Callie was her name. I remember her auburn hair. Her scrawny frame. Her risqué vocabulary- peppered with colorful words I wasn’t allowed to say at my house. Perhaps I was a little bit scared of her- perhaps I was even a little in awe. She was the community bully, came from the wrong side of …
It’s who we are when the world’s not watching that really matters. I have been blessed to know a teacher who unbeknownst to him has inspired me to keep on teaching. Even when I don’t always like school. Even when I don’t always feel good enough to be a teacher. Even when I fail and …
I saw you there today- so happy. Having fun with your friends. Being yourself. I admit, I was busy going over all of my kids’ routines- so I didn’t get to watch every single part about your practice. I didn’t get to see all your moves and tumbles. Cartwheels and handstands. Didn’t get to watch …
Dear Young Teacher Down the Hall, I saw you as you rushed past me in the lunch room. Urgent. In a hurry to catch a bite before the final bell would ring calling all the students back inside. I noticed that your eyes showed tension. There were faint creases in your forehead. And I asked …
I just had a moment. Until I turn 40, I will not refer to such as a senior’s moment. No, this was merely a parenting moment. A realization. As in one of those moments when you as a parent get to experience one extreme and then immediately go on to the next. Culminating in a …
I seem to find myself getting in the most trouble- the most predicaments, the most dilemmas and/or the most royal mess-ups/quandries when I am frantically racing. Racing, and not thinking. Which is to say ‘oops, I did it again’- there I go again, doing and saying things I wish I hadn’t. Omitting and forgetting that …
I was eight or nine when I first started feeling responsible for those silly, ridiculous things. Maybe even younger than that even. Which is not to say that I wasn’t perfectionist from the very start. My mother tells me that she once caught me picking up miniscule pieces of white lint off our red industrial …
Minus 37 with the wind chill factor. That one hour school delay affording the buses an extra hour off for idling- it should have been the ticket, really. There I was. Bleary-eyed from a night of restless sleep- worried over deadlines to come, papers to write, classes to teach and examinations to prepare for, jarred …
Dear Son: It is three days past Christmas and yet the varied strands of lights on our tree still burn brightly, as if they truly were soft candle-light glow. I write you tonight, pensively. For there has been much on my mind since the mad scramble of Christmas morning. There has been much weighing on …
I park my van in a drift of snow, opening the door before realizing that the walkway has not been shoveled. I retrieve my bundle from the seat beside me and head back out. This time, I take the road. I turn and walk up the ramp and push open the door. The sign stuck …
There is a pink Littlest Pet Shop kitten cuddled up in the Virgin Mary’s lap. It is sharing a spot with baby Jesus, vying for the most coveted spot in the nativity scene. And I found presumptuous Her when I was picking up the umpteenth dozen leftover toy there in the fireplace room tonight, toys …
Dear Young Teacher Down the Hall, I saw you as you rushed passed me in the lunch room. Urgent. In a hurry to catch a bite before the final bell would ring calling all the students back inside. I noticed that your eyes showed tension. There were faint creases in your forehead. And I asked …