From Feeling “Trapped” to Feeling “Free”

My husband and I (and our pups) just spent the last two days driving back up to Canada from the states. The past two weeks in the states have been phenomenal to say the least. I’ll write a post stating more of what we did later, but I experienced something tonight that I needed to feel, something I didn’t know would be possible for a very long time.

In high school, I lived in the “big city”. It was nice for the duration I was here, but when I left, I swore never to move back. I am a small town girl, and the big city is just not my scene.

When I graduated from university, I was able to get a job for the first year in a small town. Bingo! But when that maternity leave position ran up, so did my other plans.

I received a phone call from my superintendent that I had an interview scheduled in the “big city” on such-and-such a date at such-and-such a time. I hadn’t even been asked, I had simply just been told.

On that day, I drove to the city, did my interview, and of course, got the job. I couldn’t believe what was happening. The one place I never wanted to end up was the one place I was being told I had to be. I was angry for a very long time.

Eventually, I got to the point where I simply went around saying “God certainly has a sense of humour!” But my one year employment turned into two, then three, and currently on year four.

Reflecting on it, I knew God wanted me to be here. There were certain situations I had to encounter as a teacher to grow. There were painful moments I had to experience to become wiser. There were children who needed someone to advocate for them, and there were relationships built with students who just needed someone to listen that wouldn’t judge them. I was able to fill that place. As much as they think they have learned from me, I learned ever so much from them.

This year, when my big change from 6th grade to 2nd grade came, I couldn’t believe it was happening. As much as 6th graders stressed me out, I loved the counselling aspect; I loved the difficult questions. I felt like a stranger in grade 2. But of course, as time went on, it became easier and I was able to find aspects I liked. But I couldn’t help thinking, is this really where I’m supposed to be? Is this really what I’m still supposed to do?

I can’t really say it’s teacher’s burnout (though I’m sure some things are similar). It’s just the feeling of being “stuck”. No matter how many ways I looked at our situation financially, I could see no better opportunity to survive than where we were. We both hate living in the city, though I’ve come to see good parts about it and don’t hate it as bad as I used to. But when I can hear parts of my neighbour’s conversations, when my neighbours that I strive to be so nice to turn around and stab me in the back, and when I no longer see a way that Canadians are nicer than Americans anymore (sad reality from what I see here in the city), I know we aren’t really happy here. It’s not where either one of us want to be. So that’s when I realized something this weekend.

When we were finally finishing our drive, doing the same maneuvers through the city as we had done for years, we had come to the house, walked in, and I suddenly felt like I was in someone else’s house. I felt like a stranger walking into someone else’s life. It was a strange feeling. My husband did not experience the same thing, but for some reason, it was like I was that “spirit” looking at someone else’s world, an outsider looking in. Of course that feeling is over now, but that wasn’t the only feeling that came.

After driving for 2 days, we absolutely did not have the energy to go grocery shopping. So we went out for supper (our fridge is bare). On the way home from supper, it hit me. This city is no longer my jail. I no longer feel like I strapped to this city, unable to move. I no longer feel like the city is the pit that is going to swallow me whole to keep me here with no escape. I suddenly realized, with options my husband, my mother-in-law, and myself had talked about after Christmas break, the world is at our fingertips. It may not be a fun ride to make change, but to get out of the rut of tiredness, depression, and feeling “stuck”, a few months of painful change would be so worth it. It’s no longer an impossibly large, looming, unattainable vision, it is now a totally possible, difficult but doable task. And taking those chains off was the best feeling I could have ever experienced.

I know this post is kind of vague, but this year is a huge year of change. I cannot leak more information than is timely, but I can assure you this year is going to difficult but good. Stay tuned!

How Much Are We Affecting Our Children?

I saw a commercial tonight that struck me so differently than any other commercials before. All the time we see the World Vision commercials and other organization’s commercials that are reaching out with the dire situations of children all over the world. I support organizations that help others, don’t get me wrong. My father sponsored a child when we were younger who would write us letters with the aid of a translator. She would also send pictures of our money helping to clothe her and send her to school. Helping others is great and we should never become immune to the fact that others need our help. But it also can’t be denied that these commercials are common-day, and we are used to turning past them all the time.

The commercial I saw tonight hit home.

It was a commercial based on North America, on OUR children, on the damage WE do to them. And I just sunk in my chair (couch). It was a commercial that showed the pictures of women on magazines, in commercials, articles of the fastest ways to lose weight, and even a scene where one little girl asked another if she was ready for bikini season.

Wow.

You hear stories all the time of how these things affect women, but to think that they even affect little girls! But when you sit and think of it, how true it is! Many girls are worried about being popular in school, are bullied, are made fun of, etc… and the same thing goes for boys. They grow up seeing these images of what makes a “perfect woman/man” or a “perfect girl/boy” and at earlier and earlier ages, they are striving to look like this.

I have known it’s been an epidemic that girls are maturing earlier and earlier, I see this in school with the passing years and generations. I guess it never occurred to me the depth of diet and appearance on girls even as early as 8 or 9 years old! Possibly even younger! Is that what we want to do to our children?

I think it’s a way of teaching our children to grow up with insecurities. We are setting them up to attain images that are almost always photoshopped while always feeling not good enough.

We need to change this.

We need to raise our children knowing that they are good enough. Now that doesn’t mean feeding them a greasy pizza everyday. Make healthy eating fun. Incorporate as many fruits and veggies as you can daily so kids are not afraid to eat them and don’t grow up thinking they are boring and gross. Make being healthy and active a fun part of everyday life. And most importantly, give them so much love that they will know people’s opinions don’t matter. They are special and important and perfect just the way they are!

Today I Was a Part of History

Our school has consistently been a K-9 school. Gradually, over the past few years, we’ve been adding one grade at a time until this year, we’ve succeeded in completing our goal of being a K-12 school.

Because this is our first grade 12 class, a lot of things had to be planned, including our very first graduation weekend! Although we only had 3 graduates, those 3 graduates whose parents believed in our school, have allowed us to help produce very academic and emotionally stable students. In fact, they didn’t want a big graduation, but would have preferred to receive their diplomas and walked out the door. But we couldn’t let our first grad class do that!

We planned an entire weekend of events. And all of the teachers in the school were given the option to march in full regalia in honour of our historical year. And I decided to take part in this major event! As the school evolves and things continue to grow and change, I will be able to look back and know I was a part of one of the biggest historical moments in our school. That’s pretty awesome!

When I Realized My Grandfather Really Wasn’t Coming Back

Something happened today that really jarred my memory and brought me to write this post. I saw the following picture on Facebook and it got me thinking about my grandfather.

It took me right back to the moments where I can remember thinking about him and instantly started crying. Even now writing this, I can feel the water filling up in my eyes. I know many of you will say that you have/had an awesome grandfather to, but I’d like to take a minute to tell you about mine, and how special he truly was.

I guess it starts when my mother became pregnant with me. My parents were not married. I guess my grandfather liked my dad, but he was very upset about the whole situation and didn’t talk to my mother for days. However, being the man that he was, he still bought her a crib and everything she would need for me, even though he wasn’t talking to her. He was always that way, taking care of things even when he was upset.

Of course, as soon as I was born, he was completely smitten. My mother is a child of two, but lived very much a single child’s life. She never met her brother as he died on a surgery table a few months after he was born. That meant, I was the first and only grandchild.

My parents didn’t stay together very long. They did get married after I was born, but separated when I was about 4, officially divorcing when I was around 5. Where do you think we went back to? My grandparents. In fact, their home was very much “home base” my entire life.

My grandfather always spoiled me (and later my other siblings). I have pictures where my toys barely fit in the picture with me. My father told me that I would get tired of opening gifts because there were simply so many. I had this 6″+ man wrapped around my tiny finger. There’s no denying he loved me.

My grandfather was a used car salesman. In fact, it was my mother’s company that he worked for her since she dropped out of college to be home with me. The company was even named after my sister and I. But eventually he took over the company and changed its name since he did become the only one running the business.

I used to love visiting him at his office. My grandmother and I would get lunches for him, he would let me sit in his office chair, I would be called his “Number 1 Dudette”, and I loved the fact that everywhere we went, people always knew and respected my grandfather, and thus treated me as if I was a special person. I had never met anyone who didn’t know or like my grandfather.

If you could imagine the biggest realistic playground in the world, that would be my grandfather’s car lot. He gave me access to all the keys and vehicles in his lot. I can still remember the amount of fun we had pretending to drive the cars, and especially in exploring the only RV I remember him having. Only once did he ask me to backup a truck into a corner spot. My mother sat in the passenger seat with me, and I remember learning really quick to use my mirrors. I was so scared I would mess up his vehicles in this tight spot. But I did it! I still can’t believe he trusted me…

If I could compare him to anything, it would very much be the godfather. I’m not joking when I say that everyone seemed to know who he was. He was an amazing man when he was happy, but he was always a man you feared when he was unhappy. I don’t remember him every getting mad at me, but it was a general rule that when he came home, the remote control to the television had to be in the right spot for him to lay on the couch and watch what he wanted. He became upset if the remote went missing. There were just certain things you knew not to do.

Sometimes, my grandmother and him would fight. I’m sure there’s not a couple in the world who has not at least had one argument. Sometimes, or maybe more than sometimes, this meant he would stay at his office for the night. It was a conveniently built, small building that contained 3 rooms and a tiny hallway. One room was “the office”. The second room was of course a washroom. And the third room was his bedroom. It contained only a tv, a bed, and a mini fridge. It pretty much had everything he needed if he needed a night away. So it was a fairly normal occurrence for him not to come home sometimes.

The best thing about my grandfather was that he was always there for us. There was a time when we didn’t have the most money, and work was slow. My grandfather always provided what we needed, and then some. Most of you know that I have moved like 20 times with my family, not including on my own. The one person who was always there, regardless of where we were, was my grandfather. He never missed an opportunity to come and stay with us. (Of course I should say my grandmother always came with him as well, but I will dedicate a post to her another day.) He was honestly one of the biggest constants in my life.

When my family made the official decision to move from the east coast to the west coast, my grandparents offered to bring my sister and I out at the end of summer so that we could spend the extra time with our father. It was a fair bit of a long drive, but even then my grandfather trusted me with reading the map (before GPS systems). I almost think his belief in me helped me grow to the independent woman I am today. I have a lot to credit him for.

They stayed with us at our new place for a few days. Early in the morning, him and I would get up and drive to a hotel or another homey restaurant to eat. He was not a chain-restaurant type of person. Even back in the town he worked, he had one particular restaurant he preferred to eat at, and everybody knew his specials and what he enjoyed eating. He always preferred the homestyle cooking. In fact, he met my grandmother while she was waitressing at such a type of restaurant. My family and I have visited that restaurant a few times and imagined what it must have been like. They still have the juke boxes and the old stools. Sometimes it’s nice to preserve history rather than to embrace change.

We then took a trip to the “big city” so my grandparents could see it before they left. We had a lot of fun. At one point, we lost my grandfather in the big mall. I’ll never forget him driving around on those motorized scooters for people who can’t walk well. He had even gotten an orange smoothie and I guess spilled it all over the machine. If you knew my grandfather like I did, you would picture him using colourful language for the time he was mad, then acting like nothing ever happened.

I don’t remember how we ever found him, but I can tell you it was one of the hardest good-byes of my life.This wasn’t just moving a few hours away, this was a four day drive across the country. Of course they would come visit again, but the visits would never be as frequent as before. What I didn’t know was that my tears would get worse before they ever got better.

Literally two or three days after we returned to our new home, I got a call from my grandmother. It sounded like her for sure, but something was a little different. She asked to speak to my mom pretty much right away, so I gave my mom the phone and sat on the landing of the stairs. My mother took the phone into her room which was at the top of the stairs. The next words I heard told me pretty much everything I didn’t want to hear. She said, as she began crying, “Oh Mom!”.

My grandparents had been involved in a car accident on their journey home. An impatient driver went in their lane to pass a semi-truck and didn’t see my grandparents van coming at them. My grandmother was in the hospital, a little bruised but otherwise ok (she would later need nose surgery to correct the alignment). My grandparents’ friend who was helping them drive home had so many broken bones, including ribs and shoulder, and would also need counselling for what happened (he was driving at the time – completely not his fault). But my grandfather didn’t make it.The speed they were traveling on the highway, and the impact of a completely head-on hit left the vehicle in shambles and took my grandfather with it.

Immediately, we packed and drove back to the city. I thankfully had a great aunt and uncle who lived just outside the limits and welcomingly invited us in until we could all make arrangements to fly home. My mother was able to fly right away to be with my grandmother, but there were 4 more of us to fly, and we had to wait for a cheaper ticket to afford it.

It was so strange when I got home. Being in my grandparents house seemed so normal. I mean, I was only at my “new home” for less than a week. I had no attachments to it and didn’t even have to act like it was supposed to be my new home. I had come home and it felt like life should be normal again.

I know I cried a few times, but I remember just having the attitude and thoughts of “My grandfather is just at his office, staying the night like he usually does. Sometime he’ll come home.”

I still remember it as clear as yesterday: My mother and I were sitting in the living room, on separate couches, not talking much as we didn’t for a while, and her saying the exact same thing that I felt – that Grampy was just at his office and sometime he would come home. And it hit us right then that we had to realize it was wasn’t true, that Grampy really wasn’t coming back. I broke down (just like I am again now) because he was always there, for everything! How could he not come back this time! How could the one stable thing in my life not come back! It was so hard to accept.

Sitting in his house, seeing all of his old stuff, going to his office, it was all so hard to do when you realize the person who has always been there for you, the person who has loved you your whole life was suddenly gone. My nickname would never be used again, except when telling stories of him. My promise from him of giving me my first car would never come true. My life was drastically left with an empty hole that I’m not sure was ever filled again. Nobody could take his place, and I could never have been prepared for that instant change in time.

Life is not fair, and it never will be. The devil is waiting for any opportunity to attack and make a mess of things. He knows which strings to pull and he knows how to make things hurt you more than anyone else. He knows he can damage us and take away everything that means the world to us, which is why it’s so important to turn to God when you’re hurting, to let Him hold you and tell you that everything is going to be ok, because one day, it will. One day, when Jesus returns and we are taken to Heaven with Him, there will not be anymore pain, there will not be anymore death, there will not be anymore tears. I don’t know what my grandfather’s relationship with Christ was like. I know he sort of had a falling out at one point, but he insisted my mom make sure she took us to church. So I only hope and pray that he had a good relationship with God, because it would be so nice to run into those loving arms I miss so dearly, the loving arms that were missing during both of my graduations and my wedding, the loving arms that were taken away from me way too soon.

I miss this man more than anything, and truly just thinking of how much I miss him brings me to tears almost instantly. Hold your loved ones close and make sure you let them know how important they are to you. You never know which instant will take them away.

My New Experiment: Fruit

I think it’s time for a little background:

I grew up a hunter’s daughter. My father grew up a lumberjack’s son. He learned quickly in life that there was not a ton of money, and so my grandmother grew a vegetable garden, and whatever my grandfather was able to hunt was the meat they served (rabbits, deer, moose, partridge, etc…).

Thus, I grew up a heavy meat eater. In fact, stews or beans with biscuits, and the typical “meat and potatoes” were quite frequently a supper meal. Of course with the younger generations and slightly more money, pizzas and junk foods made their way in the diet as well. But it would not be uncommon for me as a child to sit down and eat a pound of bacon myself. That’s just the way it was.

I remember when I met my first vegetarians. They were like celebrities to me because the only people I ever knew of that would even think of not eating meat were celebrities. Nobody in the “real world” would ever think to live without eating meat. It must surely be a way to die!

However, seeing these people live, and healthily, gave me a spark that continued to grow. One morning, in my teenage years, I simply woke up, and told my mother never to make meat for me again.

Did I exactly know what I was getting into? Absolutely not. In fact, eating some vegetarian junk food without learning the proper way to eat healthily vegetarian landed me with intensive stomach pains and a visit to the hospital where the doctor informed me of some key staples I should be eating to be healthy. Oops. Learned that lesson the hard way.

And so it began. A somewhat healthier 10-11 years of being a vegetarian. Cold turkey. No going back.

It wasn’t until I met my husband, and found out he had grown up vegetarian that I went back to eating meat. Sounds weird, I know. But he met my family at my university graduation weekend, and my stepfather is notoriously known for his bbqing skills. My brother convinced him to try a “real” burger, and he was hooked. Of course, eventually it got to me, and I began eating meat again.

Of course, since I had been studying the Bible more and learning about healthier ways of eating, I still did not eat pork or animals considered “unclean”. I stuck with the basics of chicken, turkey, beef, and some fish. I am an Atlantic girl, and fish (specifically Atlantic Salmon) has always been a favourite.

Now recently, I’ve been reading and studying more into health. I’ve been looking at vegan diets, raw vegan diets, the details of what is going on with the meat that is served to us these days, the packaging, the handling, the processing, all of these things that are completely vital for us to know truly what we are putting in our bodies. And I’ve come to a conclusion: I need to get rid of the meat and animal products.

I could go on forever and ever about the toxins, poisons, and everything that is being put into animal products. I could tell you all about the fact that the majority of the meat we buy in stores has already gone bad and we don’t even know it. I could go on and on about how safety inspections are unrealistic, and how really, at the end of it all, we can only do the best we can with what we’re given. A hot topic, especially for someone who works out is of course how you get in enough protein.

But I’ve decided, the only true way to convince people is not a lecture, but to simply be a living example. And that is what I’m going to do.

Now, my husband is not quite on board with me on this, and I have promised to never ask him to change. If my life leads a perfect example, I figure that should be proof in and of itself. But little by little, he seems to be a little more supportive, though maintaining zero interest in it for himself, which is totally fine.

My plan is to still workout, to still continue researching how to eat properly, and to still continue on with everything else the same, except for how I eat. One difference. I’m getting the junk out of my system!

If you’re interested in this topic and wanting to know more yourself, the following are some of the links that I refer to frequently:

1. http://thebananagirl.com (she has other links from this site as well)

2. http://veganbodybuilding.com (some athletes even provide examples of their daily meals in their profiles)

3. http://www.thefrankmedrano.com (a man who chose to become vegan)

There are many more, but those are just a few to get started. I will keep you posted on how this goes!

#onajourneybacktoEden

I Hope One Day My Students Understand

It has been such an emotional week for me this week. After an incident that occurred last week, the decision was brought down from Academic Standards Committee as to what would occur as punitive and redemptive actions in this situation. Of course, I had to write the e-mail, and then answer the questions that later ensued as to what had actually occurred as well as the details of the final decision.

So far, parents have seemed understanding and supportive. It’s the students that I worry about the most.

I hope one day my students understand
The reasons why I had to do what I did
The amount of punishment I suffered with them
The fact that I wanted to erase the event and the consequences with it
The reasons why I couldn’t
The reasons why I had to follow through even when I didn’t want to
The reasons why I can seem so harsh
Only because I want them to see their own potential
I hope one day my students understand
How much I cared and wanted them to succeed
The tears I’ve cried and the time I’ve spent
The lasting effects of memories
I hope one day my students understand
That I tried to do the best I could
A year is short in the grand scheme of life
There is no time to waste
I have to do what I can each day
Even if it means correcting mistakes
I hope one day my students understand
That it wasn’t just to “get them in trouble”
My care is genuine, much deeper than that
I hope one day they’ll see it.

To any other teachers reading this blog: Do you ever feel this way? I’m finding truth in the fact that it’s usually the more difficult students, the ones you spend so much time trying to “fix” or “correct” that grow on you the most. Since I have no children of my own, these students essentially are my children. And I think that just makes it worse when things go wrong.

I know I’ll get through this, it’s just another bump in the road. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. It’s so hard not to reach out and want to take all of their pain and hardships away. It’s hard to watch them learn the difficulties of life. But you have to, or they’ll never learn the difference between what is right and wrong. And so it is my prayer each night, that no matter what happens, they’ll someday understand and see how much I care. I hope one day my students will understand…

Week 4 Day 2

Man, my body is still sore! I can’t remember the last time I was this sore from working out! I generally have high pain tolerance, and then mix that with my delayed onset muscle soreness, I hardly EVER feel pain. You know those reps towards the end of your set where your trying for all your worth? I don’t feel sore at that moment, I just feel my body giving up. That’s it. Rarely do I feel like my body will rip apart at those final reps, but more like my body will collapse from not being able to do anymore.

That being said, I’m sore, so sore. But I had to get up and do a bunch of things because my husband is sick and I have to go to work. Work went well (although I got tired quickly), and my students managed to get me off topic for about an hour. An hour is a crazy amount of time to be off topic, I understand. But the choice of topic was one that could not be ignored. I choose to work in a Christian school for the simple fact that I can freely talk about God and show His love to my students. I can strive to prepare them for a world of sin and temptations and teach them to grow their own personal relationships with God. And so when questions arrive about the end of the world, Heaven, and complicated questions such as why God even created humans if He knew we would sin, I know these are important questions that require answers. And this just happened to be such an afternoon; an afternoon my students had questions that I felt deserved the best answers I could give. These are the conversations I will remember.

Following school, I stayed a little longer to help a student with her math, and then headed home to take care of my husband. Tonight was a special night for me. Our gym was hosting a grand opening for Fresh Fit Foods, a clean eating food delivering service. I was so excited to go meet the chef, sample some of the menu, and sign up for a 21-Day pack. Now, I will warn you, it is fairly expensive! This is not something I could probably do all year. But my health is worth my investment and if that means setting myself on the right track by having no excuses for eating good, then I’m going to do it. So I did. And let me tell you, I’m so proud of a company that searches for nothing but the best ingredients, making all their own recipes and finding foods that don’t use any chemicals or additives in their foods. The chef was so wonderful and easy to talk to, and you could tell how proud he was of his clean food. It’s honestly food and a company I would recommend to anyone!

Check them out here.

After signing up, I went around getting the different foods and supplements my husband needed. This took longer than expected, but I was able to find everything he needed. I went home and was able to visit with him for a little before going back to the gym. I ended up working out for 2 1/2 hours, including a 1/2 hour steady state cardio session on the stationary bike. I killed legs again (too many leg days in a row) and could barely get off the bike by the time I was done. I went home and could barely finish the things I needed to do before going to sleep. I was exhausted!

A Teacher’s Joy

Some of you fellow teachers will be able to relate to this, but it definitely was a euphoric moment for me yesterday.

Since I work in a smaller school, with an odd design, there are 4 select classrooms in my area that are very close together. In fact, we’re the only 4 classrooms in “the basement”. And as the second youngest classroom in the basement, I have the privilege of seeing my old students from time-to-time. The problem with this is that as they pass on from my grade, their schedules change and so our times for breaks do not line up. I do not see them as often as I’d like.

You see, every once in awhile, you get “that” class. The class you don’t want to get rid of. The class you want to teach forever. Don’t get me wrong, no class is perfect! But the dynamics of each class are different, and that’s what makes the total and complete difference. 

I had a great class last year. I really had a hard time letting them go. I was worried that my class this year wouldn’t be as personable, as attentive, or as connectable. But I have been blessed greatly with another good class. It is only the third week of school, but these kids have been great so far. I don’t feel completely connected to all of them yet, but this is a process that takes time. I do look forward to a great year.

But what hit me last night was being at my desk, after the dismissal bell, watching the students in the hallway get ready to go home. And it hit me. 

This is a teacher’s joy.

Being able to watch the students you struggle with, the students you work so hard for grow. You watch these big steps in their lives take place over the course of many years and you know that you had a part in that. And maybe this is just more sentimental to me because I don’t have my own children, but my students are my children. It’s hard to get to know these kids for so many days a year and have to say good-bye. I now can understand better, though to a lesser extent, parents that let children go to university or other places. It’s hard. But it is my joy to help them succeed and to pass them on to other teachers that will continue to help them succeed until they hit the time in their lives where they will be making their own decisions and choices. And it truly is a joy to watch them grow and become more the people they were meant to be. 

If you’re a teacher that is struggling, just remember that you were given this opportunity to make a difference in the lives of these kids. It may not be easy but you do have the chance to make a difference, even if it is a forced smile in the morning. Sometimes all these kids need is a smile and pat on the back. Even if you have to compliment them on how proper they are sitting in their chair, find something to compliment them on each day. There are enough things in the world telling them that they are inadequate, be the person that makes them feel important. 

We, as teachers, have such an important role as teachers in the lives. We all need to take it seriously. These kids are not just the future leaders of the world, but in many ways are the leaders of the world, and there is no better time to help them than now.

Bicep Curls Tip

It occurred to me yesterday, while sending my friend her workout for the week (I love training!!!) that some people “KNOW” the exercises without REALLY knowing them. One of them, for example, is bicep curls.

Yes, usually we think of those biceps growing, those men that just sit in front of the mirrors for hours watching them biceps grow as they curl the weight. But really, bicep curls are a great exercise, as long as they are balanced out with tricep exercises.

So here’s my tip for bicep curls. Don’t just swing the weight. Turn to the side and watch in a mirror. Quite often, you’ll see that you elbow moves significantly during the curl. You don’t want this. It should be almost as if your upper arm is glued to the side of your body. Your forearm should be the only part moving. This ensures that your bicep is really doing all the work to raise your lower arm, and not recruiting help from your shoulders.

This is Mun from munfitnessblog.com showing excellent form in curls.

Try it out. See if it makes a difference! I know it did for me once I learned how to do it properly. I am LOVING my biceps, and I know you will love yours too!