neither here nor there

Dear Thief,

It’s two a.m., and I’ve been lying awake, so I’ve decided perhaps a cathartic letter to you might allow me to sleep once again.

My name is Katy Byrns and I am a fifth grade teacher. I teach in a crappy neighborhood in Stockton instead of somewhere like my hometown of Davis because I want to help those kids do something valuable with their lives and not take the same path that you did. As you probably saw, I’m a runner and live with my boyfriend, Dale. We like our little house here in East Sac. but do look forward to moving to Portland. It’s too bad you couldn’t have waited a few months. You didn’t, and so I thought you might want to know the value of the items you stole from our house today.

The Power Book:
You were probably disappointed to open that baby up and find that it’s a few years old and missing the “M” key. Sorry about that. It was a college graduation gift and has been through some rough times. The M was lost about three years ago when Dale, Mayta, and I were watching something trashy like Laguna Beach while drinking martinis. I should say that Mayta and I chose what was on TV and that Dale was probably drinking a Gin and Tonic. Anyways, Dale leaned over to give me a kiss and knocked my Cosmo into the keyboard. Despite the drip dry, blow dry and key removal, a certain stickiness remained for years. When the weather changed, my keys were slower to bounce back up upon impact and sometimes you would hear a little suctioning noise as the unstuck themselves from the sugary glue in there. Eventually Dale replaced most of the keys, but the poor M wouldn’t budge. It became the wobbly key, until it just straight up fell off. While the key itself is missing, no worries, you will not have to abandon that letter of the alphabet because the little plastic nub works just fine.

Also on the Power Book, you are welcome to have the many stages, drafts and revisions of my Masters thesis. That thing took a year of work during my first year of teaching and darn near killed me. If you choose not to read all 100 pages, at least skim through to appreciate the pictures of the students in my study and the colorful graphs I labored over. While perusing my Word documents I recommend you try the Empanada recipe; it’s excellent.

There are many other things of value (well, only to me) that you will find on that computer. Maybe every sweet educational website I’ve ever found bookmarked in the internet browser. I do hope you get a chance to browse the internet before you sell it. And please, I pray that if there is any justice, you will open iphoto while using other programs and experience the same aggravating freeze that I’ve learned to avoid. All programs will stall as my aging computer goes into overload and you too will curse the “rainbow spinney wheel” that means the Power Book is freaking out. While you’re in iphoto, enjoy pictures of anything I’ve don’t since college. You can see my trips to Georgia with Dale (I think you will especially enjoy the beautiful pictures of Savannah.) Let’s see…there are also pictures of the two Davis kids I used to tutor. I call them “My Brazilian Children.” You can find pictures of their First Communion and dance recitals. I can’t list all of them. I’m sure you will enjoy everything from the bars of Davis, to backpacking trips and vacations in those pictures.

Jewelry from My Dresser:
Most of those necklaces and earrings were given to me by my father or Dale for a Christmas or birthday. While the Power Book might have been a let down, at least that handful of jewelry is monetarily valuable for you. I must say I’m thankful you missed out on the earrings I was wearing today, well yesterday, as they are the ones Dale bought for me with his first paycheck as an urban planner and are my favorites. And my necklace—you probably noticed the signature Tiffany’s pouch, empty. I was also wearing my SF Women’s Marathon necklace, so you missed that one.

Other than that, the items you would find less valuable include a beautiful necklace (complete in banana leaf box) a friend brought to me from Kenya. There’s also a colorful necklace with oversized beads. That one a student of mine made for me.

I could go on, but I think I’ve done enough listing of “goods” for now. I just wonder what goes through your mind as your rifling through my underwear drawer. Sitting on my dresser, staring you in the face are pictures: me as a baby with my grandpa; my sister at age 4, wading in a lake. When you broke into our living room you walked by pictures of Dale and I as well as numerous other “things.” Things we’ve both worked for and earned over the years.

What did you do to earn an old laptop and a handful of jewelry? Break a French door? Time to do something worthwhile with your life. Pull your shit together. I had only two more words for you, but perhaps you can guess what those are.

Sincerely,
The Woman You Stole From

P.S. I only wish I had waited a day before changing my Facebook password so you too could enjoy this letter written from me, to you.

Share on Facebook

This morning, on our first day back from Winter Break, our class sat in a circle ready to play a game we call “Two Truths and a Lie.” For this morning’s edition of the game, each person wrote down 2 truths and 1 lie about what he or she did over break and then the rest of the class had to guess which statement was the lie. My students know I’ve run several marathons, but I stuck to short and easy runs over the past two weeks, so I was sure my three statements would trick them:

Over break I…
1. Baked a lot of cookies
2. Walked on the Golden Gate Bridge
3. Ran 20 miles

As a my students held up 1, 2, or 3 fingers, Hector, sitting directly across from me on the couch experienced his not-unusual diarrhea of the mouth.

To no one in particular, but loud enough for everyone, he blurted out, “Number three is the lie. Run 20 miles? A woman can’t do that.”

My eyebrows shot a few inches up my forehead while 26 students sucked in a collective gasp (I later reflected upon this and was thankful for their joint shock at the statement.) Rather than rant or rave, I find that a calm seriousness really is most effective and helps everyone to sit up a little straighter in this type of situation.

“Oh really Hector?” I asked. “Women can’t run 20 miles?” At this point I think the class is waiting for some real fireworks. They should know by now, that’s not my style. “I find that interesting,” I continued, “because I myself have done that probably 10 times.”

“Oh…” he sank back into the couch cushions. “Um…is a marathon 20 miles?” he asked, a bit meeker than his first declaration. This is probably when he remembered that I shared with the class that I had run a marathon in Sacramento a month before, one in SF a few months prior, and another when I had them back in fourth grade.

“No. Actually, a marathon is 26 miles. And I’ve done that 5 times.” A matter of fact tone paired with eye contact is really much more powerful than raising your voice.

“And you know, there are women who have run over a HUNDRED miles, at once, without stopping,” I added.

“Oh.” Poor Hector. Maybe the devil is back to speaking to him in his head (see previous note, “Fabulous Student Quotes.”) Or perhaps his parents just need to move a few hundred years forward in time. I suppose it’s better he learns it now from his fifth grade teacher, rather than some teenaged girl that slaps him across the face a few years down the road.

“I guess we won’t be skipping Women’s History Month this year,” I noted. And so we moved on to the week’s spelling words.

Share on Facebook