My son, who’s in 2nd grade, has two teachers this year – one works Mondays + Tuesdays (let’s call her Mrs. Newbie), the other works Wednesdays + Thursdays (let’s call her Mrs. OG).

New grade, new way of doing things to get used to, especially with this experimental, not-idea situation they came up with to remedy a teacher shortage.

Mrs. OG has been the 2nd grade teacher for years; she’s amazing! But she’s mom to one of the girls in the class… meaning, all the kids know her very well. It was always the plan for her to quit and just be a mom for a few years, when her daughter was going into her grade.

It didn’t work out that way.

When the teacher they hired to replace her quit 4 days before school started this year, she was awesome enough to step up, along with Mrs. Newbie, and figure out something that would work.

I thought it might be a giant shitshow, communication-wise and with the kids remembering who does what, but so far it’s been great.

Mrs. Newbie is amazing; all the kids love her… but my kid might be president of her fan club.

The Pencil Problems In 2nd Grade

It’s clear this isn’t Mrs. OG’s first rodeo because she doesn’t allow pencil sharpening in class. 🤷‍♀️

Instead, she has a cup full of sharpened pencils at the front of the class. Kids can drop their dull pencil in one cup + grab a sharpened pencil out of the other.

This is a “nightmare” (that’s a direct quote) for my son.

Last year, Santa brought him enough pencils + erasers to last him the rest of his life… and he’s very attached to them. #singlechildsyndrome

He would rather finish his work in blood than part with his personal collection of pencils.

My son:
Most of the pencils don’t even have erasers left on them anymore, the kids just eat them off. I don’t want them eating off MY erasers!

He’s got fancy erasers that fit on the pencils, people!

And I don’t blame him; I’m not crazy about any “mouth play” around my shit either.

For the last 6 weeks, I’ve been helping him smuggle extra pencils in + out so he doesn’t have to stick any of his precious pencils in the commoner’s classroom cup, or watch any of his beloved erasers go into the pie-holes of children.

Then yesterday, as soon as we get in the car at pickup, he tells me he has the best news.

My brilliant little anti-communal pencil pirate realized how to get around this “nightmare.”

My son:
You don’t have to send extra pencils anymore. Mrs. Newbie doesn’t know that Mrs. OG made a rule that we can’t sharpen pencils during class; she doesn’t care. She said it was fine that I sharpen my pencils… so all I have to do is remember to sharpen them on Monday + Tuesday.

Me:
😂 That’s awesome, dude. Nightmare averted! **turns around for a proper high five**

And he will remember to sharpen them.

He won’t remember to change his underwear, make his bed, brush or floss his teeth, turn his clothes right side out, or take his vitamins no matter what systems I put in place, but he’s not fucking around with this pencil fiasco. It’ll become a ritual of his.

He’d probably go into anaphylactic shock if he was really forced to part with his Santa-gifted pencils and use boring, yellow, eraser-less, slobbered on school-issued ones.

It’s at a very subconscious level, but I think he knows that he has to do this to preserve his happiness. That it’s worth doing whatever is necessary to avoid the madness he would feel having to watch HIS pencil in another kid’s hands… or worse, mouth!

I hope he grows out of some of his pencil possessiveness, but I also hope he never loses sight of the shit he cares about… whether that’s something people think is ok to care that much about or not.

I could learn a lot from his shameless pursuit to keep possession of his pencils.

I wish I was that savagely selfish about holding on to my belief system.

Instead, week-after-week, for over a decade, I walked right up to the front of the capitalist classroom, discarded my highly prized value, and picked up a used, defiled one that didn’t even have any purpose left on it.

I did it for so long that the original beliefs I discarded were long out of circulation.

They’d been slobbered, chewed, and used all the way down to a tiny piece of garbage that’s decomposing in a landfill somewhere.

I can’t believe I let “my pencil” get so dull that I had to go looking for somewhere to sharpen it.

I should have started smuggling in my own shit, THE MOMENT I was told how the system works – you give up what’s yours + take what we give you.

But I didn’t. I just subscribed to what I was told + looked for capitalist classrooms that had fancy “pencils.” At least I could have a consultation prize, ya know? It’s someone else’s belief, but at least it’s a ‘million-dollar’ belief.

I’m so triggered by the capitalist system that I don’t know if I can even sell anymore.

It hurts like hell to be this honest, but sitting in this shame is not an option anymore.

I’m so indoctrinated into the “create shit to sell” model that my brain can’t think outside the boxes provided.

How do I sell when 99.9% of what I’m being asked to do to make money online feels so empty, fake, and gross that I weep with anxiety just thinking about it?

I can’t make transformational claims.

I can’t guarantee you shit.

I can’t manufacture scarcity.

I can’t pretend like I have the answers.

I can’t peddle courses that are really imposter-triggering homework assignments.

I can’t use persuasion triggers to hijack your critical thinking.

I can’t talk about transactional shit for 16 emails (and 4 on the last day) every time I want to offer something.

I can’t produce content like some digital sweatshop.

I can’t write a sales page… I can’t even write an anti-sales page (yet!)

I can’t make something sound so important you should go into debt for it.

I can’t care more about the money than the people.

I can’t share my kindreds triumphs like their infomercials.

I can’t do most of what I’ve been doing to make money for the past decade – it’s just too toxic + damaging to my spirit + mental health.

I don’t know how I’m going to get past all of this, but that’s what this hot dog cart era of life + business is all about – making everything work for ME.

I refuse to believe that this capitalist way is the only way it can be done.

FLAT OUT REFUSE!

I refuse to believe I have to treat people I care about like ATM’s.

I refuse to believe that I have to guarantee shit that’s unguaranteeable.

I refuse to believe that preying on people’s problems + taunting their desires is the only way to get them to buy what I’m selling.

I refuse to believe that this has to feel so soul sucking.

I refuse to believe that I have to give up everything else to have enough hours to make a difference in people’s lives.

I refuse to believe that I have to ignore my intuition or force myself into things that don’t work for me.

I refuse to believe that everything has to feel so goddamn transactional.

I refuse to believe any of the “create shit to sell” indoctrination that’s been shoved down my throat.

I refuse to believe that there aren’t 1,000 kindreds out there who will see how brilliant my 50 shades of pro-human batshit crazy are + love the natural, honest, sweary way I present my work so much that they happily invest $15/month to receive it.

I’ve never been more possessive about my beliefs than I am these days!

To the 97.6% of the internet that makes my skin crawl, I say…

Take your capitalist classroom + communal cup of horseshit and shove it up your AI-generated ass.

I’m homeschooling now!

[insert some witty copy that makes me feel less disgusted about ending a heartfelt email with a transactional CTA, followed by a really fancy button that’s linked to my checkout page]

I’m frustrated + afraid that I can't sell without triggering myself into a black hole of anxiety… but I’m not fucked. Don't count me out. I will find my way.

Until then, I’m gonna keep writing about it + thinking out loud, shining a light on the shame… and hoping, at the very least, it’s helping YOU feel less lost in beliefs that aren’t yours.

To never looking for anyone to sharpen OUR “pencils” again,

Dre ‘Belief Building Herself Into The Version She Wants To Be” Beltrami

I flipped my hair up in a clip like this on Saturday night and asked my son (dead seriously) if he thought it was a cute hairdo. I told him, I wanted to test out some crazy bangs and thought this was so cute.

Apparently, it would be "humiliating" for him to go out of the house with me looking like this. But it's "very cute for INSIDE the house." 🤣🤣🤣 I don't know what I'll do if he loses his honesty... or the way he tries to soften the blow... only for ME! 🥰

🥃 A Weekly Dose of Dre Keeps The Gurus Away