The Usual Chaos

I remember her face. A sweet smile. Long, shiny blonde hair. Sparkly blue eyes. A look of determination situated between her biting of her lip and her gripping of her pen. She would succeed. And succeed she did. She spent her life fighting dyslexia and, though enjoying a good story and good discussion, always found English class to be an uphill battle of words in her mind and on her page. She worked and worked and worked. She focused. She revised. She conferenced. She improved. And finally, the day came when she received that essay, that elusive, difficult A. Tears streamed down her face and onto her pages. She took that essay home and hung it on the fridge - a first to finally happen in her eleventh year. I remember her face. A silly grin. Big, hopeful brown eyes. Always joking. Always hugging and laughing, yet under her humor brewed a touch of despair. She knew she could succeed, but she hadn't yet. And her attempts to achieve on state testing continually fell short. Just shy. ...

It's Sunday. The wind is whipping around my house, howling and moaning and stirring our chimes into a noisy frenzy. The fireplace is crackling, and Maggie the cat is sprawled luxuriously near by. A new to-do list explodes in my head as I think of all the things that must be accomplished quickly to get our newly qualified Academic Decathlon team to the state meet in a month. My fingers click furiously across keys and screens, tallying expenses and researching lodging. And then I pause. I find myself staring off into the quiet with a smirk as "Old Man River" winds through my mental jukebox again. I love these kids. This team. These teens. Friday and Saturday's regional meet was a roller coaster of emotions to say the least. I felt tense, anxious, and nervous. Excited, silly, and chaotic. Exhausted. Frustrated. Over the moon! After certain events, they weren't exceptionally confident in their performance. After certain score releases, we coaches weren't excep...

the greatest smile the dimples the hair fidget the laugh He is Christian Dawson, a former student of my #FriendEng3 class. And he is gone. In the early hours of New Years Day, Christian celebrated with his friends at a party on the second floor. Below, a still unidentified stranger on the first floor opted to open fire, smashing bullets through walls and windows in front and above. One of those bullets found Christian. A kid with a smile more contagious that the flu. One speaker at his funeral said, "If you needed a smile, Christian always had one to share. If you already had one, Christian gave you one to give away." So true. And so beautifully put by another young person who shouldn't have been saying goodbye to his friend at only 19. It still breaks my heart to think about it. Sometimes, I don't understand the world. What a tragic, deep loss of an amazing spirit. Christian's funeral, while at times excruciatingly difficult, was a true celebrat...

Along with my fellow humans, I find myself reflecting in these early, frigid days of January. This time around, reflecting is tougher than usual it seems. 2016, particularly the second half, wasn't so hot. As I ponder it, I feel as though I spent most of the fall semester apologizing for why I didn't have myself together, both at home and at work. Seems that I did a lot more "I'm so sorry" that usual. "I'm off my game!" I continued to tell my husband and my colleagues and my students.  I don't know why.  However, now that 2017 has arrived in a warm-then-chilly-and-soon-to-be-warm-again way (thanks, Texas weather), it's high time I adjust my attitude and revise my systems and get to work. At home, I accomplished some big projects. I finally opened some remaining boxes from our long-ago move, and I organized and decorated the front room of our house. It was summer, and I was relieved to get that overdue job completed. Since, though, I dro...