blizzard

She just escaped a class to help low income students with their homework for free. She was feeling confident, helpful and at peace with the world around her. She had always known that this was her calling. At 14, she knew where he life was going. Or so she thought.

But just like a blizzard, he hit her. There she was daydreaming about all the children she hoped to help some day. When she saw him there outside the YMCA running out of the building as if it was on fire, she froze.

He swayed over to her, with a smirk that said it all. She shook her head as he danced in one swell movement and he swooped down and made a snowball.

She screamed as he threw it, missing on purpose. He gave her just the right amount of time to devise her own plan. Her mittens froze over as she brushed the snow out of her hair. She pelted him in the chest for revenge. They laughed as the fight pursued with trees acting as shields and snow acting as grenades.

As the snow covered their eyes and dug its way into their clothes, it was here in this moment, that it seemed like they saw each other for the first time. They acted like the kids they once were with the emotions they now have.

As she hid around a tree, he trapped her with nowhere to go. Snowball in both hands asking for her to accept defeat. She smirked as the "Never" rolled off her tongue. She was surrounded on every side and instead of backing down, she rose to the call. And just as she expected the snow to come crashing into her, his lips did instead. The tree was like a smoke screen and his breath like a beckoning call.

He embraced her. He kissed her. And in that moment, she fell in love. Together the cold that surrounded them disappeared and all that remained was true love.

The Books of Life

 I feel the more I read, the more I learn not just about the authors, the characters but about myself as well. I love to read books that strive to make me better. Books that have little lessons inside, waiting to be discovered, little moments I can thrive in and glorify. 

I feel that books are so personal. That I may walk away with a different lesson than you. That I may experience a different theory than you. My connection with a book will always be different than yours. Because I have different experiences in my past, different moments coming into my future and different emotions being felt in the present. 

But it isn't to say that the lessons we each individually learn can help another learn. Harry Potter showed us that with the right support, we can do what needs to be done. I learned this lesson from the moment I opened the first pages and got hooked into the story. Making friends, connecting with families since mine (Harry's) didn't understand me, finding a way to do what needed to be done despite what it meant for myself. I learned how to fight for a cause, to be passionate about others and to allow myself to be supported. 

Hatchet showed us that if needed we can rely on ourselves. When you are 10, you feel as out of control as you can. Your parents make your life, your teachers assign you what to do and you are left helpless. With Hatchet, I realized that I have the power to support myself, I can be myself, that no one can control my thoughts and no one can experience my life.

A Walk Two Moons showed us that the world can be a sad place but the adventure can last a lifetime. There are moments in your life that don't go the way they are expected. Friends leave, parents disappear and the world continues. Sometimes we lose our place. This book taught me that new connections help you remember old ones and that life is not always butterflies and rainbows.

 Tuck Everlasting taught me that even if you can last forever, a perfect life cannot. So many pre teens believe in happily ever after and love conquering all. Sometimes learning the opposite is a hard lesson. And this is a lesson I cried for days about but still should have learned more. My heart broke but I didn't understand how much this book saved me until a real man broke my heart for good. How raw those emotions are, how hazy the world feels and how different the world looks after you open your eyes again.

These lessons in our lives hit at different times, teach us in different ways but if you aren't reading for a lesson for your life, you are wasting your time reading at all. Walk away with a new sliver of knowledge and that author left you something to cherish for the rest of your life.

Space Oddity

The 1960's were full of exciting space adventures. Every boy and girl wanted to be the next astronaut. The papers lived and breathed these missions but so did the people. David Bowie took a moment to remind us that its still a brave and daring mission and it doesn't always work out in our favor. 

The same can be true in our lives. We tend to focus on how we are seen by others as we live in our own 15 minutes of fame, we want to find some way of being remembered. We want our big moment to be a big moment for everyone. Everyone needs to have the same image, our image, engrained into their being. From what we wore, what we saw and who we were. 

But that's the oddity of life. We are as out of control of our own lives as we are in space. You don't know where its going to end, you don't know where your place in it is, you don't know the last breath you will take. You don't know what you'll be remembered for or if you will be remembered at all. 

For some of us, we spend our entire life trying to feel in control, feeling like we have some ideas of where we are going and what we are doing but in reality we are being controlled by things much bigger than us and accepting that is the same as accepting our defeat sometimes. It doesn't matter who we were, if our names or clothes are remembered and even the view we saw. It won't affect the billions on the planet. And the trick is that it doesn't need to. It needs to only affect one; Just like the character's life did in his song. He asked for the one person that should remember him, his wife. Change the world a person at a time, help whoever you can help while you float in this space we call life. Be bold, be daring, be brave and experience all you can because maybe the only person you will affect is yourself. 

The Art of Teaching

 


The world has these two distinctions. The Arts and everything else.

The Arts are judged by the feelings that they inspire, the artists they connect with and the beauty they can create. This is true whether it is writing, drawing, song, statues, drama, dancing and teaching.

Yes, you read that right: Teaching. Teaching is an art meant to assist students in the classroom to feel a sense of wonder, accomplishment, morality, hardships, strength, perseverance and grow the only organ in the body meant to feel and think... the brain. Teachers are there to inspire the students to reach their potential, to awaken them through problem solving and lives past and stories. Teachers bring beauty to a world that can easily get lost in the hustle and bustle of every day life. They reach out to all walks of life helping them to see the world for what it is, what it can be and who they really are.

Instead of paintbrushes, I use books. Instead of a stage I have the chalkboard. Instead of a song, I use lessons. Instead of fans and fanatics, I have students. Instead of clay, I mold minds.

My passion is teaching, my art is teaching.

I love awaken their minds and inspiring their soul. I love questioning their outlooks and making them look further, feel deeper, find more.

My Art is beautiful.


It can't be judged by rubrics and tests. It can't be standardized or placed into a box. It can't be judged by those that are not submerged in the lessons themselves. Teaching is from the soul. It is a connection of two souls who grow together and become more. Teaching is meant to transform the individual.

Teaching is an art. It is nothing more than Starry Night is a smear of paints, the Nutcracker is a swarm of bodies, and Somewhere Over the Rainbow is a random collections of sound bits.

There’s Some Place Like Home

The sticky, hot sun rained down as the

The gallant horses ran like scared mice.

The barn reeked of pancakes, 

the house was scented with oats.

The young grew older as 

the kittens approached each night milking 

the laughter out of the children.

The old grew younger

As the childless became with child.

While the destructive fire ants created a new home 

Full of aunts, uncles, and sisters.

They were free from decisions, 

They were bound by terrain.

Life was different here as they galloped on 

horseback and spoke with a twang.

In many ways it stayed the same.

It felt like home yet it was

thousands of miles away.

My sister, my shadow

The best of friends aren’t so distant at heart, you have to count on them,

but let’s hope that what came naturally once long ago takes no additional effort.

It’s better to pretend they are your shadow, they are always next to your side,

when life gets tough and you feel like you are by yourself.

That way the world can have its up’s and it’s down’s mirror another’s,

Always in order, a bullet list on a file or like a broken record, skipping a tune.

Look down and remember that you don’t have to ask for help because

Whatever shines forth is no match for your shadow. Nothing gets muddled.

And, of course, a role model to always look to is encouraging. 

You never see her flaws as thus but only as another strength.

When the sun rises you never can forget to be thankful for her

and how she never walked away no matter what you did.

Never miss the chance to get close to her, for having her in your

Life can change in the blink of an eye, so quit staring and 

Instead learn to dance with your shadow.

Weightless with Anticipation

In a black and silver frame, dusted and old. 

There it is.

The only image I have of of that moment. I look at it as 

I shoot directly back into that memory. 

That day.

I entered the arena, I practiced with vigor and strength.

I yelled as I threw myself into the excitement.

I ran and I twirled, I flipped and I stood proud.

My body knew the memory, my brain knew the routine.

My adrenaline surged through me as I exposed my winning smile.

Next, they screamed. We were next and in that instant, 

My mind emptied. As the anxiety whispered my secrets.

The routine was gone. The muscle memory faded. 

All I could hear was the overplayed songs.

The bass shook my entire body and goosebumps crept over my neck.

Do I want to go do this? It now seemed new and terrifying.

Right as my brain battled my heart and I wanted to walk away, 

The curtain opened. 

There was no turning back for them. For us. For me.

Time dragged its hands and the seconds stretched on for minutes. 

As we started my muscles controlled me, 

Instead of I controlling them. Here comes my moment. 

As they launched me twenty feet into the sky. 

My stomach in knots, the spotlight blinds us all, 

Teasing death has a funny way of focusing us all.

The throw feels like flying as my body whispers the moves.

In that second, I don’t hear anything as I zoom back into the ground. 

Not the crowd, or the music, or the beating of my heart. 

I panic in the silence. The whole performance could shatter in 

Just a couple of slow moving seconds.

After I come down, I hear the crowd roaring. Energy circles the 

Arena as the fans gasp a sigh of relief 

Cheerleading is a dangerous sport.

Screams from the crowd come from all directions.

That sound of excitement and fear is what I lived for.

It was all captured there in that dingy, old frame. 

As their faces pray, their breath is held.

My smile spread out and the 

seconds drudged on

And my body remembers what my heart could not.