Disclaimer: I have the utmost respect for teachers in any school system. I worked in a high school for 2 years and as a dance teacher for 10 years, and have many family members and friends that are currently employed as educators. 

For the past month and a half I have been working as a substitute teacher in a variety of private schools uptown and downtown. Each day that I’m called in brings a new adventure and set of experiences, some more noteworthy than others. For the record, I’m not complaining about having to work- in New York City hustle is both necessary and the norm, and I hold (and have held) many jobs in addition to this subbing position.

However, it is slowly sucking the last bit of soul out of my body. When I started this job, I had high hopes of being regarded much like Robin Williams’ character in Good Will Hunting. In truth, I feel more like Cameron Diaz in Bad Teacher, or Michelle Pfeiffer in the prep school version of Dangerous Minds.

My first week teaching I was called in to sub Pre-K, Kindergarten and high school. The first two days I spent losing to 5 year olds in checkers and listening as the other kindergarten teachers bitched about all those runners in the park in the middle of the day, who must be “artists.” Yes, those “artists” have it so easy, working like maniacs to pay rent and survive in New York while pursuing their dream, as you sit on the playground babysitting a bunch of 5 year olds before snack time. Please.

I was excited the day I was called in to the high school, ready to do some real teaching! Be careful what you wish for. One period I was asked to proctor an English exam. Which wouldn’t be a problem, except there were two pages of instructions on all the class stipulations- Person A, B, C, and D may use their computers, Person E, F, and G have extra time, Person A and G can take their extra time in after school, have person B e-mail this to me and Person C and D… I blacked out after the fourth paragraph. What ever happened to “Here’s the test, keep your eyes on your own paper and good luck.” The following day I received an e-mail scolding me for letting a student with a stomach issue spend too much time in the bathroom, with explicit details on how to handle this problem in the future.

Hey asshole, in the future, give the test yourself.

Another highlight of this job was the day I taught P.E. to 1st graders. What is going on with children these days? Man up little ones, a little exercise never hurt anyone. I have never seen so many “injuries” incur in a 30 minute period. My favorite was “Ms. Morelli, he pushed me.”

Hey kid, you’re playing tag. 

The best gig so far was the three week stint teaching third grade at a private school uptown. The kids were great, even the non-diagnosed ADD child who made ME want to be on meds. The subjects were fun, the teachers were all really nice, and I only got in trouble once for not dressing “teacher-like” enough. I quickly rushed to DSW to get a pair of flats to squeeze my fat, damaged feet into, accenting my short, stubby legs, and proudly wore my dumpy look for the final week. 

Which brings me to the past two days. Or as I like to call it “14 Hours of My Life I’ll Never Get Back.” The school I’m placed at is downtown, which means a 45 minute commute to work. Fine. I’ll get up at 6:30am, even though it fills me with dread and makes me a cranky bitch for the rest of the day/week. I arrive at the school and I’m given all the lessons I have to teach for the day… in Spanish.

No hablo español. 

I trudge through two block periods (75 minutes) at the computer lab, and go to lunch. There I’m ignored by every teacher at the table, so I quietly eat and courtesy smile every now and then when the rest of the table laughs. My final class is Philosophy, stocked with obnoxious high school kids to which I am invisible.

Day 2. I arrive at 8am. I have no classes until 11:55am. At 11:55 I am put in a study hall with a group of 8th graders who are throwing Cheerios around the room and walking in and out with no regard to my request to please stay put. No one disciplines them. No one peeks their head out of the classroom to tell them to get where they need to go.

Awesome.

Second half of the day. No class once again. I’m asked to go to the teachers lounge and cut out laminated signs. Final period now. I’m watching an intermediate Spanish class and counting the minutes of the clock like it’s my last day of parole.

I know I should look at this as “easy day!” and “easy money!” No, not really. I don’t find being disrespected and ignored enjoyable for any amount of money. Well, maybe a certain amount of money. But definitely not what I’m making.

Therefore, I leave you with this:

Please buy DEFRIENDED, and then share it with your friends, so I can pursue my career as a writer and stop taking jobs that chip away at my already shaky self-esteem and sanity.

Muchas Gracias.

www.defriendedthebook.com

DEFRIENDED was selected for a local NYC book club this past month, and I had the pleasure of meeting the group and answering a few questions. After getting past the initial “I know nothing about anyone here and they’ve now read about some of the most personal and embarrassing situations in my life” moment, I had a great time chatting with the ladies about the ins and outs of dating, life and love. Here’s a little peek at a few of the questions up for discussion:

Q: Are you writing anything else right now?

A: Yes! A fiction piece. Though I find nonfiction writing comes naturally, I need a break from myself for a bit. DEFRIENDED was very expositional, and I’m still adjusting to having a huge chunk of my life out there for all to read. With this new project, I have a specific character I’ve been developing, and I’m looking forward to telling her story in a unique way.

Q: Did “Jack” read the book?

A: Jack bought the book. He actually pre-ordered it when it first came out. He Instagrammed a picture of it. Whether or not he’s read it, I have no idea.

Q: Have you tried all the fitness apps recommended in the book?

A: I use about half of the ones listed. The others were recommended to me by friends or discovered during research. I’m open to learning about some new ones if you have any you love!

Q: Do you find it’s easier or more difficult dating now [that the book has been published]?

A: I think dating sucks across the board, whether you’ve written a book about it or not. I am definitely more aware now that I ever was, a bit more cautious for sure, and have learned to speak up when something doesn’t feel right. I don’t string people along if I’m not interested, and if I find myself behaving in a way that has not worked well in the past I make a conscious effort to change it. If nothing else, the book has made me very accountable for my actions and reactions, which can be very powerful. I don’t want to be a hypocrite… which means letting go of certain tendencies I’m infamous for. Easier said than done.

If you read DEFRIENDED and would like to set up a Book Club Q & A (or just chat about life over a few cocktails, I’m down for both) please e-mail christina@theceoartist.com. Thanks for reading!

Follow DEFRIENDED on Facebook and Twitter:

www.facebook.com/defriendedthebook

www.twitter.com/defriendedbook

Instagram: @cmorellinyc

This was the last post I had written in Summer 2011, just a few months before my thirtieth birthday. With 31 coming round the corner at lightning speed, I now look back at those uncertain and frustrating times with gratitude and even laughter. The past year has been quite a ride, and I’m excited to see what the future will bring. I would definitely say dance class will be making it’s way back on to my “To Do” list.

I have a mug that sits on my desk next to my computer.  I use it as a pen/pencil holder.  I have no idea when I acquired it, but I have a clear picture of it first appearing on my desk in my apartment in Chelsea.  I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a gift, which means that at any given point during one of my life crises I bought it as some sort of visual reminder to keep going.  The inscription says, “Do something every day that scares you.”

I’m a pretty fearless person when it comes to a lot of things, and anyone who knows me has witnessed this firsthand.  I’m not afraid to say what I think.  I have a fiercely competitive streak, particularly when it comes to sports and games, and when I play, I play to win.  Here’s what scares me most:

Failing.

Which is ironic, because I’ve spent most of the past five years failing at virtually everything I’ve tried when it comes to relationships and careers.  At least that’s how it feels at times.  So last week, in the throws of another job gone sour, the relinquishment of my latest sublet, and the gloom of an indefinite period of commuting sitting on my lap, I did the one thing I’ve been terrified to do- I went back to dance class.

To most people, this would not seem like that big of a deal.  I’ve been a dancer my whole life, and taking a class used to be as normal and routine as brushing my teeth and showering.  However, it had been over a year since I last stepped foot in one of New York’s professional studios.  The last class I took was in July of 2010, and it was a lyrical hip hop where we learned choreography to Eminem and Rihanna’s “Love the Way You Lie”- that should give you a good picture of how long it’s been. Here’s what I discovered…

1. When you face your fears you realize that the thing you were most afraid of isn’t the task at hand, but your ability to master it with the same grace and ease as you previously expected.  I was scared to go back to dance class not because I didn’t love dance, but because I didn’t want to face that I may not be as good as I once was.

2.  I’m not the worst dancer in the class.

3.  Your body and muscle retains and remembers way more than you give it credit for.

4.  Once you love something it becomes a part of you, and no matter how long it lays dormant it will always be there waiting to be revived.

5.  It’s ok to not be the same dancer you were at 17.  Your body is different, your mind is different, and your approach to the class will be different.  Embrace it. Learn from it. Make it work for who you are now.

There’s something that happens to me when I’m dancing now.  It’s the same feeling I get when I think of former loves… a strange mix of frustration, nostalgia, elation and sadness. It’s something that needs to be a part of me in some capacity, and though I walked away before this time I want it back for good.

It brings me to life.  And sometimes, that’s all that you need.

Another post dug out of the archives… this one is in honor of “Dave and Mike” and their impending reunion this weekend, and a recent surge of “girls nights” that I couldn’t be more happy about. Enjoy.

Day 5 and in my third place of rest… it’s just like home!

Seriously though, I have to admit I love this city.  Aside from the drill sergeant at Customs wanting to know how much money I had in my account to stay here for two months (note to self: from here on out I’m simply an excited tourist… damn me and my honesty), everyone and everything has been wonderful so far.  

My first night I had the pleasure of meeting up with the lovely and talented Alex Berger, who introduced me to some local singer-songwriters after a heart-racing game of Frisbee in the park.  He’s actually in New York now, so if you’re in the city on October 23 you should definitely check out his show at Rockwood Music Hall.

On Saturday I ventured over to Holland Park, which quickly became one of my favorite neighborhoods here.  Rich with trees, cafes, parks, and clean and classic buildings, I felt like I was walking through a movie set as I made my way to dinner at the secret restaurant, Nomad Chef.  I cannot say enough wonderful things about Shelley Taylor, our host and chef, who put together a delicious meal (complete with tofu for the vegetarians!) and dessert in her beautiful flat.  At dinner I was able to meet and mingle with about 15 complete strangers, exchanging numbers, drinking and even a little dancing to complete the night.  The concept of this “secret restaurant” is brilliant- it’s a perfect way to meet new people and enjoy a night of socializing while maintaining the comfort and intimacy of dining at home.  Some nights she has live entertainment featuring local singer-songwriters, and other nights she’s busy being booked for private parties and events.  We’re working on getting Shelley and her magnificent hosting skills to NY and NJ in a few weeks… you don’t know how lucky you are!

Sunday was recovery and work mode… aside from wandering and meeting up with some great people and business contacts here I’ve spent a great deal of time in cafes mapping, planning, e-mailing and writing in prep for the upcoming weeks of travel.  Wednesday I head out to Frankfurt, Germany, making my way through Stuttgart, Zurich, Munich, Amsterdam, Haarlem, and Paris before coming home to England and getting settled.  

Another note: the Tube system here is great. Easy to navigate, not overly crowded and extremely clean.  Not one person gave me a dirty look as I made my way on and off with my 90 pounds of luggage…  Not even when I rolled over their feet.  London definitely wins in the public transportation department!

Today is a warm and windy fall day, and I’m taking some time to explore the West End before heading back to Flat #3 in Camden.  Missing you all in New York, but excited to share everything I’m experiencing along the way.

Love. XOXO

1. Go to Red Mango and get Pumpkin Spice yogurt with dark chocolate chips and graham crackers. Yum.

2. Eat pizza. More yum.

3. Learn German, French, and Dutch. Not so much yum.

4. Buy back ups for back ups of back ups of all my electronic equipment.

5. Buy extra fast sneakers to run after any potential thieves who may try to steal from me (they will NOT get away with it this time).

6. Say goodbye to my fall wardrobe, and hug each pair of boots, one at a time.

7. Eat more pizza and Red Mango. (aka feed my inner fat girl)

8. Learn how to drive on the wrong side of the road (I am kind of an expert at that already).

9. Find a coat that can be worn in three of the four seasons, since I was just informed the weather is summer-like in London, with snow in the near forecast.

10. And the thing I’m least looking forward to doing… Pack. 

One week!