one a day's

with all that is swirling around me, i am trying to keep perspective. since it is the season of giving and appreciating what you have, i plan to try my damnedest to stay positive. and the best way i know how, is as soon as i start to sliiiide down into that slump, i pick myself back up with all that is good about my life. and while it isnt perfect, there are way more than 25 things im thankful for. so this should be easy. i missed a few days, so i will attempt to backtrack. and moving forward, keep track of at least one thing i can say thank you for each day.

1: the boys in my homeroom, who stayed after school to pack up my things and chase/hunt/contemplate the trapping of a mouse that had taken residence in my classroom, while i sat on my desk and cried.
2: a short break from the bedlam of 7th grade, replaced by an inservice workshop that was actually useful and incredibly informative, not to mention new!
3: kind words from a coworker (in appreciation and acknowledgement of all the hard work ive put in schoolwide over the last few weeks) as well as an offer to help transport canned goods to a local shelter in the bed of a truck much larger than mine. also, on a totally unrelated subject - bruce springsteen's born to run on the radio, belting that out never gets old.

it will be a happy november :)

just keep swimming

drowning. its my biggest fear.

for as long as i can remember, the idea of being completely submerged frightens the living daylights out of me. im not sure when it happened, or why, but im deathly afraid of water. i cant swim and ive never been quite sure if that is a result of this fear or just supplemental to the reasons why. i took lessons, at a locally renowned place. i remember holding my nose in the bathtub and ducking underwater to practice. i can even picture the pool, from the smells to the sounds, as if it were yesterday. my heart clenches everytime i think of the dreaded deep-end test, where some lifeguard on a power trip made me tread water for two minutes. i still feel like those two minutes lasted a lifetime.

and thats where it gets blurry. somewhere in between my bubble bath escapades and now, something changed. i own approximately 30 bathing suits, none of which see much water time. and the sight of the ocean as a whole takes my breath away. i havent stepped foot in a pool in ages and im still weirdly afraid ill fall asleep in the tub, submerging myself into doom. i thought id get over it. thought id learn to swim. thought that one day id walk smack into the water and turn into a jellyfish. thought my heart wouldnt start beating a mile a minute at the thought of being dunked. no dice.

and, bear with me, this is where it starts to get worse. i went to the carwash with my sister k and friends the other day. and sitting in the car, listening to the water slosh against the sides, i made the mistake of looking out. it was like my worst fear realized. all i could see was water. out every window. crashing down onto the sunroof. growing louder and faster with each second. something was said and i snapped out of it. but not before noticing my clammy hands, my echoing heartbeat, my catch in breath. what was i so afraid of? what is it about drowning that i just cant seem to get over?

so i started thinking. its more than just drowning. its the feeling of helplessness. the realization that a mere minute ago, i had control. and in the blink of an eye, it was gone. and theres probably not a damn thing i can do to get it back. its the feeling of loss. of everything thats swirling down the drain with me as i go. its like i can watch and catalogue it, but never reach out to grasp it and make it mine again. its the feeling of want. that aching need for breath, for safety, for comfort. for the calm i felt just minutes before. its as if so many thoughts and feelings are going through my head at once, and nothing is clear.

well, maybe one thing is. im drowning. i may not be underwater, running out of breath. but i am most certainly drowning. there is no end in sight, no easy solution, no fast fix. there is no way to stop it or hop off the train. so im trying to push on and get better. for lack of a better analogy, and because i just dont have the strength right now, im trying to swim through this. because there is no other way. it feels like everytime the light breaks through, that big hand of fate comes through the water and crowns my head, pushing me further down without letting me get any air. im just hoping someday soon ill reach the surface. because im running out of air.

into the rabbit hole

alice: theres no use trying. one cant believe impossible things.
white queen: i daresay you havent had much practice. when i was your age, i always did it for half an hour a day. why sometimes, ive believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast!

[through the looking glass - lewis carroll]

i know its not anywhere near breakfast. but im quite overwhelmed at the moment. and i need to believe in something. since the possibilities are currently nowhere near endless, im choosing to follow alice into the rabbit hole and believe in the impossible. go big or go home, right?

1. i believe all highways and bridges en route to work will be free of traffic and i will arrive to find ample parking.
2. i believe not one 7th grader will sass me. and that all 7th graders will be emotionally moved by edgar allan poe's "the bells".
3. i believe i can make it through my day without coffee.
4. i believe the darlings in my homeroom will refrain from calling one another "ugly", bring in multitudes of canned goods and act appropriately all day long.
5. i believe i will not give a single thought to and/or check facebook of and/or hold pointless conversations with gentlemen who are clearly not interested in dating me.
6. i believe the next few days will fly by and the weekend will feel decades long.

the saga continues. . .

ive had a little bit of blogger's block lately. it seems that every ounce of my energy goes to making sure my homeroom doesnt end up suspended on a regular basis. and honestly, i couldnt be happier. my kids are tougher than ever, but im truly getting a kick out of them. browsing my unpublished works, i noticed i had quite a few "gems" from last year, waiting to be posted. so in honor of my favorite little hoodrats, heres a little seventh grade love:

the second half of last year proved to make me truly earn my paycheck. as the students got more comfortable in their own skin (and my classroom), the jokes started to flow...

just a few short days before my birthday, m told me i looked damn good for 30. i reminded him that "damn" was not in our vocabulary and i was NOT 30. he took that as his cue for a chance. oh please.

although we butted heads multiple times last year, one of the sassiest girls in my homeroom also made for a few good laughs. especially this one in february:
me: have you ever heard someone say "you shouldnt throw stones if you live in a glass house?"
k: ummmmm 50cent?
me: seriously?! and "if you got a glass jaw you should watch your mouth" right?
k: holy shit, miss l. you so hood.
me: oh yes, im very hood. finish reading.

spring fever brought the good times. never have i ever gotten punched in the jaw by an eighth grader. ohhhhh wait...

me: what do i reallyyy hate?
various students: bad spellers. traffic. techno music. red nailpolish. chili dogs for lunch. math. people who dont recycle. brown markers. diet soda. emily dickinson poems.
me: whoooa really?
f: face it, miss l. you be drinkin haterade for breakfast.

things got really ridiculous in may. my kids were slowly "checking out" for the school year. on one particular day, the students had to use vocab words in original sentences to show proof of their meaning. t wrote - the young money crew is goin thru tumultuous times. when i asked for an explanation, he said "times is tough. weezys locked up." needless to say, i accepted it. and it was times like those, that i found myself questioning whether i had checked right out with them.

not to be outdone, june went out with a bang. a new student j, obviously on leave from whatever school she was currently failing the 7th grade at and vacationing with us in hopes that wed pass her along unknowingly (happens more than youd like to think), brightened my day with her adorable charm and good manners. sarcasm much?
me: you need to try and fit your life into a 6 word memoir. for example, william shakespeare said "to thine own self be true."
j: im done. (counts on her fingers) "i hate language arts and you."
me: hmmm. (counting on mine) "enjoy your big fat F, sweetie."

after a funfilled summer of dreams, it was back to reality. i was faced with a new crop of lovelies and quite worried that the pure unadulterated entertainment of seventh grade wit would not measure up to the previous year. not to worry. this years crew is already giving me a run for my money.

as of the second day of school, my homeroom was on cafeteria probation (i couldnt explain that if i tried). a week later, they were banned from music until they could "stop using the f word," j told the secretary to kiss her chocolate ass and j took off his pants in my classroom.

i will say this. although the kids in the past have been funny, my new crew blows them out of the water with one-liners.
j: youre comin to our homecoming game right?
me: yes i promised.
j: well we got you something you might need. (t hands me an umbrella)
me: please explain?
t: just want you to be prepared when we make it rain out there.

a few days later, j hands me a bunch of mums, freshly picked [aka stolen]. when i asked what they were for, he told me his mother instructed him to always bring a date flowers. however, i think he was confused. his idea of a date was the following days detention. inappropriate?

GOD I LOVE MY JOB!  :)

barbie and ken 101

wow. one of my kids introduced me to rafael casal today and my jaw is permanently dropped. my student j prefaced the piece of slam poetry with the fact that "its not school appropriate" which is usually my first question. he asked if it would still be okay to tell me about the poem. obvi i said yes. if something in the world of writing was moving my not-so-motivated, never engaged boy, then hell yes id take a listen. if youre not familiar, slam poetry is often considered a more urban look at poems. often the poetry bounces back and forth between structured form and free verse, bordering on a freestyle rap. slam poetry is incredibly popular in the internet world and hipster areas where coffee shops feature local slam poets as a kind of open-mic night. i am a huuuge fan of slam poetry, especially for my kids. their worlds change when i introduce them to this much more approachable version to the reality of poetry. and after multiple youtube vids and quite a long search for the transcript, i bring you the man who just may have gotten j to get involved and stay awake during language arts. thank you, mr. casal. youve made one more kid realize the power of words.

[barbie and ken 101 by rafael casal]

sometimes i feel like im sittin in the back row of barbie and ken 101,

a class we are all in but never seem to learn from.

some general ed requirement for students of american culture.

one that convinces even the brightest of young women 

that sex is survival of the thinnest.

and im sick of this education that doesnt serve our best interests.

my teacher has no face;

she is every revlon model women have ever chased.

her lectures come through magazines in beauty shops, ad campaigns.

shit, just turn on your tv. this just in!

a skewed perspective for todays youth:

yall ladies aint thin enough, fellas aint trim enough.

wana be sexy? yall dont go to the gym enough. 

cut to commercial.

come on, just come tune into our maintenance team,

convince you youre ugly 

then tell you how to fix it with maybelline.

perpetually started by these dolls marketed in the late 50s named

barbie and ken. 

hence the class im in. are you following? shit didnt end.

they keep moldin barbie to fit new trends.

maybe next theyll have club hoppin barbie

with thongs as accessories;

video hoe barbie, abusive boyfriend sold seperately;

underage barbie, kobe bryant included;

or 9/11 victim barbie and ken is proud to get recruited.

problem is all these teachings are womans decay and im startin

to worry cause my girl is up front and shes getting an a.

this is where i start getting pissed off, okay?

when the f did it become all about "tuckin in the gut,

i gotta get a bigger breast, shit i wana fit a little better in a dress,

so let me get a little skinny, gotta git into an itty bitty size slimmer

so i liven up the chest" please.

teacher, teacher i wana give my oral presentation

cause i have a problem with the class, and matter of fact,

i have a fat ass grudge with the whole administration.

youre the reason my girl wont eat in front of me in restaurants,

the reason she thinks that shes overweight in over ten spots.

less gut, less pudge, less lunch, less real.

more looks, more love, more barbie appeal?

f barbie and ken.

my future daughter will never play with them.

youre the reason bleedin fifteen year old girls arms are slit.

you made twelve year old girls think skinny was a compliment.

and now its too late.

i cant write my way through this bathroom door

so i raise my hand in class cause i cant stand it anymore.

teacher, teacher your lectures all backwards.

you got mothers and daughters forgetting what matters.

cause above tits, ass, lips, legs and uggs

the most attractive women are the ones who dont give a f.

so screw your teachings, your lessons and plans,

you skewed sick distant relative of the man,

your plan for brainwashing my baby? i reject.

im walkin out of this class and i will proudly take my f.

a little respect

ladies, let me give you some advice. you can throw all your stupid fucking chick lit, self-help, why-doesnt-he-love-me books out, because this is all you need to know: men will treat you the way you let them. there is no such thing as "deserving" respect; you get what you demand from people. if you demand respect, he will either respect you or he wont associate with you. its really that simple.  [tucker max - i hope they serve beer in hell]

why is it that so many times in life, we claim that we are demanding respect, when in fact, thats not the least were willing to accept? i know im just as guilty of this as the next person. but my question is why. what makes us think that a little respect, or a different persons opinion of respect, or sometimes no respect at all, is enough? ive read the silly books tucker talks about. ive gone through the stages. the denial, the realization, the depression, the optimism, the empowerment. ive been beat down and pulled back up, ready to start again and find someone who is, in fact, just that into me. and faster than you can say "all you need is love," i throw myself back into the dating game, absolutely positive that mr. right is just around the corner, waiting to be scooped up by newly confident, freshly romanticized me. and yet, weeks or even months later, i find myself nose to toes in another book that promises to bring out the best version of me whos ready to find the one.

tucker has a valid point. men will absolutely treat you the way you let them. i know i often accept less than what i think i deserve, falling back into the idea that there really is no such thing as perfect. and if its good now, or it was good at one point, or it has the potential to be good, why ruin a "good" thing? but is that really my definition of good? and if it is, then dont i want better? i know i deserve someone who will treat me well. but aside from that, i can deserve deserve deserve til im blue in the face. it doesnt mean ill get it. i enjoy his use of the word demand. there is a world of difference between deserve and demand. by accepting the less than acceptable, i am lowering the standards of what i deserve. and im sure as hell not demanding anything at that point.

i spent a good portion of this summer, preaching about what i deserved, but not really demanding it. i learned alot about myself this summer, especially as a single girl. and to be honest, she scares me a little. single me is like a bipolar teenager. one minute im happy as a clam, skipping through life with a smile on my face and a vwl in hand. the next, im listening to van morrison on repeat and contemplating spending a week in bed. the extremes are almost too much. and i know im dramatic. always have been. doubt thats going to change anytime soon. and for the most part, i wasnt on opposite end of the looney bin spectrum. i was floating somewhere in the middle, figuring things out as i went. but in particular situations, i found myself way too close to the deep end.

i cant put my finger on why certain things bothered me more than others, only venturing to guess that you cant help how you feel. hopefully, ive cleared some of the clutter. but ive been struggling with it all for awhile now, and honestly, struggling with this post as well. i still dont feel like its finished or im "done" but will i ever be? i should be. tucker gives it to me straight. either he will respect me or he wont associate with me. ding ding, i think we have our answer. and ill be honest, theres not an overflow of respect going on over here, so i think you can imagine with path he chose. so why am i not done? hopefully, in posting, i will find some answers and rekindle my arena for letting my thoughts out. and with that, maybe ill find a solution. or at least put an end to some of this nonsense swimming around in my head. somethings got to give, right?

why are you single?

its the most annoying question and they just cant help asking you. youll be asked it at family gatherings, particularly weddings. men will ask you it on first dates. therapists will ask you over and over again. and youll ask yourself it far too often. its the question that has no good answer, and that never makes anyone feel better. its the question, that when people stop asking it, makes you feel even worse.

and yet, i cant help but ask. why are you single? you seem like an awfully nice person. and very attractive. i just dont understand it.

but times are changing. in almost every country around the world, the trend is for people to remain single longer and to divorce more easily. as more and more women become economically independent, their need for personal freedom increases, and that often results in not marrying so quickly.

a human being's desire to mate, to pair up, to be part of a couple, will never change. but the way we go about it, how badly we need it, what we are willing to sacrifice for it, most definitely is.

so maybe the question isnt anymore, "why are you single?"  maybe the question you should be asking yourself is "how are you single?" its a big new world out there and the rules keep changing. so, tell me ladies, hows it going?

[how to be single by liz tuccillo]

one of the saddest moments in my summer (slash life?) to date: a boy i was quite interested in, wakes up on the left side of my bed the morning after the first night he sleeps there and rolls over to get smacked in the face with a book on my nightstand titled "how to be single" - ugh. if thats not a red flag, i dont know what is. he makes a joke about the ridiculousness of it all, obviously. at which point, poor pitiful me tries to remedy the situation by immediately feeling the overwhelming need to explain that, duh, its not a self-help book, but merely a novel. a little light beach reading, if you will. why oh why couldnt a witty and charming excuse leave my lips that allowed me to giggle my way out of that conversation, while simultaneously flipping my perfect morning hair over my shoulder and appearing relaxed? weirdly enough, things progressed smoothly from there. for awhile at least. and now, the crazy dance that is my brain function, is wondering why things didnt work out with said boy. [sidenote: he is being called a boy, because he is, in fact, a boy. if he were a man, or even an almost man, i would use the term that applies.] now, my mind wanders to that very moment. so thank you, liz, for your attempt to save my singledom that likewise thwarted current efforts to change that status. and being the rational, level headed being that i am, i have chosen to blame this unrelationship purely on liz. at least for the next moment or two of pouting. once i settle myself, i will begin to address the question she (and everyone else i know) is asking me. or not asking. which, as she mentions, is quite possibly worse. 

how am i single? gosh, i dont know. im a catch. someone should have scooped me up by now. but before i go on about the many redeeming qualities i possess, lets cut to the chase. i honestly think liz should stop sugarcoating the obvious and revert back to her previous question. why am i single? let me count the ways. i could babble for hours about the reasons why i am probably single. but in the days (weeks) i have reread and edited and rewrote this particular blog post, i believe i have narrowed it down. let the circus begin...

some people are weird about germs or the color of boys socks or sharing food. and i do not judge them. so please do not judge me for the following. reason one: i cannot date a poor speller. its all fun and games while hes making cute conversation at the bar, but the first text message that reads "your a great girl" or "im definately excited to see you" is like nails on a chalkboard to me. i guess that would fall under poor grammar as well. but cmon people. this may be me, being a little compulsive, but thats life. i truly cannot get over it. there have been many a cute boy who fell victim to this trap. and only a select few made it through. most likely because they did not possess any of the following qualities. i chose poor spellers as the first reason, because i figured if you were still reading at this point and not throwing up, you look past my shallow as a kiddie pool exterior and love me for who i am on the inside. a legit looney bin. on to the next one. reason two: i am obsessive compulsive to the n'th degree and that is something that will never change. the sheer sight of dishes not loaded into an empty dishwasher and instead left in what was the freshly scrubbed sink is enough to send me to the couch for hours with cucumber slices over my eyes and the sounds of my tranquil rain forests itunes playlist in the background. i know. im being extreme. but that does not mean there was not a day [or possibly days] that d found me in that exact position. life is hard. my job is hard. bills and money woes and cooking dinner is hard. some things should just be easy. and if you cannot provide me with those small comforts, then youre stamping your own expiration date. reason three:  i am incredibly impatient. if i call you, i expect you to answer. if i text you, i expect a prompt response. or at least a response at all. if we make plans, i do not expect you to break them for some asinine reason. ok, maybe i shouldnt say im impatient. i have the utmost patience for that cute woman spending close to an hour in the crosswalk. or a seventh grader with horrid test taking skills who needs an extra two hours to finish. or a small child reading his or her way through a book for the first time. or a bride walking slowly down an aisle to take it all in on the happiest day of her life. what i do not have patience for, is your purposeful shortcomings. there is no reason why a grown ass man cannot manage to both charge and use a cell phone properly. or make and keep plans. if there is no medical or psychological reason for your flakiness, then get your shit together. and call me when you do. reason four: i am not willing to settle. so hes an investment banker who is willing to spend lots of cash money on you; but hes a cheater. so hes a really down to earth guy who treats you well; but gets sloppy drunk and immature like a high schooler with his first beer every single time he goes out with the guys. so hes in a similar career field and you have so much in common; but his views on family and religion and commitment in general suck. its not six to one, half dozen to the other when it comes to relationships. i want it all.

does that mean im only willing to be with someone whos a pure italian, practicing catholic, rich with a six figure job and fully functional family background? no. but there are certain qualities that im looking for. many of which i have found the complete opposite of in relationships past. do i regret anything? no, because it has taught me what i want and what i deserve. so there you go, liz. and everyone. that is why im single. im sure there are a bazillion other reasons, many centering on my inability to be a respectable half of a relationship, but for now, thats all ive got. i know that some of the above is a little ridiculous, and will change with time. but at least im being honest with myself. i do not think the entirety of the reason im single is due to the guy. i know im an active player in the game of my singledom. but i just cant see myself settling. not now, not ever. until then. . . this is how im single. 

nineteen minutes

"in nineteen minutes, you can mow the front lawn, color your hair, watch a third of a hockey game. in nineteen minutes, you can bake scones or get a tooth filled by a dentist; you can fold laundry for a family of five. nineteen minutes is how long it took the tennessee titans to sell out of tickets to the play-offs. its the length of a sitcom, minus the commercials. its the driving distance from the vermont border to the town of sterling, new hampshire. in nineteen minutes, you can order a pizza and get it delivered. you can read a story to a child or have your oil changed. you can walk a mile. you can sew a hem.

in nineteen minutes, you can stop the world, or you can just jump off it. in nineteen minutes, you can get revenge."

[nineteen minutes by jodi picoult]

i tested the theory of nineteen minutes. i sat, completely alone, on the back porch of my beach house, on a weeknight, where the street was practically deserted. no cell phone, no computer, no book. just me and my thoughts. nineteen minutes is longer than you think. i thought of what to add to this list, what could be done in nineteen minutes. and once you read the novel, you will agree, that life can change in nineteen minutes. if you are a teacher or caregiver or mother (or planning to be one someday) and havent read this book, do yourself a favor.

teach me how to dougie

i feel as though i am strictly doing my duty as a teacher of the hood by bringing you this next post. my kids have taught me many life lessons. but some of the most important ones, i have gained by simply interacting with their everyday lives. a preface - my students are nothing like me. when i say nothing, i mean, probably the only thing we have in common is the fact that we all blink and use the word "the" in at least one sentence daily. thats about where the similarities end. this is one of the larger reasons why i love my job so much. i dont want to stare out at a classroom of kids who grew up just like me, with families and homes and lives just like mine. i dont want to teach a cookie cutter group of me's who look and act and speak like i do. i find great joy in the diversity my students bring to my life everyday. and i find their lifestyles, while sometimes depressing and maddening, incredibly fascinating. i step out of my car every morning and into an entirely different world, one which i was not privy to in the past 25 years of my life. and honestly, had i not gotten this job, a world i might never have seen. youre probably thinking, jesus schools out. what is this looney bin doing thinking about those crazy kids she complained about for the last nine months? a little over a week ago she was skipping off school grounds, thanking the dear lord she didnt have to return until august. and youre right. but like i said, it takes a little while for me to miss the hooligans. and usually something triggers it. often, not something spectacularly dignified or important, but a menial moment that brings to mind the reason why i show up everyday. my friend l asked me recently how i was enjoying my mental break from the likes of j and crew, a few of my extra special treasures from this past year. which got me to thinking of the time i bribed, i mean asked j's little brother to trade me his 80s prize box sunglasses for two bouncy balls and a sticker. [sidenote: these were obviously beach house necessities! i gave the kid two extra prizes for them!] so over the past few days, ive been thinking more and more of my kids. and id like to catalogue a few of the things i like (and miss) most.

the clothes - these kids wear the craaaaziest things. my school requires uniforms in specific colors only, due to the gang violence and nature of the surrounding area. students are required to wear khaki or black pants, and white gray or royal blue polo shirts. youd think id be looking at a sea of clones. hell no! i have never seen headbands, jewelry, scarves, undershirts, belts, socks, stockings and shoes in so many varieties. its like they have seventeen closets of accessories at home. as someone who only ever buys sneakers for what they look like, i can appreciate a nice pair of kicks. im talking every color and pattern of the rainbow. im surprised some of these shoes dont play dvd's or fly you to the moon. by far my favorite pair ever? a pair of hightop nike airforce onces (holla at your boy ss!) with composition book print. would i ever buy these? if i grew a set, maybe. im way too chicken. but id love to, in another life where im much more fly. also, my obsession with dress down days grows weekly. after seeing my kids in the same getup everyday, i think i get more excited than they do. its amazing to see what they look like in the "real world" outside of school.

the music - i pride myself on being quite the hiphop connoisseur, much to the chagrin of most of my friends. a large portion of my ipod is dedicated to rap stylings. however, when your homeroom student m comes in every monday, telling you of the weekly jams, you will download things you never knew existed. while many were deleted due to sheer lack of necessity in my life, a few gems were saved. among my favorites, here are some which changed our lives forever: beamer benz or bentley - lloyd banks, its my time - fabolous, all i do is win - dj khaled, and the latest... teach me how to dougie - california swag district. thank you, my little cherubs, for bringing all of the unforgettable moments into my life that those songs provided. 

the slang - im sure in some schools, kids say the darndest things. in my classroom, i would use a much smaller expletive to describe the things they say. when im not talking to my kids, there is a major conversation piece missing. although i am much too old, amongst other things, to use their lingo, i thoroughly enjoy listening to it. and, ive been known to throw it into my speech occasionally, just to keep them on their toes. 

for those of you sheltered folk, you may need to urbandictionary the likes of many of these terms. small warning, this is nothing like your grandmothers merriam webster. be ready to be hit with some wisdom. thank you my children, because i now know what i means to be drawlin, swaggin, down ass, heavy and creepin. i also know what a jawn, a dougie, a becky and a louie are. ive been called ill and silly, ballin and broke. i know how to make it clap, make it stack, make it scrap, and make it black. i have an apple and im nice... but those two terms dont refer to a fruit or a personality trait, respectively. im sure im forgetting some of the classics. but note to self, invest in personal blank dictionary to fill with next years language. could be the life of a party. ive been told by many that i have a way with words, but ive clearly got nothing on these kids.

so whenever im feeling a little down and out, i think of my kids. and while they drive me totally off the wall bananas until about november, im very much looking forward to getting to know a whole slew of newbies in a couple weeks. am i ready? probably not. but hopefully theyll learn something from me. and i sure as hell know ill learn from them. 

the power of she

i write because its therapeutic. because sometimes there is no one who truly understands, try as they might. because i often find the answers in my words where i least expected them. because im trying to take my mind off the inevitable. because im stalling for time, hoping that i can get lost somewhere in my words. many friends have told me they find solace in my words, and i thank them for that. i hate taking credit for my writing because the words seem to just come from nowhere. its nothing i could have learned or practiced. its not something i work at and pat myself on the back for. its just a gift. one that i honestly thank god for everyday and dont know how id live without. more often than not, however, i find more comfort in the words of others. i am just about the furthest thing from a feminist. but sometimes you need a little girl power. and for those of you who cant seem to find it in the spice girls never give up on the good times lyrics, here is something that may resound a little more clearly with you:

she  [by kobi yamada]

she must be something special. she is.

celebrate her.

she loved life and it loved her back.

celebrate her passion.

she listened to her heart above al other voices.

celebrate her wisdom. 

she pursued big dreams instead of small realities.

celebrate her priorities.

she saw every ending as a new beginning.

celebrate her resiliency.

she discovered her real measurements had nothing to do with numbers or statistics.

celebrate her self esteem.

she was kind, loving and patient...with herself.

celebrate her tenderness.

she woke up one day and threw away all her excuses.

celebrate her accountability.

she realized that she was missing a great deal by being sensible.

celebrate her spirit.

she turned her cant's into cans and her dreams into plans.

celebrate her goals.

she ignored people who said it couldnt be done.

celebrate her independence.

she had a way of turning obstacles into opportunities.

celebrate her magic.

she went out on a limb, had it break off behind her and discovered she could fly.

celebrate her faith.

she discovered she was the one shed been waiting for.

celebrate her self reliance.

she added so much beauty to being human.

celebrate her presence.

she walked in when everyone else walked out.

celebrate her friendship.

she just has this way of brightening the day.

celebrate her radiance.

she made the whole world feel like home.

celebrate her warmth.

she decided to enjoy more and endure less.

celebrate her choices.

she decided to start living the life shed imagined.

celebrate her freedom.

she colored her thoughts with only the brightest hues. 

celebrate her optimism.

she was an artist and her life was her canvas.

celebrate her brilliance.

she ran ahead where there were no paths.

celebrate her bravery.

she crossed borders recklessly, refusing the recognize limits, saying bonjour and bon giorno as though she owned both france and italy and the day itself.

celebrate her joie de vivre.

she held her head high and looked the world straight in the eye.

celebrate her strength.

she not only saw a light at the end of the tunnel; she became the light for others.

celebrate her compassion.

she designed a life she loved.

celebrate her joy.

she took the leap and built her wings on the way down.

celebrate her daring.

she said bye bye to unhealthy relationships.

celebrate her happiness.

she remained true to herself.

celebrate her authenticity.

she made the world a better place to be. 

celebrate her.

to give credit where it is due, two incredibly important women in my life turned me on to this poem. my little sister k found it while browsing for a "where would i be without you" gift for her teaching mentor. and oddly enough, my teaching mentor c used to jot lines from the poem on sticky notes and leave them on my desk during the many trying days of my first year. i often wondered where she found lines to fit each day, whether heartbroken, frustrated, giddy, or frightened. those silly little notes may be what kept me sane. and i saved every one. i knew it was a poem, but it wasnt until i read it in its entirety that i understood its true meaning. ive probably read it a million times, and it still gives me goosebumps. its very empowering as a whole. but if you take the time to peel it apart layer by layer, youll see a little bit of all the women you know. and if youre being honest with yourself, you will be able to relate. i have accomplished some of the lines in this poem. and i celebrate myself. and obviously, there are others i am still working on. but i know i will get there. and when that day arrives, i will celebrate.