torsdag 28. november 2013


Yndlingstingen min på bloggen for tida er bildene du ser til høyre. Små, firkantede bilder som skifter. Det er små glimt fra dagene mine som flimrer forbi. Skittentøy, fine fotografier, fotballkampen vi vant, de som gifta seg, den rotete pulten min, ferietur, livet på gården… Alt får plass på det lille bildet.

lørdag 16. november 2013

Bygge opp

Jeg er et menneske. Med det følger behovet for å bli sett. Bli bekreftet. Bli bygget opp. Det er den viktigste jobben jeg gjør som lærer. Jeg ser hva elevene mine kjemper med. Hvor uendelig stort er det ikke når han som strever endelig får det til? Når hun klarer å se seg selv i speilet og tenke at – joda, jeg er faktisk… helt okei. Ikke stygg. Hvor fantastisk er det ikke når eleven din smiler til deg, med øynene, munnen, hele kroppen – fordi det var du som hjalp dem med å få det til?

Visste du at 90% av anerkjennelsen du får i løpet av livet ditt fikk du før du fylte seks år?

Om du er tre, tretti eller nitti burde ikke spille noen rolle. Konkret, positiv tilbakemelding er viktig. Alltid. Uansett.

fredag 15. november 2013

Short story

Realizing that sleep was letting go of her mind, she opened her eyes. Looking straight up, all she could see was a plain surface. She lay in silence, admiring the complete lack of structure on the ceiling over her head. When ten minutes had passed, she instinctively knew that it was time to get up. The alarm failed to ring this day as any other day. Her body being more reliant than any electrical device, there was no need for it. Her cheeks were cold. A fresh morning breeze had made its way through an open window and left a chill in the room. She removed her blanket, got up and trudged across the floor to grab a robe, annoyed by having neglected to shut the window before going to sleep. Briskly, she pulled the window shut. Before it came to a close, a puff of wind came through the hatch, making her hair whirl. She closed her eyes. Opening them seemed too much of a struggle, so she kept them closed for a few minutes, leaning heavily up against the untextured wall. Finally, she convinced herself to get on with her daily routine.

She walked into the kitchen with some difficulty. Absent-minded, she poured herself a cup of leftover coffee while glancing out the window. Only a few patches of snow remained scattered across the city landscape, and the birches in the nearby park showed signs of waking to life. A ray of sun appeared behind a gray, ugly, worn-down, unappealing brick building. Blinded by the light, she saw an image appearing before her eyes. The brick building faded away as the contours of a face welcomed her into a reminiscent state of mind. A long time had passed since her last encounter with the memory of him. Something about his appearance seemed almost sinister. The furrows in his face and his cold eyes told a story of experience, suffering and emotions unknown to her. He had touched her very core and who she had been would never again be the same because of him. She paused. What he had done to her could never be forgiven, nor could she ever forget. Loving her was the worst he could have done to her. Her inability to love him back had left her motionless, cold. She was crippled somehow, unable to feel. The thought of him left in her a sense of darkness. Uneasy, she withdrew herself from her own thoughts, solemnly tending to the present.

The first few little shoots on the birches had a vibrant shade of green. She found that her excitement with spring had faded with time. While the rest of the world was awaken from a dormant winter, she remained asleep. She lowered her cup. Never previously had this occurred to her. She had grown older. She had grown old. Stupefied, day after day had been spent withdrawn from reality. Through all these years that had come and passed, she had watched herself turn to dust. For several minutes, she remained frozen. In a way, it felt like the past was catching up to the present. Numb, she found her self unable to even think. The quiet room became intolerable. The lack of sound echoed in her mind, leaving her unable to act. She opened and closed her mouth. No air entered. The feeling of being constrained overwhelmed her. Anguished, she fumbled for a source of oxygen. Her cup fell to the floor as she grasped into thin air. Almost in a state of panic, she struggled to open the window. Finally, a breath of air made its way into the room. She hungrily sucked in one mouthful after the other, and her chest heaved as she calmed herself down. Minute after minute passed by in silence. She felt sad. This flicker of emotion caught her off guard. The unpleasantness of her sadness was overshadowed by her astonishment with this strange emotion. Not knowing how to react, the only thing she found her self able to do, was smile.

© Ingrid Aukan, Mars 2010