Identity Crisis

It was about ten months ago that the possibility occurred to me. I was resistant, of course, because I clearly had already found my thing. I was in the enjoyable part of the school year: second half, shortest month, we have random days off and snow days. Spring break is close enough you can look forward […]

The Journey of Self-Discipline

When I taught high school English (& PE, Communications, Personal Finance, & Spanish…), I had something called Life Skills. This was the usual Friday activity where I would accept any and all questions and give the best counsel I (with Google) could give. Those were some wonderful Fridays. I told my students that they could […]

Prove It

Every English class that I teach begins with a daily journal prompt on the screen. It is so predictable, in fact, that my beloved students will look to the screen as soon as they enter my room and panic with wide-eyed horror and confusion if a question does not await them. Are we having class? […]

Chosen Reactions

I thought it was a waste of time. I didn’t say that with my mouth, but I said it just as clearly with my face and posture. It was a school-wide program and I was apparently the only one that hadn’t been properly initiated through a two-day-download of information. And so, with a very reluctant […]

Something Else

I’ve been a list person for as long as I can remember. The bullet journalling wave has been an easy one for me to ride, especially with the pretty letters to lure me in.

I love the satisfaction of filled in circles and squares, the affirmation that I did what I set out to do. It feels really, really good.

For about 10-15 seconds.

Why Teaching Helps My Anxiety II

Paradoxical, this teaching. Monday to Friday is a blur of preparations, gone before dark, back with the sinking sun, washed dished, and (mostly) dreamless sleep. On Fridays, two of my English scholars have the same prayer request during worship: that the weekend goes by slowly.

Why Teaching Helps My Anxiety I

I wish everyday ended like today…But they don’t.

Given Away: Giving When It’s Still Yours

“Miss Callie! He’s stealing from my box again!” The outraged young lad silenced half the room with his accusation. He straightened to his almost-four-feet, hands clenched, bottom lip firmly turned down. He meant business.