The reason behind my blog name, "Airplane Chats With Ash"

I will preface story by first stating that on airplanes,  I try to use anything I can find as a way to NOT have to talk to the person next to me.  If you know me, this may come as a surprise to you, since I may appear comfortable and outgoing in social situations with people I don't know.   However, this could not be farther from the truth!   I am a train wreck when it comes to meeting new people...sweaty palms, racing heart, trouble breathing, you name it (weird, I know).   When I studied Communication (a million years ago),  I read about a thing called the "Stranger on the Plane" phenomenon.  This basically explains that some people feel the need to unburden themselves, but don't feel comfortable revealing certain personal information to their close friends or relatives, so they disclose this personal info to a person they will never see again, on an airplane. I can understand why this could be applicable to many people, however, I personally seek guidance from my loved ones, and not some person I just met on a plane with pepperoni sausage and tomato juice breath.

With all of that being said, it may seem odd now that one of the most influential times in my life was during a conversation I had a few years ago on an airplane.  That is SO my life...it seems like God continually reveals himself during times when I least expect it.  So here is the story:  I was on my way to... I don't remember were I was going come to think of it.  Anyway, I was on a plane, and although I was not excited about being in the middle seat, the aisle seat was currently open, and the doors were about to close.   YES...I get to sprawl out...SO happy.   Oh, but just when I think I am free and clear, this person comes trekking through the aisle with a HUGE bag of McDonald's, a biggie sized soda, stains all over her shirt, and ENORMOUS sized neck pillow.  My immediate thought was pretty typical of someone on a cramped airplane please don't sit by me, please don't sit by me.   

Well as sure as a huge poop after three cups of coffee, she plops right down next to me, and proceeds to invade my space.  I see her put a book in the chair pocket in front of her, which is a good sign for me, since she will most likely be reading and not trying to talk to me.  As she continues to unload her stuff, she turns to me and says the typical airplane line, "Hello, are you traveling home, or are you visiting?"  UGH, do you really care, I thought.  Now, I do not remember what my response was, because like I said before, I do not recall where I was headed.  I DO vividly remember the conversation to follow.  She begins to ask me what I did for a living, and I remember being hesitant to disclose that information.  I was currently in my first year of teaching, and I was having a tremendously difficult time.  In fact, I had just dealt with a situation with a problematic student, where I felt like I wanted to give up.  I ended up telling her I was a teacher, but left off the part about being a Special Ed Teacher.  Whenever I tell people I am a Special Education Teacher." I usually hear something like, "Wow...it takes a very special person to do that," or, "You must have a lot of patience."  These two statements are the funniest things in the world to me, and must be in some book titled, "What To Say To A Person Who Tells You They Are A Special Education Teacher."  I usually state some generic response such as, "well I do not have any patience in life, just in my classroom."  However, at this point, all of the patience in my classroom had run out, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk about it to this woman (let's call her "Cathy," by the way, so I don't have to keep writing this woman).

Well of course, Cathy asked me what type of teacher I was, and I told her.  What followed was not the response I was expecting (thank goodness).  In fact, by the end of our conversation, we were BOTH in tears, and to this day, I can honestly tell you that Cathy will have forever made an impact on my life.  She brought out the book she was reading, and proceeded to tell me that she was in a Special Education program growing up.  She was teased as a child because of her weight, and because of that fact that she could not read.  When she reached Junior High, she contemplated ending her life, and had a specific plan to do it at the end of her 7th grade year.   That was the year that she met a very special teacher.  At the time, she despised the teacher, and it is safe to say that she probably made this teacher's life a living hell.  (Just as one of my current students was doing to me).  Never fail, the teacher would try every way she could to get Cathy motivated about reading.  The teacher would see her in the halls, and give her books that were inspiring to her; she was genuinely interested in Cathy's life.  The year came and went, as did her 8th grade year, and Cathy learned how to read, but she never told that teacher how much of an impact she made on her life.  She told me that she owes her life to this teacher. Now she does not have a way to contact her, and does not feel this teacher knew how much of an impact she had on her life.  Because of this, Cathy said that every time she meets someone who is a teacher, she tells them that story to remind them of the impact they are making in people's lives; whether they know it or not.

After that trip, I went back to work with a whole new philosophy.  Since then, I have loved every minute of being a Special Education Teacher (even when I want to rip my hair out).  So... I guess the name "Airplane Chats With Ash" is a way for me to remember that the most influential times in our lives usually happen when we least expect it.  I still don't talk to people on airplanes though. :)

The Big "D"

The other day I got to thinking about the big "D."  No, not the big "D" as in diarrhea, the big "D" as in death.  The inevitable thing none of us wants to think about that will eventually happen to us all.  After asking my dad about it, he said it excited him.  Of course my father does not want to die, but he has a strong faith in God, so he knows that when the time comes, although he will be sad to leave loved ones behind, he will rejoice in being in Heaven.  Although I too have a strong faith in God, I have always struggled with the concept of death.  Perhaps I need to spend more time with God.  With that being said, I find myself closest to God, and closest to my inner being when I am writing.  With a fresh journal page, and a crisp pencil, I feel at ease with my thoughts as I let them run freely.  There is no rhyme or reason to my writing, and I am not sure if it ever really makes sense.  In fact, on the contrary, if anyone ever got a hold of my journal entries, they may assume I was a crazy person.  Well if so, my journal is the best therapist.

So why blogging?  Well, I am not quite sure what to expect with this.  My journals are the best way for me to express myself in my own world.  With a blog, my thoughts are left for the whole world to see...or anyone who knows how to view these things.  I am also not sure about the whole typing thing, because I adore a sharp pencil.  Ehh that sounded gross.  Okay, back to what I was saying.  SO why am I blogging you ask?  I am going to try this out for this reason:  my journals have made an impact on my life in ways you could not imagine.  I am not a poet, nor am I some empowering motivational guru.  I just write what I am thinking, and let it flow.  I guess I am going to start this whole blogging thing, because I want to share my thoughts with you.  Yes, I will die some day, but my thoughts and my words will not.  I want to leave more than just my decorative pillows behind (I tried to think of a worldly possession I am obsessed with, and that came to mind.  My Husband (Adam) says I have too many decorative pillows, and he doesn't understand why I do not want his sweaty head on them.  "They are pillows...they are supposed to be used for my head," he says.  He just doesn't get it).  Anyway, sorry for the rabbit trail, you will see a lot of those.  That is how I think.  Maybe that is why I am a terrible driver, an awful test taker, an even worse speller, and a fabulous Special Ed Teacher.  Anyway...as I was saying,  I want to leave more than my decorative pillows behind. I want to leave memories.   I want to leave words.   I want to leave stories.  I want to leave thoughts, answers...and then the correct answers if they ever reveal themselves.  

So this is a "blog," huh?  I know I am behind the times, but this is all new to me.  I see people posting blogs about everything from travel and design, to cooking and baby-making.  I always thought it would be fun to have a blog, but never had any one thing that I was super passionate about. For those of you who know me, I do love kids with special needs, but I do not think my students' parents would be happy with pictures of them all over my blog.  So what the heck should I blog about?  Today it hit me...who cares.  I will not blog about anything.  I will just write.

With that being said, if you are a person who feels compelled to critique grammar, syntax, and spelling, this is not the blog for you.  Yes, I am a teacher, and I know and use all of the rules of the "book" in my professional life...whatever the "book" is anyway.  However, this is not the "book,"  and this type of writing is a compilation of my thoughts (which do not always flow together in a nice little river with happy colorful fish).  E.E Cummings once said " To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting."  For those of you who are familiar with the work of E.E. Cummings, you know that he was anything but by the "book."  E.E. Cummings wrote many poems with unconventional punctuation and capitalization, and unusual line, word, and even letter placement.  No, I am not comparing myself to E.E. Cummings, but what I am doing is preparing you for A.D. Plenge.  The world according to me has no real structure, yet it is packaged up nicely with plastic paper covers (which I adore) and color-coded post-its corresponding to a matching colored highlighter.  My crazy and confused mind needs to pretend like it is organized, or it will in fact shows it's true colors (which are not coded).  With that being said, this is me.  Take it or leave it...but if you choose to take it, get ready for a ride!