I have always been intrigued by doors, even pictures of doors. The walls in my house are graced with photographs of doors. Doors on canals prettily adorned with flowers. Intriguing with their faded and often crumbling façade.
Doors take you places. They open to a world of opportunity, of struggle, of joy, strife, or contentment. They light the imagination with wonder.
It’s not what I have discovered behind those doors that calls me. It’s the feeling that sticks- the unknown, the wondering. It’s the ones that I don’t open that sit in my mind’s eye. I don’t need to open them. The wonder somehow satisfies me. I can simmer in it and imagine.
Please, don’t turn the knob.
In the way you put students first
In the way the most unsmiling of faces bust out grins in your presence
In the way you nudge students to want to be the best- not for you but for themselves
In the way you create a classroom where students shine through the moment you cross the threshold
In the way you thoughtfully plan each moment so that the students can take it where they need to grow
In the way you provide support to your colleagues
In the way you care for children and adults alike
In the way you question and reflect on your own practice
In the way you lift up the people around you
In the way you persevere, against sometimes seemingly insurmountable responsibilities, and TEACH
In the way you
I am fortunate to now be able to be in classrooms daily and have the good fortune of seeing tremendously talented students sparkle and shine. While they are inherently capable, it is the teacher in the midst of the chaos that is nudging and coaxing that sparkle and shine to come forth. Kudos to the teachers I know. You inspire daily.
October is out to get me. I’m not sure why. It sneaks up with promises of candy, costumes, and cooler temperatures. Then delivers a wallop in the form of an all-encompassing sickness on Maddie or myself. I thought we were doing alright and then I started to feel the familiar and unwelcome tingle in my nose and scratch in my throat. So, I traipsed over to Walgreens and loaded up on Vitamin C everything. I woke up the next day tinged slightly orange I consumed so much.
I have managed to keep it mostly contained. I am producing boogers at a normal pace. I can still move my neck. I still have a voice. But it hangs on for dear life. The germs clinging to me, their lifeline. I’ve been wondering why I have made it through fairly unscathed by our normal sickness standards. I have yet to receive a flu shot. I stopped mainlining Vitamin C.
I am convinced it is the sneak attack snuggle and kiss. I am hyper-vigilant in my futile attempt to prevent spreading my germs to my family. So a ban on kisses has commenced. It is lonely and it makes this mommy/wife pretty sad. I’ve even banned snuggles so that I don’t inadvertently sneeze all over anyone.
Try explaining this to Maddie though. Snuggles and kisses are kind of her main act. So this ban does not fly so well with her. I find myself sitting on the couch with a little body wrapped round my leg. Cause it’s far from my face and my germs. I find myself at the table and she’s crawling on top of the chair next to me to sneak a kiss on the back of my head, my elbow, my knee.
She’s the best medicine you can have.
Those seven letters strung together defeat me. The never-ending piles strewn to and fro; in the bedroom, in the hallway, in the other bedroom, in the basement, in the bathroom, on the stairs, in the laundry room… pretty much anywhere BUT where they should be. Life just gets busy and the busy keeps you from noticing those piles so much.
I suppose I should care more. I suppose I should wrangle it all together. But it is defeating. Especially when you have a four-year old. A four-year old who doesn’t always remember where it belongs either. Especially when it is particularly unclean. So, naturally, she places it in a place I shall never find it.
Until I catch a whiff while we are on the floor playing in her room. My eyes start to water as I get closer and discover, much to my chagrin, that right there, stuffed behind the books on her bookshelf, is a crumpled and crusty pair of Dora the Explorer undies.
I am defeated before I even begin.
You took me by surprise this morning, a stealthy sneak attack to progress. The numbers didn’t lie. Definitely in the upward direction when all should be decreasing. The wind let out of my sails, the balloon deflated, my hopes were dashed. How could you do this to me? We had an agreement and here you sit, in such blatant disregard.
What’s that you say?
It is I who dared to turn a blind eye to you? I know not of what you speak.
The candy on the counter? Wasn’t me.
The soda in excess? Wasn’t me.
The pizza pie delivered to our door? Wasn’t me.
Apparently we have had an intruder. Who dares to meddle with my graph that had a lovely continuous dip and now has a blazing upward spike?
Stress, anxiety, worry, tension, pressure, strain…
You call them excuses. I just want my graph to dip again. No more betrayal. We had a deal.
I need a donut.
I mean an apple.