Anyone who saw the movie The Pacifier with the Vin Diesel will recognize the title of this blog and probably wonder, "Why the hell would someone entitle a blog with that?" Frankly, I'm not sure, but a vision of Vin Diesel singing the song and a strong sense of the blues washed over me at the end of my last class. As the dress code "enforcer," I'm having some issues with female students who resent the interference. It's not MY dress code, but it is my job to speak to the girls who violate it--mostly because talking about low necklines makes the male faculty uncomfortable, and I'm the only straight female in the building most of the day. I understand all this, but the impact on my relationship with the female students saddens me. I work really hard to be fair to them and they cannot get beyond themselves on this--no surprise, they are teenagers, and that's all I can expect. So I need to keep reminding myself that while they make it "personal," it isn't really, because their reactions have nothing to do with me--they blame me because of who they are. And I love them dearly for who they are, myopic selfishness and all! The older I get (and I'm only 49, so I know I'm not THAT old), but more I appreciate the softness of youth's face, the plumpness in the cheeks and near the jawline that even the thinnest of them have, the lingering mark of baby fat that won't disappear until the bones of the face push through with the severity of adulthood, lines that harden with the weight and gravity of life's less pleasant surprises. I wouldn't want it any other way--given the alternative--but God do I love those young faces, whether 2 or 22! Will I always feel this way or does one reach a point where the silliness seems only like willful imbecility? Where naivite seems no different from stupidity? Is there any joy if that happens? Hard to imagine.
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