Well, this is day three of being cooped up the house. I've only gone minimally stir crazy, so I've had to find things to keep me busy. I've graded papers, cleaned, miraculously found enough ingredients in my pantry to make sugar cookies and even found powdered sugar and milk to create an icing for them, and I made chocolate chip pancakes this morning. (I think Kyle is happy!) I've watched countless Christmas movies and other movies to pass the time. (Anyone else find it weird that they are playing end of the world movies, like 2012, The Day After Tomorrow, and Armaggedon on TV? Winter weather doesn't mean end of humanity... but whatever. I'm still watching, so I guess I'm just as crazy!)
However, I must say I don't mind being cooped up too much. I could get used to Christmas decorations and views like this. Streets glazed in white. Leaves and branches encased in a sparkling glass cocoon. The crunch of ice under my feet prickling my soles. The sting of cold biting at my ears and nose and tingling my fingers until they lose feeling. The cold even raises the hairs on my neck and ignites a chill down my spine. The vapor my breath creates as I talk makes me feel like I've escaped the mundanity of every other day and entered into a magical ice world. Yesterday, as I was "ice-skating" on my driveway, as my feet glided over the slippery silver, exhilaration and fear filled my veins. I haven't been actually ice-skating in years, and as clumsy as I am, I knew I would fall. Much to my surprise, though, I held my fleeting balance. Kyle and I "skated" to the end of our street to watch cars brave the roads. Down the street a little ways was a Chevy Silverado who was bound and determined to get out of his driveway, but after about 15 minutes of sliding and fishtailing on the ice, I think he gave up and went back inside. Good choice. Soon after, another genius creeped up the road behind us. As I turned around all I could see were her tires facing one direction while her car was facing another. She slid diagonally for about 30 seconds before she tried the gas again, which of course did nothing. Her tires spun idly on the ice, but her truck stayed in the same place. Finally she caught a patch of dry ground and gained enough traction to pull out onto the main road. Kyle and I decided then we'd seen enough so we ventured back home, sliding down driveways and streets and sidewalks the whole way. My feet felt like those tires -- struggling, straining, sliding and hoping for traction.
I felt like an eight year old again exploring the icy paradise that awaited me outside my front door. At one point, I closed my eyes and imagined snow falling and swirling from the sky like mini cotton balls and clinging to the few arms of grass reaching up from the ice. It took me back to when I was kid eating icicles off frozen trees and playing basketball on a frozen driveway, shooting into a frozen net. It only took one shot and our ball was stuck in the glass net that had fused together because of the cold. When we'd get too cold, we'd go inside to make s'mores by the fire. Good times. We never got ice or snow or cold for that matter, in Port Neches, TX, so that freak ice storm some 16 years ago held some of my fondest childhood memories.
This weekend was a nice distraction. Now, it's back to school where I've got to keep my balance for a few more weeks. It's nice to be able to enjoy these impromptu holidays. It helps me keep my traction when everything else seems to be spinning. Happy ICEmagdon, friends!
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Monday, October 14, 2013
What I need...
Our theme this year for our school district is superheroes. That's exactly what a good teacher is to a kid or should be. But it's exactly what I feel like I'm not.
I constantly feel like I'm not enough and today, it culminated. It was purposeful planning day at school and I assumed I could get a lot done. Apparently, I was mistaken. I was not enough today. I was overwhelmed with the lessons plans I had yet to make, the parents I needed to call, the piles of papers I needed to grade, the paper work I needed to fill out, the practices I needed to plan, the laundry I needed to fold at home, the dishes I needed to do, and the husband I needed to spend time with. All these "needs" were staring me in the face begging me to tackle them. It was too much. There is no way I will fill every need everyday, so today I had to stop. Yes, I had to cry about it like a little girl, but I got it out of my system so that I could think straight again. More importantly, I had to revaluate which "needs" were most important in my life.
As I was planning for the week, I realized I had stopped writing. I remember thinking about this last night, too. While I was grocery shopping, all I could think was how much I wanted to go home, run, come home, write for a while, shower, and finally, sleep. Of course, I didn't do these things. (Honestly, I'm lucky I had time to get food in the house). I filled my evening with more stuff I "needed" to get done. I didn't run. I didn't write. If I'm honest, I didn't even shower. Last night, I put all of these things on the back burner and focused on what I thought needed to be done. But today I thought about this decision because I came to the same cross roads. If I stop writing, I stop growing, stop learning. If I stop writing and growing, what can I teach my kids about living a writing kind of life? How are they supposed to learn from me if I don't incorporate writing in my life, even when it's hard, but expect them to? There will always be "needs" that I must fill, but if I'm not nurturing the most important ones, the ones that make me who I am, I'll lose myself.
So, the laundry is still in the dryer. The dishes are still dirty. The papers are still ungraded, but I don't care because I made time to do what I needed. I shared some laughs with the hubs, shared some snuggles with my pups, and shared some meager thoughts with the world. I may not be writing poems or novels or anything profound, but a simple blog entry will suffice tonight. It was something I needed to do. Everything gets a little simpler, priorities become a little clearer, when pen hits the paper. Thanks for keeping me accountable! :)
I constantly feel like I'm not enough and today, it culminated. It was purposeful planning day at school and I assumed I could get a lot done. Apparently, I was mistaken. I was not enough today. I was overwhelmed with the lessons plans I had yet to make, the parents I needed to call, the piles of papers I needed to grade, the paper work I needed to fill out, the practices I needed to plan, the laundry I needed to fold at home, the dishes I needed to do, and the husband I needed to spend time with. All these "needs" were staring me in the face begging me to tackle them. It was too much. There is no way I will fill every need everyday, so today I had to stop. Yes, I had to cry about it like a little girl, but I got it out of my system so that I could think straight again. More importantly, I had to revaluate which "needs" were most important in my life.
As I was planning for the week, I realized I had stopped writing. I remember thinking about this last night, too. While I was grocery shopping, all I could think was how much I wanted to go home, run, come home, write for a while, shower, and finally, sleep. Of course, I didn't do these things. (Honestly, I'm lucky I had time to get food in the house). I filled my evening with more stuff I "needed" to get done. I didn't run. I didn't write. If I'm honest, I didn't even shower. Last night, I put all of these things on the back burner and focused on what I thought needed to be done. But today I thought about this decision because I came to the same cross roads. If I stop writing, I stop growing, stop learning. If I stop writing and growing, what can I teach my kids about living a writing kind of life? How are they supposed to learn from me if I don't incorporate writing in my life, even when it's hard, but expect them to? There will always be "needs" that I must fill, but if I'm not nurturing the most important ones, the ones that make me who I am, I'll lose myself.
So, the laundry is still in the dryer. The dishes are still dirty. The papers are still ungraded, but I don't care because I made time to do what I needed. I shared some laughs with the hubs, shared some snuggles with my pups, and shared some meager thoughts with the world. I may not be writing poems or novels or anything profound, but a simple blog entry will suffice tonight. It was something I needed to do. Everything gets a little simpler, priorities become a little clearer, when pen hits the paper. Thanks for keeping me accountable! :)
Saturday, September 21, 2013
It's the little things...
I should be grading right now, but I chose to write instead. It felt too amazing outside not to soak it up. It's like Texas just wanted to give us a glimpse of what fall is supposed to feel like - cool, stagnant air just relaxing in the peaceful silence. Sadly, these envied temperatures will be melted away by the end of the week. Oh well, we can always hope for more rain.
As I'm sitting out in the coolness, I'm reflecting on my teaching week. Everyday I feel a little more drained than the last, so by Friday, it's a miracle I'm still walking. However, this Friday (yesterday), was different. After three years of teaching, I felt like the best teacher version of myself. We were working on our first personal narrative essays of the year, and yesterday was revising day. As usual, I wrote an essay of my own as an example, but I did something with it I've never done before. I put my rough draft - my sloppiness, open and exposed - under our document camera for the kids to see. I have done that before. I've written with them and modeled how to start an essay. I've given check lists of what makes a good essay or what they should have in theirs. We've answered questions about revising essays. I've even done musical revising, where they get up and move around while music plays and they revise whichever paper they arrive at when the music stops. But I've never had them revise mine or modeled what revising looks like. To tell the truth, it was one of my least favorite things to teach because I could never really find a good, meaningful way to do it. I'm sure there plenty of simple ways out there that much better teachers breeze through. But Friday, although small, I had a victory.
I put my rough draft under the camera, so everyone could see. I read it to them and had them follow along. Occasionally, I stopped and told them what I was thinking when I wrote a part or when I though I needed to get rid of something. I also told them to revise it. I wanted to see if they would pick up on the many things I did wrong. At first they were unsure when I opened the floor for discussion of my essay.
"You mean, we won't get in trouble for correcting you?"
"No ma'am, This is a conversation - writer-to-writer."
Once they realized I was serious, they jumped in, excited for the opportunity to correct the teacher. More importantly, I finally started hearing music to my ears. They were genuinely decoding the message of my essay and thinking through the words I chose.
"You went on too long about your courage."
"I think you repeated yourself when you said mountains twice."
"I think that sentence is too long. I can't understand it."
"You said one thing in that paragraph that doesn't go with your story."
Just when I had them right where I wanted them, I brought my lesson home.
"This is revising. What you just corrected is my first draft. Clearly, it was not ready to be my final draft. You had to figure out what I was trying to say and delete the extra stuff."
I saw some lightbulbs begin to click. It wasn't profound or even that creative and it may not sound like it, but I felt like I finally taught them that revising is not just replacing a word or fixing a comma. Revising is about shaping and molding your words to paint the picture you want your reader to see. Words are the clay and students can mold them into any art form they want. It won't be perfect the first time, which is why they have to keep running their fingers through it.
Again, it is pretty insignificant, and I'm sure all you other more talented teachers are laughing at me, but I'll take a small victory. I know I have a long way to go to becoming a "great" teacher, but I had so much fun watching my students genuinely revise and shape their essays, crafting their words into little masterpieces. Even though I was so drained and nearly dragging, my students turned my day completely around. It was refreshing to watch them work and actually realize why we do this. Sometimes it's the little things that keep me going on days when I don't want to get out of bed.
As I'm sitting out in the coolness, I'm reflecting on my teaching week. Everyday I feel a little more drained than the last, so by Friday, it's a miracle I'm still walking. However, this Friday (yesterday), was different. After three years of teaching, I felt like the best teacher version of myself. We were working on our first personal narrative essays of the year, and yesterday was revising day. As usual, I wrote an essay of my own as an example, but I did something with it I've never done before. I put my rough draft - my sloppiness, open and exposed - under our document camera for the kids to see. I have done that before. I've written with them and modeled how to start an essay. I've given check lists of what makes a good essay or what they should have in theirs. We've answered questions about revising essays. I've even done musical revising, where they get up and move around while music plays and they revise whichever paper they arrive at when the music stops. But I've never had them revise mine or modeled what revising looks like. To tell the truth, it was one of my least favorite things to teach because I could never really find a good, meaningful way to do it. I'm sure there plenty of simple ways out there that much better teachers breeze through. But Friday, although small, I had a victory.
I put my rough draft under the camera, so everyone could see. I read it to them and had them follow along. Occasionally, I stopped and told them what I was thinking when I wrote a part or when I though I needed to get rid of something. I also told them to revise it. I wanted to see if they would pick up on the many things I did wrong. At first they were unsure when I opened the floor for discussion of my essay.
"You mean, we won't get in trouble for correcting you?"
"No ma'am, This is a conversation - writer-to-writer."
Once they realized I was serious, they jumped in, excited for the opportunity to correct the teacher. More importantly, I finally started hearing music to my ears. They were genuinely decoding the message of my essay and thinking through the words I chose.
"You went on too long about your courage."
"I think you repeated yourself when you said mountains twice."
"I think that sentence is too long. I can't understand it."
"You said one thing in that paragraph that doesn't go with your story."
Just when I had them right where I wanted them, I brought my lesson home.
"This is revising. What you just corrected is my first draft. Clearly, it was not ready to be my final draft. You had to figure out what I was trying to say and delete the extra stuff."
I saw some lightbulbs begin to click. It wasn't profound or even that creative and it may not sound like it, but I felt like I finally taught them that revising is not just replacing a word or fixing a comma. Revising is about shaping and molding your words to paint the picture you want your reader to see. Words are the clay and students can mold them into any art form they want. It won't be perfect the first time, which is why they have to keep running their fingers through it.
Again, it is pretty insignificant, and I'm sure all you other more talented teachers are laughing at me, but I'll take a small victory. I know I have a long way to go to becoming a "great" teacher, but I had so much fun watching my students genuinely revise and shape their essays, crafting their words into little masterpieces. Even though I was so drained and nearly dragging, my students turned my day completely around. It was refreshing to watch them work and actually realize why we do this. Sometimes it's the little things that keep me going on days when I don't want to get out of bed.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
6 word memoirs. Coolest assignment ever.
I've made it through the first two weeks of school so far! Two very... long... weeks. Tryouts the first week almost killed me. 13-14 hour days feels like someone pressed thumb tacks all the way into the bottoms of my feet. But my hilarious co-workers lifted my spirits and made every minute worth it. I'd make fun of Miley and dance to "Started from the bottom..." all day with tacks in my feet all over again. Labor Day weekend brought me enough sleep to recoup in time for the next round. Morning practices. My body still doesn't understand what's going on with a 4:45-5:00am wake up time. Though, somehow my brain finds a way to wake itself up enough to function. Too bad I don't drink coffee. Once I realize I'm awake and at practice, I can see that we have some really talented athletes (and great kiddos) that make my job well worth the loss of sleep. Plus, we kicked butt at our first scrimmage, so now I'm pumped for the season.
Then, there is the classroom side of my job. While I have more students in my classes this year than I've ever had, it's been pretty smooth sailing (knock on wood). Granted, after the second week, kids are starting to come out of their angel shells and test the waters, but I love all of them regardless. I feel privileged to be able to teach these guys. I've got some super sweet, respectful, intriguing babies who make my job a little easier. Let's just hope it stays that way. :)
Already, though, I'm impressed by them. The first week of school they wrote me a letter introducing themselves, and I was impressed by their ability to write so well already. (Good job 6th grade teachers!! You are amazing!) The second week we continued to do some reflective writing with some 6 word memoirs. This is definitely the COOLEST assignment I've ever done, and I learned so much about them. I can't tell you how much I LOVE 6 word memoirs! It was so cool to watch my kids dig inside themselves and splatter their stories in 6 words. I can't wait to hang these up in my room. I can't wait to see their reactions to how inspirational, strong, and deep their peers are. Whenever I get time, I'd like to make a cool video of these, but until then check out these 6 word memoirs and see how awesome my kids are...
I can trust anyone... I think?
Bruised legs. Dirt Everywhere. That's fashion.
Lost in life. Dad is dead.
Football, best sport for teaching character.
Sounded much better in my head.
Creativity big, height small, heart huge.
Swinging so high, falling down hard...
Stress me out, Starbucks saves me.
Without books, life's black and white.
Finding who you are is hard.
Quiet has never been any louder.
My mind is a forest... lost.
Life's a song you're the lyrics.
Lost in thought, slowly falling apart.
Life's a game without extra lives.
Misunderstood, mistaken, mistreated, but still here.
Gooey on inside, rock solid out.
I'm not quiet, I'm just listening.
Like a rose, falls for nothing.
Knowing not all feats are impossible.
Slow learner, but still get it.
Still waiting for that one day.
Today's biggest worries. Tomorrow's funniest memories.
Love bacon, love mustaches, love life.
Used to be shy, not anymore.
I'm short, but touching cloud nine.
This one about sums it up:
12 years old, blinded by life.
I wish I could put all of them up here, but that might take a while. I'm so thankful that they took the risk to be so transparent with me and each other. I think we can agree my kids are awesome (and smarter than me)!
If I could sum up the first two weeks, even though I've been dog-tired and dragging through most of it, it has been surprisingly refreshing. It's refreshing to be able to work with people that make every day better than the last. To work with coaches who love the kids they coach and who dress up like gangstas. To work with teachers who I can learn from and who share the same goals and approach to writing as I do. Suffice it say that I'm excited for the year, and I love my job!
Long hours. Frustrating days. Worth it.
Then, there is the classroom side of my job. While I have more students in my classes this year than I've ever had, it's been pretty smooth sailing (knock on wood). Granted, after the second week, kids are starting to come out of their angel shells and test the waters, but I love all of them regardless. I feel privileged to be able to teach these guys. I've got some super sweet, respectful, intriguing babies who make my job a little easier. Let's just hope it stays that way. :)
Already, though, I'm impressed by them. The first week of school they wrote me a letter introducing themselves, and I was impressed by their ability to write so well already. (Good job 6th grade teachers!! You are amazing!) The second week we continued to do some reflective writing with some 6 word memoirs. This is definitely the COOLEST assignment I've ever done, and I learned so much about them. I can't tell you how much I LOVE 6 word memoirs! It was so cool to watch my kids dig inside themselves and splatter their stories in 6 words. I can't wait to hang these up in my room. I can't wait to see their reactions to how inspirational, strong, and deep their peers are. Whenever I get time, I'd like to make a cool video of these, but until then check out these 6 word memoirs and see how awesome my kids are...
I can trust anyone... I think?
Bruised legs. Dirt Everywhere. That's fashion.
Lost in life. Dad is dead.
Football, best sport for teaching character.
Sounded much better in my head.
Creativity big, height small, heart huge.
Swinging so high, falling down hard...
Stress me out, Starbucks saves me.
Without books, life's black and white.
Finding who you are is hard.
Quiet has never been any louder.
My mind is a forest... lost.
Life's a song you're the lyrics.
Lost in thought, slowly falling apart.
Life's a game without extra lives.
Misunderstood, mistaken, mistreated, but still here.
Gooey on inside, rock solid out.
I'm not quiet, I'm just listening.
Like a rose, falls for nothing.
Knowing not all feats are impossible.
Slow learner, but still get it.
Still waiting for that one day.
Today's biggest worries. Tomorrow's funniest memories.
Love bacon, love mustaches, love life.
Used to be shy, not anymore.
I'm short, but touching cloud nine.
This one about sums it up:
12 years old, blinded by life.
I wish I could put all of them up here, but that might take a while. I'm so thankful that they took the risk to be so transparent with me and each other. I think we can agree my kids are awesome (and smarter than me)!
If I could sum up the first two weeks, even though I've been dog-tired and dragging through most of it, it has been surprisingly refreshing. It's refreshing to be able to work with people that make every day better than the last. To work with coaches who love the kids they coach and who dress up like gangstas. To work with teachers who I can learn from and who share the same goals and approach to writing as I do. Suffice it say that I'm excited for the year, and I love my job!
Long hours. Frustrating days. Worth it.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Check your pants
Word of advice: when your alarm clock goes off, get up. Don't hit snooze 17 times like I do; just get up. Unfortunately, I did not heed my own advice this morning, and I paid the price. Apparently, the universe wanted pay back for ignoring the world for an extra 15 minutes of sleep. Consequently, a series of unfortunate events ensued. Well, not a series, but a couple.
As you can infer, I was running late this morning after denying the fact that I did in fact have to wake up. I headed out the door at 7:36 prepared to watch for cops while I carefully sped down the highway. Before I could make it to the highway, someone had other plans to end my life. This person decided not yield at his left turn while I was passing in front of him. After I laid my body weight into the horn, he barely slammed on his brakes and swerved before hitting me directly. If I wasn't awake yet, that certainly did the trick. No one was hurt even though he almost hit someone else swerving out of my way. All things considered, I actually made it to work some what on time and with only minimal speeding!
Incident number two happened on my lunch break. I ate a salty lunch at Panda Express with the hubs then I headed out to run some errands with my left over free time. I pulled in to a gas pump ready to drop some cash, and as I slid my leg over the rough texture of my car seat, I heard it. A quick, solid rip. I got out of the car, felt the wind blow, and realized... My pants had ripped. Cool. Apparently my two-and-a-half-year-old-Gap jeans just couldn't hang on to the seam of the left butt pocket.
Since I was on lunch break of teacher inservice, I didn't have much time to fix my problem. I could have put on some athletic sweats to hide my inappropriately placed hole, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself and Target was conveniently located across the street. I figured this was a pretty good excuse for some new jeans. So, I slowly settled back into the car, trying not to exasperate the gaping hole. Once I parked, I inevitably stretched the tear even more getting out of the car. Realizing I was showing more of myself than I wanted to be seen, I attempted to walk. I wish I could have seen myself as I waddled like a pirate with a peg leg, keeping the leg sporting the torn fabric straight out and swinging it out to the side of body so the hole wouldn't creep open. I tried to minimize the full moon exposure. I felt like I had a prosthetic leg and was learning to walk again. Inside, I discreetly dove into the clothes wall trying to hide the white gleam from my jeans from unfortunate onlookers and averting my eyes from any former students. I grabbed the first pair of jeans I saw that weren't awful and came in my size. I tried them on with success, hurried to the cashier, proceeded to change, and escaped ridicule, laughing at myself the whole way. Surprisingly, I still made it back to school on time for our second session.
Sometimes life plays jokes on you just to check your sense of humor. God's got to throw you rough day every now and then to make sure you're still light enough to laugh at yourself. So, moral of the story: don't press that snooze button. You could almost wreck and your pants could rip. Get up and start your day on the right side of the bed. And check your pants.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
New is Always Better
If you watch How I Met Your Mother, then you understand this Barneyism from which the title of the post originated. If you don't watch it, I'm sorry. You're missing out. Barney is constantly spouting little snippets of truth that only make sense in his mind. Think about it. New clothes are better than old clothes. New food is better than rotting food. New things are better than old things. Today, this snippet is true in my teaching life.
There is never a greater feeling the world for a teacher (you know besides the "ah ha" moment for a kid when the light bulb finally clicks inside) when that last kid leaves the building and summer comes blasting you with her inviting sunshine. You walk out the doors of your classroom and feel like you could just open up your rib cage and jar up all the sun light in the world right there in your heart. Freedom. Then again, I do live in Texas so, if I want to survive, I don't spend too much of my time outside. I've decided that summer for teachers is what hibernation is for bears. After 10 months of toughing it in the wild, we just need to hibernate for a few months, get our strength back. Then, we emerge from hibernation ready to feed on children. Just kidding. But seriously, the rest preserves our mental health.
Summer, in addition to hibernation, also brings some perspective. It is a avenue that lets me travel back in time to revaluate what I did during the school year: what worked, what didn't. Unfortunately, I found a lot that didn't work. I'm thankful, though, to have a job that allots time for growth - that allows me to start over.
Much of my "hibernation" time has actually been spent working. Since I felt like I had a lot to fix, I had a lot of reflecting to do. To speed up the process, I spent two full weeks submerged in teacher land: trainings and workshops to make me a better teacher. Honestly, though, I would rather be sitting in a training than zombie-ing out on my couch watching murder mysteries. I don't like being idle. Getting lost driving all over the metroplex was actually quite an adventure. I enjoyed turning heads during my jam sessions with the Wicked soundtrack while sitting in traffic for an hour a day. Plus, these opportunities steered me into the direction of some refreshingly passionate educators. Since these trainings have ended, I have had time to debrief what I've learned and read what other experienced teachers do. Thank you, Pinterest. I've also read from other experts in the field such Kelly Gallagher and Ralph Fletcher to gather some ideas and inspiration.
Through all of this reflecting and reading, I've been inspired to fall in love with writing again. Somewhere along the way I forgot what writing can do, that once it snaps you in it's jaws, it doesn't let you go until you've discovered some new part of yourself that you didn't know was there before. Growing up, I'd always enjoyed writing and was fairly good at it. All my elementary teachers told me so. By the time junior high and high school hit, I'd suppressed any passion I had for it. I tried my hand at poetry in high school, when I thought I was so clever and so deep. Yikes. It was pretty sad. But college rolled around where I was forced to enact my creativity because of my creative writing and YA literature classes. Writing in different genres (well just writing in general) unlocked some faint voice inside that convinced me I had something to say. I was inspired. (I don't claim to be good at it; I just claim to enjoy it.)
Warning: Moment of uncomfortable honesty follows. Read at your own risk.
Then, I graduated and hurried out into the real world eager to change lives. But ironically, after three years of teaching, I forgot. I forgot how much writing is laced with self-discovery. I forgot that I love words. I forgot that I love alliteration and metaphors and imagery and other nerdy literary things. I forgot that I love the very subject I teach. How is that possible? I should be inspiring my students with my love for writing. I should be inspiring them to take risks in their own writing, convincing them that they have a story to tell. That's what good teachers do, right? How could I have gotten so off track? After this last school year, I left with a bad taste in my mouth. I realized I was bored. (If I was bored, I could only imagine how my students felt.) I wasn't excited about teaching anymore because I had turned my classroom into a meaningless, confusing kaleidoscope of grammar. No wonder my kids hated writing. I was missing the point. I had turned off my love of writing and blamed my difficult year on behavior issues. I didn't want to admit that I wasn't meeting their needs. That I was failing my kids. I'd even thought about switching subjects and trying reading on for size. I love reading so I figured I'd be better at that, but I felt guilty. I felt like I was running away because it got hard. I felt like I was quitting. I knew something had to change. This is not the teacher I wanted to be.
Before I could drive myself crazy with all my negativity, summer came to my rescue. A little time, a little literature, a little training from other professionals, and a little writing was all it took to slap me in the face and help me remember what I love and why I teach. I've been inspired again. I've got some organizing to do, but instead of dreading the school year, I'm invigorated. I don't have it all figured out and I'm actually a little nervous, but I'm thankful for a fresh start. In this case, Barney is right. New is always better. New perspective. New year. New coworkers. A new start with a new batch of rowdy, hormonal, creative teenagers for me to love and inspire. It won't be easy, but I'm awakened from hibernation and ready to enter the wild.
Happy school year, folks!
There is never a greater feeling the world for a teacher (you know besides the "ah ha" moment for a kid when the light bulb finally clicks inside) when that last kid leaves the building and summer comes blasting you with her inviting sunshine. You walk out the doors of your classroom and feel like you could just open up your rib cage and jar up all the sun light in the world right there in your heart. Freedom. Then again, I do live in Texas so, if I want to survive, I don't spend too much of my time outside. I've decided that summer for teachers is what hibernation is for bears. After 10 months of toughing it in the wild, we just need to hibernate for a few months, get our strength back. Then, we emerge from hibernation ready to feed on children. Just kidding. But seriously, the rest preserves our mental health.
Summer, in addition to hibernation, also brings some perspective. It is a avenue that lets me travel back in time to revaluate what I did during the school year: what worked, what didn't. Unfortunately, I found a lot that didn't work. I'm thankful, though, to have a job that allots time for growth - that allows me to start over.
Much of my "hibernation" time has actually been spent working. Since I felt like I had a lot to fix, I had a lot of reflecting to do. To speed up the process, I spent two full weeks submerged in teacher land: trainings and workshops to make me a better teacher. Honestly, though, I would rather be sitting in a training than zombie-ing out on my couch watching murder mysteries. I don't like being idle. Getting lost driving all over the metroplex was actually quite an adventure. I enjoyed turning heads during my jam sessions with the Wicked soundtrack while sitting in traffic for an hour a day. Plus, these opportunities steered me into the direction of some refreshingly passionate educators. Since these trainings have ended, I have had time to debrief what I've learned and read what other experienced teachers do. Thank you, Pinterest. I've also read from other experts in the field such Kelly Gallagher and Ralph Fletcher to gather some ideas and inspiration.
Through all of this reflecting and reading, I've been inspired to fall in love with writing again. Somewhere along the way I forgot what writing can do, that once it snaps you in it's jaws, it doesn't let you go until you've discovered some new part of yourself that you didn't know was there before. Growing up, I'd always enjoyed writing and was fairly good at it. All my elementary teachers told me so. By the time junior high and high school hit, I'd suppressed any passion I had for it. I tried my hand at poetry in high school, when I thought I was so clever and so deep. Yikes. It was pretty sad. But college rolled around where I was forced to enact my creativity because of my creative writing and YA literature classes. Writing in different genres (well just writing in general) unlocked some faint voice inside that convinced me I had something to say. I was inspired. (I don't claim to be good at it; I just claim to enjoy it.)
Warning: Moment of uncomfortable honesty follows. Read at your own risk.
Then, I graduated and hurried out into the real world eager to change lives. But ironically, after three years of teaching, I forgot. I forgot how much writing is laced with self-discovery. I forgot that I love words. I forgot that I love alliteration and metaphors and imagery and other nerdy literary things. I forgot that I love the very subject I teach. How is that possible? I should be inspiring my students with my love for writing. I should be inspiring them to take risks in their own writing, convincing them that they have a story to tell. That's what good teachers do, right? How could I have gotten so off track? After this last school year, I left with a bad taste in my mouth. I realized I was bored. (If I was bored, I could only imagine how my students felt.) I wasn't excited about teaching anymore because I had turned my classroom into a meaningless, confusing kaleidoscope of grammar. No wonder my kids hated writing. I was missing the point. I had turned off my love of writing and blamed my difficult year on behavior issues. I didn't want to admit that I wasn't meeting their needs. That I was failing my kids. I'd even thought about switching subjects and trying reading on for size. I love reading so I figured I'd be better at that, but I felt guilty. I felt like I was running away because it got hard. I felt like I was quitting. I knew something had to change. This is not the teacher I wanted to be.
Before I could drive myself crazy with all my negativity, summer came to my rescue. A little time, a little literature, a little training from other professionals, and a little writing was all it took to slap me in the face and help me remember what I love and why I teach. I've been inspired again. I've got some organizing to do, but instead of dreading the school year, I'm invigorated. I don't have it all figured out and I'm actually a little nervous, but I'm thankful for a fresh start. In this case, Barney is right. New is always better. New perspective. New year. New coworkers. A new start with a new batch of rowdy, hormonal, creative teenagers for me to love and inspire. It won't be easy, but I'm awakened from hibernation and ready to enter the wild.
Happy school year, folks!
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Mawwage is what bwings us togeva today...
When I tell people I'm married, they immediately assume I'm a newlywed because I look young. But, actually, Kyle and I just shared our 6th year anniversary, which means we are well out of the honeymoon stage and beginning the (cute) old married couple stage. It's been a whirlwind of emotions and adventures these last six years from graduating college to first jobs to dog babies to new jobs to a new house. Time flies when you're having fun, eh?
That's exactly what we're good at. We've laughed our way through some pretty great times. However, as anyone knows, marriage isn't all fun and games. When two stubborn, hard headed people live together, it can raise some blood pressure. For instance, he constantly insists he is right, but I know I always am. It doesn't matter the subject. As infuriating as he is sometimes, I love sharing my life with him. He knows me better than I know myself and always knows how to make me laugh when my face is purple with frustration. He is my BFF, and he is my perfect opposite. While I hesitate to speak my mind in fear of hurting feelings, bluntness is his second nature. While I am soft-spoken, he is the life of the party. While I am somewhat cautious, he is a dare-devil. If I insist we drink water, he's adamant about drinking Dr. Pepper. He is my opposite in every way, which is why we work so well together. We're all about balance.
Don't get me wrong, the man knows how to push my buttons and does things just to make my skin crawl. I think he prides himself on that. It drives me crazy that every week he finds a new hobby. One week he won't live unless he gets a new mountain bike, but the next week he is trying to sell it so he can buy something else. I don't understand. I also don't understand how when I rewind the TV and hit play, the sound just quits, like it's laughing at me. Then, when he presses a button, it's like nothing ever happened. Or if I restart the computer, it won't turn back on, but if he restarts it, the computer literally grows arms and hugs him. It's like men have this unspoken relationship with technology. That or technology hates me, plain and simple.
I don't get how he spends all day reading forums about Formula 1 racing. I can't stand the amount of car shows he watches. I hate that when I eat pizza and cinna stix, I'll see it on my hips the next morning, but when he does it, he stays the same. I hate that he forces me to talk about things that bother me, but I love it at the same time because he'd rather stay up all night than go to bed angry. However, if these are the worst of our problems, I'd say we're doing OK.
Then again, I do my fair share of crazy, which he remarkably puts up with. For example, when I change 13 times because "I have nothing to wear,"he calmly suggests I go with the first thing I tried on and convinces me that I look great. Or when I can't make a decision, he will quietly listen and stare while I argue with myself about what I should or shouldn't do, and he may even offer some advice. Or when I constantly vent to him about issues at work during his favorite car show, he puts on a fake smile and nods along and even fist pumps in agreement even though he really couldn't care less.
Of course, these are all minor things, but the real joy I find in our relationship is in the little every day things, like finishing each other's sentences with movie quotes or song lyrics or lines from How I Met Your Mother. For example, instead of just telling me it is hot in the house, he quotes the chorus of the Jonas Brothers' song "Burnin Up." My husband is cool, guys. Another one of our favorite family activities is when we howl like maniacs to get our dog Rush to "sing." Then we make fun of our other dog Roxy, who sounds like a raccoon being choked when she tries to sing with the rest of us.
We also have fun annoying each other. When I have headphones blaring music in my ears and I decide sing along just as loudly, he will stare at me and discreetly slide his phone in front of him, threatening to make a vine of how off key I am. That's his way of asking me to stop. We coddle our dog children and annoy them when we're bored. We watch volleyball. We watch Pitch Perfect and quote every line. We watch the Tour de France and soccer games. We cook dinner (sometimes). We are lazy. Most importantly, we spend most of our time laughing. At each other or at our dogs. That is my favorite part.
He is my best friend, my fashion consultant, my sounding board, my built-in chef, my handy man, my supporter, my comedian, my hero, and the only face I want to see after a stressful, hair-pulling day at school. We are far from perfect but words cannot describe how much I appreciate him in my life. Marriage to me means having a partner that truly understands all of who you are and still loves you unconditionally, even through all the ugly parts. I'm so blessed to have found that in a man whom I respect and adore. Thanks, husband, for seeing something worth loving in me.
Happy 6 years, Kyle. Sixty years from now, we'll be old and wrinkled but still laughing and quoting movies - if we can remember them. I love you, Kyle Nielsen.
This sums up our relationship pretty well.
My husband is cooler than yours.
That's exactly what we're good at. We've laughed our way through some pretty great times. However, as anyone knows, marriage isn't all fun and games. When two stubborn, hard headed people live together, it can raise some blood pressure. For instance, he constantly insists he is right, but I know I always am. It doesn't matter the subject. As infuriating as he is sometimes, I love sharing my life with him. He knows me better than I know myself and always knows how to make me laugh when my face is purple with frustration. He is my BFF, and he is my perfect opposite. While I hesitate to speak my mind in fear of hurting feelings, bluntness is his second nature. While I am soft-spoken, he is the life of the party. While I am somewhat cautious, he is a dare-devil. If I insist we drink water, he's adamant about drinking Dr. Pepper. He is my opposite in every way, which is why we work so well together. We're all about balance.
Don't get me wrong, the man knows how to push my buttons and does things just to make my skin crawl. I think he prides himself on that. It drives me crazy that every week he finds a new hobby. One week he won't live unless he gets a new mountain bike, but the next week he is trying to sell it so he can buy something else. I don't understand. I also don't understand how when I rewind the TV and hit play, the sound just quits, like it's laughing at me. Then, when he presses a button, it's like nothing ever happened. Or if I restart the computer, it won't turn back on, but if he restarts it, the computer literally grows arms and hugs him. It's like men have this unspoken relationship with technology. That or technology hates me, plain and simple.
I don't get how he spends all day reading forums about Formula 1 racing. I can't stand the amount of car shows he watches. I hate that when I eat pizza and cinna stix, I'll see it on my hips the next morning, but when he does it, he stays the same. I hate that he forces me to talk about things that bother me, but I love it at the same time because he'd rather stay up all night than go to bed angry. However, if these are the worst of our problems, I'd say we're doing OK.
Then again, I do my fair share of crazy, which he remarkably puts up with. For example, when I change 13 times because "I have nothing to wear,"he calmly suggests I go with the first thing I tried on and convinces me that I look great. Or when I can't make a decision, he will quietly listen and stare while I argue with myself about what I should or shouldn't do, and he may even offer some advice. Or when I constantly vent to him about issues at work during his favorite car show, he puts on a fake smile and nods along and even fist pumps in agreement even though he really couldn't care less.
Of course, these are all minor things, but the real joy I find in our relationship is in the little every day things, like finishing each other's sentences with movie quotes or song lyrics or lines from How I Met Your Mother. For example, instead of just telling me it is hot in the house, he quotes the chorus of the Jonas Brothers' song "Burnin Up." My husband is cool, guys. Another one of our favorite family activities is when we howl like maniacs to get our dog Rush to "sing." Then we make fun of our other dog Roxy, who sounds like a raccoon being choked when she tries to sing with the rest of us.
We also have fun annoying each other. When I have headphones blaring music in my ears and I decide sing along just as loudly, he will stare at me and discreetly slide his phone in front of him, threatening to make a vine of how off key I am. That's his way of asking me to stop. We coddle our dog children and annoy them when we're bored. We watch volleyball. We watch Pitch Perfect and quote every line. We watch the Tour de France and soccer games. We cook dinner (sometimes). We are lazy. Most importantly, we spend most of our time laughing. At each other or at our dogs. That is my favorite part.
He is my best friend, my fashion consultant, my sounding board, my built-in chef, my handy man, my supporter, my comedian, my hero, and the only face I want to see after a stressful, hair-pulling day at school. We are far from perfect but words cannot describe how much I appreciate him in my life. Marriage to me means having a partner that truly understands all of who you are and still loves you unconditionally, even through all the ugly parts. I'm so blessed to have found that in a man whom I respect and adore. Thanks, husband, for seeing something worth loving in me.
Happy 6 years, Kyle. Sixty years from now, we'll be old and wrinkled but still laughing and quoting movies - if we can remember them. I love you, Kyle Nielsen.
This sums up our relationship pretty well.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
To-Do List
When you're bored or unmotivated, try revisiting your ever-growing to-do list, such as this one to make sure you stay focused on the important things. I dare you.
Write a letter.
Write a poem.
Read a book.
Write down what you wonder about.
Just stop.
Observe and write.
Eavesdrop and write down the conversations you hear.
Write a book.
Draw a picture.
Describe a thunderstorm.
Write about a memory.
Write small.
Write down an inspiring story you hear today.
Write honestly. Scrape the heart.
Write funny things.
People watch and make characters out of what you see.
Listen to the voices in your head.
Write what you're feeling.
Make a list of idioms.
Make a list of cliches.
Make a list of your favorite aphorisms or make one up.
Make a bucket list.
Talk in a different accent to a stranger.
Shake a stranger's hand and record their reaction.
Discover something new about yourself.
You never know what you might find.
Write a letter.
Write a poem.
Read a book.
Write down what you wonder about.
Just stop.
Observe and write.
Eavesdrop and write down the conversations you hear.
Write a book.
Draw a picture.
Describe a thunderstorm.
Write about a memory.
Write small.
Write down an inspiring story you hear today.
Write honestly. Scrape the heart.
Write funny things.
People watch and make characters out of what you see.
Listen to the voices in your head.
Write what you're feeling.
Make a list of idioms.
Make a list of cliches.
Make a list of your favorite aphorisms or make one up.
Make a bucket list.
Talk in a different accent to a stranger.
Shake a stranger's hand and record their reaction.
Discover something new about yourself.
You never know what you might find.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Keeping Austin Batty
Last week I took a mini-vacation to Austin. Well, that's not entirely true. It ended up being my mini getaway for the summer, but it wasn't the sole purpose for the trip. Some colleagues and I signed up to go to Texas' capitol for a coaches clinic. Thankfully, we had an Austin guru among us to lead us to some stellar eating places. I'd been to Austin before, but I never really realized what a cool city it was.
We arrived Tuesday afternoon, but before settling into our hotel for the night, we enjoyed a delicious dinner at the Hula Hut. If you've never been, I highly recommend it. Good food. Good views. Good service.
Full and happy, we finally settled in to our ninth floor hotel room with our splendid view of downtown Austin construction. No better noise to fall asleep to than the hums and whistles of racing police cars, the booming music accompanying the constant celebration of weird on 6th street, and the steady hammering of nighttime construction. Ah, the city life. Quite a change from the songs of crickets and cows lulling me to sleep in the middle of nowhere, TX.
Seven-thirty came early the next morning when we were up and at 'em, ready for a "fun" day of coaching lectures. Although we were somewhat disappointed with the content of the sessions, we capitalized on the free stuff from all the exhibits: t-shirts, tote bags, popcorn, and cookies. I even saw a familiar face. As I rounded a corner of one of the aisles, I was pretty sure I saw my freshman volleyball coach from high school standing at a booth about twenty feet away. I thought my eyes were tricking me, so I did a double-take to get a better look, staring awkwardly to make sure. Stalker status, I know. Feeling brave, I approached her completely ready to just keep on walking when I knew she wouldn't recognize me. I mean, it's been 10 years! Surprisingly, she shouted my my name in spastic recognition slurring my first and last name together. Yep, that's her. We exchanged the awkward "how are you" and "where are you teaching now?" conversations, but it was pretty cool to experience a "look at me now, I've grown out of my adolescent acne" moment.
Wednesday was my birthday, so of course, my friends wouldn't let me go without celebrating. Don't worry, we weren't influenced by the 6th street insanity even though we saw our share of crazy. We settled for a much tamer approach (which I prefer) at a fun, authentic Italian place called Mandola's. Pasta and gelato - can't go wrong there.
After dinner, at my prodding, we journeyed the ten or so blocks to the bridge to watch the bats where we encountered an interesting, deaf gentleman who was almost run over. Did I mention Austinites are crazy? This dude was strolling across a busy intersection like it was no big deal jumping in front of speeding cars like a ninja. He just wanted everyone to see the bats and to sell his homemade buttons that said, "Keep Austin Batty," which was apparently worth sacrificing his life. But, finally we heard the squeaking, chattering bats awakening from their slumber.
They started on one side of the bridge and worked their way across like fans at a baseball game engage the wave around the whole park. The bats would start in sections gliding under the bridge in circles around each other like they were warming up for a long journey. After a few laps, they darted above the trees in a line, summoning the next bat section to start their warm up laps. It felt like they could lift the bridge and carry us off with them at any second. Once each section of bats completed their warm up circles, they all exploded toward the trees, flying in a chaotic black cloud over the lake until they met with the rest of their clan. Together, these small winged fur balls, arranged themselves in a long black line that swirled and zig zagged above the greenery. They created pictures and shapes in the sky that resembled what I doodled on my notes during the coaching clinic. Spirals and zig zags. Swoops and swirls. They were a black marker against the pale sunset marking their territory above the trees. It was pretty neat to watch.
(It's hard to see in the pictures, but I tried.)
After a few more selfies and a stroll down 6th street (we had to see the crazies up close), we called it a night, but not before making fun of the show "Pretty Wicked Moms" on TLC as we fell asleep. All in all, it was a pretty great birthday, thanks to my friends Pamela and Allison!
Thursday we endured a few more brutal coaching lessons before we grabbed some deliciousness for lunch and headed home. I had no idea Austin was such a cool place. (Granted, the last time I was there I'm pretty sure I was around eleven and all I cared about was Six Flags.) There are tons of fancy restaurants and shopping places. There are people everywhere walking or riding their bikes, swerving in and out of traffic. There are bats! Where else can you go to watch bats fly around in the same place you can see half naked drunk people strutting their stuff? I'm easily entertained, yes. So, thanks Austin for my mini-vacay this year. You didn't disappoint!
We arrived Tuesday afternoon, but before settling into our hotel for the night, we enjoyed a delicious dinner at the Hula Hut. If you've never been, I highly recommend it. Good food. Good views. Good service.
Full and happy, we finally settled in to our ninth floor hotel room with our splendid view of downtown Austin construction. No better noise to fall asleep to than the hums and whistles of racing police cars, the booming music accompanying the constant celebration of weird on 6th street, and the steady hammering of nighttime construction. Ah, the city life. Quite a change from the songs of crickets and cows lulling me to sleep in the middle of nowhere, TX.
Seven-thirty came early the next morning when we were up and at 'em, ready for a "fun" day of coaching lectures. Although we were somewhat disappointed with the content of the sessions, we capitalized on the free stuff from all the exhibits: t-shirts, tote bags, popcorn, and cookies. I even saw a familiar face. As I rounded a corner of one of the aisles, I was pretty sure I saw my freshman volleyball coach from high school standing at a booth about twenty feet away. I thought my eyes were tricking me, so I did a double-take to get a better look, staring awkwardly to make sure. Stalker status, I know. Feeling brave, I approached her completely ready to just keep on walking when I knew she wouldn't recognize me. I mean, it's been 10 years! Surprisingly, she shouted my my name in spastic recognition slurring my first and last name together. Yep, that's her. We exchanged the awkward "how are you" and "where are you teaching now?" conversations, but it was pretty cool to experience a "look at me now, I've grown out of my adolescent acne" moment.
Wednesday was my birthday, so of course, my friends wouldn't let me go without celebrating. Don't worry, we weren't influenced by the 6th street insanity even though we saw our share of crazy. We settled for a much tamer approach (which I prefer) at a fun, authentic Italian place called Mandola's. Pasta and gelato - can't go wrong there.
After dinner, at my prodding, we journeyed the ten or so blocks to the bridge to watch the bats where we encountered an interesting, deaf gentleman who was almost run over. Did I mention Austinites are crazy? This dude was strolling across a busy intersection like it was no big deal jumping in front of speeding cars like a ninja. He just wanted everyone to see the bats and to sell his homemade buttons that said, "Keep Austin Batty," which was apparently worth sacrificing his life. But, finally we heard the squeaking, chattering bats awakening from their slumber.
They started on one side of the bridge and worked their way across like fans at a baseball game engage the wave around the whole park. The bats would start in sections gliding under the bridge in circles around each other like they were warming up for a long journey. After a few laps, they darted above the trees in a line, summoning the next bat section to start their warm up laps. It felt like they could lift the bridge and carry us off with them at any second. Once each section of bats completed their warm up circles, they all exploded toward the trees, flying in a chaotic black cloud over the lake until they met with the rest of their clan. Together, these small winged fur balls, arranged themselves in a long black line that swirled and zig zagged above the greenery. They created pictures and shapes in the sky that resembled what I doodled on my notes during the coaching clinic. Spirals and zig zags. Swoops and swirls. They were a black marker against the pale sunset marking their territory above the trees. It was pretty neat to watch.
(It's hard to see in the pictures, but I tried.)
After a few more selfies and a stroll down 6th street (we had to see the crazies up close), we called it a night, but not before making fun of the show "Pretty Wicked Moms" on TLC as we fell asleep. All in all, it was a pretty great birthday, thanks to my friends Pamela and Allison!
Thursday we endured a few more brutal coaching lessons before we grabbed some deliciousness for lunch and headed home. I had no idea Austin was such a cool place. (Granted, the last time I was there I'm pretty sure I was around eleven and all I cared about was Six Flags.) There are tons of fancy restaurants and shopping places. There are people everywhere walking or riding their bikes, swerving in and out of traffic. There are bats! Where else can you go to watch bats fly around in the same place you can see half naked drunk people strutting their stuff? I'm easily entertained, yes. So, thanks Austin for my mini-vacay this year. You didn't disappoint!
Monday, July 8, 2013
Favorite Words
After researching some about using writer's notebooks in the classroom, I decided to make a list of all my favorite words. I don't know why I haven't done this before. Perhaps this is a result of my brain trying to function at such a late hour, but I thought it was a pretty fun game, spouting off words and chuckling to myself at how clever I think I am. I even tried to get Kyle involved, but he didn't find it too entertaining. Oh well, I'm proud to wear the English nerd hat.
These are not in alpha order. I'm not OCD, just look at my house. The list is ever-growing, but here are some of my favorite words:
amalgamate
apoplectic
superfluous
eclectic
satiate
propel
evoke
extrapolate
excavate
fallible
fiasco
frenzy
malleable
commiserate
eccentric
kinesthetic
nurture
zealous/zeal
zoom
expel
suffice
concede
unapologetic
surface
chuckle
cackle
exacerbate
frazzled
baffled
dumbfounded
articulate
enunciate
I could keep going but I'll stop here.
What are some of your favorite words?
These are not in alpha order. I'm not OCD, just look at my house. The list is ever-growing, but here are some of my favorite words:
amalgamate
apoplectic
superfluous
eclectic
satiate
propel
evoke
extrapolate
excavate
fallible
fiasco
frenzy
malleable
commiserate
eccentric
kinesthetic
nurture
zealous/zeal
zoom
expel
suffice
concede
unapologetic
surface
chuckle
cackle
exacerbate
frazzled
baffled
dumbfounded
articulate
enunciate
I could keep going but I'll stop here.
What are some of your favorite words?
Friday, July 5, 2013
Getting old, learning life
With my birthday coming in just a few days, it's time to face the depressing truth that I'm now closer to 30 than 20. Where did the time go? It's crazy how adulthood sneaks up on you. One day I'm playing kickball in the street, the next I'm graduating high school, then college, and now, I'm in the "real world" trying to be a good wife, teacher, coach, and friend. I won't bore you by listing all the things I haven't crossed off the bucket list, but I will reflect on some lessons learned or realizations that have surfaced in my short 26 years of life. Some will probably be blatant and obvious, but bare with me. In no particular order:
1. Confidence is key. This is something I learned in teaching, but it's true in all facets of life: teaching, interviewing, dating, meeting new people, confronting someone, and more. If your confident on the outside, no one has to know your shaking like a leaf on the inside.
2. Dogs and babies are eerily similar. You use baby talk when speaking to them. They both wake you up in the middle of the night. They both sleep on you and drool on you. They both need your constant attention. They both eat/chew on everything. And they both poop, pee, and throw up in unexpected places. Except, you can leave a dog at home in a crate. You can't do that with a baby; it's called child abuse.
3. There will ALWAYS be some new technology my husband will fall in love with. He's got to have the next iPhone, iPad, or iRobot. Although, I can't complain too much. He's pretty responsible and normally finds a way to get us both whatever "i" product there is without breaking the bank. I'll admit though, I'm still amazed at some of the technologies available, and it scares me a little how dependent we've become on these gadgets. There is always something new to make life more "convenient."
4. ALWAYS work hard. No matter what. I learned this lesson fairly early in life since I played sports. If you didn't work hard in practice, you died or at least wished you had worked hard the first time. Oh, basketball memories... Thank you Coach Kilman for pushing me past the point of exhaustion and teaching me the most rewarding lesson I could have learned in high school. When you work hard, it will pay off. Even if it doesn't pay off immediately, you can still be proud of the fact that you didn't quit. And, people will respect you more in the long run.
5. No one cares how much you know until they know how much you care. As cliche as this is, it does ring true. There is no better example than when I worked with someone who, daily, spouted off everything he knew about everything. Half the time, I couldn't understand what he was talking about or why, and the other half of the time, I wanted to punch him in the throat just so he'd stop talking. What I'm trying to say is that, once people realize you care about them, they'll listen to any nonsensical story you throw at them.
6. Dreams don't always come true. As depressing as this sounds, I am living proof. As much as I wanted to be the next Logan Tom on USA's Olympic indoor volleyball team, it just wasn't going to happen. I didn't have the right genes. A 5'6'' skinny white girl isn't going to make it very far in the professional sports world, no matter how hard I worked. Sometimes you just have to have something else going for you other than will power. It's no accident Destinee Hooker is as good as she is when her father was a professional athlete and mother and top collegiate athlete.
7. Going away to college was the best decision. It's the biggest self-exploration experiment you will face. After your parents drop you off, it's all you. You decide what kind of person your going to be. If you fail, you live with the consequences. If you're a loner (or we'll say an introvert -like me), you figure out how to make friends really quickly. When you're married and in college and need to save a few bucks, ramen noodles are always there for you. Ultimately, you learn more about yourself than you ever could have under the shelter of familiarity.
8. Don't listen to what other people say. This is advice we are given all our lives, but it's so hard to heed. It's also a very crippling way to live. Don't let someone take away your stride just because that person needs something to complain about. Be confident in the gifts God has given you. Easier said than done but worth it in the end.
9. Marry someone who makes you laugh. He doesn't do it much anymore, but when Kyle and I were first married, anytime we went to a drive through, he would talk in a nerdy accent and be as ridiculous as possible. He just wanted to make those bored employees enjoy their monotony a little more. For example, at Wendy's he would say to the poor, unassuming victim of sarcasm: "Golly ma'am! That IS a big drink! You guys don't call it a large for nothin'!" I couldn't conceal my laughter, so I'd have to turn away. At the Panda Express drive through the certificate hanging on the wall that proved they had passed inspection was a goldmine. "Congratulations on your award! You guys must be so proud! That's so great!" As the cashier stared at us as though we were the dumbest people on the planet, I couldn't contain myself. Laughter sputtered out of me like shots of an engine back firing. Never a dull moment.
10. Never stop learning, growing, reading, writing, exploring. Growing up, I wasn't that fond of reading, but now that I'm out of school, my "to read" list is ever-growing. Sometimes when I walk my dogs on the nature trail down the street from our house, my mind travels back in time to a place where pretending wasn't uncommon. On the trail, instead of the huge, brown burlap sack someone dumped in the grass, I see a silent, brown rhino carcass. I still have an over-active imagination apparently. Of course, there is a chance I am crazy (very possible), or maybe I'm just trying to preserve something we all lose at point or another. I think we're all still kids just hiding inside aging bodies that mask our true identities. Reading awakens the adventurous side we all seem to ignore once we've morphed into adults. New possibilities are always waiting.
11. Trust God. This should be an easy step to follow since I grew up as a pastor's kid. Wrong. It's in our nature to only rely on ourselves, but God created us for so much more than that. Once we yield to His will, the Peace that passes all understanding has free reign in our lives. As hard as it is to relinquish control, He is more than capable to take care of us.
12. After college, it's harder to make/keep friends. You can't exactly run down the dorm hallways anymore knocking on doors to see who wants to go to dinner. Once you graduate, friends move away, life happens, so naturally friends lose touch. Then, if you don't get along with co-workers, you're out of luck.
13. Laugh or cry or both. Sometimes it's therapeutic to watch a girly, sappy movie, especially when I'm sitting at home on a Saturday night after a long week with a mile-high stack of papers to grade. All I have to do is turn on the TV, and the waterworks start up for any Sarah McLachlan animal abuse commercial. Disney movie? The tears pop out the corners of my eyes and I'm sobbing before I even know what happened. If you've seen the movie UP, you know what I'm talking about. In the same way, though, I laugh just as easily. For example, this new commercial gets me every time. It's the little things.
Check out this commercial
14. Put yourself out there. Make a new friend. Take risks. All of these require courage, so they all belong in one step. However, this is not an easy one for me. I mean, I just told you I saw a dead rhino down the street from my house. I took a risk telling you I'm crazy! :) Also, I once tried to get on my roof so I could see the eerie brightness of the moon. I chickened out, though. Keep in mind; this was like 2 weeks ago - not when I was a kid. I admire all you dauntless dare devils who ride motorcycles or swim with sharks - even you quieter ones who've started blogs and inspired me to follow. It takes courage to wear your heart on your sleeve and leave a part of you pasted on computer screens across the World Wide Web. Although it's not easy to take the leap, it's always more empowering on the risky side of the fence.
15. Stay positive. I struggle with this daily. It's easy to focus on the negative things that bring us down. Go against the grain and look for the positives in your situation. It may be more difficult, but you'll have a much better day!
There you have it. No astonishing revelations. Just a few anecdotes to support my meek experiences. These are the things that have graduated me to a new age group. I'm no longer "18-25." I guess that means I'm not a kid anymore, but I know I still have a lot to learn. I'm still young. I mean I haven't had kids yet, so I've got a few more milestones to cross.
Sometimes I wish life could be like this song...
And the birds sing...
1. Confidence is key. This is something I learned in teaching, but it's true in all facets of life: teaching, interviewing, dating, meeting new people, confronting someone, and more. If your confident on the outside, no one has to know your shaking like a leaf on the inside.
2. Dogs and babies are eerily similar. You use baby talk when speaking to them. They both wake you up in the middle of the night. They both sleep on you and drool on you. They both need your constant attention. They both eat/chew on everything. And they both poop, pee, and throw up in unexpected places. Except, you can leave a dog at home in a crate. You can't do that with a baby; it's called child abuse.
3. There will ALWAYS be some new technology my husband will fall in love with. He's got to have the next iPhone, iPad, or iRobot. Although, I can't complain too much. He's pretty responsible and normally finds a way to get us both whatever "i" product there is without breaking the bank. I'll admit though, I'm still amazed at some of the technologies available, and it scares me a little how dependent we've become on these gadgets. There is always something new to make life more "convenient."
4. ALWAYS work hard. No matter what. I learned this lesson fairly early in life since I played sports. If you didn't work hard in practice, you died or at least wished you had worked hard the first time. Oh, basketball memories... Thank you Coach Kilman for pushing me past the point of exhaustion and teaching me the most rewarding lesson I could have learned in high school. When you work hard, it will pay off. Even if it doesn't pay off immediately, you can still be proud of the fact that you didn't quit. And, people will respect you more in the long run.
5. No one cares how much you know until they know how much you care. As cliche as this is, it does ring true. There is no better example than when I worked with someone who, daily, spouted off everything he knew about everything. Half the time, I couldn't understand what he was talking about or why, and the other half of the time, I wanted to punch him in the throat just so he'd stop talking. What I'm trying to say is that, once people realize you care about them, they'll listen to any nonsensical story you throw at them.
6. Dreams don't always come true. As depressing as this sounds, I am living proof. As much as I wanted to be the next Logan Tom on USA's Olympic indoor volleyball team, it just wasn't going to happen. I didn't have the right genes. A 5'6'' skinny white girl isn't going to make it very far in the professional sports world, no matter how hard I worked. Sometimes you just have to have something else going for you other than will power. It's no accident Destinee Hooker is as good as she is when her father was a professional athlete and mother and top collegiate athlete.
7. Going away to college was the best decision. It's the biggest self-exploration experiment you will face. After your parents drop you off, it's all you. You decide what kind of person your going to be. If you fail, you live with the consequences. If you're a loner (or we'll say an introvert -like me), you figure out how to make friends really quickly. When you're married and in college and need to save a few bucks, ramen noodles are always there for you. Ultimately, you learn more about yourself than you ever could have under the shelter of familiarity.
8. Don't listen to what other people say. This is advice we are given all our lives, but it's so hard to heed. It's also a very crippling way to live. Don't let someone take away your stride just because that person needs something to complain about. Be confident in the gifts God has given you. Easier said than done but worth it in the end.
9. Marry someone who makes you laugh. He doesn't do it much anymore, but when Kyle and I were first married, anytime we went to a drive through, he would talk in a nerdy accent and be as ridiculous as possible. He just wanted to make those bored employees enjoy their monotony a little more. For example, at Wendy's he would say to the poor, unassuming victim of sarcasm: "Golly ma'am! That IS a big drink! You guys don't call it a large for nothin'!" I couldn't conceal my laughter, so I'd have to turn away. At the Panda Express drive through the certificate hanging on the wall that proved they had passed inspection was a goldmine. "Congratulations on your award! You guys must be so proud! That's so great!" As the cashier stared at us as though we were the dumbest people on the planet, I couldn't contain myself. Laughter sputtered out of me like shots of an engine back firing. Never a dull moment.
10. Never stop learning, growing, reading, writing, exploring. Growing up, I wasn't that fond of reading, but now that I'm out of school, my "to read" list is ever-growing. Sometimes when I walk my dogs on the nature trail down the street from our house, my mind travels back in time to a place where pretending wasn't uncommon. On the trail, instead of the huge, brown burlap sack someone dumped in the grass, I see a silent, brown rhino carcass. I still have an over-active imagination apparently. Of course, there is a chance I am crazy (very possible), or maybe I'm just trying to preserve something we all lose at point or another. I think we're all still kids just hiding inside aging bodies that mask our true identities. Reading awakens the adventurous side we all seem to ignore once we've morphed into adults. New possibilities are always waiting.
11. Trust God. This should be an easy step to follow since I grew up as a pastor's kid. Wrong. It's in our nature to only rely on ourselves, but God created us for so much more than that. Once we yield to His will, the Peace that passes all understanding has free reign in our lives. As hard as it is to relinquish control, He is more than capable to take care of us.
12. After college, it's harder to make/keep friends. You can't exactly run down the dorm hallways anymore knocking on doors to see who wants to go to dinner. Once you graduate, friends move away, life happens, so naturally friends lose touch. Then, if you don't get along with co-workers, you're out of luck.
13. Laugh or cry or both. Sometimes it's therapeutic to watch a girly, sappy movie, especially when I'm sitting at home on a Saturday night after a long week with a mile-high stack of papers to grade. All I have to do is turn on the TV, and the waterworks start up for any Sarah McLachlan animal abuse commercial. Disney movie? The tears pop out the corners of my eyes and I'm sobbing before I even know what happened. If you've seen the movie UP, you know what I'm talking about. In the same way, though, I laugh just as easily. For example, this new commercial gets me every time. It's the little things.
Check out this commercial
14. Put yourself out there. Make a new friend. Take risks. All of these require courage, so they all belong in one step. However, this is not an easy one for me. I mean, I just told you I saw a dead rhino down the street from my house. I took a risk telling you I'm crazy! :) Also, I once tried to get on my roof so I could see the eerie brightness of the moon. I chickened out, though. Keep in mind; this was like 2 weeks ago - not when I was a kid. I admire all you dauntless dare devils who ride motorcycles or swim with sharks - even you quieter ones who've started blogs and inspired me to follow. It takes courage to wear your heart on your sleeve and leave a part of you pasted on computer screens across the World Wide Web. Although it's not easy to take the leap, it's always more empowering on the risky side of the fence.
15. Stay positive. I struggle with this daily. It's easy to focus on the negative things that bring us down. Go against the grain and look for the positives in your situation. It may be more difficult, but you'll have a much better day!
There you have it. No astonishing revelations. Just a few anecdotes to support my meek experiences. These are the things that have graduated me to a new age group. I'm no longer "18-25." I guess that means I'm not a kid anymore, but I know I still have a lot to learn. I'm still young. I mean I haven't had kids yet, so I've got a few more milestones to cross.
Sometimes I wish life could be like this song...
And the birds sing...
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
My Escape
Most of my life, I've struggled with my over-analytical, excessively critical brain. I am constantly second-guessing and comparing myself to others - no matter what it is. Passing a girl in a shopping mall whose hair, the same length as mine, is curled, makes me realize that I can't fix my hair that way. I must be inferior. A fellow teacher read 5 books in a month. I only read 3. I must not be good enough. In school when someone would blurt out an answer, I'd cower in my seat realizing I must be way off. In coaching when my team would lose to a team I knew we were better than, it must have been because that coach was better than me. If someone doesn't call me back, I must not be good enough to be their friend. You get the idea. If I let them, all these things can chisel away at my confidence just as the weathering wind tears at the face of a seaward mountain, scraping away the beauty.
Ultimately, It doesn't really matter what it is, somehow my pessimistic, self-critical brain always sees what I don't have. Not one of my most favorite characteristics about myself, but I'm sure many of you have experienced this in some way. In our world, it is so easy to do - compare or wish we had a different/better skill. I tell you all of this not to throw a pity party (I know who I am in Christ and my identity is found in Him), but to prove that we all need an escape, a haven, a channel to release that tension. You may not deal with the same emotional or mental struggles as I do, but I'm sure there are things that burden you. We're human. Life is not easy. However, we can often invent ways to cope with these insecurities. Such as running (or reading - another favorite pastime).
Ultimately, It doesn't really matter what it is, somehow my pessimistic, self-critical brain always sees what I don't have. Not one of my most favorite characteristics about myself, but I'm sure many of you have experienced this in some way. In our world, it is so easy to do - compare or wish we had a different/better skill. I tell you all of this not to throw a pity party (I know who I am in Christ and my identity is found in Him), but to prove that we all need an escape, a haven, a channel to release that tension. You may not deal with the same emotional or mental struggles as I do, but I'm sure there are things that burden you. We're human. Life is not easy. However, we can often invent ways to cope with these insecurities. Such as running (or reading - another favorite pastime).
When I run, there is no one else. There is no one to compare myself too. I can't disappoint anyone. I am only competing against myself. Even when I have a poor running day, I don't have to report to anyone because I run for me. It keeps me sane. It is my escape from the pressure of letting someone else down, of not measuring up. When I'm only measured against myself, I can't fail according to the standards of others. It also adds a healthy cardio bonus.
Now, please don't think I hate my life or myself. I have a great job, which I love, a wonderful husband, 2 hilarious dogs, great friends, great parents, and I'm very thankful for all of the experiences in my life - good and bad. They make me who I am.
As we've experienced though, our feeble minds don't always keep us thinking about the positives of life. When the negatives become like a fog clouding our sanity, we need something positive to clear the weather. Insert escape. Mine is running (and reading - it's also therapeutic to jump into someone else's life for a while). Yours may be decorating or basket weaving or bike riding or dog whispering or paddle boarding. Who knows? But it's important to find something to throw yourself into to give your mind a break from the fog. If you're like my husband, it may change from week to week. :) And that's OK. Of course, it would be nice if I lived in Bora Bora or some other aesthetically pleasant place. Then I wouldn't have to work so hard for my "escape." But I'll keep dreaming. :)
As we've experienced though, our feeble minds don't always keep us thinking about the positives of life. When the negatives become like a fog clouding our sanity, we need something positive to clear the weather. Insert escape. Mine is running (and reading - it's also therapeutic to jump into someone else's life for a while). Yours may be decorating or basket weaving or bike riding or dog whispering or paddle boarding. Who knows? But it's important to find something to throw yourself into to give your mind a break from the fog. If you're like my husband, it may change from week to week. :) And that's OK. Of course, it would be nice if I lived in Bora Bora or some other aesthetically pleasant place. Then I wouldn't have to work so hard for my "escape." But I'll keep dreaming. :)
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Don't trust the dusk
The day is ending. The sun is setting. Gradually, pink clouds roll in like a blanket tucking the sun into the darkness that hasn't quite overcome the world. The heat and humidity still linger, but as the sun is sinking into its slumber, it lures the scalding temperatures down with it making it the perfect time to squeeze in a run... or so I thought.
The first burst of stride is always the most refreshing. I can almost feel my muscles yawn, stretch and explode into life, awakened from the stiffness of sitting in trainings all day. Then my lungs catch up and I realize how out of shape I am. I settle into a comfortable pace and jam out to my music acquiring awkward stares as I air drum to the beat and mouth the words in the short spurts when I can keep my lungs from exploding. Then the sweat comes. Not that it's a bad thing. That's one of my favorite things about running; you sweat out all the negatives of the day. It's only a bad thing when every ten feet you run directly into a swirling, swarming, swiveling bunch of pestering gnats. I'm pretty sure I swallowed/inhaled at least ten while another half dozen drowned in the sweat pools on my face. I definitely pulled several from my cheeks and eyes, some in pieces. When you add a spider web to the mix, then you're really having fun because now you can catch more gnats from the stickiness that seems to be growing from your arms and face and everywhere. Granted, the gnats and spiders are only a small distraction from my running, but they are insects I can do without.
I finally finished my measly two miles, and after the feeling of wanting to throw up passed, I felt pretty good. However, I think I will try to stick to morning runs. It may all just be in my head, but I feel like I am less likely to be attacked by nature. Rather, I'm embraced by it. The sun smiles as it peaks above the roofs of the houses in my neighborhood saving its boiling temperatures until after I finish. The birds sing lightly and lead my on my way, like in a disney movie. It's a much more pleasant experience. But I can't complain too much because as I've learned from my great friend, Christine, it's better to be positive.
AT LEAST I ran.
AT LEAST I tried.
AT LEAST I can laugh about it.
AT LEAST I was able to get my hind parts off the couch.
Although it doesn't seem this way, the real point of this post is that I forgot how therapeutic running can be. Those endorphins really do work! Last summer I was a running machine. This summer, for whatever reason, I've lost my motivation. Oh well, here's to starting a more consistent running regimen! Who's with me?!
The first burst of stride is always the most refreshing. I can almost feel my muscles yawn, stretch and explode into life, awakened from the stiffness of sitting in trainings all day. Then my lungs catch up and I realize how out of shape I am. I settle into a comfortable pace and jam out to my music acquiring awkward stares as I air drum to the beat and mouth the words in the short spurts when I can keep my lungs from exploding. Then the sweat comes. Not that it's a bad thing. That's one of my favorite things about running; you sweat out all the negatives of the day. It's only a bad thing when every ten feet you run directly into a swirling, swarming, swiveling bunch of pestering gnats. I'm pretty sure I swallowed/inhaled at least ten while another half dozen drowned in the sweat pools on my face. I definitely pulled several from my cheeks and eyes, some in pieces. When you add a spider web to the mix, then you're really having fun because now you can catch more gnats from the stickiness that seems to be growing from your arms and face and everywhere. Granted, the gnats and spiders are only a small distraction from my running, but they are insects I can do without.
I finally finished my measly two miles, and after the feeling of wanting to throw up passed, I felt pretty good. However, I think I will try to stick to morning runs. It may all just be in my head, but I feel like I am less likely to be attacked by nature. Rather, I'm embraced by it. The sun smiles as it peaks above the roofs of the houses in my neighborhood saving its boiling temperatures until after I finish. The birds sing lightly and lead my on my way, like in a disney movie. It's a much more pleasant experience. But I can't complain too much because as I've learned from my great friend, Christine, it's better to be positive.
AT LEAST I ran.
AT LEAST I tried.
AT LEAST I can laugh about it.
AT LEAST I was able to get my hind parts off the couch.
Although it doesn't seem this way, the real point of this post is that I forgot how therapeutic running can be. Those endorphins really do work! Last summer I was a running machine. This summer, for whatever reason, I've lost my motivation. Oh well, here's to starting a more consistent running regimen! Who's with me?!
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
I want my books!
Summer often means that I get to catch up on reading I don't have much time for throughout the school year, and with all the movies of YA novels coming out, I've got plenty of catching up to do. Last week, I was a kid in a candy store when I finally had time to pick out which books I wanted to satiate my reading palette. I submitted my order to Amazon.com anxious for Tuesday, June 25, when my books would arrive.
When Tuesday morning crept its way into my reality, I couldn't have been more excited. I wasn't going to go anywhere today for fear of missing the grand occasion of receiving my beloved books. Throughout the morning, I kept checking the doorstep - nothing. At about 10:30 I took a walk to check the mail only to find some junk mail for my husband. It was still early. All was still well. 3:00 rolled around - still nothing. Not at my door. Not in the mailbox. I go back to the amazon site to track my purchase and find that my order had supposedly been delivered YESTERDAY! Something was severely wrong! I definitely didn't get it yesterday. I should add that this isn't the first mishap we've had with our address. There are at least 2 items (that I know of) that I've been expecting. One has been missing since Christmas and the other since about a month ago. So, you can imagine my fear of never seeing my books. If those 2 things were lost among the postal service world, or worse, in the hands of someone else, where could my books be? This was NOT OK. Knowing the post office closes at 4 (or somewhere around there) I had to do something about this - today. I was guaranteed my order would be here by Tuesday, but there I was - orderless
Furious, I immediately drove to the post office. I marched in ready to demand my books or at least their whereabouts. But the rational side of me took over. It's not this lady's fault I don't have my order. Or is it? Plus, I couldn't yell at a stranger. I'm one of those people that cares too much about hurting other people's feelings.
I gave her my ID and explained that I don't think all of my mail is getting to my house. Specifically, my books. My books are not there!
Lady: Since you live in a neighborhood with a lot of kids, maybe one of them stole it.
I just stare at her knowing in my head this can't be true. 1.) I've been watching the door all day. 2.)What kid goes outside anymore, if not to swim? And what kid would steal BOOKS?
She gave me a form where I basically filled out my address and said my mail isn't getting there, and she told me that I'd have to pick up future packages directly from the post office. Then, she sent me on my merry way. Although, my way is not so "merry" anymore.
Of course, I'm furious. I still don't have MY books! Once I was away, I let my anger out. Slamming my car door to make a point, throwing my phone (thankfully, it didn't break), slamming my house door - giving it an extra shove to make more noise in the already empty house.
Suddenly (and with the help of my consoling, gracious husband), I had an epiphany. I wiped the frustration off my face and decided to go ask the neighbors if it was mistakenly dropped off at their house. As soon as I opened my front door, I saw the books sitting right in front of me. On my front porch.
Sigh. Such is life.
At least I got my books! :)
The books by the way are The City of Bones by Cassandra Clare, Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, and Write Like This by Kelly Gallagher.
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