#teaching

Note: I know this is a month late. Sorry! I’m working on catching up, but I’ve been so busy at work and socially.

I had plans to grab dinner with MLAM and Reaction Junkie before the Tuesday happy hour. MLAM and I were to meet about an hour before Reaction Junkie would show up, and have a little time to walk around and catch up one on one. As I rode the train to meet MLAM, I started feeling very nervcited. I hadn’t seen him in months, and we hadn’t talked much lately. When the train stopped, I walked slowly over to the escalator and took a deep breath before getting on. I looked around as I rode up, wanting to spot MLAM. I stepped off, turned, and saw him. I gave him a big hug and he picked me up, grinning. I felt my feet brush against someone and I turned around to see Reaction Junkie. I squeaked, happy to see him, and gave him a big hug as well. I was glad he was there because I love spending time with him, but I was also a little disappointed not to have any time one-on-one with MLAM.

I introduced the two men, both of whom have been major parts of my life, and we started walking. They’re both the bizarre kind of human being who is completely devoid of social anxiety, so they immediately began conversing. I joined in, as well, and we walked to the vegan restaurant for dinner. While we were there, the two men were both being dommy and mean, telling me to do things hurting me subtly , teasing me. They were basically co-domming me. It was a heady experience, feeling submissive towards and dominated by two people at once. I’m not sure if I was having a total blast or was completely miserable. (And of course that’s a lie. It’s obviously the former.)

After we finished eating, we headed to happy hour. I have to admit I was still feeling rather nervous. That resulted in me acting out a bit with Reaction Junkie. I tried to play it like it was me being toppy, but it was really something of a performance. As we walked, Reaction Junkie called me out on my nervous behavior and I worked to reign it in. Reaction Junkie had originally been planning to skip happy hour and go to a meeting, but he didn’t feel well, so he stayed. When happy hour began, I talked with people, introducing MLAM to some of my friends and other partners, but I tried not to be all over him because I wanted to let him do his thing or be too clingy. Looking back, that was silly. We hadn’t seen each other in months, so of course it would have been fine for me to glom on the whole night.

I spent some time in a lovely little cuddle pile with Anderson Cooper, Kitten, Reaction Junkie, and someone else I didn’t really know. The whole time, however, I was watching MLAM out of the corner of my eye, wondering when it would be appropriate to grab him and go upstairs for some time with him in a play-friendly setting. Finally, I decided I didn’t want to wait any longer, and I sidled up and asked him if he wanted to go up with me. He did, and we headed up.

As soon as we got upstairs and I put my things down, he grabbed my hair and led me around the space. He told me to put my glasses in my bag and dragged me back towards it. I asked what he wanted me to take off, but he said he’d take off what he wanted off. I like that answer. I certainly don’t mind when people I play with allow me to take off what I want, and when I’m just beginning to play with someone, that’s the proper way to go about it, in my opinion. But having him tell me that he’d do it, and knowing that I’d take off what he told me to. Mmph. It’s the little things, and he’s very good at those small details, creating and solidifying the dynamic.

Next, he started leading me around my my nipple, which hurt like fuck. He pushed me down on one of the ottomans and I sat facing him, waiting expectantly. He began hitting my left leg a bunch, slapping my thigh repeatedly to warm up, and then hitting me harder. At one point, he stuck his hand in my face and instructed me to lick. I obeyed, although I wasn’t sure why he was doing that. Then, as he slapped my leg again with his wet hand, I remembered. It makes it hurt more because less gas is trapped between the hitter’s hand and the hittee’s body. (Or something physics-y like that. I think that’s right?) I’d forgotten that trick. He continued hurting me, and played with my mind, acting like he was going to hit me, then not, then going to hit me again, again not hitting me, finally hitting me, etc. By the end of the first round, I was shaking from the pain and the mental stress he was putting me under.

When we took a breather, I looked over my body and saw the marks already beginning to form. I asked MLAM if he would show Reaction Junkie how he did things, since he’s so good at leaving the kinds of marks I love. I almost didn’t ask because I didn’t want Reaction Junkie to feel like I was saying anything negative about him, but I know he’s not like that, so I did. They both stood over me. MLAM showed him things as they talked, Reaction Junkie tried them out, and they both mostly ignored me. It was objectifying and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

They both began hitting me. My legs were shaking and I was breathing fast as the two men beat my legs. When Reaction Junkie hit my right outer thigh, which he had destroyed the previous weekend, it overwhelmed me. I curled up around myself and had to take a break. Reaction Junkie got me some water and I caught my breath. When we resumed, I had one man on each leg, each hitting me and toying with me. MLAM showed how much he enjoys stressing people out psychologically with mindfuckery and headgames. It makes the pain worse with less effort from him. I lay back on the row of ottomans and closed my eyes. They were both beating me hard and fast, slapping and punching my thighs. I was shaking and groaning, struggling not to be too loud as I reveled in the sensations I was experiencing.

When there was a lull in the impact, MLAM asked me, “How do you feel about your ribcage?” I was confused for a moment, having gone into a headspace, but then agreed to having him hit me there. I lay down on the ottomans. MLAM started hitting my back, smacking down forcefully with open hands. It stung like fuck, and that mingled with the pain and fear and stress from when they were both hitting my legs. I started crying. I decided we should stop. Partially because I was about done, but more than that, because I don’t want to make people uncomfortable. This was a happy hour, not an official play party, and even if “light play” has no real meaning, I feel like someone crying could have been upsetting to someone in this non-play party context.

I cuddled and talked with MLAM for a little while after the scene was over. When I felt recovered, I got some water downstairs. When I went back up, MLAM was standing with a group of people that included Reaction Junkie. I went and stood by MLAM for a while, and I was thinking about joining Reaction Junkie when MLAM told me that if I wanted to go be by him, that was fine. I didn’t want to leave MLAM, but I also did feel the need to be by Reaction Junkie. So I cuddled up to him and spent the rest of the night talking to him and the rest of the group.

I had a great night, but MLAM apparently did not. He told me later that he felt like a third wheel, like he was intruding. That’s not at all how I felt about him being there. I didn’t realize he would feel that way at all. It didn’t even cross my mind. It likely would have been better if MLAM and I had had some time for just us before meeting up with Reaction Junkie. When I talked with Reaction Junkie about things the next day, he admitted that he had felt similarly, and had been trying to stay out of our way. I’d spent more of my concern about hurt feelings than necessary on Reaction Junkie, and not enough on MLAM. I regret not having alone time with MLAM first, and not spending more time with him at happy hour. Next time, I’ll do a better job of actually talking to people about how they want to interact in situations like that. I’m still very glad MLAM came to town, and the other two times we got together went much better. I do miss him, and I hope to get a chance to see him sometime in the near future.

The last out of 3 tiny color tutorials, I did for a school assignment.

Some sketches from my online teaching / Manga workshops! I offer live drawing workshops and talks/lectures about making comics/Manga with Q&A and troubleshooting on Zoom to schools and other organisations, between 30-120mins long, rates usually vary between £100-£300 each. I’m winding down for December, but if you’d like to book me next year, head to my website and either drop me or my schools booking agent Authors Abroad / Caboodle an email :)

When I was in grad school, I read a book(which I highly recommend) by Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis called Love’s Sacred Order. It’s a thoughtful and moving reflection on C.S. Lewis’ The Four Loves (also highly recommended).Though I jotted quite a few passages in my favorite quotations document (a Word document that I started back in college and is now probably over 40 pages long. What? Doesn’t everyone have one of those?), the one thing I remember most about this book was the dedication on the first page. In part, it read:

“to Mireya Cecilia who teaches by just being”

When I first read those words, I remember thinking that I so desperately wanted to be a woman like Mireya Cecilia (who I assume was his wife): a woman who teaches by “just being.” At that time, the only teaching experience I had was occasional catechesis at the parish in which I worked; it would be another couple of years before I was in the classroom teaching high school kids about Jesus full time. Even so, it was clear to me that God had given me the charism of teaching, but that it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to make compelling arguments in defense of the Church’s teaching. It wasn’t enough to convince others that the Gospels are historically reliable, or that it’s reasonable to believe that Jesus is God, or that this God who became man loves us without measure, or that his mercy is without limits. I could explain these truths till I was blue in the face, and be technically “good” at it, and my students might come to a new level of understanding that they had not yet reached. But it would mean very little in the end if my life did not teach them about Christ’s particular love for each of them.

For my first few years of teaching, I acted as if it was up to me to become the Perfect Superstar Teacher Who Teaches By Just Being. You can imagine how well that went. Thankfully, I had my students to bring me back to reality on a daily (sometimes hourly) basis.

Case in point: I was on retreat with my students a few years ago–the year when I was deeply depressed following a bad relationship–and one of my favorite kids, we’ll call him “Avery,” asked if we could chat one-on-one. Avery was a jock, struggled quite a bit in my class, and was more than a little immature, but his heart could recognize and desire the good, even if his will was too weak to embrace it. I pulled up a chair facing him on the porch of one of the retreat center cabins, and asked him what he wanted to talk about.

“Well, Miss Dehan,” he began, a little self-consciously, “I just want to tell you that I think you’re awesome. And I love the way you live your faith. I think it’s really…beautiful.”

If he hadn’t stood up and given me a big hug, I would’ve sat there speechless for at least 30 seconds (Hey! That’s a long time for an extrovert like me :)). First of all: I could *not* believe that this kid, who wasn’t even Catholic or practicing any faith seriously, would use the word “beautiful” to describe my faith. Secondly, I couldn’t believe that he was describing my life in this way when I had spent the majority of that year feeling further away from Christ than I ever had before. In that moment (and upon reflection afterwards), thanks to Avery, I realized two very important things:

1) Jesus can teach through my life even (especially) when I feel as though I have nothing to offer. (cf. 2 Corinthians 12:10)

2) Jesus also teaches ME through my students’ simply being themselves: Their suffering drove me to pray for them, even when I felt spiritually dry and distant from God. Their indifference set my heart on fire when it would have been easier to stay lukewarm. Their interest in the True, the Good, and the Beautiful motivated me to seek Christ’s face with greater consistency and passion.

And while those of my readers who are teachers are probably nodding their heads in agreement right now, I imagine that everyone, regardless of profession or state in life, could say the same. If we desire to teach by being, it’s not a matter of becoming perfect or doing everything right all the time. Nope. It’s a matter of union with Christ–of allowing Him to work through us and teach us each day, in and out of the classroom. That is how we “teach just by being.”

So, as this new academic year begins, let us all (regardless of whether or not we live on the academic calendar) renew our commitment to become women and men whose very lives teach those we encounter about the love of Christ. Let us teach, not by trying to be perfect, but allowing Him to work through our imperfections.

Finally, on this feast of St. Augustine, one of my all-time favorite teachers of the faith, I want to thank my students for teaching me simply by being. 

“So deeply do we care for you that we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you have become very dear to us.” –1 Thessalonians 2:8

That just about sums it up.

Blessings (and please pray for me today!),

Christina Grace

All images via Hey Teacher!

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