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School Daze - First Impressions September 7, 2008

Posted by alwaysjan in Teaching.
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The first two days of school are done, and I feel a bit done in myself.  Not once over the summer did I have to check the clock to see how soon I could use the bathroom or eat.  Summer vacation is already a distant memory.  But 178 days of “teachable moments” await!

As a kid, I loved going back to school.  Okay, make that elementary school. You couldn’t pay me to repeat middle or high school.  I loved the ritual of buying the new notebook and a new box of 48 Crayons (my parents were too cheap to spring for the box of 64 with the built-in sharpener).  I loved wearing my new long-sleeved plaid “Back to School” dress, even though on the first day of school, the classroom was a sauna.  

I can also recite the names of ALL my teachers -  up until the seventh grade. That’s when the hormones kicked in, and their names and everything else got all blurry.

So I was shocked, no make that appalled, when my husband, Richard, told me he couldn’t remember the name of a single teacher he’d ever had. Was he raised by wolves?  I told him I found this deeply disturbing.  Richard did some serious thinking then bounded up to me the next day, all smiles. He’d remembered the name of his fifth grade teacher. “Mr Murray!”  he announced proudly.  I wasn’t so easily placated.  ”What is it you remember about Mr. Murray?” I asked.  ”He was missing all the fingers on one hand,” Richard replied.  ”Actually, he had part of a thumb so he could pick up stuff. He used his hand like a pincher, sort of like a crab.” 

Yikes!  If that’s what it takes to make a lasting impression on a student, I’m in trouble.  (I should mention that my husband was one of those kids who NEVER liked school, and he rode on a full-sized bus).  

The first day of school is a teacher’s chance to make a big first impression.   Every teacher wants students to go home and tell their parents how GREAT their new teacher is.  At the same time, you can’t be a push over.  You want to make a big splash, but you don’t want it to be a belly flop.

A substitute once told me she would always remember her third grade teacher because of something she did on the first day of school.  At the end of the day, the teacher told all of the children to stand on top of their desks. At first, the students were confused.  You’re not supposed to STAND on your desk.  But the teacher proceeded to help them climb up until all were standing.  Now, this was before class size reduction, so I’m picturing 30 plus students standing atop their desks. (This image alone makes MY knees wobbly)  Not one child fell.  The sub told me that as she stood on her desk, this thought came to her - “This is going to be the most amazing year of my life!”

No one could get away with doing that now.  Actually, I’m surprised a teacher got away with doing it THEN.  But it left a lasting first impression, and it was a positive one.  

The first day is all about teaching the new students classroom procedures. How to sit.  How to stand. How to walk in a line.  How to raise your hand. (The common thread being - How not to drive your teacher crazy). Sometime after lunch on that all important first day of school, I realized I was beginning to bore even myself. I’m easily amused, so this was a serious offense. 

The air-conditioner in my classroom is there for one purpose - to mock me. When the students came back after lunch, I had the lights off to trick them into believing it was cooler inside than out on the blacktop.  Then I flicked the lights back on and had them sit on the rug, so I could read them a story. Oh, it felt good to finally sit down.

I love to read aloud, and the children listened attentively.  They raised their hands, and made predictions and comments at just the right times.  In short, we were having a good time.  When I finished the story, someone mentioned something about being afraid of a snake.  Someone else chimed in that they were afraid of bugs.  

Now according to my plan book, the next thing we were going to do was write a paragraph about My Summer Vacation (I am seething with original ideas!), but I saw an opportunity.  ”Who’d like to sit and talk about stuff that scares us?” I asked.  All hands shot up.  

“Let’s pretend we’re sitting around a campfire on a cool night,” I said.  I had the children form a circle.  My mind was now racing.  ”We’ll need a campfire!” I grabbed some orange and red tissue paper and wadded it up so it vaguely resembled a campfire.  Then I switched the lights off.   “I like this fire because it won’t make us hot,” I said.  ”But we can’t roast marshmallows either.”  The kids giggled.

Each child was to introduce themself:  Hi, My name is _________ and I’m afraid of __________.  If someone didn’t feel like sharing, they could just do the introduction.  They began.  ”I’m afraid of snakes.” “I’m afraid of the dark.” ” I’m afraid of bugs.”  Those were the big three.  One boy was afraid of heights, and then there was the kid who said, “I’m afraid of the movie Saw 3.  Whoa!  Who’s letting their eight year old watch THAT movie?  Three children said, “Pass.”  One boy bragged that he wasn’t afraid of anything (there’s always one, but he’s never seen my face when you tell me you didn’t do your homework).  One little girl, who only speaks Korean, had her friend translate.  

When everyone had shared, we talked about our fears.  One boy, one of those scientific types that I love, informed the other students that most snakes are not poisonous, and snakes are actually quite helpful because they eat garden pests.  The kids were impressed.  We agreed that everything is scarier when it’s dark, but agreed no one was scared sitting in our darkened classroom because we had each other.  

“Do you know what scares more people than anything?” I asked.  When the answer wasn’t snakes, the kids were stuck.  I told them the thing that scares people most is getting up in front of other people and talking.  And yet they’d just spoken in front of their classmates on the very first day of school. They were all smiles.  They had good reason to be proud of themselves. This was just the first of many lessons they will learn in third grade.

Sometimes, the most important lessons aren’t the ones in the plan book.   And first impressions DO count.  I realized this year’s class was off to a good start. Then I turned the lights back on.

Quotation Rotation #7 September 3, 2008

Posted by alwaysjan in Quotation Rotation.
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“Freak on a leash” - Kristina in Pasadena

Not to be confused with Korn’s 1999 song and video “Freak on a Leash.” No, this “freak on a leash” is someone you know, but would prefer not to know in public, due to their penchant for saying or doing bizarre things. These people have the uncanny ability to put both feet in their mouth - and still keep talking!  A leash often isn’t enough to restrain them, and it’s hopeless to try and retrain them. Worse case scenario - Whip out the old Hannibal Lecter mask to silence them.  Be prepared, though, to mop up puddles of drool.

September Mao September 1, 2008

Posted by alwaysjan in Monthly Mao.
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It’s Good to be Queen August 30, 2008

Posted by alwaysjan in Teaching.
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As a teacher, I’m not queen just for a day, but for 180 days!  Welcome to my kingdom.  I know you’re dying to know how the royals live, so please come inside.  Oh, you noticed - my castle aka classroom is the only one that has no glass window in the door.  The glass was broken out years ago and replaced with a board.   But I was told that a work order to replace the glass was put in five years ago.  I’m cautiously optimistic.  

Please don’t trip over that neon orange extension cord.  Since there are only two electrical outlets in my classroom, it has to stretch from here to WAY over there (so I can use the overhead projector).  I bought the bright orange cord myself, because I’m so safety minded.  Did you know that technology is the wave of the future?  

Look! I’ve got TWO computers.  Okay, only one works, (and then only part of the time), but don’t they look great?  Last year, when the working one stopped working, I called the district.  After two weeks of phone-tag, I found out some people at the district needed to change the IP addresses of some computers.  But they didn’t know where those computers were.  So here was their best plan.  They went ahead and changed the computer addresses, figuring that when people’s computers stopped working, they’d all call and complain.  That’s how they’d know where the computers were.  I give them a C for being so clever!

What I do love are all the windows that stretch to the top of the 12-foot ceiling.  At my old school, all the windows were painted shut.  I felt like I was teaching inside a shoe box, only with no holes poked in it so we could breathe.  Look! I even have a view of the continuation high school.  (Last stop!)  

I keep the blinds shut most of the day to try and keep the classroom cool. That air-conditioner near the ceiling is just a prop.  I’ve only found one cold spot in the entire room.  If you stand on the Pp Penguin square on my class rug, you can feel a faint breeze.  It’s right next to the Qq Queen square. Coincidence?  I think not.

No, it’s not really 5:21.  That big clock at the front of my classroom doesn’t work. At least not since I was given the keys to the kingdom, two years ago. I put a big yellow frowny face over it the first year, but that slowly peeled off. But the good thing is, one of our vocabulary words in third grade is “malfunction.” That clock is a great visual.  In teacher-talk, we call that “realia!”

At least last year, the PA system finally started working.  My students were getting tired of missing assemblies and I was tired of sending a runner to another classroom to find out what was going on.  I’m thankful for this small kindness.  Isn’t that a symptom of the Stockholm Syndrome?

And, no, my whiteboard is not dirty.  I’m afraid it’s starting to go bad.  When whiteboards go bad, it’s worse than when girls go wild, and a whole lot dirtier.  I’m hoping to get another year out of it, maybe two.  It serves as a daily reminder that you get what you pay for.  Personally, I think it’s important that children learn these lessons - the earlier the better.  Besides, I’m going to start writing the really important stuff on the margins of the whiteboard, where it’s still good as new.  We teachers are a resourceful lot.

I’m glad you like my bulletin boards.  Before I put those up, there was just crumbling lath and plaster.  Dang! It’s hard trying to stick a push pin into plaster.  My husband bolted those babies into the wall for me.  When you’re married to a teacher, it helps if YOU’RE resourceful too.  Power tools are also a plus.

No, please stay, really!  I want to show you the viper’s nest of electrical cords behind my desk. Another time?  Okay, but I hope you’ll be back - with the glass for the door.  I’ll remain cautiously optimistic.

Pencil Sharpening for Beavers August 28, 2008

Posted by alwaysjan in Teaching.
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Next Thursday, twenty new beavers will file into my classroom.  I’m not talking about eager beavers - as in students eager to acquire Knowledge. No, these are the No. 2 kind.  Lumberjacks can’t chop down old growth forests fast enough to keep pace with the rate at which these kids chew through pencils.

First year teachers are often caught unaware. They don’t realize that the pencil sharpener is a potential iceberg, and that their classroom is the Titantic.  As the captain, I mean teacher, you don’t want to go down with THAT ship.   So here’s a few things I’ve learned to assure smooth sailing.

First, ditch that old hand crank metal pencil sharpener. Put a puppet over it, whatever it takes, but get rid of it.  Unless you want to feel like you’re working in a sawmill 24/7.

Next, guard your electric pencil sharpener with your life (You probably paid for it out of pocket, so that’s a given).  If you fail to do so, you’ll learn the hard way that there are students who like to sharpen BOTH ends of their pencil (just stick the end with the eraser in and grind right through that shiny metallic thing), or better yet, sharpen their crayons in it.

Here’s how I do it, (but I’m always looking for ways to fine tune this procedure).  Students receive two sharpened pencils each month.  At the beginning of the year, I encourage them to bring a pencil sharpener - as long as it’s one that catches the shavings.  Then they can sharpen away to their heart’s content.  I buy pencil sharpeners to put in the class Treasure Box to promote this practice.  Be forewarned, though, that once these beavers have their own pencil sharpener, it becomes imperative that it must be emptied with 15 seconds after each use.  Students like to unscrew the top while en route to the trash, to increase the likelihood that they’ll blanket the floor with wood shavings.

Students who don’t have pencil sharpeners, put their “dull” pencils in a bin at the end of the day.  The bin is under the beaver.  Yeah, I know that’s not really a beaver in the picture above, but it’s got to be related.  It IS chewing on wood.  Besides it gets the point across (Point - Get it!).  I then personally sharpen the pencils after school.  I went to college so I could take care of this important stuff. 

Last year I had some students who brought mechanical pencils.  I thought this was potentially a good thing.  Silly me!  Half their day was spent “loading” the pencil, managing their stockpile of said lead, or accusing their neighbor of having stolen the coveted pencil.  

Then there are those children who invariably “lose” their pencils.  When I taught second grade, one year I did a surprise “pencil inventory.”  Students laid out the goods on their desks.  We made a graph of the results.  I held up a dozen pencils sharpened with such precision, you could have performed brain surgery using them as scalpels.  The children who’d “lost” their pencils salivated.  I then asked how I could entrust these precious pencils to students who couldn’t even take care of the two pencils I’d already given them.  Did this make sense?  

Now, I’m of the opinion that It’s never too early to impart some of life’s larger lessons on children.  After a brief pep talk on the importance of taking care of one’s supplies, I announced that because “the rich get richer and the poor get poorer,” the students who had the most pencils, would receive yet another one. 

Two weeks later, every child in the class had two pencils at the ready at all times.  Lesson learned.  Problem solved.  

If you’re not a teacher, I hope you can appreciate all of the thought that teachers put into something as seemingly mundane as sharpening a pencil. If you are a teacher, get your pencil sharpening procedure in order, so you don’t go down with THAT ship (Knock on wood!). 

For all of my friends who are teachers, a new year awaits.  Let’s do it!

Why I Blog August 24, 2008

Posted by alwaysjan in Writing.
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“Enough of your BS!” is my husband’s way of telling me he’s tired of hearing updates on my blog stats.  It’s bad enough that when I turn on my computer, he announces, “That’s Jan booting up.”  When I pop open my breakfast Classic Coke (children, do as I say, not as I do), he announces, “There’s the second sound that tells me Jan is alive.”  

When my friend Lesley was visiting from England, she grabbed her camera and snapped pictures of me, so as to capture, “the blogger in her natural habitat!”  Every time I was having a creative surge, she or her daughter, Lucy, would circle me like naturalists, and in that oh-so-charming English accent, narrate their observations on the strange habits of the “lesser blogger.”  

As you can see, I have to put up with a lot from these malcontents, who envy both my passion and keyboarding skills.  These incursions into my creative space are what I call blogus interruptus.

Before I started blogging, I often worked as a writer for hire.  I was good at it and paid well.  But I can’t say I enjoyed it (other than cashing the checks). Writing screenplays is like being an architect who designs buildings that are never made, or building the best sand castle ever - just before high tide. 

So, why do I blog?  I blog because words ricochet around inside my head 24/7, and blogging provides an exit wound.  Words are my best friends. They’re the friends who always want to play and never save a seat on the bus so I can’t sit there.  I like to play fast and loose with words, spinning them like gunslingers twirl six-shooters.  Sometimes I shoot myself in the foot, but the more I blog, the better my aim has become.  Life is funny like that.  

I also blog because I’m an artist.  Sometimes I work with paint, but increasingly, I like to paint pictures with words, and I like to use LOTS of color!  I’m a Fauvist sitting at a keyboard trying to get the colors just so. (It’s so true - it’s all in the rewrite!)  

I blog because I know I’m not just talking to myself.  I like having an audience.  I like it when people comment or I find they’ve linked my blog to theirs.  And when all eyes are me, I don’t want to disappoint.  Writers don’t have a right to bore people.  I know a thing or two, and like to share my experiences and observations.  Humor is my Trojan Horse.  It allows me to get inside the gate so I can be heard.  

As a third-grade teacher, I have a built-in audience, and although I have way too much fun with my students, they’re not my demographic.  When a student told me he wasn’t coming to school on Halloween because it’s the devil’s birthday, I blurted out, “But my birthday is in April!”  He walked away with a quizzical look on his face.   But you got it, didn’t you?  

Finally, when I’m sitting at my keyboard and writing, I feel like all is well with the world.  I think about my audience - family, friends, and all of the amazing people I never would have “bumped into” in cyberspace had it not been for my blog.  This brings a smile to my face.  Then, I begin to write.

The Treasure Box is for Losers August 19, 2008

Posted by alwaysjan in Teaching.
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I found the coolest stuff for my class Treasure Box at Target.  When I told my friend, Christine, who’s also a teacher, she informed me, “The Treasure Box is for losers.” Ouch!

I thought this was because Christine believes students should “be good for goodness’ sake” like in the song Santa Claus is Coming to Town.  But, she put it even more bluntly, dare I say biblically - Virtue is its own reward. That’s true, but…and it’s a BIG but, at least for me.

The reason for having a Treasure Box (or student store or whatever else teachers call it) is to reward those students who are “on task.”  That’s teacher-talk for students who are doing what they’re supposed to be doing. We don’t have “good” students, but students who are “on task.”  Unlike those students who are “off task.”  We never say they are “bad.”  Instead of saying that “B” word, we say the other “B” word - benched.  

In keeping with this logic, a student’s reward for being “on task” is recess. Since I was never a particularly physically active child, the gift of recess doesn’t wet my whistle.  I would have been happy to warm a bench reading a book.  Of course, since I was always good, I mean on task, I can only speculate.  This year the morning recess at my school will be shortened from 25 to 15 minutes, so it’s basically a long bathroom break.  Even kids who are benched are allowed to use the bathroom, so being able to go to recess is a baby carrot on a very short stick.

As I begin my fifth year of teaching as a fully credentialed and “highly qualified” teacher, I’m rethinking some things I’ve always done.  Some of my class procedures were picked up from master teachers during student teaching and others from colleagues.  Teachers do what works for them, and the Treasure Box has worked for me.

It’s simple,  If your card on the “How’s My Day Going?” chart is on green at the end of the day, you receive a sticker.  (You can stay on green by not sticking a pencil in your neighbor’s ear, reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid inside your desk, when you’re supposed to be listening, or annoying me or anything else that moves within a 20-foot radius).  I put the stickers in the pockets of the chart at the end of the day, as handing them out takes too much time.  I feel like I’m running behind, the minute I set foot in the classroom.  

Ten stickers earns you a trip to the Treasure Box, but for the second trip, I up the ante to 15 stickers.  Last year I had such a great group of students, I increased the cost of admission to 20 stickers.  I used the excuse that the rising cost of gas made it more expensive for me to drive to the 99 Cent store.  I spend maybe $60 on “treasures” each year, and also receive donations from parents and friends.  

Though I draw the line at 99 cents an item, I don’t have anything cheesy in my Treasure Box.  Students can pick from books, workbooks, journals, maps, rubber dinosaurs, the occasional Hot Wheels car, and come Halloween, flocked tarantulas and rubber bats and rats.  I even make special trips to Burmincos in Monrovia to pick out way cool rocks. (Who would have thought the price of rocks would double in the last year?) Yeah, I offer other incentives too - special privileges, time with me (that would keep my husband on task), and the chance to sit at my messy desk.  But the hot ticket item, when you’re 8 or 9 years old, is usually something aka stuff.  

Maybe it’s the hunter-gatherer in all of us.  I went to a week-long training several years ago, where the presenter told participants that for each day we returned from lunch on time, we would receive a ticket.  The ticket went toward a drawing at the end of the week, so we had a chance to win - stuff. And what were these coveted prizes?  The package of cheetah print bulletin board borders, perfect for that second-grade “Camouflage” unit, had teachers salivating.  There we were - professionals, myself included -checking our cellphones at lunch to make sure we wouldn’t be late.  All this for the chance to win those borders, or maybe, just maybe, a $5 gift certificate for the local educational supply store. Teachers, you gotta love ‘em.

My “Teacher’s Helper” does all the paperwork for the Treasure Box.  They stand there with a clipboard looking very official, while those who’ve earned a trip paw through the merchandise.  The Teacher’s Helper then records the date, the student’s name, and the item they chose.  Sometimes I handpick items for particular students, as I know what they like or need.  I’m proud to say that no item has ever been stolen.  This is serious business.  I only wish I could put the Teacher’s Helper in charge of ALL my paperwork, which is why I have a messy desk in the first place.

I thought about eliminating the Treasure Box this year and trying out this radical concept of virtue being its own reward.  But I have to admit, I’m skeptical.  Besides, I’ve still got some inventory to move from last year.   Yeah, I’m a loser, baby, but the Treasure Box works - for me.

Close Encounter With A Narcissist - Part 3 August 15, 2008

Posted by alwaysjan in Narcissistic Personality Disorder.
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Please read/reread “Close Encounter with a Narcissist - Parts 1 & 2″ before reading Part 3. You’ll find these in Top Posts in the column at the right.  If you access them through Tags or Categories under Narcissistic Personality Disorder, you have to scroll down past Part 3 to reach Parts 1 & 2. Note: In Part 3, I’ll refer to a person with Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) simply as a narcissist.  Again, I’ll refer to the narcissist as “he,” as the majority of narcissists are male.

Looking back on my own close encounter with a narcissist, I can see the Red Flags were there early on.  In my gut, I knew there was something “off” about my friend Joe.  But I had trouble putting my finger on just what IT was. The more time I spent with him, it became painfully obvious how illogical Joe’s reasoning was - it just didn’t jibe with “human” logic.  He also seemed enamored with himself and professed to having many talents.  I once teased Joe that he was “self-absorbed.”  But I wasn’t teasing - merely making an observation.  For the first time, the word narcissist popped into my head.

Red Flag #1 - Grandiosity

Ah, yes.  Grandiosity and its sidekick Magical Thinking.  While there is an overlap with other personality disorders when it comes to Lack of Empathy; it is Grandiosity that distinguishes Narcissistic Personality Disorder from all of the other personality disorders.  Grandiosity is the jewel in the crown that makes the narcissist so very special.  

According to the DSM-IV, “The essential feature of Narcissistic Personality Disorder is a pervasive pattern of grandiosity, need for admiration, and lack of empathy that begins by early adulthood and is present in a variety of contexts.  

“Individuals with NPD routinely overestimate their abilities and inflate their accomplishments, often appearing boastful and pretentious.  They may blithely assume others attribute the same value to their efforts and may be surprised when the praise they expect and feel they deserve is not forthcoming.”  

An admitted “seminar junkie,”  Joe shared with me a dizzying array of plans he had that would bring him money, recognition, or just a change in scenery.  After hearing these change weekly, I began writing down all of the things Joe was going to do “some day.”  When you’re a teenager, or even in your twenties, this kind of daydreaming is normal.  But not in your forties.  

Narcissists love to envision grand scenarios starring - themselves!  What they lack is the follow-through to make them reality.  Why do narcissists indulge in this kind of thinking?   Just thinking of all of the great things they’re “going to do” brings a smile to their face.  Think of it as mental masturbation.

One day I told Joe I thought the best indicator of future behavior is past behavior.  Not that people can’t change, but barring some live-changing epiphany, most people are creatures of habit.  Joe vehemently disagreed. You see, the narcissist’s grandiosity goes hand-in-hand with Magical Thinking. Joe was big on the book The Secret, which holds that all you have to do is think positive thoughts and good things will happen.  Now, I’m all for positive thinking and I like to think karma will come round, but Magical Thinking goes above and beyond.  When you’re a narcissist, though, fairy tales can come true (besides, they’re already wearing that crown). 

Here’s an example of grandiosity.  Joe was considering taking a freelance job on the side.  He’d never done this sort of work, but narcissists are convinced they can do anything.  I warned Joe he could be getting in over his head, but he took the job anyway.  Three weeks later, he came to me in a panic. Not only had he screwed up the job, he was being asked to refund the money he’d been paid, since someone else would now have to fix his mess. His client had mentioned the “L” word - lawyer.  It was the first time I’d seen Joe visibly shaken.    

Now, on some level, Joe knew he’d screwed up, but he refused to accept any responsibility.  As I listened to him talk aloud about the botched job, I watched him mentally rewrite the scenario of what happened.  It wasn’t his fault - It was that stupid woman who hired him.  You see, narcissists are NEVER, EVER wrong.  So, if a narcissist ever tells you he was wrong about something (a very human trait), brace yourself.   Most likely he’s getting ready to do something really nasty - to you.

Red Flag #2 - Lack of Empathy

Empathy is what makes us human.  We can put ourselves in someone else’s shoes and share their joy or feel their pain.  But a narcissist has only one one pair of shoes - and they fit PERFECTLY.  Human emotions confound narcissists and make them uncomfortable.  They don’t know the right thing to say.   They’ve watched humans, so they know what they’re supposed to say, but it doesn’t come naturally. This explains their often odd and insensitive comments (The Inappropriate Effect).  Any talk of feelings is just so - icky!  Joe was quick to point out he hated “girlie girls” or anyone who was “touchy feely.”   He dismissed anything tinged with emotion as “drama.” What was funny was although Joe said he hated drama, it was his own bad behavior that sparked all of the drama in his life.

Joe often said he was “too nice.”  He could talk a good game, lamenting the injustices in the world, as if he genuinely cared.  But it was just that - talk.

I once listened to Joe make a comment to a young woman.  They’d worked together, and supposedly, were friends.  The comment was about her body and had a sexual undertone.  It left her visibly distressed.  Now, any normal person, seeing her reaction would have immediately apologized for hurting her feelings.  But what did “I’m too nice” Joe do?  He sat across the table from her for the next hour and never opened his mouth.  Later, I asked why he would say such an insensitive thing.   He shrugged and admitted it was a cheap shot, but added, smiling,  ”It was so easy - that’s what made it so much fun.”  It was creepy. 

When I talked to the woman several days later, SHE apologized to me!  ”I’m sorry I got so upset,” she said.  ”I know the way Joe is, so I shouldn’t have let it bother me so much.”  Can you see how a narcissist gets away with such behavior?  People make excuses for him!  ”That’s just the way he is,” they say, while mentally adding another tally mark after the word @sshole.

Asking a narcissist to “have a heart” has just the opposite effect.  Reasoning with them also falls on deaf ears.  A narcissist doesn’t want to change because there’s nothing wrong with him.  YOU are the one with the problem, remember?  

Red Flag #3 -  Confusing Communication

Communication (or should I say lack of genuine communication) with a narcissist is a crazy-making experience.  Humans communicate to share information, ideas, and feelings.  Not so the narcissist, who uses words to confuse and paralyze his victim.  Narcissists don’t like to play their nasty games on a level playing field.  Their cryptic comments are designed to keep their victim constantly confused and wondering, “What did THAT mean?” This tactic gives the narcissist “the home team advantage.” 

Any attempt to discuss feelings with a narcissist is doomed to leave the victim not knowing left from right.  Joe had a short list of pronouncements that could derail any conversation: “Can’t you take a joke?”  ”But, no one got hurt!”  ”Why do you bother talking about that?  It’s in the past!” (yesterday constituted ‘the past’) “If you’d just behave!”  ”I’m really busy, so is this life or death?” or his ultimate putdown, “You’re such a drama queen!”

If you know a narcissist, you already know the kind of comments I’m talking about. They’re the equivalent to a teenager’s dismissive, “Whatever!” or the “Talk to the Hand” gesture.  

When cornered, a narcissist is like the cartoon character who, when in danger, magically produces a pencil, quickly draws a door, and makes a hasty exit.  When I read Stalking the Soul by Marie-France Hirigoyen, a French psychiatrist whose specialty is victimology, it was her chapter on Communication and the narcissist that hit a nerve.  The verbal roller coaster, with all its twists and turns, came to a screeching halt and I decided then it was time to get off the ride. It was no longer exciting - it was making me sick. 

Cerebral and Somatic - Sex as in “Table for One, Please”

Narcissists get their admiration, or Narcissistic Supply (NS), in one of two forms.  Cerebral narcissists gain NS through their intellect, that is, by being “an authority.” Somatic narcissists may be equally intelligent, but they satisfy their need for NS through sexual conquests.  

Both kinds of narcissist prefer autoerotic sex - masturbation - to sex with a flesh-and-blood woman.  That’s because a real woman expects you to talk to her, or even worse, cuddle, after the main event.  Remember, the narcissist can’t establish a genuine emotional bond with another human so he finds these feelings unnatural and awkward.  Faking it is hard work, and he’d just as soon get up and watch TV or check his email. You served your purpose and now he’s done with you.  It’s like he had to blow his nose - and the Kleenex?  Well, that would be you.  He’ll toss it/you aside until he needs to blow his nose again.  Romantic, huh?  

Cerebral narcissists can put on a show during the idealization phase, but quickly lose all interest in sex. They’re essentially asexual.  They derive pleasure from frustrating their partner by withholding sex.  This gives them a feeling of power.  Besides, to them, not only is sex down and dirty - it’s just so common.  They’re way too special to engage in such a common pursuit. So they can do without.

Despite Joe’s love of sexual innuendo, I realized when it came to women, he was like my dogs when it comes to cats.  My dogs love the chase, but if the cat stops running, they just stand there, looking rather embarrassed about what to do next.  After a short impasse, they wander off to look for another cat that will run from them.  Remember, it’s the chase that the narcissist loves.

A somatic narcissist, on the other hand, is like the town dog always making his rounds.  But it’s not just his infidelity, and the accompanying lies, that are so disturbing.  It’s his irrational rationale.  ”You made me do it” so “It’s not my fault.”  (I apologize to all dogs for comparing them to a narcissist. Dogs are infinitely more caring and human than any narcissist could ever hope to be).

The Myth of Curing the Narcissist

Remember the blanket analogy from Part 1?   A person doesn’t HAVE a personality disorder, they ARE the personality disorder.  Narcissism in interwoven into every fiber of that blanket.  Unravel the blanket and you unravel their personality.

If you’re a woman, you’re most likely a nurturer and think that with enough patience and love, someone or something can be helped.  It’s that “I’ll nurse this fallen baby bird back to health using a medicine dropper!” thing.  Sound familiar?  

Even after I figured out that Joe had NPD, I was convinced if I could just reconnect with that inner child that was hiding deep inside, he’d feel safe to come out and show me his real face.  Olly, olly, oxen free!   Some call this logic “Peeling an Onion.”  The rescuer thinks, “If I can just peel away the layers of hurt, I can get to the core of the problem and I can help him heal.” But what’s at the core of an onion?  Ah ha!  That’s a trick question, because an onion has no core.  Not to mention that peeling an onion makes YOU cry, while the onion feels nothing.  

Know this.  That wounded child’s True Self might as well be preserved in amber.  It’s fossilized and will never ever develop.  Besides, a narcissist doesn’t want to be fixed because he’s convinced he’s fine just the way he is. It’s YOU who has the problem, remember?

So, least you forget, write this on a post-it note and put it up on the refrigerator:  NO NARCISSIST HAS EVER BEEN CURED!

Discarded and Scarred - Life After the Narcissist

I was only involved with Joe for four months and we were just “friends.” (Friends is in quotations because narcissists don’t have any real friends).  Joe had proven himself to be a first class @sshole on so many occasions.  He showed absolutely no interest in me as a person - only in what I could do for him.  He’d solicited advice, ignored it, then punished me for offering it.  So why couldn’t I just “move on?”  I knew WHAT he was.  I knew there was NO CURE.  But still…   

First, it was hard to forget how much I enjoyed Joe’s company during the Idealization phase.  He’d bound up to me like an eager puppy wagging its tail.  It was hard to believe this was an act, or just the giddiness that went with honing in on a new source of NS.  It seemed so real - to me.

But, the most painful part was the feeling of betrayal - of being duped.  It’s hard to admit that you were just a “thing” with an expiration date, especially to a person you genuinely cared about.  You want to think that when all is said and done at the end of the day, you were special.  But you are special, and that’s why the narcissist targeted you.   

I was angry with Joe, but I was angriest with myself.  I’m a confident person with strong boundaries, so how could I have let this happen?  This was all a game for Joe.  But then he had an advantage because he’d played this game many times before.  He knew the rules.  Hell, I didn’t even know it was a game!

A word of warning:  A narcissist will never give his victim the validation they so desperately seek, or closure.  This final act of control and cruelty leaves his victim hanging and twisting in the wind.  This brings a smile to the narcissist’s face.

I’ve forgiven myself.  As a caring person, I only did what came naturally.  I saw someone who was lonely and seemed to be in pain, and I reached out to help them.  But Joe didn’t want or need my help, because he’s perfect just the way he is.  So, you see, I’m the one with the problem.  But it’s a problem I can live with.  It’s called being human.  And that, my friends, is what I learned from MY close encounter with a narcissist.  

Acknowledgements 

It was Joe’s self-involvement that led me to Google “narcissism.”  Who would have known there were so many others on-line looking for answers?

Sam Vaknin’s book Malignant Self Love - Narcissism Revisited was a revelation.  How could anyone not know Sam?  A narcissist, he’s everywhere on the internet.  I’m just glad a life crisis forced him to venture out into the light of day long enough to write this seminal book.  Although I jokingly refer to Sam as the Head Vampire, he has shed such light into the darkness that is NPD.  I’m only sorry I forwarded my highlighted version to Joe, who will never read it (I imagine he uses it to prop up the very short leg of a table).

Marie-France Hirigoyen’s book, Stalking the Soul, was a godsend.  I ordered a used copy from Amazon.

I first found on-line support through Careplace’s NPD community.  Several of the on-line friends I met there are now my real-life friends, and I kiss the ground for my good fortune.

The members of MSN Groups Narcissistic Personality Disorder Forum constantly amaze me with their wisdom, insight, and yes, humor.  It’s inspiring to see how people can gain strength from each other’s experiences, cry, learn, laugh, and move forward.  Special thanks to Femfree, the forum manager, for posting the link to my blog. 

Finally, thanks to all those near and dear to me.  You know who your are. Your patience and support has made me realize how incredibly rich I am. 

Looking to the Future

I always thought that as soon as I finished writing “Close Encounter with a Narcissist” I’d be DONE!  But I’m a teacher, remember?   And there’s still so much work to be done to educate the public about this devastating disorder. So, I WILL be writing future posts on NPD.  If you’d like to check in from time to time, please bookmark my site.  Peace. 

 

 

 

 

Dog People vs. Cat People August 14, 2008

Posted by alwaysjan in Pets.
Tags: , , ,
2 comments

I’m not a cat person.  It doesn’t help that I’m horribly allergic to cats and the one time I actually petted the cat of a guy I was interested in, my eyes ballooned out and were swollen shut for two days.  The fur didn’t fly, but the relationship did - out the window.

I grew up with dogs and that’s that.  Dogs listen.  They scare away burglars and sometimes the mailman. They provide cheap entertainment as they’re basically the village idiot dressed in a fur coat.  You leave for ten minutes and when you return, they’re so excited to see you, you’d think you’d been gone ten years.  

Gary Larson did a great comic for The Farside with the caption “If dogs and cats wore hats.”  The cats are sitting in a tree wearing fedoras and look like drugged-out jazz musicians, while the dogs stand panting down below wearing backwards baseball hats.  Nailed it.

In the movie The War of the Roses, Danny DeVito, who plays the warring couple’s attorney, summed it all up at the end, when he noted this was a Cautionary Tale about what happens when dog people marry cat people.

I’ve always maintained that having a dog is great practice for being a parent. You can’t go out for a relaxing evening without wondering what your dog is up to.  It’s past their dinnertime.  They’re obviously starving and eating the couch.  It’s past the time for their walk. They’re obviously unloading on the living room carpet.  These are the thoughts that not only spoil an evening out, but make you feel those first grown-up stirrings of responsibility.  I believe people with low-maintenance cats are destined to raise latch-key children. But I could be wrong.

I housesat a friend’s cat once and actually donned oven mitts so I could pet Pookie.  I tell you this so you know I’m not all bad. 

I found the picture of the cat above on Flickr and thought it was so much fun I just had to use it. Since I’m not a cat person, I figured I might someday include it in a post entitled, “Things I’ll Never Write About.”  But since most of my friends DO have cats, I’ve decided to make nice.  My friend Cathy has written two great stories about cats (she makes them sound almost dog-like in their purrfection!), which you can read by clinking the following links:  Malcolm, Old Friend  and The Brothers Angora.

Coke for Breakfast August 12, 2008

Posted by alwaysjan in Food, Health.
Tags: , , , ,
4 comments

When my computer starts up in the morning, my husband likes to say, “That’s Jan booting up.”  When I snap open the can of Coke that’s part of my not-so-balanced breakfast, he adds, “There’s the second sound that tells me she’s alive!”  It’s pathetic, I know, but I’m a creature of habit.  Besides, I’m a third generation Coca-Cola drinker.  

I never knew my dad’s mom, as she died when he was a teenager.  But he inherited her sterling silver coffee urn and liked to tell how she kept it filled with Coca-Cola.  I thought this might have been because back then, it WAS the real thing.  But Wikipedia set me straight.  Although the formula for Coca-Cola was originally intended as a patent medicine (and did once contain an estimated 9 mg. of cocaine per glass), the “real thing” was removed in 1903.  So my grandmother wasn’t a junkie - not unless that’s what YOU call someone who enjoys a Coke for breakfast.

The other story that was oft repeated about my grandmother was what happened when her daughter, after an argument, announced she was leaving home.  My grandmother said, if that were the case, her daughter would leave the same way she arrived.  She then proceeded to strip her naked and shove her out the front door.  I think I would have had a lot more in common with my grandmother than just our love of Coca-Cola.

My mother liked to drink Coke.  But once she switched to diet, I had no choice but to disown her.  There’s only so much one can take and I don’t do diet.  Really, my highly evolved taste buds can taste the difference.

When I was growing up, you could order a cherry Coke at the soda fountain and watch them squirt in the cherry syrup.  It’s not the same in a can, so I don’t do Cherry Coke either.  My friend, Kristina, likes to tease me that I’m old school as I’m the only one at school who keeps a Coca-Cola Classic in the fridge.  At least I don’t have to worry about anyone else drinking it. 

I actually drank Dr. Pepper for years.  But after I was pregnant, I developed a craving for Coke.  We were living in New York City when New Coke was introduced on April 23, 1985.  This was a red letter date, as all dates pertaining to Coca-Cola are “red letter” dates.  My taste buds knew instantly that New Coke was just a sad-ass version of Pepsi.  What I loved about Coca-Cola  was its battery acid tang. 

Disgusted, I switched back to Dr. Pepper and cultivated a friendship with a woman whose husband managed the Gramercy Park Hotel, because the hotel had a stockpile of “old” Coke.  It was like Prohibition, only the stakes were higher.  When the New Coke fiasco ended (a little less than three months later on July 10th), old Coke was re-christened Coca-Cola Classic.  Ah!  It was back to my daily 14 ounces of sugar, caramel syrup, and caffeine - which I personally think deserves its own category on the food pyramid.  

Yeah, I’ve heard all the stories about how, if you put a metal spoon in a glass of Coke overnight, it will be eaten away by the morning.  But, I have an iron-clad stomach and am of the opinion that what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.  So I take take my Coke like I take my vitamins - once a day.