense to you? Me neither!

It’s like spreading a disease and then selling the cure!  But nobody seems to care.  We teachers are threatened with “involuntary transfers,” loss of funding, meetings with the administrators, increased class sizes and workloads (I’m doing two jobs right now for one paycheck and nobody bats an eye), and Lord help us when the parents call us up and cuss us out because we had the nerve to hold their child for a few minutes during recess time because said child hadn’t completed their work. And yet, if that child doesn’t do well on the state test, the teacher gets blamed.  When did the teachers become the enemy?

The bottom line is that teaching is no longer teaching.  We are testing facilitators, bullied workers, parent chew toys, and the punching bags of society.  Whenever someone posts a photo of misspelled words, some smart ass always makes a rude comment about teachers or public schools.  Why is it our fault when students refuse to learn?  Frankly I’m sick of giving so much for so little.  I’m a hard worker with a variety of skills and yet I work for pennies and get treated like trash.  What the HELL is wrong with me?

I’ve come to the conclusion that being a teacher is a “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” kind of job.  If I do everything I’m told to do by my district and my students fail, it’s MY fault.  If I use every single program and follow every rule and yet the kids fail, it’s still my fault.  When kids don’t come to school, don’t do their work, misbehave and refuse to learn, it’s STILL my fault.  When parents tell me that their child shouldn’t have to read or do work and yet their child won’t do well on the test unless they actually come to school and participate, it’s STILL my fault.

The students’ scores become MY cross to bear.  My sin, my shame.  My scarlet letter, but instead of an A, it’s a big fat F!  There’s nothing quite like being told, “You had the lowest gains in the school!”  No,  the students I had assigned to me had the lowest gains.  I can’t make them want to learn, come to school, or even try.  Maybe the wonderful testing companies could make even more money if they could solve those problems.  Teachers just can’t win.

Testing companies, on the other hand, are sitting pretty.  Your kids are failing our tests?  That’s ok!  We’ve have a solution!  We just need a few million for implementation of “bestsuperdupertesttakers.com” to help your students show gains on the next test!

Oh, it didn’t work?  Well, we’re sure it’s not the program. Obviously you didn’t implement with fidelity.

If only I were a better teacher…

Thought of the Day

The Importance of School-Wide Reads and Working Together as a Faculty

 

This is a letter I wrote to my fellow teachers last year but then didn’t send it out for fear of offending.  I look back now and wish I had had the nerve to hit that send button.  Today there is no school-wide read.  It’s a huge loss, and one that some don’t even realize yet.

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One of the quirks about working in a library with lots of visitors is hearing about the progress in different classes.

So far, I’ve heard from many students and teachers that they and you love the Drums, Girls & Dangerous Pie book and how many of you are taking the time to stop and smell the roses along the way, so to speak.  I’ve even had kids tell me about your reading styles, your emotions during the book and how some of you get so mad or sad you even come close to tears.  They are in love with you and they love the effort you’re putting into making the book “come to life,” as some have even said. Students coming from these classes come in and have discussions with me and other students about what’s going on in the chapters and how things are “messed up,” for Steven or how it’s scary that Jeffrey is suffering.  I’ve even had kids tell me they really like hearing some of music mentioned in the story.  They are discovering the book, enjoying the book, and learning from you and about you!

 

Unfortunately, I feel that maybe others may think that the whole purpose of the school-wide read is to get through the book as fast as possible.  There are classes that are far, far ahead and students from these groups mainly talk about how they can’t wait to finish the book.  Little else is said.  There’s little empathy for the characters and not much insight into the details of the story. Developing empathy and insight is a process that requires time.  Something that’s not being considered by some.  This is the same mind-set some kids get who want the grade and just don’t care how they go about getting it.  Please don’t make the mistake of missing the real point and purpose of our school-wide read.

 

A school-wide read is not really about points, that’s just a way to track progress.  It’s not really about a grade either. That’s just the formality that comes with our educational system.  It’s really about bonding with each other, having a connection between gender, races, religions and even age groups.  It’s about having a mutual topic of conversation, a way to ensure that everyone is part of the school, the team, the FAMILY.  It’s a chance for you to share your life experiences and allow your students to discover the “person” inside the teacher.  It’s a chance for your students, with your guidance, to develop a love for reading. That’s a gift you can give them that will far outlast anything else we could possibly teach them this year.

 

By rushing this process, your students miss out on the time needed to digest the chapters, to form opinions about the events and the actions of the characters and you miss those golden teachable moments that you could be having as you build that invaluable teacher/student relationship.  I’m not saying your not having any success, but think of how much MORE you could be having with a little more focus and time spent delving into deeper meaning, instead of just reading straight through the book.

 

There are no prizes for those who finish first when it comes to a school-wide read, but there are certainly a few disadvantages in the long run. Don’t lose sight of the purpose in all of this.  If we really value and want single-school culture, we have to make it happen by giving consideration to the structure provided and the time line we’re being asked to follow.

 

It’s not my intention to offend you, my friends and colleagues.  You are amazing, hard-working and certainly the most unique, loving family any of us could ever ask for. You work miracles in your room on a daily basis and make our kids feel valued.  Sometimes I think we’re the ones who are most able to put these kids on the right path if they’ve strayed and we’re the ones who give them hope that they CAN be successful. I respect what you do and I’m here to be a part of the process with our reading and to support you in whatever way I can to help you be the best reading teacher you can be.

 

I’m asking you to consider my words with an open mind, without taking offense or feeling like I’m pointing a finger at you.  I’m not trying to do that to you, not even one little bit.  But I do feel the need to explain why we need to work as one unit on this. I want everyone to understand the “method behind the madness” here so we don’t lose track of what’s really important and why we are doing this in the first place.

 

Consider this:  If you can apply enough heat, pressure, and just the right amount of time to a piece of coal, you will get a diamond. Don’t we want all of our students to be diamonds?

Thought of the Day

The Red Truck

There I was, walking down the sidewalk in front of the oldest building at Interlachen High School, the old white, original school from the late 1800’s, Yeah, it’s that old. We were headed towards the intersection, Uncle Robbie and I.  Why?  I have no idea!

It was a scene change in a dream and a small part of me was lucid enough to know that.  Just seconds before, for unknown reasons now,  I had been backing our little truck down a road and almost been hit by a semi.  My kids were on the side of the road and my heart stopped thinking the semi was going to hit them, but instead, my mind protected my fragile state as it usually does when it comes to my loved ones and the semi miraculously missed them and me.  But the wheel barrow I had left on the the side of the road was gone, stolen by a passing pickup truck. I was furious and confused as to why I had left a wheel barrow there in the first place.

Then I was suddenly enjoying a leisurely walk with Uncle Robbie, my daddy’s younger brother,  in front of the school in Interlachen. Such is my crazy dream world and fortunately for the sake of my sanity, I’m very familiar with it.

We reached the corner and waited on the light to change.  Cars and trucks passed in front of us at a small town pace as we enjoyed the weather and talked about nothing.  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of  a pretty red truck.  It stopped briefly for the light, then with the arrow, turned directly in front of us and rolled to a stop.

I looked up at the driver just as Robbie exclaimed, “Well I’ll be dog gone!” and the man in the truck waved us over with a big smile and called out, “Get in!”

Without hesitation we ran.  Robbie jumped in the back seat on the driver’s side so I ran around the back of the truck and jumped in the front passenger’s side.

Oh the feelings that hit me!  First the overwhelming shock!  There sat my daddy, happy, ruddy-faced, smiling that big smile of his while his blue-eyes sparkled bright with good humor.  The first thought as I turned to look at him was how lucky he happened to be coming by while we were walking!

And then the second wave of emotion hit me with the force of a hurricane.  I realized my reality. He wasn’t suppoed to be here! Even after two years, the depth of my loss when he passed away has been almost too painful to bear.  To see him once again made my heart feel like it would burst with happiness.  I suddenly felt relief too, knowing he was there in front of me, not beyond my reach anymore.  He was there and we could finally talk. Oh the things I needed to hear from him and wanted to say!

I slid all the way over to him and hugged him tight, resting my head on his shoulder and tucking in so close I could smell his cologne.  He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer for a tight hug.

Oh the tears!  I felt them coming and couldn’t stop.  I felt Daddy pat my shoulder like he used to do whenever he hugged me.  I cried harder.  He patted me and whispered, “Stop.  Stop.”

My tears blurred my vision as I gazed at my Daddy’s kind face. Reality began to seep into my dream and I noticed a sudden shift around me. I felt myself leaving the scene, drifting up like we often imagine souls do when they pass from this life.  I wanted to stay. I struggled to stay!  I wanted to talk to him.  I needed to hear what he had to say; ease my broken heart, just a little if I could.  But my tears had effectively invaded my physical world and were dragging me away, kicking and screaming.   I woke up sobbing with wet streaks down my face and my breath catching in my throat.

It was exactly 5:38 am this morning. There’s nothing significant about that time really.  It’s the time I wake up for work every morning, but today is Sunday, not a workday.  It’s close to the time I used to get up every morning when I was a little girl just to drink coffee with my Daddy.  Mine was more milk than coffee, but it didn’t matter.  I was with my Daddy. It was our tradition and I never missed it!

My dreams about Daddy always sneak up on me.  It’s as if he’s watching and somehow manages to hijack whatever mundane scene I find myself in.  I never see it coming.  He’s just there and at first, I forget he shouldn’t be. And when I realize this, my heart feels the loss, full force, all over again.

I always say that next time I’m going to talk with him, but so far, my tears never allow that to happen and I’m yanked back to reality and left a sobbing, sniffling mess. At least this time, he spoke to me.

Twice!

I’ll take what I can get. For now.

I love you Daddy. I’ll see you again.  Soon.

___________________________________________________________________

Photo credit: bionicteaching via Visual hunt / CC BY-SA

Thought of the Day

Dear Daddy

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Dear Daddy,

I had that dream again.  I came to the house to check on something for Mama.  It seemed she had a duct leak somewhere in the ceiling and drops of water were dripping down on a little desk in the room, ruining God knows what. There were people there, cleaning or working on things.  I don’t know which.  But as I rounded the corner in the hallway to come into the living room, there you were again, just like the last time I dreamed about Mama and the house.

You were sitting in your chair with your slippered feet propped up and coffee in your hand.  I know it was my imagination, just wishful thinking or even my eyes playing tricks on me.  But you were there!  Your blue eyes bright and smiling, you face ruddy with health and your brown curly hair thick and slicked back as only you could wear it.  That spotless white t-shirt and blue jeans without a flaw completed my image.  There you sat, as if the last 20 years had never happened!

Yes, that’s what it had to be, just my mind playing a horrible trick on me. I was seeing you there because I wanted to see you there so badly. I closed my eyes and listened to your voice as you talked and laughed and I waited for the memory to fade away.  But it didn’t!

I opened my eyes and  you were still there, and Mama was just sitting in her spot smiling and looking like the happiest woman on earth.  Another worker made her path through the living room and passed right between yours and Mama’s chairs, nodding her head at both of you.

I was so shocked, I didn’t even speak to you, even though I had years of words I wanted to say, hugs I wanted to give and receive, and sweet whispered encouragement I needed to hear from you and no one else.  I walked right by you, trying hard to ignore my obvious insanity and not look where you sat. My logic insisted I was having a breakdown.  Facts were facts, after all.

You were gone from Earth in a blink of an eye, your body devastated for years by a cruel and relentless disease.  A weaker man couldn’t have fought as well as you did nor would he have had the inner strength to press on, even when it seemed God had forsaken you. You never wavered in your belief.  You never doubted God’s plan for you and for your family.  You were our rock and shelter, no matter what you were forced to endure.

But even the strongest of wills must eventually succumb to a frail body. You passed peacefully after a week of Hell, hooked up to more wires and tubes than I have ever seen on a single person.  You moved on to your well-deserved reward, but a piece of me was forever ripped out. I was now a fatherless child even though I have children of my own.

I couldn’t help but stare, and yes!  You were there, patting your cheek with one hand as if you, too, couldn’t believe it was full and smooth instead of sunken and wrinkled.  I asked Mama to follow me to the other room, but I never said a word to you.

“How can this be?” I demanded of her, “You see him sitting there too, don’t you?”

“Yes, Debra!  He’s here!” She was beaming with unmeasured joy and happiness. “I don’t know how, but I know he’s here and it’s not our imagination!”

“But how is this possible?” I asked and started to cry.  “This doesn’t make sense.  He can’t be here.”

“But he is!” she said as she held me by my shoulders and then hugged me tight as I sobbed uncontrollably, now believing the miracle I was seeing.

Then I woke up.

It’s the worst dream I’ve ever had.  It’s something inside of me that feels I should suffer, I guess. I think I’ve accepted your loss, and then my mind does a whammy on me, plays a cruel trick.

I live with guilt and I know it. I wasn’t the best daughter and I said things that I will regret for the rest of my life, and I wasn’t there in your life at times because I didn’t think you really wanted me to be.  I allowed my sisters to tell you things that simply weren’t true and I never defended myself.  I foolishly assumed you would believe them over me, so I didn’t bother to try.  I even listened to some of the mean words they told me you said about me, and I took them to heart, hardening that heart against you, the very man by which I measured all other men.  How stupid of me! Now I regret not just going to you directly.  I see now that you would never have done that.  You loved me and you were proud of me, no matter what.

But in my dream, I still don’t have the words to say.  I stare at you in shock, then leave the room to ask Mama if I’ve really gone crazy.  Both times I’ve dreamed this, she assures me that you are really there, but I know it’s too good to be true, so I wake up crying that wailing, heartbroken cry of pain from one who has lost someone they deeply loved, someone who made the world a better, brighter place.

I am too old to believe in Lazarus miracles, even though I did pray that God would come down and heal you as you lay dying.  I wanted to believe he would make an exception for you. I want to believe that God is here for each of us and isn’t too wrapped up in running a universe to care about the specks of dust we are. I want to believe it’s all gonna be ok.

As I sit here mulling over my dream of you, I wonder if you are somehow sending me a message.  Mama tells me each time, “He’s really here!” and she’s so happy, not just holding it together for our sake and her own sanity.  She’s happy beyond measure.

Do I hope that you are here watching over her, making sure she’s safe?  Do I read it as a message of faith that you are still in our lives in spirit, no longer suffering from the frailties of your human form? Is it a sign that you’re happy and content with the legacy you left behind?  I don’t really know at this point.

I do know one thing, however.  The next time I have this dream, you and I are going to have a very long talk.  I miss you, Daddy.

With love always,

Your eldest daughter Debra

 

Thought of the Day

Old Email

I created this blog with the best intentions. I wanted to write and be able to share that writing with the one or two people who might happen to stop by. And then life happened.

Since starting this page, I’ve been through a few major “issues.”

  • my dad died. My mother and sister had him removed from life support and then called to tell me they had done so. He died before I reached the hospital.
  • my mother decided she didn’t want anything to do with me or my kids. It’s been 18 months since she’s spoken to me.
  • one of my sisters evolved from “pain in the ass” to “bitch from hell”. She’s the main reason my mother hates me.
  • one of my bosses set out to undermine me and came pretty darn close to completely destroying my self-confidence. She’s moved on to another job where she continues to make others want to die.
  • I came to the realization that old friends I had left behind should have stayed left behind (people just don’t change, you know!). I guess it would have helped if I hadn’t look like Shamu when we met in person after 20 years.

And in the process of all this, I sank into a deep depression that left me empty enough to consider calling it quits. It’s a little scary admitting that, even now. Thank God for a husband/best friend who never gave up on me and helped me get things sorted out to a somewhat “normal” life again. And without medication, I might add!

Today I decided to export some emails from one account to another, most of them work related. I have this fear that if I lose these contacts or the info in the emails, I’ll regret it. It’s just easier to hold on to things until you know for sure you don’t need them anymore.

These certain emails are ones I’ve sent over the last 5 years. I saw my replies to the many, MANY demands from that boss I mentioned. Every single time I answered as kindly as possible, but it never did any good. She hated me, but needed me to do the things she didn’t know how to do. (There were a lot of things she didn’t know how to do!) I even discovered how a document I spent hours and hours creating and editing ended up in the hands of a person who changed a couple of words and then shared it as her own work. My boss had forwarded to her. Thanks, boss. The person fancies herself a writer. I wonder who else she copies?

I found emails that reminded me of the time I was accused of not knowing how to do my job, by a person who was mad at me because I wouldn’t let her walk all over me. One day, I’m going to tell the world about that evil asshole. She’s had one daughter arrested already and the other is just as bad. Maybe that’s her own private hell? That could explain why she attacks others. But she’s earned an infamous place in my story. One day.

I found many, many emails I sent to our company’s tech guy. He’s made my life hell since he started with us. From blocking my websites to disconnecting my computer, running me down and lying to my boss and even cancelling an order for software I needed, he’s been on my most hated list for a while now. Reading those emails still makes me mad as hell. His arrogance finally cost him though! I recently got a phone call from a friend in the IT department letting me know that jerk had pissed off too many people and got his ass fired! I went out to celebrate that night!

I think I ‘ll hold on to those emails for a while just to remind myself why I hated that man so much. And the woman with the “sweet” daughters with arrest records. And the worst boss I’ve EVER had.

Yes, I’ll keep them for a while. You see, I’m one of those who wants people to be good and I’m far too willing to forgive. But… I can’t let myself forget.

I have this fear that I am a victim. I imagine have the word written on my forehead for the whole world to see even though I’ve spent my entire life trying to make myself believe that I’m strong, capable, and a protector of others. NOT a victim. MY biggest fear. The evidence seems to be there and yet I continue to deny it! I AM NOT A VICTIM!

And yet.

My emails say I am. The old letters from my mother sneer that I am. The friends who only call me when they need something SCREAM that I am.

And yet.

And yet.

I know my emails, my letters, help me guard my heart against future hurt. But do I really need to guild myself with the pain in those words? I AM strong. And most importantly, I have a family who adores me and I have friends who would show up in minutes if I only asked. Even if I’m not the happy person I would like to be.

I am not a victim, am I? I’m a kind-hearted, loving person who is loved in return.

Maybe I should just hit “delete” and let the words fade away.

I am not a victim.

Thought of the Day

You just can’t fix crazy!

IMG_1248“You can’t reason with the unreasonable,” my father says. He usually shakes his head and makes this statement as I finish complaining about how crazy people can be and how they do or say some of the dumbest or meanest things in order to get their way. When will I ever learn?

My most recent dive into insanity began innocently enough with Facebook a few months ago. I was lurking around reading about all the wonderful activities my friends were involved in while I was sitting at home being envious of their action-packed lives. I noticed that one of my friends had liked a page about rescuing animals in my area. The page looked promising. It appeared to be set up to help our local animal control shelter find homes for its animals.

A Kill Shelter

Sadly, ours is a kill shelter, so I figured this page was a great way to get the word out there about these animals. So many of our community members don’t seem to be aware this place even exists and animals sent here usually have only 5-7 days before they are put down. I instantly liked the page and began sharing photos with my friends hoping someone would be able to adopt these poor babies on “death row”.

Every few days, new photos were posted and I dutifully shared them. With tears in my eyes, I read the captions on the photos of the ones who didn’t make it and I vowed to help spread the word. I was part of the process and felt great every time someone posted the word “SAFE” in the comment box on the photos. That meant that someone had rescued that poor animal. My husband and I had already rescued two cats from there and had taken in two strays as well. We have three dogs too. As much as I wanted to personally save another one, common sense overruled. We had as many as we could reasonably take into our home, but at least I could share the page and the photos with others. And I did.

The Downward Spiral

And then “IT” happened. You know what I mean: that one event that sends common sense spiraling down the drain. The owner of the page posted an angry message claiming the local sheriff ordered the animal control workers to euthanize 17 dogs in retaliation for an “illegal” adoption of a pit bull mix. The shelter has a policy that doesn’t allow adoptions of “bully breeds”. Somehow, one had escaped under the radar and was in a new home in another county. His new owner refused to return him and because of this, the page owner claimed, the dogs were “slaughtered.” She was outraged, and after reading her message, so was I! I wasn’t the only one.

Within hours, word had spread and more and more people liked the page. Messages were sent to friends and those friends sent messages to more friends. The number of people who clicked “like” continued to grow and grow and with all the people came the comments.

Most of the comments were supportive, at first. But the supporters soon took on a mob mentality and began making personal attacks, not only on the sheriff, but on ALL of the residents of our town.

Nasty Comments Grow

The ugly comments grew more vindictive by the hour. The more I read, the angrier I became. I was born and raised here and these remarks were far from the truth. I wasn’t the only offended one. Someone else posted they did not like the personal attack on the people of our town. I followed suite, posted something very similar, and asked that they not alienate the very people who were trying to help these animals. I hoped the administrator who stated several times on her page, “This is about the ANIMALS!” would get rid of the trolls AND the vile comments.

However, the strangest thing happened. Instead of the comments being removed, she removed all of the ones expressing concern about the rude comments. She also removed the comments from people standing up for the town and expressing their concerns as to WHY she would allow these bad things to be posted!

My Dumb Mistake

This was the point where I made a serious mistake. I made the assumption I was dealing with a reasonable person. Are you laughing at my stupidity now?

I privately messaged her and asked why she was allowing very ugly comments but deleting the supportive ones. Comments asking people to be kind and not blame ALL residents had disappeared. I stated that her actions were causing me to question her true motives. Was it really about finding homes for these animals or running down the people of our town? I also wrote that with this lack of objectivity, she was going to do more harm than good by alienating the very people she needed to help her. After all, she was from an area three hours away from us!

I got back a short reply denying she had deleted anything. Of course, she had, I replied. Not true, she claimed. With just a few messages back and forth, I became “the enemy” and she declared I was against her and her cause.

With sudden realization I was dealing with someone not quite on the same level of reality as me, I told her I didn’t want anything else to do with her. “Leave me alone,” I wrote. At that point, I blocked her from messaging on Facebook.

A Personal Attack

She wasn’t done, however. She wrote about me on her page, even posting my name, claiming, “It’s not about you!” She tried very hard to convince anyone following her page what an animal hater I was. Just like sharks that swarm with the smell of blood, a few more trolls came out of the woodwork to write ugly posts aimed at me. I unliked her page and made some public Facebook apologies for possibly leading any of my friends in her direction.

The good news is that with so much mud-slinging and many, many posts, my name is lost somewhere in the muck and likely to have been seen only briefly. Besides, I have my privacy settings adjusted on my Facebook just so I don’t have to worry about harassment from these poor, misled, raving lunatics.

A Bit of Good News

Another bit of good to come out of it is now more people are aware of the issues and want to help. I found out that some of the local middle school students volunteer at the shelter every day. Others are going there to adopt new pets too.

What I find sad, however, is that hundreds of people around the country were outraged about the dogs being euthanized, yet the shelter remains full and has been full throughout this ordeal. Where are all these people when it comes to actually adopting these animals? When close to two thousand people “like” a page, shouldn’t it be a piece of cake to adopt out fewer than 100 dogs and cats?

The Animal Control and local Sheriff’s Office have taken a public lashing over this incident, but what are they expected to do? They have limited space and resources. People don’t take care of their animals, not just here, but all across the country. Puppies and kittens are born at shelters due to irresponsible owners who won’t have their pets spaded or neutered and most of the animals at our shelter right now are there because of “owner surrender.” That means these babies were people’s pets, but are no longer wanted.

All About Good Intentions

I have no doubt that everyone involved had good intentions. Whenever someone clicked the “Like” button on a page to help these animals, it was with “good” intentions. When they tell the world that the “people of (insert town here) are going to Hell,” it was with good intentions. The administrator of the page clearly thought her intentions were good, as she ranted in all capital letters, “IT’S NOT ABOUT ME. IT’S ABOUT THE ANIMALS!” In fact, my intentions were certainly good as I supported and shared the photos of those poor, unloved pets. But did any of this actually save a single animal? It’s doubtful and that makes me ashamed of myself.

There’s another old quote I’ve heard my dad say many times. “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.” It echoed through my head when I realized just how stupid I was to think clicking a “Like” button was going to make a difference. From this point on, I’m going to be very careful about what I like on Facebook and I’ll be donating my time and money to our local shelter every chance I get. Actions, after all, really do speak louder than words.