Same Destination, Different Journeys

(Thank you to my co-contributor, friend, and colleague, Valerie Wilhite)

It has happened more than once. That awkward moment when you realize you are wearing the same “teacher outfit” as one of your colleagues. I guess great minds think alike is a better way to spin it?

Well, yesterday it happened. Walking into our weekly department meeting, I spot her. Mrs. Wilhite, donning the same fashionable, yet conservative teacher dress.

We look amazing.

After school that day, I thought hard about teacher “sameness”. In some schools of thought there is a push for scripted curriculum, or the idea that good teaching looks like every 10th grade English teacher is teaching the same page at the same time on the same day. I sat down with Mrs. Wilhite and we reflected on the concept of “sameness."

The push for standardization may be detrimental to creative thinking.

Most schools are made up of many dynamic educators. They have varied strengths, come from different prep institutions, and bring with them their unique histories. Why does the default setting tend to move toward  molding them into one type of teacher? This is not to argue the merits of shared planning, or departmental continuity, but to dispel the expectation that there is only one way to write a lesson plan or only one way to assess students. There is often backlash when someone questions “the way it’s always been done.” How do we find the happy medium between teacher autonomy, the educator as creator, and scripted curriculum?

The danger of sameness is that there is no opportunity to think outside of the box.  If we are to teach our kids to think for themselves or to think creatively, how can we model that if  we are urged to become one voice, merely regurgitating information from a script? For some, the allure of teaching is the challenge, the creativity and the opportunity to breathe life into academia for a new generation of thinkers.  The challenge is how to teach a subject, even one that is not beloved by all, in a way that at least piques their interest.  The creativity is taking the content, twisting it, turning it, and then coming up with a way to present it that encourages students to make connections.  Canned curriculum can be stale and contrived.  Even if delivered by a dynamic educator, we may be risking the opportunity to reach a difficult learner or engage a student, by “sticking to the script.”

Teaching another person’s materials without making tweaks and additions can feel fraudulent. Mrs. Wilhite adds, “ Last year when I tried to align my lessons to the other teachers in my grade level, I had an existential crisis and considered quitting teaching.  I felt like I didn’t belong, like I had found myself trapped in someone else’s life.  I mean, really, I totally understood the Freaky Friday feeling. Sameness does not evoke passion.  Kids can see it when we are not passionate about what we’re teaching.  There’s no buy-in when they can tell that their teacher is just going through the motions.”

“Iteration is key to innovation”-Sebastian Thrun

Collaboration and iteration of lessons and materials is essential in this profession. Making accommodations, differentiating, and meeting students where they are the cornerstones of being an effective educator. These practices allow educators to take a novel- The Scarlet Letter,for example- and teach it one year with the parallel to bullying and social stigma, and then teach it the next year with a focus on brand names and social Darwinism. We, as educators, spend day in and day out with the people in our classrooms, and have to make adjustments to not only fit their needs, but to democratically give them their right to learn.

My students in 3rd period may not be ready to progress to chapter 4 of Hawthorne’s novel. We may need time to germinate our understanding of Hester’s plight. We may need to review symbolism, and social norms, and Puritan ideology, before jumping into the next section. Mrs. Wilhite, however, may have students who came with prior knowledge that mine lack, or she may have students who study American literary periods for fun. Whatever the case, they may breeze through multiple chapters in a class period, while I am remediating the definition of figurative language. This in no way makes the students any less deserving of loving and understanding foundational literature. What a disservice if I deflect their questions for the sake of “being on chapter 5." Mrs. Wilhite and I know the power of vertical and horizontal alignment, yet understand the dangers of blindly following a plan.

Effective educators are often reinventing themselves.

We have been not only through multiple iterations of strategies and best practices, but iterations of ourselves as educators. We understand and cherish the opportunity to bring our unique perspectives into the classroom, and to reach our students in the best ways that we can.

Though we may wear the same dress or cardigan from time to time, and though we may share many of the same philosophies, I am glad that our sameness ends with our passion and fashion. This allows our students  to get a genuine, quirky, madly creative teacher who creates and inspires, and remediates in her own genuine, quirky, madly creative way.

Hope Springs Eternal

Twelve days ago, I took my 10th trip to Washington, D.C. Over the years, my

reasons for visiting the Nation's Capital have varied: a giant 2-day concert at RFK

Stadium, Congressional visits on behalf of education, working at the U.S. Department

of Education. This particular trip was one of those "Day on the Hill"  kind of trips, but

there was something unique that occurred this time. Though the direct flight from my

hometown to DCA was familiar, there was a noticeable absence of hustle & bustle on this

visit. Bundled in my winter attire, I had time to wander with purpose around

Washington.

Every time I have visited D.C., I've been part of a group, with my family, or with my colleagues.

This time, I was mostly on my own, save a few hours a day. My time spent  mentally cataloging

the architecture, mindfully taking in the history I was surrounded by,  and reflecting on my role

as an educator and advocate, allowed me to really digest my purpose for being there. I may have
flown to D.C. to attend an educational policy conference, but my flight home was focused on
maximizing my efforts for the betterment of education.

As I inhaled the smell of books from inside the Library of Congress, wept at the

instillations at the National Museum of African American History and Culture,

pondered the history of feminism at the National Museum of Women in the Arts, and

simply took in the history and stories behind monuments and buildings around D.C.,

I felt like despite the social climate of right now, there was hope.

I assigned a theme to my four day adventure: the power of bringing people together to

create positive change. Be it in an office, on a hill, in the name of justice and freedom,

or to support one another, being together is powerful.  The optimist in me looked at this

trip as part of a hopeful future. More people coming together to affect change; less people

coming together to tear things apart.

Upon returning home, I was newly inspired to elevate the voices of my students and my

colleagues. To integrate literature, art, and opportunities into my curriculum that would act

as catalysts for rich discussion, and reasons to come together as a community. This has

always been a mission of mine, but this trip just seemed to strengthen my resolve to amplify

my efforts.

Five days later, there was another school shooting. Another. My students were supposed

to be heading into a five day weekend, one filled with too much sugar, a chance to go to the

movies or binge watch Netflix. Instead, they went home wondering why this had to happen

again.

I, too, spent my weekend wondering why this was becoming something that happens so

often. Saturday night's dinner with my husband, also an educator, and our two children,

was focused on asking them to recount their last hard lockdown. Did they know where

closets and cabinets were in their classrooms? What would they do if they were in a hallway

or the restroom during an emergency? We answered questions, tried to alleviate fears, and

more than anything, tried to instill a sense of peace in our children's lives.

Tomorrow, I will face 116 high school students. I will try to instill a sense of peace in their

lives as well. They are still adjusting to the aftermath of the October 1st mass shooting that

happened here at home--Las Vegas. I can only image, as unaffected as some of them may

seem, that they are afraid. For many of them,  school is their home, one of the only places

that they feel safe. I never want that feeling to go away.

Now I, along with countless other educators are faced with options. What do we do, as

individuals and collectively, to rebuild a sense of hope in our classrooms and in our own

homes? There is no one size fits all answer, but if I know anything, I know that my fellow

educators are mobilizing, writing letters, making calls, engineering plans to make our

schools and our world safer places.

More people coming together to affect change; less people coming together to tear things

apart. There is power and hope in bringing people together to affect positive change.

Teachers, students, parents, advocates, friends, and neighbors coming together to make

sure that our legacy is one we can be proud of. One that leaves an imprint on history, even

if tiny, that says,"We wanted change, and we made it happen."

I want my students and my own children to be able to see people standing together in

solidarity to make their futures safer, more accepting, and more loving. I need them to

know that their school days are about poetry, equations, science, and building relationships,

not  about dissecting the room for places to hide from gun fire.

This teacher's journey is positioned on an ever winding road, and I have just taken the fork

towards activism. What may have looked to any outsider, as a lone woman from the desert

wandering around in the blistering cold of Washington D.C., was really a new beginning.

Though my hands may ache from the letters I will write, and my voice may shake from the

words I must shout, I will do what I can to be part of the change. Our kids, my kids, we,

are all worth it.

#thisteachersjourney

My 2 kiddos, at peace. 

Guest Blog: Journeying Outside of the Classroom

Thank you to Guest Blogger, Jennifer Rios for sharing her own journey:

Teaching was, for me, an accidental profession.  I was in my third year of college and on my third major - English - and was semi-committed to the vague notion of doing something “English-related” when I graduated.  If all the ambiguity in that sentence didn’t clue you in to the lack of direction in my life, let me spell it out for you: I had very little.  

Then, I volunteered to tutor high school athletes as part of an outreach program. I began with four high school football players, coaching them through the thorny topics of grammar and Shakespeare. It turned out that teaching wasn’t too different than coaching (perhaps, in hindsight, there is less profanity), and I was quickly and irrevocably hooked on the high of watching a student “get it.”  Too late to switch my major a fourth time, I hastily added a minor in Education my senior year, moved back in with my parents and went back to school to get my secondary English license.  

I never regretted that move and thirteen years later, working with students is still one of the greatest privileges in my life.  I deeply believe that teaching is cyclical: I teach, and in doing so, I learn, and the more I dedicated myself to each, the better I got. It was like training for a race: with every run, my endurance improved and I got a little faster. I modestly but proudly thought I was training to become a pretty damn good teacher.

And then I hit “the wall”.  

Any runner you ask will nod knowingly if you mention ‘the wall.’ It’s that moment in a long run when you are physiologically and psychologically depleted, and your legs turn to leaden rubber, your lungs painfully squeeze, and your brain screams at you to just. give. up.  

On a random day in a random week, I thought long and hard about giving up.  I even made a pro/con t-chart, getting down to the nitty-gritty details of a guaranteed supply of sticky notes versus not having to pick staples out of my wall.  Part of me was appalled; an absurdly large chunk of my self-identity happily revolved around being a teacher.  I was at a loss to explain my floundering to anyone: my colleagues, my husband, and least of all to myself.

When it comes right down to it - and if you are doing it right - teaching is hard.  I had been running a half-marathon of teaching over the last thirteen years, and it was time to cross the finish line.  I needed a change, but I didn't want to leave education.  

The solution, my husband and I decided, was to move abroad.  Teaching English in a foreign country is on my bucket list, so maybe it was time to cross that one off.  Unfortunately, nothing international happens quickly, and in the interim, I applied for a different position with the district.  To my surprise and pleasure, I was offered the job. I accepted and immediately panicked at the idea of leaving the classroom.  What was I going to do without my kids? Who was going to make sure I knew all the hip slang and what the Kardashians were up to?

I spent the rest of the year alternating between excitement and guilt.  Intellectually, I understand that a lot of teachers leave the classroom for other opportunities in education, but it also, on some level, feels like quitting.  When my students found out and exclaimed “You’re leaving us?!”, I hunched my shoulders in shame.  Alternatively, I felt a certain joy in cleaning out my room, gently packing good memories in boxes and gleefully tossing out years of accumulated and hoarded junk.

Regardless, in the fall I began a new job at the district office, and...I love it.  It’s been like starting a new run, when you’re fresh and bouncy and the road stretches out in front of you.  I’m still a teacher, but now I teach new teachers, helping to guide them along as they enter the delightful and challenging profession of educating our students.  

Teachers are, I am beginning to see, only part of the system - an important part, to be sure, but one element in a complex and evolving organism.  My journey as a teacher is now one of change, of newness, of leadership and mentorship.  I think it’s going to be a pretty darn good run.

Jennifer Rios taught high school English at the Las Vegas Academy in Las Vegas, NV. Currently, she is a Project Facilitator at CCSD's Employee Onboarding and Development working primarily with new teachers. After 12 years in the classroom, Rios moved from teaching students to teaching teachers. #thisteachersjourney

Write Right Now--What is Your Journey?

I launched a blog this year to not just share my experiences as a 17-year educator, but to open up a space where other educators: new ones, veterans, retired, K-12 and beyond can share theirs. Teaching is hard. The narrative around our career is often negative, but there are so many wonderful stories to share.

My journey has been one of triumph, learning, tears, evolutions, and reflections. My blog is a step toward not only reflecting on my journey, but to contribute to the narrative surrounding educators and education in a positive way. With 3.5 million educators in the U.S. , there are unfortunately not 3.5 positive stories shared daily. This Teacher's Journey is a small step in changing that.

As a veteran educator, my experiences have run the gamut. Professionally, I have earned accolades and awards, taken hours and hours of coursework and professional development, attended and presented at conferences. I've taught grades 6,9,10,11,12. I've taught remediation classes all the way to AP. I've taught over 3,000 students: wonderfully creative kids, kind human beings, those who struggle to learn, those who needed school and my classroom for normalcy and escape. My students have suffered experiences that most adults will never have to. I have bought shoes and food for students, paid for bus passes and field trips, been a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. I've been privileged to be their mentor, their cheerleader, the one who introduces them to a new book, the one who helps them discover their voices.

By giving my students a multi-faceted education, and by continuing to be a life-long learner and advocate, I have had the pleasure of seeing them bloom into leaders, confident adults, human beings who can overcome even the darkest of circumstances. The extra hours, the extra dollars, and the extra work have all been worth it because my journey has given me the extraordinary opportunity to help young people take journeys of their own.

I am honored and humbled to be one of the adults in the lives of over 3,000 students who helped carve out a path to education, career, and happiness. The stories are many and by sharing them, I hope to let others know how special my students and colleagues are and how important teaching truly is.

I invite you, fellow educators, to share your journey with me. Help me make This Teacher's Journey the place where anyone who wants to can read about our daily lives, our struggles and celebrations, our professional and personal evolutions.

Teachers are people too--people with stories to tell. Let me help you tell yours.

What We Don't Know, Can Hurt Them

This time last year, one of my student's fathers was in the hospital dying. He had been in the hospital since Thanksgiving. A total of zero teachers had any idea this was happening--including me. Sometime in early December, I sat down during guidance period to review progress with each student. I noticed that her grades had taken quite a dive. She'd been absent a few times, like many other high school seniors in winter. I asked her point blank, what was up, and if she had a plan to get her grades up. She gave me a friendly, but "I want to avoid this conversation" answer. This was a girl who always smiled, always had perfect liquid eyeliner, and who never failed to ask me how I was doing. Something was off.

My next step was to go speak to the theatre and dance teachers who were in charge of our winter production--one in which this student was playing the lead. Together we figured something out: she was missing school, but attending rehearsal. She was spending the days and late nights visiting her father, and making it to rehearsal so she wouldn't let down the cast--- opening night was so close.

Fast forward to some hard conversations, and the revelation of some truths: her father was sick. He needed more than what doctors in Vegas could do for him, and was waiting to be air lifted to a specialist in California. He had Leukemia, and was in the hospital the same time last year. She was trying to handle it "like an adult" and do everything herself.  In the meantime, this 18-year-old senior was without her sole parent and provider. She wasn't eating, she needed a refill on her asthma inhaler, her grades were tanking. She needed support.

This isn't about how I was the only one who noticed. I noticed because I have her in my guidance class and was able to have a one-on-one sit down with her. Every teacher on my campus does this with 20-25 kids. It makes a difference. With class loads of up to 200 it isn't always easy to get time to talk to kids individually. What shocked me more than my colleagues and I letting her slip through the cracks this long, was the reaction to the situation once everyone became aware.

We had a couple of weeks until Winter Break and two weeks after break until finals and end of semester grades. This gave kids a window to catch up if needed. I took the lead, with her permission, and shared her situation with my colleagues. Responses were mixed. Some never replied to my email. Some were shocked, and ready to help her out. Some were glad to be in the loop. I had to take it a step further, and walk to everyone's classroom so we could talk face-to face about her situation and how, as educators, we could rally together to get her through this difficult time.

My decision for English was to excuse her missing work and let her start with a clean slate. She was a strong student with a great track-record. She had shown mastery of content, and could afford to let a few assignments go.  She was waiting for college admissions letters and hoping to qualify for a hefty amount of scholarship and financial aide. She needed some leniency right now in order to keep on track. That was my decision. I began thinking about this girl's "after." What would she do after high school? What would she do after her father passed away? What would she do after scholarship money ran out?

My colleagues were all over the map. Many made concessions, offered one-on-one remediation and time to make up work. Some did business as usual, despite her circumstances. When I checked in with her after the break, she had made up some work, and felt somewhat prepared for finals. She attempted to complete the packets she was given by some of her teachers. Her dad was still sick, she was still alone. Her dance teacher made sure she was with friends on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day--the entire cast of the winter production left her a gift under the tree at her friend's house. My English department and I pooled money and got her some small gifts and gift cards.

She made it through the semester. She made it through the year and onto graduation. She's still going strong, making it through all that life dishes out. Her dad is still fighting.

She made me think about the "afters" of all of my students. As educators, there's so much we don't know about our student's lives--past, present, future. We will never know everything, but we need to remember that the student with the wide smile and contagious laugh may be hurting just as badly, or even more than the one who wears it on the outside. We need to be compassionate, flexible, and empathetic to all of them, whether we are privy to their struggles or not. At the end of the day, education is important, but people come before papers.

The teacher I am today sees the world differently then I used to. Maybe it's the trauma I've seen my students endure, or my own life experience. I still believe that education is powerful, but I understand that sometimes, especially in the life of a child, it has to take a back seat when life is chucking lemons at you like a pitching machine. Lemonade isn't as easy to make as we all think.

What we don't know can hurt them, even if we don't mean it to. It's a delicate balance of juggling the buzzwords: rigor, proficiency, achievement, while standing on one leg, blindfolded by the unfair world that some of our students come from. All we can do is try our best.

I've made sure to send my student's home this semester knowing that they can reach out to me, that they are not selfish for practicing self-care, and that they are loved. It matters.

Got Questions? 15 Things You Should Know About Public Schools

I am a public school teacher married to a public school teacher with two kids in public school. I attended public school in California, Colorado, Texas, and Nevada.  I think I turned out ok. My mother-in-law was a public school teacher as were her mother and her father. Her sister was a public school teacher for some time. Many of my friends are public school teachers. Many of my friends send their kids to public school. If you ever have a question about what happens inside a school, just ask. I've spent the last 18 years with kids from all over the world, from poor homes and affluent homes, from Leave it To Beaver existences and the stuff of nightmares. I can tell you that teaching is tough, and for some kids school is tough. I can also tell you that teaching has made me more compassionate, more human, and more focused on the world around me.  Public schools get a bad wrap, and most of the time it's from people who don't go to them or work in them. Even if you are not in school, you know someone in your family or have a friend who is directly connected with a school.

I am by no means the expert on all things education, but I have been a teacher for almost 20 years, have worked in education policy, and have traveled the country visiting schools, speaking with teachers and students, and feel that I’ve learned a few things. With that said, here are 15 things I’d like to share or suggest:

1. Read what's happening at all levels: local, state, national. Pick up your phone or pen and speak up. The fate of kids and teachers isn't an us and them debate.
2. Don’t assume that because you went to school, that you know everything about how they work. Schools have evolved and will continue to do so. Technology, philosophy, funding, social climate can all affect the way schools function.
3. Teachers and school staff are top-notch multi-taskers. They are the master’s of not only keeping 25-45 ( or even 50+ in each period) students engaged and behaving but also tending to the 100’s of tasks that pop up on any given day. Don’t underestimate them.
4. Like in any profession, there are good and bad employees. Try not to let one bad story or bad experience taint the potential of the 3.5 million educators in our country.
5. Public school teachers pay for their advanced degrees, their recertification credits, their license renewals, their mandatory professional development credits, their classroom supplies. In most, if not all schools, they pay for lunch, coffee, a bottle of water, school shirts. This may be the norm in most professions, but the average yearly salary of a teacher is much less than let’s say an attorney or physician.
6. In any given classroom, there are 25-45 ( sometimes more, rarely less) who are all unique, diversely talented, from different backgrounds and experiences. This is what makes school great. It is, however the job of a single teacher, to meet the needs of all of those students, all at once. The most important part...most teachers can do it. Every. Day.
7. Teaching, or working anywhere in a school, can be exceptionally isolating. Children are wonderful, but spending 8+ hours a day without any adult interaction can take its toll. Teachers and staff need time to talk to other adults.
8. Teachers and school staff members are people too. They have families, pets, second jobs. They have to make dinner, go to soccer practice, attend worship services. They get sick like everyone else. Sometimes, educators act like they are invincible super-humans. They are people. Remember that.
9. Teachers are adults, not kids. This sounds like a simple, obvious statement. Often, the structures in place in schools are aimed at children, and there are no concessions for adults. They cannot use the restroom without permission, their internet access is filtered, they cannot make or receive phone calls during the instructional day, they often don’t have a choice about how they will use their lunch or prep time. Not a complaint, just an observation.
10. There would be no Academy Award winning actors, championship athletes, game changing scientists, or revolutionary leaders, without education. School is where children grow into themselves. They learn social skills, time management, consequences, how to take pride in a job well done, how to struggle, how to be empathetic, how to grapple with the confusion of the world. Schools need to be safe, supported, engaging, hospitable places. Support your local schools and educators. Nothing happens magically in schools. Schools need money, support, advocacy, legislation, and supplies to reach their potential.
11. Teaching is hard. Passing out papers and monitoring lunch duty is pretty basic stuff. Scaffolding lessons, differentiating instruction, creating authentic summative assessments, disaggregating data, providing social-emotional support--these are not easy. Teachers and school staff do this daily while teaching, mentoring, and loving kids. Teaching is hard.
12. Teachers want to be seen as professionals. Teachers are educated, motivated, and organized individuals, for the most part. A teacher’s skill set includes the duties of: parent, mentor, coach, counselor, friend, secretary, academic advisor, content specialists, artist, actor, and much more. Teachers and school staff wear many hats. See them for the skills that they have.
13. School shootings are terrifying. To see a school shooting on the news is surreal and scary and leaves a mark on our souls--even if they don’t happen at our own schools. To go to work every day wondering in the back of your mind what you would do in that situation can affect you in ways you can’t imagine. No matter how compassionate or selfless, no educator wants to die protecting their students, even if they would.
14. Schools are amazing places. Unless you spend 8 hours a day, 181 days a year on a campus, you’ll never truly see the dedication, compassion, creativity, energy and empathy that flows through a school. For all the negative press, there are 1000x more wonderful moments that go unshared. It is up to all of us to help shift the narrative.
15. You can help to reshape the narrative. Visit your child’s school, donate to the school, offer your time, money, support, voice. If you don’t have a child in school, you know someone who does. See what you can do to make their child’s school the best environment that it can be to provide the best education possible to that child and all their peers. Write your legislators, drop off pencils, send a cookie bouquet to the staff. The smallest thing on your end could make all the difference in the world to a school and the people within it.

School are special places. They are not broken, they just need their communities. #thisteachersjourney

This Opportunity Comes Once in a Lifetime, Yo

After 20 years in the classroom and 8 years in college studying English Literature, I have had the opportunity to read some of the greatest works ever written. There are lines from T.S. Eliot's poetry that float to the forefront of my memory on a daily basis. I have recalibrated my views on life, death, existence, and philosophy with every book, poem, and play that I have read. Yet, the catch-22 of being an "English Teacher" is that everyone expects you speak using only perfect grammar, to have read every book, to not necessarily be moved to tears over the lyrics of a rap song, or to include a quote from a pop-culture movie into your life philosophy. 


Well, despite my love of Shakespeare and Dante, Dickinson, and Hughes, the words of a modern day poet-philosopher are often what I turn to when I have to face hard decisions:

"...the moment,
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance...
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime..."

You own it, you better never let it go,

Eminem. A poet. A philosopher. A man who has embedded into his angst, unorthodox ideas, and even vitriol into solid, aphoristic advice. You don't have to like him. You don't have to agree with him. But let's not deny that putting a beat behind "Opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo" is a pure and straightforward way to tell us to seize the day. After twenty years in the classroom and eight years in college studying English Literature, I am not afraid to admit that I have made monumental life decisions with the words of Winona Ryder, Zach Braff, and Ethan Hawke at my back. I have replayed lyrics from the Beastie Boys and Bad Religion, along with Eminem in my head while combatting anxiety and fear. Words are powerful and underestimating them just because of where they come from can be tragic.

Call it what you will, I take inspiration from words, no matter where they come from. Words have enraged me, enlightened me, encouraged me. They inch their way into corners of my brain and make a home there, ready to emerge when I need them.

At this crossroad in my life, I have sailed past my 40th year, have welcomed thousands of students through my classroom door, and have denied myself opportunity more than once in the name of being a teacher. I love what I do. Teaching has been one of the most enriching experiences of my life, yet I know that my passion for education can still exist, even if I am not physically in a classroom every day. This by no means, means I'm turning in my white board markers and collecting my gold plated pencil, it just means, that when opportunity knocks, this time I will answer the door. 

So I sit here, "owning it", "not missing my chance",  trying not to miss this "once in a lifetime opportunity." What will it mean for me, my future, my happiness? Who really knows. Like a too often cryptic social media post, I will not divulge the who, the what, the when. I will simply state that #thisteachersjourney has been a winding road, sometimes with unexpected bumps, but I am finally starting to feel that I have both hands on the wheel.

It may have taken almost 20 years for me to figure out that I have spent the better portion of my life surrounded by words of wisdom urging me to move "against the grain"  to laugh at myself, or " life is going to seem a whole lot longer", that "I am not under any orders to make the world a better place." But if I don't , "Well, then, what good [am I]"? At just the right moment, I heard just the right song, just like the time I read Eliot and knew I would major in English, that gave me the sign that it might be time to explore my options and seize the moment when it presents itself. 

Thanks to the authors, the lyricists, the philosophers who have shaped my way of thinking, I'm ready to listen to Emerson--"He is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety." I'm ready to listen to Eminem--" The moment, You own it, you better never let it go." I am ready to listen to myself, to take the words that have nested inside me for the past 40+ years, and let them guide me into my next 40 where I will " Get it together and see what's happening" and continue to welcome new opportunities to pepper my journey.

Seize the Day.