Teaching Day 4: Success And Tacos

It appears that from here on out, my days will alternate between the good and the bad, and today, thus far, has been a glorious step in the right direction. My morning began as any other – a couple slaps to the snooze button and the frantic pitter patter of my footsteps as I zoomed around my humble abode attempting to get ready for the day.

I was under the assumption that I changed my outfits an excessive amount in high school, but at dawn, I was proven wrong. I must have stood in front of my heaping closet for 15 minutes before inevitably choosing the wrong outfit, because I changed it twice. I felt like my 15-year-old self once again faced with the many trials of fitting in.

Once I finally settled on outfit number 3, I grabbed a banana, my coffee, my multitude of tote bags, and began the drive to school. I arrived just as I typically do, an hour before the kids enter my classroom. I spent my morning gathering my thoughts, organizing my day by making lists, and tackling each task as I found some minutes to spare.

It is now safe to say that my day went on without many if any hitches. My students seemed focused and attentive and ready to learn. Because of yesterday’s outcome, I switched up my teaching style with my first period class, and I think I have found a temporary style that hopefully will hold throughout the year. Although, I am not naïve to the ultimate reality that this will most likely need to change as we get farther into the year. I mean, it is only day four, and I am still new at this. It is most definitely a learning curve, one I hope to adapt to quickly and stress less about on the day-to-day.

After making it through my morning class, we had weekly mass as an entire school – both junior and senior high. It was lovely to see some of my students sing in the choir or say the rosary or read the readings. I am glad that I am a part of an institution that fosters a sense of involvement and commitment in all aspects of school and daily life.

I then meandered back to my classroom and prepared for my afternoon classes. I’m not entirely sure what was fundamentally different about today opposed to yesterday, but I felt less out of my element. I’m quickly picking up on the different learning needs and quirks in each of my English classes, as well as the best approaches to reading and discussing materials to ensure that all students understand the context of class each day.

Both my ancient and medieval literature classes today had seminar style discussions; however, the topics of these discussions were vastly different. Let us take my freshmen who are taking ancient literature this year. We are now learning an overview of Greek Mythology and those essential concepts and terms necessary to understand classical epics. But today was one of those days when I had a plan that got completely derailed.

Now, I do not mean to imply that nothing was accomplished today, but I will say that I did not expect to have a 30-minute discussion with a bunch of 14-year-olds about the meaning of success and tacos. We began the class discussing whether or not tacos are an acceptable staple at the dinner table, and eventually we landed on the inner workings of success and what that means to each of us. I am actually thrilled at the depth of the conversation we had as a class today because in essence, I wanted to model the types of Socratic seminar style discussions we will have all year. Every student found his or her voice and expressed an opinion that was either accepted, added to, or respectfully refuted. And, I couldn’t have picked a better topic than success because while it is not explicitly a theme in the epic works we will read, it is an overarching topic that encompasses the very essence of honor and glory amongst the Greeks.

While my freshmen discussed success and tacos, my sophomores in medieval literature discussed the inner workings of Norse Mythological values and expectations. My leading question for this class revolved around the fact that the Norsemen were fated for an ultimate demise, yet they still lived their everyday knowing the end was going to come. Why? How could they continue knowing that hope was absent? What propelled them forward?

My students were tasked with responding to my question in written form, and then they were instructed to pose questions to their peers and engage in a discussion of the text, making sure to refer to the text when necessary. During this discussion, I stepped further into the background and let my students respond to each other. I piped in every now and again, but I wanted to see how they responded to their peers and continued to extend the line of thought by asking deeper questions. We talked primarily about how we almost have to switch our critical lens from our deep seated Catholic eye to a more objective view of a world that was and is vastly different than ours. This is a concept we will continue to work on throughout the year because at times, it can cloud our understanding of the literature we are reading. Overall, it was an eye-opening class dynamic that I cannot wait to experience tomorrow.

From seminar discussion to seminar discussion, we finally arrive at Drama. This continues to be the best way to end my day, especially when we spend the last five minutes of class writing a scene about a lost monkey. Stay tuned to find out how Gilly-Bob Jo and Richard Richardson find the lost monkey. I cannot wait to see what this creative bunch crafts tomorrow afternoon.

And that, ladies and gents, leads me to the most exciting part of my week, which is the fact that I get to come home tomorrow afternoon. I am beyond excited to see my family and my cats, of course, but most importantly, I cannot wait to throw my arms around Mr. Know-it-All; it has been three weeks too long, and I am ready for a weekend of mostly fun and relaxation with a little bit of school work thrown into the mix. I’m sure I’ll have many a tale to tell about my Labor Day weekend.

As always, coffee is my tried and true, and at least I didn’t face plant in front of my students today. While I will never live that down, I’m honestly a little disappointed no one brought it up to me today because my little brother made me laugh all morning about my embarrassing slip. But for now, I’ll sign off. Until tomorrow …

Teaching Day 3: The Great Fall Of English Class

I started the day on the wrong foot, and boy I wish you knew how ironic this statement became as the day progressed. I went to bed just feeling down, and I woke up feeling no better. It was a combination of allergies, a collection of germs gathered from 80ish kids that walk through my classroom each day, and merely missing Mr. Know-it-All.

I felt rushed once again as I bustled around my room trying to put a bell ringer on every desk before my hour of preparations diminished. I strive to allow my own creative genius to flourish each and every morning; it honestly forces me to open up my mind to exciting conversation starters, even if it is too early and my coffee isn’t quite finished.

While I have been arriving at school at least an hour early every day this week, I still feel frazzled and rushed and not on my A-game. What I still struggle with as an educator is the fact that everything is trial and error. Literally, every single assignment, activity, reading excerpt, and conversation technique is trial and error. Let us take today, for example.

Now, it is only day three, but I have come to the realization that my first period class will forever and always be my test class. This is the period in my day when I test out my original plans and then ultimately wish I would have gone a different route. This morning, I knew I wanted my freshmen to begin reading their first short story, “The Cask of Amontillado”.

This story by Poe contains elevated language, twisted themes, and a vocabulary list I thought manageable for this particular grouping of students. Because I have never assigned reading to these students, I decided to let them read in their small groups during class this morning. Boy was that mistake number one …

I have not assigned seats just yet; therefore, students have been sitting with their friends, and staying on task was clearly not their priority this morning. I moderated the period as I typically do, attempting to keep them focused on the task at hand and not the daily gossip. How there could possibly be gossip first period, is beyond me. Once again, I wish you lovely readers knew how ironic THIS statement was today. But, we shall get there.

Basically, I watched and observed as students attempted to read the story, and because they are driven by the constant connections with their peers, gossiping was unavoidable. Therefore, I let the antics continue, and I walked from small group to small group gathering as much information about their reading progression and conversations. Before students were allowed to leave my room, they had to complete an exit slip telling me the plot of the story up until their group’s stopping point without help from the textbook.

As you can probably imagine, their faces dropped, and they frantically began looking at their peers with that “deer in the headlights” stare. I even had a student ask me if I was going to grade their responses, and I said, “of course!” A goal of mine this year is to teach students reading techniques that will allow them to retain the information discussed or read in class. I will also not be allowing them to read in groups of their own choosing. I will craft groups myself, and for now, we will read aloud and discuss the stories as a whole class. You see, trial and error, and I’m sure I’ll revert back to groups throughout the year, but for now, we are trying something new every day.

While first period was rocky, the rest of the day just continued to go downhill into a rockslide of everything I didn’t expect or want to happen on the third day of school. My study hall was loud and inconsiderate of the quiet atmosphere their peers may have wanted. My study hall will be silent from here on out. There goes that trial and error again. I thought if I let children talk quietly amongst themselves that they would be able to handle that simple instruction; but, I have learned that silence will be best for everyone.

My classes in the middle of the day went on without a hitch. Students were engaged in active discussion using my random and weird Post-It note bell ringer. I love this method because it truly does give students a platform to respectfully express their opinions about the topics at hand.

I’m also feeling better about the ancient and medieval literature courses I am teaching. We have finally begun diving deep into mythological realms that will kick start our fruitful discussion-based classes. I am so excited to see how these students continue to grow as classical students.

And then my day took a literal turn for the worst. Remember how I said that I started my day on the wrong foot? Well, it seems as if that foot decided not to work for a hot second during my sixth period class because I turfed it in front of 11 fifteen-year-olds. That’s right ladies and gents, my right foot gave out as I was leading a passionate lecture about the differences between fiction and nonfiction texts, and I fell to the floor with a thud.

Now, I was quick to get back up on my feet. It happened in the blink of an eye, and after the day I had been having, all I wanted to do was cry. But, I did not let my students see just how much this major fall got to me. Instead, I tried to laugh it off and continue the last bit of the lecture. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my entire life, but now all I can do is laugh because it is something that would only happen to me. I’m sure the news will spread, and I’ll have to face the gossip-stricken teenagers come the first bell. I already know how I want to handle the questions if they arise, but I’ll leave that tidbit for tomorrow’s excerpt.

Coffee was clearly not the cure for today’s antics; however, I hope tomorrow my caffeinated bliss does the job right. As always, my life is a never ending slew of ups and downs, but I keep getting back up. These kids or this job will not deter me from doing what I love, and I’m so grateful that Mr. Know-it-All is by my side to listen to me tell him my Truth About Coffee. Until tomorrow …

Teaching Day 2: Everything You Need To KNow About MIss Disabella

The day began just as any other … rushed, unprepared, and panic-stricken for the events that were sure to unravel as soon as I stepped foot in the building. I expected chaos, especially after the antics of the day prior. However, today was a bit more serene. Well, only after I rushed to gather reading materials for the first few weeks of school.

At 7 a.m. this morning, I could be found rushing back and forth from the book room across the hall to my classroom, lugging an excessive amount of textbooks and smaller anthologies. To say I broke out in a sweat before the kids braced the threshold is the understatement of the year. Once again, I didn’t get the chance to sip on my coffee until my prep period 2, but at least I didn’t spill it all over myself like yesterday.

What I did not expect was a sense of relief. I honestly left the building yesterday ready to throw in the towel, and today I left ready for the next day’s adventure. I think what helped me to relax was sharing a bit of myself with my students. Let me explain …

Yesterday was the first day of school, and I ended up being the teacher I despised in high school – the one that made us write on day one. While my students were a little reluctant at first, they quickly dove into the writing activity. The assignment was to write a one-page autobiography. The goal: a chance for me to get to know my students a little better, as well as an opportunity to gather a baseline writing sample from each of my students.

One of my class periods kept telling me that their lives were too boring to write about. I then decided to throw myself to the wolves and participate in the activity. My students gave me homework; they tasked me with writing my own autobiography, and as you all know, I never back down from a challenge. So, this is what I wrote …

Everything You Need to Know About Miss Disabella

I am weird. It’s better that all you lovely students discover this tidbit before we dive headfirst into exciting texts this year. I think English class is fun, which I guess is weird enough. I like to read, but I especially like to write. I write for fun … every single day.

I love coffee; I’m sure you noticed the bright red Keurig behind my desk, which I will use every single day. I have three cats, and two are named after Shakespeare characters. I also have a Yorkshire Terrier named Bella, and she is basically a stuffed animal. She is the sweetest dog and loves going out on the town to see all the lovely people out there in the world.

In my spare time, I like to go hiking. Sometimes, I like to gather my backpack and a Polaroid and just take in the amazing scenery that surrounds us. If I’m not hiking, I’m cooking, baking, traveling, seeing plays, or knitting. Knitting? Of course! It’s a relaxing activity that clears your mind and keeps you occupied. Plus, you get an extra accessory out of it.

I love to cook and bake; so, if I’m not reading, writing, or hiking, I’m in the kitchen. I also love to travel, and while I travel, I tend to gravitate toward the dramatic arts. I’ve attended many musicals and plays, and my favorites are Macbeth, Much Ado About Nothing, Phantom of the Opera, and Les Miserable.

I have been to 11 countries, and my favorite was Italy. I have two brothers and one sister. My older brother is in the Air Force, stationed in South Korea. My sister is in the Navy, stationed in Pensacola, FL. My younger brother is a senior in high school, and he is interested in cyber security.

That’s all you need to know about me!

When I asked if they’d like to hear this short excerpt from my life, I received a resounding yes. And that, dear readers, turned my rocky start to the week into a great second day of school. I felt accepted as the new teacher on the block, and I had some amazing and insightful conversations with my students.

I am beyond excited to see what this year has in store. I learned so much about my students today, and I know that I have been blessed with the opportunity to hopefully shape and guide some pretty great kids. My classroom was filled with many a laugh and of course only smiles – well, maybe not my sophomores. They got a sneak peek at their reading schedule for the semester, and let me just tell you that October is going to be a rough month.

Overall, today was a win. It was enlightening to see how students interact with each other, with me, and in their writing. I cannot wait to see what happens next – one day and multiple cups of coffee at a time. Until tomorrow …

Teaching day 1: today is the day my career began

Today was the day my career began. It was draining yet rewarding, fruitful yet barren, thought-provoking yet mentally draining. However, it was a day of firsts for me and a day where I spent many a moment encompassing the reflective practitioner deep within the depths of my soul.

The biggest struggle was finding my voice, which is ironic considering the nature of my syllabi this year. My goal is to allow students to use their voices when it comes to their own learning – to take ownership of the materials they are producing throughout the year. But, I had a hard time harnessing my authoritative demeanor … that is until I confiscated a phone.

You see, phones are not permitted in my classroom, and I was forced to take a phone on day one. It will never cease to amaze me how bold children are when it comes to pushing the limits. I kid you not, this student just blatantly brought a phone out in study hall. Dude, why? I did not want to have to be the big, bad lady today, but I set the record straight. No fear from Miss Disabella this year. Try me, children. Try me.

Now, I am all about making the literature learning environment fun and engaging, but there is a time and a place; my students will learn real quick that I run a no-nonsense classroom. However, I love to get creative and play trashketball and do escape rooms and murder mysteries. I like to dive deep into planning and watch as my students collaboratively complete tasks in an interactive environment.

I love what I do. Today just marked one of the most challenging feats I have faced thus far, and while today may have made me doubt my career choice, I never back down from a challenge. I will make it through the year. Of course there will be ups and downs – hopefully more ups than downs – but, I think this is going to be the best year for me.

Even though today was hard being by myself so far from family and friends, I had such a strong support system to wish me well on my first day as an English teacher. I received many texts and calls from those just as excited about my career as I am, which made my day so much brighter. The day may have started with spilt coffee, a broken copier (the only one in the building), and being locked out of the building, but I survived.

Based on the morning mayhem, I assumed the rest of the day was doomed, but the chaos actually made me relax. Once again I tried to meticulously plan a schedule of events only to be thrown every obstacle known to man. Like I said, I was locked out of the building this morning. My key – for some reason unbeknownst to me – did not work. I was forced to wait and contemplate life for 10 minutes before a coworker arrived to let me into the building.

Then when I attempted to make copies of a syllabus for my sophomores, I couldn’t because the copier is broken. Who knows when that will be fixed, but for now I guess I’ll force my personal printer to do my bidding for me.

And, only to add icing onto the already lopsided and burnt cake, my Keurig decided to overflow all over my filing cabinet. Whilst sopping up the lukewarm water before it landed in my teaching tote, I spilled my coffee all over my pants. Great start to the first day, right?

Thank God for wet wipes and Tide pens because if not for their immediate action, I would have had stained pants for the entirety of the day. But, it wouldn’t be a day in my life if I didn’t spill coffee on my person. You see, coffee still gets me through the day-to-day, and I forever grateful for my daily dose of caffeinated bliss. Stay tuned for tomorrow’s adventures as a classroom teacher. I’m sure it will be just as eventful as today’s antics. Until next time …

A Step-By-Step Guide To All Things Teaching: Everything I Didn’t Know Before, And I Don’t Know Now

In college, advisers, professors, and any human in a position of power tends to tell the masses everything but exactly what they need to swiftly glide through undergraduate without a hiccup. In my experience, the overall scheme set in motion resides in the hands of those siphoning as much money as possible from young adults who are most likely using their parents’ income to fit the bill. The struggle is real, right? Well, imagine how lovely it was to uncover the truth about the education system and the processes and procedures necessary to become a licensed educator. It was a learn-as-you-go type of a journey, and this trek through the unknowing abyss taught me a few things about persistence.

1. I learned that if I would have given up on getting a degree when I thought I wanted to, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

2. I learned that certain people will always be in your corner, while others are caught drifting to the other three 90-degree angles in a square room.

3. But most importantly, I learned that I am capable of success as long as I work toward the goals I’ve set for myself.

With persistence and a little dose of faith, I’ve managed to carve my own path in the trodden earth. I’m on my way to being – or at least, I hope being – the best teacher that I can possibly be. And, what I am ultimately learning is that this next year will be the most trying year of my life.

I’m by myself; now, don’t get me wrong, I love the solace of a quiet and lazy Saturday, candles gradually eating up the wick and permeating the air with the lovely aesthetic that is fall. Actually, fall is the only real aesthetic in my life, and if that makes me an average white girl, then so be it. I’ve accepted my fate, and I have no qualms with the very atmosphere of my existence.

What I do have qualms with is the very unorganized and convoluted manner in which educators attempt to learn material, practice material, and regurgitate material for the varied groups of students we will all have in the next week. That’s right, ladies and gents, the first day of school is tomorrow, and to say I feel unprepared is the understatement of the year. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, and what I have come to realize is that not knowing is okay.

I cannot possible know everything that is going to or will happen this next year. All I can do is take it day-by-day; it is the only true way to keep stress levels at a minimum. However, stress levels are never really at a minimum. Let us take today – the day before the official first day of school – for example. How about I set the scene for all you avid readers …

It is a lovely Sunday morning; it’s one of those mornings when I emerge from the sheets early and make it to mass before the entire day floats on by. I apply minimal make up, adorn a flowy floral top and jeans, and head down to the parking lot for a serene drive amidst the cool air, which induces a surge of excitement for the upcoming fall season.

As upbeat tunes fill the cabin, I begin the slow decent down the pothole ridden driveway only to be stopped dead in my tracks. There is a massive tree blocking the width of the driveway. Stunned, I sit pondering why the universe hates me? If anyone saw the multitude of emotions that flitted across my face in the solid minute I sat just staring at the only exit route, they would think I’ crazy. What was I to do?

Of course, my first instinct is to call my mother – even if she is 300 miles away and not really qualified to handle fallen trees. I could see the inevitable laughter filling her face because this is something that would only happen to me on one of the most nerve-wracking days of my life.

The official first day of school is tomorrow, and if I cannot find an escape route, my freshmen will have a substitute on their first day of high school. What a great first impression … Even my morning coffee isn’t able to calm my nerves and anxieties about school and now a slumped over tree.

I do not do well with situations that are entirely out of my control, obviously. If you have been following my life for whatever reason, you know that I freak out about everything. And of course I live in a building with a smattering of people who just seem to ignore situations that impede the effortless functionality of everyday life. For example, months went by before I returned and had to report that the lights in the parking lot had not been turning on at night since the power went out 4 months ago. I guarantee that these humans would not report the fallen tree; they would literally wait with the expectation that someone else will handle that. And that someone will be me. If I could actually leave the premises, I would go buy a chainsaw and handle the tree by myself; but, I am not the strongest or the handiest when it comes to power tools. Therefore, I am left powerless and waiting for a professional to arrive (hopefully) to take care of the tree.

In other news – and because of my neurotic ways and the fact that I cannot leave – I have pretty much planned the first two weeks of school. Why, you ask? I honestly have no other response but “because I’m insane.” For some reason, I think that everything needs to be planned out to perfection, and what I’m realizing is that unrealistic notions such as perfected lesson plans is an unattainable feat.

High school is the most unpredictable setting, other than my personal life, i.e. the tree in my driveway. Therefore, I cannot micromanage my lessons. I will say, that I have done more historical research in the past two days than I have ever done in my extensive years of schooling, and I teach Literature. Thank God for Mr. Know-it-All because he has helped me tremendously the past few days.

Actually, Mr. Know-it-All has gotten me through the past two weeks. Whether you know this or not, Mr. Know-it-All and I have been separated by distance, and for lack of a better description, it sucks. I don’t wish distance on anyone, and I have grown very comfortable in my introverted ways and moments in solitude. What I know now is that I do not want to do distance ever again after this school year.

Three-hundred miles is 300 too many. However, while distance at times can be unbearable, it is making us stronger in our relationship. And, if we could make it through the hardest two weeks of my life, than we can make it through the school year.

While this new transition has been hard, I am managing – one day and one cup of coffee at a time. I spend a lot of time talking on the phone because sometimes the cure to a sour mood and some sad tears are the voices of your loved ones. I honestly don’t know how I would have gotten this far without the amazing people in my life, but I do know that I never want to find out.

Ladies and gents, stay tuned for my day-to-day adventures as a classroom teacher as I unveil everything I didn’t know then and I don’t know now about teaching. It’s going to be a wild ride, but I’m excited to begin my career guiding students to success. Until next time …

Phase 4: a total leap of faith

Things always have a way of working out, whether or not the end result is visible from the beginning. I would argue that it is the hardest part of life, letting God lead us down the paths designed for our own success.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind for me because my life is about to get a heck of a lot busier. I leave to start my new job at the end of the week, and I'm equal parts terrified and overjoyed that I have this opportunity.

As you avid readers already know, my mind constantly races. I like to try and plan my life out years in advance, which does not necessarily work. However, the flip side to my neurotic ways is that I have now set hefty goals for myself for this year. It has lessened the terrified parts of my being to make way for even more joy.

I think for this year, I need to be structured in my daily life and focused on the tasks at hand. As my departure creeps closer, I feel myself clinging to those around me, siphoning as much quality time out of them before distance creates a chasm between us. And this ladies and gents leads me into the events of the last few weeks. Let us start at the beginning, shall we ...

Mr. Know-it-All and I, of course, had a high stakes one-on-one basketball game. I think we all know who managed to crush who, but it's totally fine. I'm over the embarrassing amount of times he blocked my shots and lumbered around me as I tried to make it in for a layup. I was forced to attempt three-pointers, and I'm not very good at those.

We also raced and arm wrestled. I left the competition with a whopping 0 wins, but no matter. I take the cake when it comes to bowling; so, put that in your pipe, and smoke it. And now Mr. Know-it-All's sayings are rubbing off on me.

After some friendly competition, it was finally time to make the 12-hour drive to Chicago to witness my sister graduate from Navy bootcamp. However, before settling into the hotel completely, we had to make a pit stop at O'Hare International Airport to pick up a little surprise.

My older brother decided to make the trip home from South Korea to see my sister finally reach a milestone she'd been fighting for for over 2 years. While my older brother and I could not physically attend the ceremony, we proudly watched the festivities on a live stream and awaited her arrival at the hotel.

When she entered the lobby she ran at us and accepted the surprise I think she needed. When you grow up familiar with the military, you understand how difficult it is for someone to make and fight for that sacrifice. It was a beautiful moment.

For me, the entire experience was an emotional concoction I'm not entirely sure how to explain, but here it goes. I felt unimportant, and I don't mean that in a selfish way. I merely mean that I felt as if my path in life was not as important or meaningful as the paths of my siblings.

It was one of those moments where I was so happy for my sister; but, for some reason, I felt as if the joy I expressed for her was taking away from the joy I typically feel when I think about my job. It felt like the only way to be happy for her was to lessen the way I feel about myself.

It sounds crazy, I know. But, this is genuinely how I felt in the moment. I was having flashbacks to adolescence when I was constantly left behind or left out. I felt like I should have maybe taken a similar path as my siblings. And then, in a crowded restaurant, my mom and I had a heart to heart because somehow she knew exactly how I was feeling. That moment turned the sadness into happiness once again after a quick sob in Buffalo Wild Wings.

I had a similar discussion with Mr. Know-it-All the week before about how I always felt insignificant as a child and into young adulthood. I never thought that I would amount to anything or that anyone noticed me. Shifting from that perspective into my ultimate reality is like the world being lifted off my shoulders.

I am somebody. I am worth it. It doesn't matter what career you choose or how much money you make. All that truly matters is whether or not you're happy with and in the choices you've made. Do you accept yourself and strive to be a positive impact? If you can recognize happiness and the good in yourself, then you're set in this thing we call life.

Like I said, it's been an emotional few weeks. My departure date is racing at me, full speed ahead, and I'm not ready to say "see you later" just yet. And even though I'm not necessarily ready, I know I have to take a leap of faith and let Him guide me through the next year.

In preparation for the 300 mile trek, I've put my creative genius to good use to craft a special gift for a special someone. While it may be cheesy, it showcases just how much I appreciate having someone in my life whom I can count on.

If this were a gift giving competition, I would take the gold; however, there is no competition in the works. For now, I'm just looking forward to all the weekends spent with the person I now realize I don't want to live without.

As always, coffee has gotten me through the summer. Lately, more than one cup has kept me afloat. Stay tuned for my adventures as a high school English teacher. It's going to be the realest ride. Until next time ...

The Changing Tides: From The Beach To The Classroom

This summer, a focal point in my life has been time – not knowing how to fill time while simultaneously having too much to accomplish and not enough seconds at the ready … a bit of a conundrum, right? I looked at my calendar just the other day, and I was shocked to see that my teaching career officially begins in exactly a month. However, I leave my hometown to start meetings and training for my big girl job in about two and a half weeks. Reality is most certainly settling in, and my biggest doubt is whether or not I’m ready for it.

I know in my soul that I am fully capable of immersing myself in the glorious life of a high school English teacher. I’ve already started planning and choosing activities and units to attempt with what will be my students. However, I’m fearful of standing at the podium completely by myself, of having complete control over the course of my classroom management, curriculum, and environment.

An important factor in the way that I approach teaching is being as uniquely myself as possible. I’m young and weird and I have a multitude of interests that I think are important to showcase in my classroom. I like funky décor and bright colors and meaningful quotations from obscure novels and films, etc. I have so many interesting statement pieces purchased specifically for my classroom, and I am so excited about placing these items in the room to make it feel like a fun and quirky place to be.

If I’m being honest, and in my own experience, English is often viewed as a stuffy and pretentious subject with complex language and little hope for understanding. My English classes will take those stereotypes and show young students how to make academic learning interactive and interesting while staying true to the roots of traditional concepts regarding academic learning.

I will always do my best to encourage students to take charge of their own learning and to challenge analyses and ask questions, to have their own unique opinions while being mindful and respectful of others and their difference of opinions.

As I was figuring out how to approach planning curriculum for the first time by myself, I really took the time to make meaning out of my year. During a homily about a month ago, Father said something that struck a chord in me, and it just so happened to be a question: What makes you tick, or what motivates you?

This question reminded me of my student teaching days, about how when I would frequently ask my students what motivated them, they didn’t have an answer. I got the sense that these particular students had no sense of purpose, or they had no one to help guide them through life. Therefore, this question seemed like the perfect co-question to the theme in my classroom this year.

The theme in my classroom revolves around journeying through literature, not in just a physical sense from setting to setting, but also the personal journey we all take through literature. I use annotating works as an example of this personal journey. When I read, I have a conversation with the text … every text I read.

When I sit down with a good book, I always have a pen in hand ready to etch phrases and questions and musings in the margins. I converse with the characters like I’m actually there. Reading is a journey, why not show students how to relate to the journey that is literature? That is the key for me – pairing classics with modern works to showcase the relatability across generations. I’m so excited to make learning in my classroom as fun as possible over the course of this next year.

Now, while my job has been weighing heavily on my mind and my heart lately, I have also made it a point to enjoy what little time I have left of my summer. Let us go back a few weeks to my island vacation …

Right after the cake was served, and I danced with some old friends, I took off the bridesmaid dress, hopped into my already packed car, and began the five-hour drive home. The reason for my early departure was that we just so happened to be leaving early the next morning for Sanibel Island, Florida for a ten-day vacation.

I was relieved to have this week with my family to relax and read and just enjoy some sun and sand. However, I was irritable. A severe lack of coffee, exhaustion, and the fact that I had to drive in the dark were the detrimental compilation of triggers that made me just a tad snippy that night on the phone.

You see ladies and gents, I snapped. I was snippy with both my mother and Mr. Know-it-All, and I hated the way that I was taking my anger and irritation out on third-party individuals with no actual bearing on my mood. I ended up apologizing to my mom right away and leaving a teary and emotional voicemail for Mr. Know-it-All because I thought that he had gone to bed mad and without saying goodnight. I was all in my feelings, but because he is the person that he is, he called me back and stayed on the phone until almost 1 a.m. to make sure I made it home safely. A keeper, right?

That next day, we began the 2-day trip to Florida, which I slept through entirely. I swear, I ended up sleeping for 3 days straight, which was my body telling me that I need to get more sleep each night so that I don’t have to disappear for 3 days to reboot.

We had finally arrived … but the forecast was predicting rain and storms almost every day; however, we did manage to have fairly nice weather, and I had the sunburn to prove it. I actually thoroughly enjoyed this peaceful and serene vacation. I even managed to see Mr. Know-it-All because his family just so happens to vacation that same week in that same location every year.

My first night on the island, we took a sunset walk to the lighthouse which was so beautiful. We then took a dip in the pool and the hot tub under the stars and ended the night with some chocolate ice cream. After a week or so without seeing him, it was the perfect start to a week of bliss.

While on the island, my family and I spent time picking shells, eating ice cream, playing shuffleboard – which I now know I’m a boss at because I’m old at heart – and shopping. We perused local artwork, a tremendous number of mugs, and antiques. There was this little antique shop nestled amongst the palm trees, and it was my favorite shop. Once I found the walls of books, I spent a decent amount of time looking through the titles. I stumbled upon a copy of The Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow from 1898. I was so excited … but my family was a little irritated that it took so long for me to find something. But that’s what I love about antique shops or thrift stores; it truly takes time to stumble upon a good find. I will now showcase that epic in my classroom, or maybe I’ll place it next to my grandmother’s typewriter. Who knows?

All in all, the beach was and always will be my happy place. Good times and good memories always follow us home and documenting our experiences through writing always allows for a little extra reminiscing.

Now, I’m back to reality. I’m finishing out my last few weeks of work in retail and getting ready to see my sister in a week! I’m so excited to catch up even if it is only for one day; however, I know that in time, once all my siblings are settled, we will see each other more often. For now, facetime, phone calls, and letters are what matter most.

I’m also spending time with Mr. Know-it-All because in a few weeks I’ll be 300 miles away. We’ve had so much fun finding our competitive spirits when it comes to bowling and basketball. For the record, I slay at bowling while he takes the cake when it comes to basketball … for now. We have planned some further competitions, which I will of course update all you avid readers about because I think I might just be the underdog here, and sometimes the underdog wins.

We even played a game of Cards Against Humanity with my parents, which was so much fun. After seeing Spiderman: Far from Home, we grabbed the cards and had a laugh. I learned a lot about my parents, which made us laugh until we were red in the face.

As you can see, my days have been filled with love and laughter from all of the people in my life. I also had a much-needed lunch date with my best friends. We needed to catch up on our relationships and just life in general over pizza, of course. What we learned is that we are all so happy in life right now, and I cannot wait to see what is to come with our lives in the next few years.

But for now, I’ll call it a wrap before I word vomit for at least another page. Coffee has and always will be my tried and true remedy to keep the irritability at bay and happy on my face all day. Well, Mr. Know-it-All helps as well. Until next time …

Adventures As A Bridesmaid: Love Is In The Air

Elegance: this I feel is the perfect word to describe the weekend wedding experience of my dear friends just a few days ago. It was an extravaganza filled with dancing, food, and oodles of laughter, but before I break down my adventures as a bridesmaid, I first have to say just how happy I am for my dear friends as they embark on the next adventures in their beautiful union in holy matrimony.

The bride – a very close friend – was an absolute goddess. Her beauty radiated both inside and out throughout the entire ceremony. Just watching the giddiness exude from her now husband was enough to unleash the romantic in me and give way to one of the most genuine smiles to ever break through my hardened resolve. I’m pretty sure that the smile was cemented on my face for a majority of the late afternoon and early evening events.

I got to witness the enormous weight being lifted off the bride’s shoulders after planning an entire wedding while also finishing undergrad with a near perfect GPA … talk about determination, dedication, and an unwavering drive toward success. I am truly in awe of just how beautifully she planned her own wedding. Actually, I take that back. I had no doubts that she would in fact have one of the most elegant weddings and receptions I’ve ever seen.

Watching her plan her happily-ever-after reminds me of all the times she’d talk about a boy with whom she thought she was “just friends.” We all knew fairly quick that these two soulmates would soon make it official, and we even started placing lighthearted bets as to when they would officially tie the knot.

Just last summer, as I was attending to 15 loud children during my stint as a camp counselor, I received a random photo of a stunning solitaire diamond nestled atop a slim rose gold band. Not long after my phone pinged again with the snapshot of the sunrise proposal on the beach, and I could not have been happier. I knew in my soul that these two beings were meant for each other.

When we began our senior year of undergrad, I was then asked to be a bridesmaid, and of course I said yes. I was so excited to be a part of what truly was an amazing celebration. Love was in the air, and as cliché as that sounds, I felt it, I saw it, I heard it. As I looked around the room during the reception, I saw love in the faces of her family, friends, and of course, her husband. I felt the love as guests swarmed the dancefloor scream-singing “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel. And, most importantly, I heard love ring truly and freely as the speeches rang out amongst the guests.

The speech that really opened the flood gates for me was when the father of the bride took his turn at the mic. Like I said, the romantic in me melted as he talked about his daughter and the amazing woman she has become. I then heard love in the speeches of the maids-of-honor and the best man. Talk about “bringing down the house.” The sister of the bride gave the most epic speech in rap formation, and just as she bro-fisted the happy couple, the center portion of the head table took a tumble. That will surely go down in history and will be a funny story for the future.

But, before I get a little wordy – us English teachers tend to do that sometimes – I’ll bring this tidbit to a close. The point: sometimes love is just so powerful from the start that you know two people will be together forever. I am grateful that I was given the opportunity to witness this union. The long drive home mid-reception to make it on time for my island vacation was well worth the memories I’ll have for the rest of my life.

I cannot wait to see where life takes my dear friends; I know they’ll both continue to be successful down the road. But, I cannot wait to continue making memories with the beautiful souls I met during a time in my life when I felt most lost. The bride and a few others managed to get me through college, and for that, I’ll never be able to repay them. And while they were my undergraduate sidekicks, I guess coffee will do for now … and Mr. Know-it-All, of course. Until next time …

We Didn't Start The Fire ... Grandma Did

As Keith Urban once said, “days go by.” However, I do not believe he was referencing the ways in which my days seem to literally fly by leaving little to no time left behind to scrounge together to get things done. And while these days seem to fly by, I also feel like too much has gone down over the past few weeks that need sharing.

I guess we can start with the fact that Mr. Know-it-All somehow managed to get me to go to Penn State with him and his parents. You see, he’s convinced that I’ll magically become a diehard football fan, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get the hang of what each flag on the play means. But, I cannot deny how beautiful the sprawling campus is, seeing as the grounds definitely lend a hand to the original architecture and picturesque greenery.

We spent the day walking the lengthy campus, hand-in-hand, as Mr. Know-it-All gave me a mini history lesson and told stories about his time there. My favorite part had to be the library; it was a stark difference from the library at my alma mater, and I was living my best life perusing the stacks, which were just quaint enough for my tiny form. Mr. Know-it-All, on the other hand, had to duck quite a bit to make it in and out of each row. Plus, entering the library was a sweet escape from the sweltering heat. I guess wearing a black tank top wasn’t the best clothing choice for peak hotness in mid-summer.

But, the day was enjoyable because I got to spend it with Mr. Know-it-All. We laughed. We walked. We definitely shed some sweat, and then we indulged in a little ice cream, which was to die for. At one point, I even bought Mr. Know-it-All a mug for when he comes to visit me over the course of this school year. He fought me on the purchase, claiming that I shouldn’t buy him anything, and then he retaliated with a mug purchase for me. Actually, it was a wine tumbler thermos, but I digress.

At the end of the Penn State excursion, we took some photos, as one does. They turned out better than I thought they would, leaning more towards “graduation photos,” but it was still fun. We even took some goofy pictures by the Penn State sign near Beaver Stadium. Talk about a modeling career … just kidding.

While this was an interesting and fun day out on the town, my week only managed to get more eventful. You see, I was just sitting at my kitchen table, minding my own business, completing some work for school. I was sipping coffee and typing away when my mom and grandmother entered stage left. My mom and I conversed for a few minutes, and then she went to wash her car and left grandma with me.

My grandmother smokes, but my mom is adamant about smoke clouds only residing outside the four walls of our humble abode. So, I’m sitting there minding my own business sipping and typing, when all of a sudden, my grandmother opens the back door, turns toward me, and says, “oh, there’s a fire out there.”

I was immediately like, “wait, what!? You see, my grandmother had already gone out to smoke, and it was brutally hot outside. Her ashes had been flung to and fro amidst the hot summer air, clinging to any available surface. My mother is sort of a plant connoisseur; therefore, there are numerous hanging and standing plants on my deck. And while my grandmother’s smoking habits and my mother’s plant obsession may not seem like they relate, they most certainly do.

Ladies and gents, when I walked outside onto my deck, I came face-to-face with a hanging plant engulfed in flames about to reach its fiery tendrils to the awaiting banister behind it. Immediately, I shifted into firefighter Alex mode. I rushed past my grandmother back into my house, grabbed the nearest container – which just so happened to be a popcorn bowl from the night prior – and started filling the bowl and dousing the flames. It took many a trip to squelch all of the rising flames, but I think I managed to diffuse the situation. As I was trying to put out the fire, my grandmother took it upon herself to sit in the rocking chair with a front row seat to the wall of fire and lit yet another cigarette. What a way to end my week.

Clearly I had an action-packed week filled to the brim with both tame and fiery activities, but my tried and true sidekicks Mr. Know-it-All and scorching hot coffee kept me sane. Without them, I never would have walked an historic campus and taken my shot as an amateur firefighter. Stay tuned for my adventures as a bridesmaid and the first leg of our Floridian vacation. Until next time …

Walking On Sunshine: Putting the Claws Away, Receiving A Bouquet, And Putting My Crocs On Display

Here comes the sun; mother nature has finally taken a turn toward the bright and shining ball of fire in the sky. I now feel like I can soak up some Vitamin D and look any shade other than translucent. We’ll see how that goes before I venture on a much-needed vacation in a few weeks. However, this past week has been mighty interesting. I came to the realization that adulthood and being in a comfortable relationship has made me more confident in the sense that I care even less about what people think of me.

For the longest time, I was insecure about everything: the way I looked, the way I sounded, the way I performed at any task … I was self-conscious about singing in church because I was afraid someone would judge me for my voice, which is a sad thought considering the way I teach my students to be proud of and use the voices God gave them.

When I had a nose ring and galaxy hair, I couldn’t even count on one hand the numerous stares from the judgment police – people who had no right to judge me based on my appearance (which was pretty cool, in my opinion) without knowing my story.

As a young adult with a nonstop schedule in undergrad, I turned to online dating to meet people. Now, I’ve touched on this topic before; however, I feel as if it is quite necessary for me to delve deeper into my experiences because it seems certain individuals have an opinion about me that needs some clarification. Otherwise, I might turn to socking a certain someone square in the face, which will feel good in the moment, but this will feel better.

All you avid readers already know that I spent a few years trolling the disappointing options Tinder had to offer. You see, the worst of the worst seemed to showcase their A plus personalities with gold star worthy pick-up lines and worthwhile offers I’m not sure any classy woman would pass up. I had such a fantastic time attempting small talk with men more interested in pizza, beer, and physical activities not suitable for this PG outlet.

However, the most recent judgement stems from someone who I won’t even throw shots at because it isn’t worth it. Also, even I can’t do my own shade throwing abilities justice with this situation. Here’s the thing: when I was actively using Tinder, I typically limited my swiping to the time periods when I was stuck at school because there seemed to be more of an array of character types. At times, I would open the app when in my hometown because curiosity generally piqued my interest.

 And this is where a certain someone seems to think he parallels Mr. Know-it-All. Let me just say this: if you happened to know me in high school and we matched on Tinder in our collegiate years, odds are, I wanted to see if you thought I was attractive because in high school you wouldn’t even give me the time of day. I wanted to be seen, and that’s it. It never would have gone anywhere because if you can’t hold a level of consistency in your life and your stories change every 0.3 seconds, then how could I expect consistency in the dating realm? How could I expect nice dinners and fun conversation if mundane tasks go right over your head and conversation skills border on irritating with the monotonous tone of your mumbling?

No, kind sir, you are nowhere near the level of Mr. Know-It-All, because he is levels above and beyond anyone I’ve ever met. He’s smart, witty, caring, courteous, and so much more that is much more my business then anyone else’s. And, by the way, while this tidbit may be a little contradictory and my claws may have surfaced, it’s not my place to judge anyone; therefore, I expect the same in return. If you don’t know me on a personal level, you can’t make bold statements about my character. While my fast and furious fingers did throw some shade, I won’t hold it against this person. Just know, that I’m always ready to spar, and I’ll win; so, keep that in mind next time you make a comment under your breath that may or may not have been pointed in my direction.

Well, now that I worked through some of the pent-up anger from just last night, let me further inflate the ego of Mr. Know-It-All by relaying the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. You see, I was not feeling quite like myself the other day; it was one of those feelings that leaves you discombobulated and queasy without a pinpointed origin. The worst part about that day was a late-night shift at work. I was not feeling up to the occasion, but I meandered my way through the automated doors and began what would be the best four-hour shift.

About an hour into the night, a startling voice hit my eardrums from the open space behind me, and I saw Mr. Know-It-All clad in his dress-down work attire looking mighty fine with a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hands. I. Was. Speechless. It was such a thoughtful thing to do for me, and I knew it was a little out of his way. It truly made my night, so much so that my coworkers crowded around me after he left to get the low-down on my dating life. I had the biggest smile on my face for the rest of the night, and into the next day thinking about the fact that he remembered that sunflowers are my favorite flower.

A coworker made sure to keep the surprise under wraps even though she thought she recognized the mystery man from my most recent photos. She made sure to relay just how ridiculous he looked trying to track me down and surprise me during my shift … walking back and forth with a purpose just trying to catch my petite frame moving through the racks. One of my bosses even made sure to tell me that we looked cute together, and I cannot agree more.

But, if you thought that these tidbits were the most interesting part of my week, you’d be wrong. While the flowers made my day, yesterday made my week because it was the first time I felt truly comfortable just being my goofy self with another person. It was a normal day out on the town just doing some shopping. I needed to buy shoes for a wedding, and I came out of the excursion with way more than I needed.

The funniest and probable most fashion-statement worthy item on the roster of receipts belongs to a company I’d never thought I’d see resurface in my closet. A few weeks ago, Mr. Know-It-All told me that the shoes he was wearing were Crocs, and while at first I couldn’t believe he was wearing them, I had to admit that they looked quite comfortable and fashionable for the particular style he purchased. And then I proceeded to say something along the lines of, “I’d never wear them again …”

Well, ladies and gents, I’ve turned back time and purchased what I have now coined my “walking crocs.” They look like pink, platform ice cream sandwiches, and they are the cutest thing’s I’ve ever seen. I blame the YouTube blackhole I fell into that first introduced me to Balenciaga’s platform Crocs from October of 2017. As soon as I saw a milder pair with a stripped back price range, I new I needed them in my collection of fashionable orthopedic shoes – because as you know, I’m actually a 75-year-old woman.

I went from, “you’ll never catch me in them again” to “I’m wearing them everywhere” in the span of time from checkout line to car ride home. Mr. Know-It-All carried my bags and patiently waited as I debated the purchases I made, which is all I can ask for in a shopping duo. He even let me play Miley Cyrus’s “Hoedown Throwdown” to prove a point. And, while he isn’t convinced that I still know every lyric after not hearing it in close to 10 years, I appreciate his ability to look at my weirdness and find it attractive. I cannot wait for more mindless shopping and endless car rides on the adventures we take in this thing we call life.

And, while all of these experiences made the week worthwhile, hearing that my sister called home yesterday made it even better. That’s right, she was finally able to call home, and you better believe that our Yorkie sat right next to the speaker phone the entire time to hear her voice. To anyone who has asked about her, she’s kicking butt. My older brother (also in the military and made it through bootcamp) asked how she’s doing at bootcamp, and my sister’s reply was “It’s easy.”

I knew from the moment she set out on the quest to serve our country that she would be amazing at it. She’s intelligent and funny and driven to the point that her Colonel asked her to be another type of leader, and even though she was not allowed to be in two leadership positions, being recognized like that at 3-weeks in is something to be proud of. I cannot wait for the next phone call and to see how she continues to beat every odd that society places against people they don’t think can succeed. She’s fulfilling everything I knew she could and more, and it makes me happy to know that she’s doing well.

And that, my avid readers, is all I can muster in this long list of adventures. I didn’t even get to a few stories, but don’t worry, they’ll surface in the next week. As always, coffee has kept me going, and now hopefully, the sun can reenergize my spirit and prepare for the next few weeks of exciting adventures. Until next time …

When Life Gives You Lemons ... Write A Blog

When life gives you lemons, write a blog. You see, I would slap on an apron and make some lemonade, but it has been an interesting week, and lemonade is not my first choice for a nice refreshing beverage. I can’t seem to shake the sour punch, and I figured the best way to lift a heavy load is to unleash an onslaught of words for your enjoyment.

This has been one draining week; it feels as if time is simultaneously passing at an alarmingly fast and slow rate. And while this time malfunction does at certain points leave me in a funk, I have had many experiences and encounters to keep my life as interestingly funny as ever.

I think I first need to address the fact that I am, in fact, in a happy relationship. One of my best friends called me today, and when I casually mentioned my boyfriend, she proceeded to yell at me for not keeping her in the loop. I’m skilled at keeping most of my private life private, but I have been mentioning that there is a mystery man in my life. Photos would also indicate that he is a real human with whom I thoroughly enjoy spending numerous days with – which leads me to the first entertaining encounter. Let me set the scene for all you avid readers …

It was time to meet the parents, and while my experience was nothing like Ben Stiller’s interactions with Robert DeNiro, it was still one I will not forget. I got to spend time with great people, and even though I may have been a little shy and awkward, it was still a nice insight into the life of the person who makes me happy. I learned a lot about the kind of person he is by the kind of people his parents are – he was raised as a considerate and polite gentleman, and it shows in the way he treats me daily.

I was asked a multitude of questions over delicious steak fajitas. What I’ll say is this – they made me laugh. I even managed to go back again for dinner since that first night, and the second time was just as lovely as the first.

I’m enjoying life, for the most part. I will always and forever be a volcano of stress ready to explode. What has been causing significant amounts of stress lately is reading up on all the materials for the three preps I have this upcoming school year.

I realized quick how little I retained from my history classes over my extensive years in school. The kicker is that I need to have enough knowledge of certain historical figures and events to teach the ancient and medieval works that fit within the curriculum. I have a lot of work ahead of me this summer – some of which I may be recruiting the help of those around me.

Overall, I am so excited for the new school year to begin; however, there is still the looming fact that when I leave come August, real life fully settles in for me. All I can do at this point is take things one day at a time as they arise; otherwise, I’ll go crazy.

I also feel really inspired as of late. A friend recently told me that when inspiration appears, I should just embrace the moment and scribble a few lines regardless of the final presentation of the product. I always have a journal or post-it’s at the ready to jot down a line or two; so, I hope to let inspiration take over as I develop more writing ventures in the future.

But of course, a week or so in my life couldn’t proceed without a recap of the ups and downs of dealing with having to explain your actions to someone else in your life. Take my eating habits, for example. I’m an odd duck when it comes to the food combinations I consume daily, and of course, it stirs up the conversation every night as I talk to the mystery man in my life.

He always finds humor in the fact that I like cold, burnt hot dogs (sometimes for breakfast) and just eating a tomato and munching on pickles straight from the jar. I think the weirdest part is probably the fact that I’ll eat pickles and then a slice of coconut cream pie or a tomato and a corndog. I’m weird, but he likes me anyway; so, all is good.

It should be no shock ladies and gents that coffee continues to get me through the days. I recently started drinking two cups a day when I have the time, and I find that it has been helping me sleep better at night. Who knew? I have been dabbling in different roasts and flavors, and while at the grocery store a few days ago, a weird random man convinced me to buy macadamia nut cookie coffee, and it was a fantastic suggestion. I have been thoroughly enjoying the buttery taste and aroma – which only heightens my awareness of potential flavors to purchase for my classroom coffee bar (only for me, of course). Could you even imagine if I allowed students to use my Keurig? … that would be a disaster.

While coffee is my tried and true, I’ve also been enjoying spending time with another human, especially when he gets competitive and turns mini golf into a challenge. Stay tuned for more adventures and insights into my truth about coffee. Until next time …

Anchors Away: This Adventure Called Life ...

As someone who grew up with more than one sibling, it's such an oddity to see you're brothers and sister grow up. When I went to college, I really started to notice the natural aging and attitude changes that occur when you leave adolescence behind and grasp the reins of adulthood.

You notice growth spurts and the absurd fashion choices your brothers try to pass off as "cool." The evolution of hair styles is unmatched - from floppy curls, to wannabe Beatles, from botched bob's to crooked "DIY" bangs. But, the most important thing you begin to notice is the persistence and grace your siblings acquire as they figure out who they are.

I have had the pleasure of growing up in what one might call a military family. My great grandfathers served, my grandfather served, my dad served, my aunt serves, my brother serves, and now my little sister serves. It takes a specific kind of individual to serve our country. It takes a person willing to protect all persons in this country regardless of race, ethnicity, religious beliefs, cultural beliefs, gender identity, etc. It takes a person who recognizes all human dignity and vows to protect the rights of those individuals who reside in this country.

I am proud to even know these individuals, let alone call them my flesh and blood. And Monday afternoon, my pride soured as I watched my baby sister hop on the bus to Navy bootcamp.

She is going to be a fierce sailor. Her story has definitely had some bumps in the road, and while it is not my place to tell her tale of persistence and drive, what I will say is this: it took 2 years of rejection for her to finally get the "okay" to serve our country.

Now, she is on the road to success, and I have no doubt that she will have a fruitful career ahead of her. I cannot wait to write to her every day. I can expel little spurts of written energy and hopefully make her days brighter as she makes her way through many trials and tribulations.

I'm looking forward to watching her and other members in my family flourish in the next few years. It has already been quite the year for me thus far. I'm having a blast just living life to the fullest as best I can.

Every year, on New Years, I verbally state, "this is my year." And each and every year, I find myself disappointed in myself and the way that life seems to take me 2 steps backward.

At this point in my life, I feel as if I'm finally in the right place at the right time. Things have been proceeding smoothly for the time being, and I'm so excited to see how this year plays out.

It's also a joy to have someone by my side through the good and the bad times, because we all know that there are always obstacles to keep us on our toes in this great adventure called "life." As always, coffee gets me through it all, and while coffee most certainly succeeds at keeping me bright eyed and bushy tailed, it failed at getting me to Ohio in a timely manner ... but that's a story for another time.

Slipping Down Memory Lane: The Fall, The Tornado, And The Party

The problem with drinking copious amounts of coffee is having to release your bladder in minute intervals … especially during the wee hours of the morning. Take just the other morning for example …

I like my coffee; so much so, that I sometimes drink it late in the afternoon as I sit to read or type, which probably isn’t the best idea. I have also been drinking more and more water lately because I’ve been dabbling in more hiking excursions, and you know, just plain old body maintenance.

Now, I already have a pin-sized bladder. When I quench my thirst on more than just an average basis, my bladder cries out at least twice an hour. The other morning, after a late night out, I was jolted awake by a piercing pain and the urge to make a quick trip to the bathroom. I know my house like the back of my hand. I could navigate the halls and numerous staircases, blindfolded and with noise cancelling headphones. Imagine my surprise when I leave my warm cocoon of a bed only to fall down my steps.

It happened in the blink of an eye. I turned on the light as I tiptoed down the attic steps – the location of my bedroom – for the first time in years because like I said, I know my house. I made it to the fifth step from the landing when my right foot slipped on the lip of the stair. It was like a scene from a cheesy cartoon where the main animal character slips on a banana peel.

My pink toenail polish was level with my tired eyes, and before I knew it, I had already slammed down on my tailbone. I careened down the remaining steps and landed in a heap at the bottom. My mother came racing out of her bedroom down the hall, and my sister flew out of her room, arms flailing. Neither one really acknowledged my presence because the wind had been knocked clear from my tired form. Plus, I was now angry that the lower half of my body felt like it had been hit by a massive truck.

I proceeded to walk at a 90-degree angle to the bathroom because that was the whole purpose of my adventure down the steps. As I was walking into the bathroom, my foot landed in something mushy and squishy and all kinds of gross – cat vomit. The was just the icing on the cake.

The next morning, my sister texted me and asked if I had fallen down the steps the night prior. When I told her that I had, she responded by telling me that she thought it was a part of her dream. She had slept walk through the entire exchange, eyes close, unaware of the situation at hand. What a morning.

When I awoke the next morning – because I decided that I needed to creep back up my steps and sleep off the pain – I couldn’t move. It took me a half an hour to get out of bed, and the next few days were torture. I couldn’t sit to save my life because I had badly bruised my tailbone to the point where sitting wasn’t really an option anymore.

But that, ladies and gents, isn’t even the most interesting part of this week of adventures. I have two more stories to tickle your fancy. After the tailbone disaster, my family, including a younger cousin, drove all the way to my sister’s recruiter’s office.

You see, my sister leaves for the Navy Monday morning, and her recruiter wanted to meet with the entire family. However, my 9-year-old cousin and I decided to stay in the car while my parents went through the bootcamp spiel for the second time.

As we were sitting in the car, completing various long division problems, I received an emergency alert on my phone to take shelter immediately because of a tornado. I. Started. To. Panic. I had a 9-year-old and our 12-year-old Yorkie in the car with me, and I was frantically trying to figure out how to save them both.

Picture little old me contemplating life and attempting to configure an exit strategy. My plan began with multiple calls to my parents in the recruitment center, and eventually the decision was made that we should run for our lives to the building.

The 9-year-old was scared, but I looked her dead in the face and said, “When I tell you to run, you run.” I grabbed the dog, threw my purse over my shoulder, pressed the button, and yelled, “RUN!”

We darted through torrential downpours to the door, skipping over massive puddles, until we finally reached the threshold. Now, picture three recruiters, my parents, my sister, two soaking wet individuals, and a sopping wet and curious dog who only wanted to sniff everyone and roam around.

But that, is not even the most interesting part of my week. You see, I am a homebody. I have never liked going out into large crowds with people I knew of from way back when. However, I happened to attend something just last night that was probably the most interesting sea of individuals I have ever seen in one place at one time.

Apparently, because there is nothing better to do on a Friday night in my hometown, people my age attend what is called a deck party. I had never gone to one of these events, mainly because I was unaware of their existence; however, I attended for one time only, and at least I have a story to tell.

When we arrived at the ripe hour of 7:40 p.m., it was awkward. The sun was still shining as white girls attempted to dance with rhythm in their skimpy rompers by the “DJ.” I was a short human in a sea of giants; so, from our spot at the far end of the deck, I could see familiar faces in the crowds that were now bordering tipsy.

The most awkward experience is when you catch the glances of people you haven’t seen in passing in four years. I’m a people watcher. As a writer, I have always observed the masses with the hope that a unique character profile might emerge from the bits and pieces I’ve strung together. Well, I most certainly observed quite the cast of stars.

The first character to enter stage left was an older man with a shiny dome who decided to bust moves on the 5’ by 5’ makeshift dancefloor. At one point, we went to watch the spectacle, and the dancing man began grinding on the wannabee twerkers in the short rompers. What a sight.

There was also a stout man in a fedora, suspenders, and bulky jewelry. When he wasn’t perusing the clumps of attendees, this man also had his moment on the dance floor. It was the strangest mix of individuals I have ever witnessed in one setting over the span of hours. The pairings, the music, the fashion … there was never a dull moment.

I’m so glad that I went; however, because I got to spend time with someone special. It was fun to people watch with another person for a change. But it is also exhilarating to just spend time with a singular human who gets you and makes you laugh even when you’re feeling sick. A person who spends the entire day with you’re loud and crazy family and then lets you use his shoulder as a pillow on the way home. The only person to ever get you to slow dance at 10:30 p.m. without music and giggle incessantly for no reason.

In short, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, and I cannot wait to see what the rest of the summer holds before real life finally settles in and my world gets a little more delightfully complicated. As always, coffee keeps me going, and I’m sure the steamy goodness will continue to guide me as my adventures this summer continue. Until next time …

Another Day, Another Blog: The Next Step

Adulthood is in full swing for me, like the onslaught of a new season morphing old ways into new routines and creations. I’ve been trying to process the fact that I am a teacher. I’ve said it for months as I documented my student teaching experience, but it still has not settled into a tangible reality quite yet.

I think the issue for me – the barricade keeping me from seeing my own future – is the fact that I haven’t walked into my classroom yet. My classroom. Every time I say those two little words I smile because this is a dream becoming a reality. However, I haven’t sat at my desk chair or let my wrists rest on the keyboard as my fingers clack away to the sound of my heart beating in excitement.

Another issue for me is that I am ready to dive into ancient and medieval texts; I’m ready to plan units and activities and thought-provoking discussions because this is what I’m hardwired to do. But, I have to wait three months before I can begin what I hope will be a fruitful and rewarding career.

Just last night, I sat and compiled a list of about 30 questions pertaining to the job that starts as the leaves are beginning to change. I am eager to plan curriculum. During undergrad as I sat in a seminar, my peers and I were asked to share what excites us most about teaching. At that point, I had minimal experience at the helm of the ship, but I knew what gave me the drive to make English fun: planning.

I love browsing the depths of Pinterest and reading teachers’ blog posts because they provide insight and spark the creative train that has led me to this point in the beginning of my career. Based on what knowledge I already have of my position, I already know that this next year is going to be my most exciting yet.

But, let us deviate from the professional realm, and dive into my more sarcastic and personal realm for the tail end of this exciting excerpt. I. Am. Happy … for the first time in a long time. It’s an oddity for me to smile and laugh and look forward to talking on the phone. If you know me, you know I typically hate plastering the phone to my ear to talk on and on with another human. Now, I enthusiastically press the green phone in anticipation of hearing just one voice.

I never thought I’d be able to talk to a person all day, every day. I used to poke fun at my younger siblings for wanting that constant connection. Now, I look like the hypocrite, but there is just something validating – there goes that theme again – about being able to laugh at yourself with another human, about being vulnerable with another human.

I’m not going to lie, I’ve put this mystery man through quite a lot in the short time that I’ve gotten to know him, and I haven’t scared him away just yet. That to me means everything. It shows me that he’s different than all the other boys – because their immaturity and lack of drive did not make them the men they claimed to be – I’ve encountered over the past couple years. A phrase I’ve been throwing around lately is a genuine person with a beautiful soul.

As a literature major, I always assumed that I had hardened to the effects of Victorian love stories and poems laced with romanticism because I never truly felt the impact of the words that portrayed the sorrow of its characters. But the romantic in me has unleashed itself into the world, and I hope she sticks around for at least a little while.

Before I turn the stomachs of you avid readers with my happiness, I’ll segway into a work story from just last night. You see I had to work an overnight, and I truly love that optimal time of the evening when I can crawl into my bed with a good book, light a candle, and let my mind rest after a long day of overthinking, However, instead I had to slurp some espresso, two to be exact, in order to power my way through eight hours of sizing clearance racks.

Because I had made the calculated decision to consume double the amount of coffee that late in the evening, I risked both my sanity and some much-needed sleep. When I excited the building exactly 15 minutes later than I had assumed at almost 5 a.m., I was ready to take off my eyebrows, change into an over-sized sweatshirt, and sleep until the mid-afternoon sun sliced through my window.

Boy, was I wrong in assuming I’d sleep for a solid 5 hours … Instead, I woke up with piercing pain due to the amount of coffee fighting its way out of my bladder. And then, wouldn’t you know, I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I’m running on about an hour and a half of sleep. I’m going to crash hard, probably in the middle of a date because I’m an actual grandma, but no matter.

All I can continue to do is take one day at a time, and I plan on sipping on my coffee as I watch my wonderful life unfold around me. Stay tuned …

Adventures In The Classroom Part 6: My Life Is Still In Shambles

Teaching is emotionally and physically draining, and this past week was probably one of the lowest points in my teaching career thus far. Now, I know this is subject to change because my itty-bitty toes have barely touched the education sea, but I had a rough week, both personally and professionally.

Before I dive into this insight into my life, let me preface by stating that I love my job. Teaching still gives me that same rush every time I step into the classroom and greet the same groggy students every morning. I love the excitement students exude as they talk about their passions. I love consuming myself in the planning stages of a teaching unit and creating lessons that I think fit the needs of each unique individual who breaches the threshold between 8:25 and 2:30.

I don't want what I'm about to unpack to make it seem like I view my job or my students negatively. I have an intelligent group of students who can go far if they take the necessary steps now to pave the way for success in their futures. But that's the key: they have to take the necessary steps now, which involves effort and a drive to strive for greatness in everything they do. And this is where my reflection on the week begins. Let's start with how I had a rough week professionally ...

When I found out my placement for student teaching last December, I was thrilled. I discovered that I would be working with a teacher whom I've worked with before, and I thoroughly enjoyed my time in the high school the last time I stepped foot in the building. My cooperating teacher had reached out to me before I even officially knew my placement, and I began the planning process early.

Now, if we look back at my December, I was trekking through Europe with my loud family of six humans; therefore, I did as much planning and preparing as I could before what would be some of the most rewarding weeks of my life.

When preparing to teach sophomores once again, I searched the web and Pinterest high and low for grade appropriate materials and activities. I also dove into my own arsenal of English knowledge and experience and compiled a list of works that I knew well enough to teach. And the first thing that popped into my head was Shakespeare, specifically King Lear.

Typically, this is a play taught to seniors in high school, and it does not even begin to baffle me that excerpts from King Lear - the complex text I had to drag my sophomores through - appeared on the sample tests they are looking through this week. I knew in my soul that I did not just pick this particularly difficult play for no reason ... but my students thought differently.

I could tell from the moment I started the preliminary materials that I would be met with resistance every step of the way. What I did not anticipate was how much resistance would come my way these past four weeks.

I am physically, mentally, and emotionally drained after straining to garner attention and revise my planning day in and day out. I am exhausted, but teaching never stops for me.

While every one of my six sophomore classes read and/or watched the entire play, only my honors class had an extra project to complete while reading the play. Assigning this particular project - a project I actually completed when I read Romeo & Juliet in eighth grade about 9 years ago - was a learning experience. And, I am the kind of person who questions her every move, her integrity as a teacher, when things go askew and horribly wrong.

The project entailed setting an act of the play in a reenvisioned era, writing a one page research paper about the setting, props, acting, and/or fashion trends of the particular era, and writing original scene summaries for the scenes each group chose not to perform. Therefore, each group was responsible for performing one scene from one act in the play set in a new era with new props and costumes.

I thoroughly enjoyed the presentations my students gave. Most groups really harnessed their creativity and dressed the part. However, Shakespeare is a drama and entails a level of emotion and pronunciation I just didn't see. This was a learning experience to say the least, and the most frustrating part, as a teacher, when assigning a research paper component, is coming to the realization that students will cheat.

Last week, when Thursday night rolled around, I sat underneath one of my mother's famous Afghans and began grading 25 one-page research papers. I settled into the covers, sipped a steaming mug of hot chocolate (because I can't be trusted with coffee after 4 in the afternoon) and leafed through the first paper. To say I was disappointed is the understatement of the century. I. Was. Furious.

I think most educators and individuals with common sense realise that at times, when you attempt to copy and paste information from an outside resource, there appears a slight off-white highlight behind the text. I kid you not my avid readers, that 95% of the first paper I glanced at had that faint highlight behind the text. The student copied and pasted the entire paper without even trying to put in a single ounce of effort.

While this set the tone for the rest of my evening, and that tone wasn't a great one, I decided to continue reading through all of my honors sophomore papers. Only three of my students attempted to use in-text or parenthetical citations. The rest of them chose to neglect this requirement. Therefore, I technically had 25 plagiarized papers and no idea how to rectify and remedy the situation.

My first thought was that they should all get zeros because they neglected to follow my directions, which they all received prior to completing the assignment. My second thought was, "Did I not specify exactly what I required of my students?" I pulled out the project parameters and scanned the text until I found what I was looking for: the requirements. I made sure to highlight for myself what I asked of them because I truly doubted my abilities as an effective teacher.

I then came to the conclusion that these students needed a dose of reality, the reality of college academic life, which they will all experience in about a year and a half.

Ladies and gents, I wrote out a page and a half speech detailing the effects of plagiarism and my plans for the research component of their Shakespeare projects. I gave that speech, and the looks on their faces were an affirmation that what I said hit them hard enough to at least want to make a change.

For the last week and a half, I've had to listen to students complain about their grades. I broke this play down into minute components and provided detailed summaries of every scene from each act of the play. I also pulled most, if not all, of my assessment questions from the scene summaries. Therefore, students had about 75% of the tests before they took them. While this learning unit was heavy on the tests and quizzes, I also offered extra credit that few took advantage of. There is also the blinding fact that most students who have complaints about their grades also told me on their tests that they didn't study.

I have wonderfully creative students, but as soon as they have to use their brains and put in effort to reach answers, it's like I'm torturing them. I am so glad this unit is finished, because if I had to read and grade one more test, my brain would have turned to mush.

I spent the past three days simply grading ... all day. You see, we are currently at the height of state test preparations because students test next week. Therefore, I'm not doing much, if any, active teaching. In essence, my brain hurts, and it's only Wednesday.

While my work week was a hassle and a hindrance on my mental, emotional, and physical well-being, my personal life was drug through the mud once again.

I'll say it once, and actually, you know what, I'll say it every single time: I despise dating. This last stint left me broken and alone for a reason I have no control over, and while I have moved past the occurrance, I'm still angry over the outcome and my reaction.

The story begins as most of my stories begin. I met a guy and we had been talking for weeks. We planned the first date, and I canceled, because I'm a busy beaver and my life is always a hot mess. Plus, I'm just so over dating and then ultimately being disappointed by the lack of a good outcome.

However, I agreed to reschedule, and something about that first date felt different. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but he was a stark difference from the usual cocky fellows I end up sitting across for a minimum of one dreadful hour.

I agreed to another date, and this is where I started to let my guard down and actually feel something for another human. We cliqued almost instantly, and I let myself be truly free for once in my life.

When he dropped me back off at my car, I didn't want the night to end, and mind you, it was a week night, way past my bedtime, I had a 40-minute drive home, and I had to be up the next morning at 5 a.m. I was on cloud 9, all ready to plan the next date.

That third date was an eye opener for me. I let myself be truly vulnerable with someone else, and when he left, I thought we were both on the same page ... that we both felt the same way.

And then everything blew up in my face. You see, I had revealed something very personal about myself (before date number three), which I won't delve into just yet. I'll save that for another blog, at another time. At first, he had said that what I had revealed to him wasn't a big deal, and to be frank, it should never have been because it is something completely out of my control.

Regardless, he made every excuse in the book to end things before they could ever truly start, and it shattered me for a few days. Like I said, I don't let myself be vulnerable with men because I'm afraid of rejection, and the one time that I do feel something, it ends in a little dose of heartbreak.

About a month ago, one of my students asked me, "Miss Disabella, what is your biggest fear?" I've known my answer since I'm 14 years old, and it was not the answer I gave my students. I said "failure," which is true, but it's not my biggest fear. My biggest fear is being rejected for the one thing in my life that I have zero control over. I did not cause it. I did not ask for it. For some reason, it happened to me, and it only started to really affect me in my adult life because it's something I've always wanted. It's something most women want, and I will never get to experience that for myself organically.

Ladies and gents, I'm sure you can infer my biggest fear. I am truly saving that topic for a later date. It's already written, and it has been for a while. The time just isn't right. However, when a man seriously rejects you because of something out of your control, it cuts deep.

I was a mess because I started to think that I was defective, that no one could ever feel for me what I could potentially feel for them. I've struggled with the topic a lot, and I still do to this day. But, from this point on, I'll never let a man make me feel the way I did for an issue completely out of my control. That issue shouldn't matter as much if what you feel is as real as you claim it is.

As you avid readers can see, my life - both professionally and personally, was a mess. However, I still managed to struggle bus my way through it, multiple cups of coffee at a time. Stay tuned for more adventures as I finish up my undergraduate experience and put on my big girl pants.

Adventures In The Classroom Part 5: Attitudes, Conundrums, And A Swedish Massage

All my days blend together into one pot of stress and anxiety; however, I'm still attempting to make it through student teaching in one piece. This week, like all the rest thus far, has had its ups and downs: from attitudes over cell phone reprimands, sleeping in class, and diminished effort to thought-provoking questions, accurate recall, and on-task behavior. My students are a conundrum - a group of enigmas that like to test my patience on a daily basis ... but they're good kids, and I love my job.

Of course, we had another snow day which means that my five-day plan had to be reduced to three days of active instruction. I had to condense my pacing guide once again to fit the crazy schedule for the next seven weeks.

I honestly can't believe that I only have seven weeks left. It feels like just yesterday I stepped in the classroom for the first time and observed who I can now call my students ... all 109 of them.

What I have learned over the course of the week is that teaching is entirely trial and error. And not even just trial and error with one class; what works for one group of students is like torture to the next group of students. I have to consistently be on my toes, and it only took me five weeks to realize that not students need to be held more accountable. Therefore, I'm making some changes. 

Instead of feeding students the answers, they're going to have to extrapolate meaning themselves. This upcoming week, the students will assume the role of the teacher so that I know they're comprehending Shakespeare's language. Once again, it will be trial and error with my students, but I'm going to take one day at a time and just enjoy it because I love what I do.

If you avid readers can't already tell, my week was stressful. While I did manage to do a majority of the work during the week, I still had to do some planning over the weekend, and this weekend was a special one.

Once the students stampeded out of the building and I finished gathering my belongings, I headed to my car and began the five-hour drive home. You see, it was my mom and my aunt's birthday this weekend; so, I drove home to participate in a few days of relaxation that consisted of a much needed spa day.

As I sit here typing another insight into my life, I'm enjoying the relaxing elevator music with a steaming mug of green tea after a Swedish massage. It was glorious to just let someone else knead the stress knots out of my system. I thought I'd be more nervous that a young male was giving my massage, but I think he was more nervous, and I couldn't tell you why. I showed up to the spa in leggings and my signature Yuengling sweatshirt, sans eyebrows. I was looking like a hot mess, and it took everything in me not to laugh at the nervous jitters.

All in all, it was a great weekend, and I'm really tempting fate by staying longer than I had planned. Hopefully, I don't hit insane traffic and make it back to my humble abode in a timely manner to get some planning under my belt before class tomorrow morning. In Alex fashion, I'm pushing the limits and hoping that coffee will get me through the trials and tribulations of my day to day. Stay tuned to hear about my adventures as a classroom teacher!