You know when something is wrong but then it tempts you and you start to wonder. Young boys are like that for me. The awkwardness and the earnestness of them. The way their bodies are pounding with hormones but they have no idea how to handle it. The way they are fascinated with women but they have no idea what to do with them. It is just so fucking sexy sometimes.
Hey boys let’s mess around
I wanna party with you on the town
My job (and the law) precludes me interacting with a boy that is truly young and innocent in that way. Once they get a bit older they have had some experience and then they become a bit arrogant. Or their awkwardness makes them just a little bit sad. I have avoided these boys because I didn’t want to spend my play time giving instructions.
Some boys really make me swing
There ain’t nothin’ like a pretty young thing
In the back to school catch ups with work colleagues I chatted with my work son. (A pretty young thing) about his new girlfriend. He told me that he had taken her virginity, a responsibility he took very seriously I am pleased to say. His feelings about her lack of experience were mixed. Mostly he didn’t like the idea of being with someone who had no idea. Until he realised he could mould the way she gave head.
His words made me rethink some of my ideas about younger boys.
Then I wrote some more of the series I am currently working on. During my research I looked up a Wiki fan page about Stiffler’s Mom. That made me rethink some of my ideas about younger boys
Young boys are really mellow
You don’t believe me? Then just try this fellow.
I think I am almost in the right mindset to be Stiffler’s Mom. To be that woman that is the center of a younger man’s fantasy. To shape him and to enjoy that hard young body.
This post is part of MMMMonday. Click on the image below to see who else is saying MMM
It was one of those nights when it was too hot to do anything except sit around and drink beers and talk crap. The girls had stripped down to their bikini tops and denim shorts. The guys were lounging around in their boardies. We were sitting on the back deck at my mate Gavin’s house. The conversation degenerated more and more until we were sharing the stories of losing our virginity. One by one we went around the group sharing our stories. I hung back. As a teenager I had been awkward and shy my story wasn’t like anyone else’s, so I was reluctant to share. Finally, it came to my turn. Five pairs of eyes looked at me expectantly. The ones that seemed to bore into me the most were those belonging to Gavin’s housemate, Lisa-Marie. I looked over at her lounging against the couch. Little beads of sweat trickled down into her cleavage. Right then I wished I were one of those beads, swimming between those gorgeous firm globes.
The silence in the room stretched paper thin. Finally, I took a pull of my beer and began.
It was in the Christmas holidays when I was seventeen. Mum and Dad were overseas and so I had the house to myself. I had this job for the school holidays and so all I was doing was working and sitting at home at night watching pornos. I was trying to save up to buy a car so I wouldn’t have to spend so much time watching pornos. This one night I was flicking through this vid that I had seen before. I was horny but I just didn’t feel like a wank. I guess I was tired of my own hand. I had never had a girlfriend who would let me fuck her or who offered to suck my cock or even wank me off.
I was flicking through this local rag and I saw this ad for naked massage. I thought that would be different. It would be kind of horny having a woman touch me when I was naked. Even if she was only massaging my back. The ad said her place was really close to my work, so I rang up to find out what the story was. The lady who answered the phone didn’t give out too many details and I didn’t want to look like a stupid kid, so I didn’t ask too many questions. She told me it would be $100 for 30 mins. I kind of just said “Uh-huh” like a stupid teenager and made a time for the next day after work finished.
The next afternoon I turned up at her place and knocked on the door. I was so nervous that I nearly ran away after I knocked but she opened the door too quick. My mouth must have fell open at the sight of her. She was about 30 but I didn’t care. All she was wearing was this corset, a pair of stockings and a garter belt. I don’t think I had ever seen a woman dressed in that small amount of clothing in the flesh. I felt myself getting turned on just by looking at her.
She told me to come in and I followed her down this little hallway. My eyes were fixed on her ass the whole time. She was wearing this G-string thing and her bare butt cheeks were right there in front of me. I had to clench my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching out to touch her butt. We came to this room and she stood by the doorway. Inside the lights had been dimmed and there was a massage table right in the middle of the room. She told me to take my clothes off and get ready for her. I couldn’t talk at all and just nodded like this idiot. I stumbled into the room and she closed the door softly behind me. Beside the table was this little stand that had a small basket with condoms in it. Next to them was some lube and a box of tissues. I remember thinking that they must be for special people who the lady knew really well. I thought all I was going to get was a massage. I thought that was pretty nice of the lady to do for me.
I took off my clothes and I lay down on the table. After a few moments I heard the door open softly. The lady came into the room and stood beside me. After a few moments I felt her hands on my back. She must have squeezed some oil onto her hands because they slid easily over my skin. I felt myself relax under her touch as she stroked down my back and legs. For the first little while she skipped over my bum but then after I relaxed a bit she pressed her hands against my cheeks as she stroked downwards towards my legs. I felt my dick getting hard against the table and I was worried that this wouldn’t be OK for her. I didn’t know what to do when she asked me to roll over. My dick was full and throbbing and I kind of tried to hide myself with a towel.
She smiled at me and began massaging my front. I noticed that her boobs had pushed up out of the corset a little and I looked at them jiggling over me as the lady massaged my chest and stomach. She smiled at me and then her hands worked downwards towards my cock. Without making any comment she moved the towel and then slowly her hands worked down until she was holding my balls in her hand. She stroked me slowly and gently and I felt my dick getting even harder against my stomach. I remember being afraid to even breathe. It felt amazing and I never wanted her to stop but I was so scared that she would suddenly realise that she had made a mistake and it would all stop.
Then she leant over to the little stand beside the table and picked up a condom. With one hand still on my balls she ripped open the packet and slipped out the condom. She placed it between her lips and then leaned down over my rock-hard cock. Her lips slid down over my cock and I almost couldn’t contain myself as I felt a woman’s lips on my cock for the first time. She moved her head up and down on me a few times, but I could feel myself getting so worked up. I was petrified that I was going to blow in her mouth and the whole thing would be over.
There was a small sigh beside me, and I looked over at Lisa-Marie. She was looking at me with this weird glittery look in her eyes. Her hand was resting on her crotch and I could see her touching herself through the denim. I felt my cock stirring a little at the sight of her. I wished I could put my mouth where her hand was and tease her hot cunt with my lips. There was a cough across the room and my friend Graham spoke up,
“Don’t leave us hanging dude,”
Lisa-Marie looked at me intently and gave me a tiny nod. I took another pull of my beer and continued.
The lady realised that I was getting too worked up and she looked up at me,
“Is this your first time?” she asked softly.
I nodded and then I found my voice, “Yes,” I croaked
She stood up and then she lifted her leg over me so that she was kneeling on the table above me. I couldn’t move as I watched her naked pussy descending down onto my aching, virgin cock. She slid down onto me slowly and it felt amazing. Just like it said in that movie it felt like warm apple pie. She moved up and down on me very slowly and I tried so hard to stop myself cumming but after about six or so movements I felt myself cumming.
It was the best cum I had ever felt. No wank had ever, ever felt like this. I clamped my lips together because I didn’t know if it was OK to make any noise. It felt as if my head was going to explode. After I finished cumming she slipped quietly off me. I lay on the table still trying to process what had just happened to me. I was almost unaware of what she was doing to me as she slipped the condom off of my limp cock and wiped me clean with a tissue. She smiled at me for a moment before she said,
“I will just let you get dressed when you are ready. I will be down the end of the hall when you are finished.”
She left the room and closed the door behind her. I lay on the table for what seemed like forever with my head spinning. My brain couldn’t process what had just happened. I came for a massage and then left my virginity behind.
I looked around the room. My friends all stared at me and I suddenly felt as if I had made a mistake telling my story. Then Lisa-Marie stood up from the couch. She walked over to me and stood in front of my chair. My eyes were looking straight at her beautiful belly. Above my head her breasts teased me. She reached down and took my hand.
“That was the frigging hottest thing I have ever heard,” her eyes were hungry as she stared down into my face. She put my hand against her crotch, and I fancied that I could feel the heat through the thin denim. “You need to do something about that now.” She commanded. She led me by the hand out of the room and down the hallway to her bedroom.
The prompt for this week’s Wicked Wednesday was Teenage Years. I was reminded of a story I wrote a long time ago but I couldn’t find it. Instead I found this one which is just as hot. As usual please click on the image below to see who else is being wicked this week.
The door closes on the last human living with me. I am alone. For the first time in a very long time, I am alone in my house. It is early afternoon. I had planned to have a nap but now my mind wanders. My bed is comfortable but now I am not sleepy. I slip out of my shorts and knickers, discarding them on the floor. From my bedside table I take out my toy of choice. A glass dildo. It is heavy and cool in my hand as I consider the butt plug. I decide to leave that today.
Lying on the bed I scan for porn on my iPad. I find what I like, a site featuring men masturbating. Not standard porn but I am not a standard person. For a while I flick through different cams. I don’t know what I am looking for I just flick. Is this what men do, flick through channels because nothing grabs their attention immediately? Or it does and then the attention is lost a moment later?
My hand slides down between my legs. I massage my clit through the outer lips of my labia. This motion is comforting. I am reconnecting with myself. I stroke myself with the dildo. The smooth cool surface of the head teases my outer lips. Gradually it becomes moist with my juices. Juices that are starting to trickle.
I am a little nervous. I am worried about someone coming home but I make an effort to take my time. This is for me. The head of my dildo breaks through my outer lips. It eases its way around my vulva. Smooth glass, still cool strokes the sensitive skin around my clit. I slide a finger down and stroke myself a little as I dip the dildo into my cunt. Just a little way to moisten it. My fingers work over my clit and I begin to tease my opening with the smooth glass of the dildo.
Pressure builds, I slide the shaft all the way inside me pressing against my g-spot at the entrance. It is strange how everything feels so different when you touch yourself. I can feel the pressure of the orgasm building already. I know I could push myself over with one or two well placed strokes, but I want to wait and draw it out.
I slow the rhythm of my strokes. For a minute or so I distract myself with the action on the screen, watching the young man’s hand stroking his cock. I fantasise about sucking his cock for a moment. I slide the dildo in and out, feeling the pressure fade away but as I increase the pace again it is there. The pressure is stronger this time.
My fingers work quickly. I press the head of the dildo against the back wall of my vagina giving myself pleasure in other places. But it is my clit that is hungry. I can feel the orgasm sitting at the edge of my mind. My whole body is focussing on it. For a few moments it teeters before my body spasms in pleasure. A groan escapes from my lips as the second spasm takes me. I rest the dildo against my leg as I lie breathing heavily. My body hums with joy as hormones burn through my bloodstream. Like an addict I ride the high smiling with pleasure. Slowly sleep claims me.
This post is part of this week’s MMMMonday. Click on the image below to see who else is sharing.
With ferocious glee Tabitha shoved the last of the old clothing into plastic bags and threw the bag onto the pile she had allocated to give to charity. Picking up the broom she swept the last of the dust and debris into a neat pile in the middle of the room. She picked up the broom and swept dust into a pile before sweeping it into a dustpan to carry out to the bin. Finally she allowed herself time to look around the room and remember. As a child Tabitha and her brother had spent many happy afternoons in this attic playing hide and seek among the furniture and trunks. As she had grown up her Grandmother had taken her up here to delve into dusty trunks looking for treasures Granny had collected as a young woman travelling the world. Some of Granny’s treasures were so exotic Tabitha could not even imagine the places she would have travelled to collect them. Now Granny was gone and the house had to be sold. All the trinkets and treasures were divided up between the family or sold off. It had broken Tabitha’s heart.
Taking a deep breath, Tabitha shook herself out of her melancholy, “What is past is past,” she remembered her Granny saying many times, “No use worrying about what could have been. You are better off using your energy to worry about what can be.” She turned to take the last of the bags of rubbish down to the bin. Sitting beside the plastic bag she noticed a lamp. A puzzled frown creased her brow. She didn’t remember putting it there. Nor did she ever remember seeing it in the Attic. It didn’t even look like anything else Granny had collected. But there it was, as large as life sitting in the corner by the stairs.
Setting down her bags Tabitha stepped over and picked up the lamp, it seemed to be made of brass, albeit tarnished and dusty brass. Without thinking Tabitha wiped the top of the lamp with her hand, smoothing the dust off. There was a flash of light and suddenly the top of the staircase was filled with a large honey coloured man.
Tabitha stepped back in shock. For a few moments all she could do was gape at his smooth well-muscled body. His skin was a dark honey colour and didn’t appear to have a single hair gracing his chest. Tabitha had to fight off a strong urge to step forward run her hand over his smooth, rippling chest. Her eyes travelled downwards over his stomach noting the small line of hair that led from his belly button downwards into the loincloth that was tied around his waist.
The loincloth was the only garment he was wearing. If you could call it a garment. It barely covered anything. Heat rose in Tabitha’s cheeks as she thought for a moment about what the loincloth was trying to cover.
“You have three wishes,” a deep voice sent a melting heat straight through Tabitha’s belly. Suddenly her whole groin seemed to be throbbing. She forced herself to look up into his eyes.
“What?” she was confused.
“You have three wishes,” repeated calmly and completely without expression.
“Or?” Tabitha really didn’t like being told what to do or being given ultimatums.
“I will be your constant companion until you have made three wishes.” The man pronounced. “I am bound by the genie code to attend the person who rubs my lamp until I grant them their three wishes.”
“And then what?” Tabitha continued getting, a perverse pleasure from being difficult.
“I return to the lamp until it can be hidden and found again by another unsuspecting person.” The Genie’s voice held a very slight note of terseness.
“What if I wish for something you can’t do.” Tabitha couldn’t resist seeing how much she could provoke the Genie.
A tiny frown appeared at the centre of the Genie’s brow. It didn’t mar the beauty of his features; in fact it made Tabitha even more attracted to him. “I am bound to be your companion until I can grant you three wishes.” the Genie continued doing an admirable job of keeping the irritation out of his voice. For some odd reason Tabitha looked down. Was she imagining it or was the loincloth having more difficulty covering the Genie’s loins?
“I can’t believe it,” Tabitha was amazed at the thought. “He is turned on by me bossing him around. Well, if that is how he likes it.” Tabitha came to a decision.
“I wish there was a spa downstairs waiting for me with scented oil and twenty, no fifty, candles lighting the bathroom.
A muscle flicked in the Genie’s cheek, “Done!” he replied.
Tabitha frowned at him in disbelief, “Granny doesn’t have a spa!” she scoffed.
The Genie stepped aside and waved his arm over the staircase, “She does now,” he replied simply.
Tabitha made her way down the stairs and along the hall to the bathroom. The Genie followed her, almost silent on the wooden floorboards. At the door to the bathroom Tabitha turned to face him,
“If I don’t make all my wishes straight away,” she began, “like if I think about what I want for a few days. What happens then?”
“I am your constant companion until I have granted you three wishes.” The Genie replied simply. Without her even being conscious of it, Tabitha glanced downwards. The bulge in the Genie’s loincloth seemed even bigger. A wicked inkling of an idea began at the back of her mind. She turned and opened the door. Granny’s bathroom had been completely remodelled. In the corner sat a spa big enough for at least three people, or one girl and a huge genie.
She turned and looked at the Genie standing in the doorway of the bathroom. “Constant companion?” She asked, with one eyebrow raised.
“Constant,” he replied with a completely straight face.
Tabitha turned her back and walked towards the spa. She slipped her shirt down over her arms and let it slide to the floor. The rest of her clothes followed suit. Only when she was about to step into the bath she turned to the Genie. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall behind her. Only the loincloth gave him away, and a bead of sweat forming on his brow.
“Would you like to join me?” she asked as she placed one foot into the water.
The Genie stepped into the room as he made his way across to her Tabitha felt his eyes burning her naked flesh. He stopped in front of her, his smooth honey coloured chest millimetres away from her hard nipples. His eyes were dark pools of lust. Tabitha felt her cunt throbbing and wetness forming over the top if her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat.
“As you wish,” the genie reached down and unclasped his loincloth letting it slide to the floor to join Tabitha’s clothes. He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her closer to him, pressing his cock against her belly. Tabitha was helpless. He could do anything he wanted to her. All she wanted was his cock. “Or do you wish for something else?” He whispered as he caressed the side of her neck with his lips. With one hand he reached between her legs, to caress her wet cunt. She whimpered, unable to say anything as he stroked and caressed her before sliding his fingers inside her.
He lifted her up and placed her gently into the warm swirling water. “I don’t want to use up all my wishes at once,” she said as he stepped into the opposite end of the spa.
There was a pause as he settled himself and arranged her legs so that he could stroke her thighs. “If I wish for the same thing it doesn’t count.”
I have spent the last eight weeks exploring our new catamaran while sailing isn’t exactly a new thing for us owning something like this definitely is. For me committing to being a crew member with expected roles and responsibilities is also something new. I am learning it is good.
I also tried a new lover recently. You can read about the highlights of that encounter here.
2.Who do you sometimes compare yourself to?
Everyone! Which is sad and not healthy. If another teacher talks about a classroom practice I internally ask myself, Should I do that? Do I do that? Is my class as good as theirs? It can be demoralising .
3.What gets you excited about life?
I am a biologist at heart. I love LIFE in the biological sense. I love looking at living things and marvelling at the way life is layered and interlocking all over this world of ours. Spending time in marine environments especially mangroves is a great way to see this. In one little space you can see mangrove trees with oysters attached to them, baby fish sheltering in their roots, crabs crawling about foraging in their shade, birds looking for their breakfast and a whole plethora of insects. Life crammed together.
4.Are you satisfied with your work?
Mostly yes. Even though sometimes listening to my complaints it may not seem so. When I consider retiring I am immediately reminded that I am not ready for that yet. Although it does seem tempting sometimes. Like everything in this world the rare moments of triumph make up for the daily grind.
5.What have people most often praised you for?
Lovers, admire my boobs, more specifically my nipples. I have a friend who thinks they are the most perfect boobs he has ever seen. I have tried to send unflattering pictures to him but he insists that the angle never matters.
Bonus: When you think of home, what immediately comes to mind?
When I am away from home I often think about my bed. There is nothing like your own bed. I have friends who are FIFO workers. They have a different room and bed every shift rotation. I don’t understand how they cope with that. I just couldn’t.
This post is part of this week’s TMI Tuesday. Click on the image below to see who else is sharing this week.
I will start this post by stating that I am not in a D/s relationship and probably won’t ever engage in a formal D/s relationship, but I do sometimes employ some softer elements into my sexual play. Not the same thing I know.
For me submission is about relinquishing control. About not having to make decisions about what is going to happen. If someone is dominating me, I am free to focus on my response to the situation. I will say that my response to authority often features two extremes. I like to follow rules, I like structure. I will follow a rule and conform to a set of expectations while I think they are reasonable and the person issuing the rules is making them from a place of intelligence.
If I feel that the person issuing the rules is not intelligent or is making rules to suit their own stupid agenda, then my compliance is at best sullen and more frequently bratty and devious. Like all people I will look for a loophole or straight out defy. It is a very childish response, but I have been known to flip the bird behind the back of someone in authority when they give an instruction, I find particularly irritating.
During sex I will sometimes comply with a reasonable request. If I feel it has been framed appropriately. On the flip side I sometimes like to be in control, call the shots and put my partner into positions and situations that I choose. I am turned on by having power over someone. If they resist, they will earn themselves a spank in the moment but not a fully constructed punishment.
For me, discipline and punishment are not things that are part of my sex life. They are part of my vanilla life. I am a teacher, discipline is a daily thing for me. But not in the way that most people think. When I think of discipline, I think of maintaining a routine and a set of expectations. Students, and humans in general, are compliant when they know what to expect. Most people will be much calmer and happier if they have a good understanding of what they can expect when they take a certain course of action. To me discipline is about being consistent in your response to a situation.
My daughter explains to people regularly, “When Mum says no it is no.” This is a big part of being disciplined. Having a consistent set of responses to situations. Following a particular way of thinking consistently; making a plan or set of rules and sticking to it. Sometimes it is hard and tiring to do that. It is tempting to short cut the rules or the plan. Doing this will result in hardship later. People in your charge will become unruly and difficult to handle if they know they can get you to change an unpopular policy simply by questioning, whining or having a tantrum. It takes effort to enforce a plan at the start but over time that enforcement becomes habit and is easier. It is met with less resistance amongst the troops because they see the plan working in everyone’s favour.
Punishment has never been a feature of my life as a Sex Goddess, a teacher or a parent. Consequences is the approach I use. When my own children were small I would often say to them;
“You can do that if you want to but if you do then X is going to happen”
This then becomes part of the discipline circuit. A consistent set of rules and follow through. I stated how I would respond, and they can make their own choice. In a classroom the same thing happens. Once I had a student who would invariably ask “So what are we doing?” just when I had finished giving the instructions and everyone was getting on with the task. It drove me bananas. The class knew it and they all conformed to listen when I was explaining the task, except him.
One day I remember him starting to ask the inevitable question and his new girlfriend shushing him as the words started. She hurriedly repeated the instructions and urged him to get on with it. She understood the discipline thing even if he didn’t. Perhaps the consequence of not complying with her was more dire for him than not complying with me. Whatever, that habit did change with her help. Teenage boys really do think with their small brain most of the time.
People sometimes ask if I am the dominant in my relationship with Mr Jones. The answer is a very firm no. I don’t believe that kind of dynamic would be healthy in OUR relationship. I have no doubt he would very much enjoy it. He doesn’t like making decisions and having someone calling all the shots would make his life much easier. As I explained I spend my day making the decisions and calling the shots for a bunch of teenagers. It is exhausting. I don’t want to come home and do the same thing.
2021 in the classroom for me is about a bit of tightening in the discipline department. One of my classes this year is a year 7 class. They are in their first year of high school and traditionally are unruly and have an inflated sense of their own importance. Consistent expectations and consequences are important in training them to navigate high school successfully and with minimal drama.
This post is part of the current 4 Thoughts or Fiction meme “Discipline and Punishment” To see some other thoughts on the topic head click on the image below.
I would like to preface this post by paying my respects to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Elders, past and present. I acknowledge the deep understanding of country held by the First Nations peoples of Australia and I am committed to working with them for a brighter future for my country.
When I was completing my teaching degree I remember a discussion about the difference between the terms syllabus and curriculum. According to my lecturer syllabus is the content that is delivered in a classroom. Be it Mathematics, Science, English, whatever. The curriculum is a more general term that refers to the collective things taught at a particular place of learning. This idea can be stretched to include things that are NOT on the syllabus such as how to behave, ways of treating each other, dealing with the system that is our world, etc.
I read a post by Mike at Marriage, Sex and More discussing the idea of teaching about marriage in schools. Mike had heard a podcaster indicating that it would be a good idea to introduce a class on marriage into schools. My first reaction to this idea is one shared by a lot of my colleagues “Really! Let’s just try and fit another life skill into the classroom.” I want to say that I fully support Mike’s rejection of this idea. In this modern world it seems that schools are expected to cover a lot of material that should be covered at home because parents are either incapable of or too lazy to parent their children properly.
In a previous post I described Steve Biddulph’s idea that we subliminally learn about parenting as we grow up. These lessons are not taught directly, they are lessons learned through watching someone over a long period of time and in line with other things that are happening. The teacher is unaware that they are teaching. The learner is unaware that they are learning but in the sponge that is a child’s brain, lessons are being implanted about how to speak to your children, what to do when your child is naughty, how to mould behavior.
The same subliminal process happens with relationships. The child’s sponge brain absorbs how spouses interact. If a woman treats her husband with contempt her daughters are likely to grow up and do the same thing. Of course as I explained, we can identify the behaviors we don’t like and consciously change them. We are not cookie cutter images of our parents. As we grow up other influences come in to play, parents of friends, relatives, other close friends, our ultimate spouses but the first influence of our parents can be hard to shake.
What does this have to do with the classroom? Well learning is not a linear process. We like to think that the education system is linear and like a factory. Put kid in at age 4 – 5 (depending on the country etc), go through a series of steps (various classes), and at the end we spit out an educated fully functioning adult. There are any number of anecdotal and more academic studies that show this is really NOT the way it works despite the billions of dollars spent on and worldwide adoption of this way of educating.
Anyone who has spent time with any Indigenous Elder discussing their culture will know that indigenous elders teach their young people by demonstration and talking. During 2020 and 2019 I had several opportunities to spend a few days with two different elders, a Bundjalung man and a Mununjali man. Both men have extensive knowledge about plants, stories, way of life, and respect for country. Both teach the same way; walking through the bush and discussing what comes along. Or sitting in a yarning circle and discussing whatever comes up.
Neither goes into a situation with a learning intention or a specific set of points to discuss and tick off. Both will talk about topics multiple times in multiple ways as they come across them in their daily activities. As I walked and yarned with these men I could see how generations of First Nations people were taught about their culture, the landscape they lived in, and how to care for it. I could see how this way of learning is gentle, but strong and effective.
This is the way humans learn to live, not in a classroom. Classrooms are for abstract, thought based things like Science, Mathematics and Literature. They can be adapted to teach specific skills like how to bake a cake or how to build a chair but they CANNOT be used to teach life skills like how to discuss money issues with your spouse or how to know a particular person is going to be a good life partner. These things can only be taught over time and with repetition, space to make real life errors and guidance when these early errors happen. This type of learning can only happen with a person who is constantly there, like a parent. Not a teacher who, at best, will be in close contact with a student for a couple of years.
First Nations people defer to Elders as the ‘Educational Authority’. One doesn’t become an Elder by reaching a certain age. They achieve this status by demonstrating an understanding of culture and a level of maturity that befits the status. In western society, probably as a result of our education system, we have lost this concept. Adulthood is conferred on us when we reach a specific age regardless of our maturity. We can have children when our bodies are ready, not when our souls and minds are. We can, and often do, educate our children while we are still children ourselves.
Perhaps the solution to the decline in life skills is not just shoving another class into the syllabus but changing our perspective on who is a good person to deliver the curriculum.
1.First question relates to the photo above – what is it?
When I looked at this image I could see immediately what it is; a salmon steak. I can’t understand why other people would find it confusing. I guess it is like those puzzles where the image is hidden. Once you see the image you can’t un see it.
2.Should we be signalling our existence to alien life? Why?
As everyone knows the Earth is merely a super computer designed by Deep Thought, pictured below. The current version of Earth was built on the planet Magrathea to replace the original Earth which was destroyed by Vogons minutes before it finished its calculations. So the above question is really irrelevant. Just ask Douglas Adams
3.What is one thing you do not understand about yourself?
I don’t understand why I backflip over so many things. For example I was always firm about my reluctance to go on an extended sailing trip but then I actively encouraged Mr Jones to buy his dream boat and embark on such a journey.
Another example; I have always said I wouldn’t fuck someone who was young enough to be my child. And now I am dancing around that topic with a very young man.
4. What weird food combinations do you really enjoy?
I am Australian so anything with Vegemite is considered normal for us but weird in the rest of the world. My go to Vegemite combinations are; with smashed avocado on toast, on a salad sandwhich.
Other combinations that are not so common are peanut paste (butter) with honey and McDonalds fries with their soft serve.
5. What are two of your go-to strategies to help you make decisions?
First one that I use for the really big decisions is to physically write a list of the pros and cons. It is important to make a physical list because that helps you to get clarity on which side is actually the stronger side. Also it helps you to really hone in on what is important to you about the decision.
Second one is to avoid making the decision until I absolutely have to and then making the decision based on a gut feeling at the last minute. This strategy isn’t great for life decisions but great for ordering food at restaurants. Also great for deciding less important things in the classroom like if we are going to play a game.
Bonus: How replaceable are you?
Everyone is replaceable despite what they would like to think of themselves. As a teacher I am completely replaceable. There are hundreds of other teachers out there and most of them will do as good a job as me. As a mother probably a little less so. I like to think my parenting style is pretty good and my children have always been reluctant to spend too much time in other houses because the dynamics are too turbulent and unpredictable.
Bonus Bonus: Because there were not enough boobs in this post here are some with the beach on Moreton Island in the background.
This post is part of TMI Tuesday for this week. To see who else is sharing click here or on the image below
She checks her phone when she wakes. There is a notification. She opens it, waiting impatiently for the file to load. The wait is worth it.
Beautiful sexy image with the words wishing you were here.
Her lips curve up in a smile as she replies
I wish I was there too.
Children jump on her bed, demanding breakfast, signalling the way the day will unfold. Full of busy work attending to the needs and problems of others.
In a quiet moment she allows herself another look at the image. She fantasises about sliding her hand over the hair on his chest, down, under the covers.
A co-worker interrupts her quiet time. Break time is over.
After work there are children to collect from daycare. A drive home and then dinner / showers / bedtime stories before finally time to herself.
I wish you were here. She types to him
I will be there in fifteen minutes.
This post is part of MMMMonday week 2. Click on the image below to see who else says MMM
Corrupting Mrs Jones 