On the first day of grad school at USC, I kept hearing the word “pedagogy” and decided I should probaly learn what it meant. Pedagogy is the study of teaching. Important to know when getting one's Master's in education. So, on the first day of my over priced education, I was pedagoged in the science of pedagogy. Yes, pedagoged is not really a word. But, what the hell, I’m an English teacher, so I think that gives me the right to make words up like, flirxting and googleable and pedagoged.
Anyway, one of the pedagogy thingies I learned was called “lowering the affective filter”. This is one of those super-neato teacher terms that mean “making the classroom a happy place and building self esteem so a student feels smart enough to learn stuff”. I try diligently to do this in my classroom. I tell the students learning is fun and they are capable of cognitive reasoning and blah blah blah. It works, too. Then Valentine ’s Day comes along and messes that all up. Nothing says “I’m a pathetic mass of goo” and “my life sucks” like Valentine’s Day.
Don’t get me wrong. I like love. I like chocolate. I even like heart shaped chocolate. I especially like the little heart shaped Valentine Peeps that are marked down 50% on the day after Valentine’s Day. If you poke a hole in the cellophane wrapper of the Peeps, they get just the right amount of staleness that makes them totally yummy. Then of course you have Tuescher’s Champange truffles in Beverly Hills which, if one could marry chocolate, this would be the chocolate I would marry. Of course, I would weigh 300 pounds from being married to truffles, but who cares, I would be happy and the truffles would never leave the toilet seat up.
So, yes, chocolate, love, all good. So why, might you ask oh wonderful readers, do I dislike this day so much if I actually like love and chocolate? Because Valentine’s Day has become a corporate mockery and has lost all of its meaning.
Making someone wear red and hope someone will validate them on that one special day once a year is ludicrous. It’s stupid and makes people feel like crap. If you are single, then you feel like crap because the world is decorated with hearts and little cherubs should be buzzing around you, but they’re not buzzing around you, they are buzzing around the guy next to you who is looking at someone else.
If you are actually in a relationship, you may end up feeling like crap as well. There is all of this pressure to buy your significant other something romantic on Valentine's Day. Emphasis on BUY. God forbid you forget to buy something, then your significant other might think you are secretly harboring feelings for someone else or that you really don’t like them all that much because you couldn’t see the ten million ads that told you diamonds were on sale at Zales. But, hey, you can eat chocolate that is 50% off the next day to heal your wounds. You’ll just be eating it alone.
The thing is I am not so cynical and jaded to hate all of this romantic stuff (I just may need therapy). However, if someone is going to tell me how they feel about me, I want them to do it without Hallmark or 1-800-Flowers telling them they have to. I want to be told how great I am on a Wednesday. In March. Or July. I’m not that picky. And please don’t send roses to the person’s work. I mean, come on, that is just unprofessional and makes colleagues ask way too many questions. Some guy I used to date sent me roses one day at school after we had broken up and I called and yelled at him. No, I am not heartless, but, just come on! Seriously, I had to walk through the entire school, facing scrutiny and questions from all 200 of my students while carrying a humongous vase of problematic flowers. If he knew me at all, he would know two things: 1) I don’t like red roses (white roses, in case I date you at some point and you are reading this right now) and 2) don’t surprise me at work. Well, alright, maybe the surprise at work thing may work for some people, but personally, I just hate surprises. When I was in sixth grade, this boy I liked told me there was a big Valentine surprise for me in my desk. When I opened my desk, there were two dead bull-head fish lying there. Now, when people tell me there is a surprise for me, I see bull-heads (Yes, I know I need therapy.). And 3) (I know I said two, but I thought of a third one) If we are broken up, sending flowers will not make me swoon and say, “Yes, all is forgiven! Take me now!” I mean, please, come on. On second thought, I am way too cynical and jaded because I'm not about to fall for that crap. Bring me flowers when I actually like you. In private. And make them white ones, please.
With that rant behind me, I did enjoy helping my son Max make a Valentine card for his little girlfriend, Lucy. I helped him cut out a pink heart and he put stickers on it. He must like her because he didn’t even draw a Transformer on the card and he knew she liked pink. He sighs when he sees her and blows kisses to her. He blushes when he talks about her. Yes, he is seven, but man, he is well on his way to being the perfect boyfriend. Crap, he’s going to be a teenager someday and then he’s going to realize the power he will have over girls with his sparkly green eyes and romantic heart. I can’t imagine my boys as men. Yikes. I can’t believe I have to train these cute boys to be good men. Double yikes.
Wow, I think I totally contradicted myself there, but I do want my boys to believe in romance and love and that good stuff. They don’t need to be cynical and jaded for at least a few decades.
The true meaning of Saint Valentine is totally lost these days. I googled him (because he is googleable) and found out a few things. (By the way, this is a pedagogy thingy called “a teachable moment”) St. Valentine is the Patron Saint of affianced couples, bee keepers, engaged couples, epilepsy, fainting, happy marriages, plague, travelers, and young people. When he was martyred, his head was put on a stake.
In closing, honey-loving, engaged couples who faint after a seizure and have the plague while travelling when they are young, you people, can pay homage to Saint Valentine. The rest of us should just be happy with chocolate that is on sale on February 15th.
And yes, I need therapy.
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