A Blustery Time, Brings Dust in the Wind

Little actions stick. A negative glance, even in a split moment, after the moment is gone, remains heavy. We tend to let them go. But, they cover us as if we walked through a sand storm. Even the most fulfilling days at the beach, leaves behind a grit. That remains on the floor of our cars for months to come. Like dust in the wind, our words, our facial expressions, our lack of empathy- it coats. It lingers.

Negativity is like minutes, frozen in time- reminding us that things aren't going according to plan. That we want to rule the world around us but are merely pages. We have no real power other than our mindset and outlook. These days, it feels as if optimism and positivity are difficult to come by. But, if we remain negative and pessimistic- we will bring towards us, with furious energy, a weather front, charged with a powerful after effect: More negativity.

This negativity grows exponentially. We see arbiters of chaos around us. Those whose aura precedes them. Those who can not stand the calm before the storm. They have to cause the strikes and booming thunder of discord. It is hard to stay positive when the sand seems to be burying us. But, believe me- it is dangerous not to. I am a positive person. I see the good in people. I smile. I try to bring a moment of joy to peoples lives. I am the annoying one who says hello to you when you are half awake. 

But, I have found myself trapped. Unlike dust in the wind- I am a particle sinking, forever diving deeper into the castle upon which I have built my emotional well-being. I feel negative. It feels like a sticky substance coating my hands, my feet, my disposition. Everywhere I go- piling up behind me- is a residue, of stay away from me. I might be stressed. I might be disillusioned by circumstances not of my choosing or doing and things taken away from me, things added to my ever growing list- but negativity is never ok. Frustration, sullenness, discombobulation is inevitable- but harboring a layer of gloom and spreading it about- is never ok.

It has taken me a few weeks to come to terms with the fact that my attitude is on me. My frustration, sadness and disconnect might have been the effect of someone else's doing- but letting it linger and create a sense of doom in me- that is on me. I sat and meditated a long time last night. Reflecting on why. Why I am so bitter. And the reason itself is justified- but my negative outlook is not. 

I have to dive in to the positivity pool again. 

I have to dip my toes in the ocean of choice and optimism. Sand is plentiful, annoying at times too, but it is a substance used to build castles and mounds of joyful experiences. This sand, that I am now running my toes through, I take as a gift. One I can pass on. I need to take responsibility for my demeanor, my mood, my tone. I have to start new. Smell the salty, brisk mist of change. 

For it, like the tides is a daily occurrence. I have to choose to be energetic and bubbly. I have to emanate a level of optimism that is contagious. Because negativity is more so. And as of late- it has infected me deeply. I am cleansing myself of its grasp slowly but surely. It took my focus, my desire to be better. But, I am now finding the resolve to look beyond the quick sand and quagmire. I am on the right path.

So my pledge to myself as of right now, as I sit in my classroom awaiting the end of the day jostle and juxtaposition- I will keep a smile in my heart. Knowing tomorrow, I can build the largest most structurally ornate sand castle. I will try everything, even though I could fail. Positivity is gold. Shiny and coveted. So I will share my stash- because if I can bring joy to someone tomorrow and every day, in every class period- I will no longer be part of the problem, but part of the solution.

Others around me might smash down my sand castle as they jaunt about. They might cause waves of thunderous negativity. But, it is up to me to gather my bucket and shovel and rebuild. For every day, in every class period the sand is smooth. It is our footprints and foundations that create the love of the beach. It is our beach. It is our seaside haven. We just need to counteract the erosion.

The beach is a sacred space. One that needs protecting and cleansing- one that needs closing at times, I must admit. Yet, it is a gift. A shiny, glassy mirror of our outlooks. We can shape the sand, topple it, and collect it in a jar. We can dip our toes in the near by current. We can dive into the waves. This is our journey. Even if the crowds are noisy and the visitors messy- we control our shoreline. I control my sand dunes on which I climb. I control my sink holes, where I can hide in a sand storm. I the regulator of my surroundings.

B.B.'s, Bunnies, and Rogue Tortillas

Schools don't have signs "122 days since our last incident" We have strange happenings every day. Some little, unnoticeable to most. Some gossiped about and rumored after the fact. Even some strange and unusual shaping the mood and tone of the day. This day, April 3rd started out calm- even played out quiet and purposeful like most days at our school. A charter school in Albuquerque. An environment very much based around student learning, teacher engagement and smiling faces. Yesterday, a usual Wednesday, had a few bazaar events that alone would not be considered for long- but together made for a memorable hump day.

During class change before 5th period, my students were arriving to class and one of them had a large shoe box. It looked like a shoe box. No one gave it a second look until the lid popped open and inside- surrounded by unraveled toilet paper was a small brown bunny- of which they affectionately named Carlos. Carlos had gotten stuck in some construction materials right inside our building and was rescued by a teacher. This wild Lagomorpha was adorable- but a wild hare. Students wanted to pet it and snuggle it. I however, needed to get it to a safe place. It was removed by an administrator and it has been given to a local ranch that saves animals. Carlos is safe- students washed their hands and what has been named the 'bunny debacle' has been resolved. This might not seem unusual- but at our school wild animals being carried about in a shoe box is not a common occurrence.

At approximately the same time as the adventures of Carlos- some smoke filtered out of the teacher lounge. Someone had placed a tortilla in the microwave- apparently for an extensive amount of time- and it was singed and it sent its aroma throughout the building. This was reported via email with the title- Rogue Tortilla. Not appreciated by those near the area- disgruntled and frustrated staff responses with "please treat tortillas and the staff lounge with respect. Clean up after yourself." Now being reminded of civil cleansing of an eating area is common at my school- unfortunately- but the Rogue Tortilla was a reminder of the humor we carry around with us on a day to day basis. Rabbits and Tortillas.

The last event, less funny and more unexpected. When I think about it right now, I am floored by the lack of common sense. There is a Forensics Class at our school and there are many supplies in the science storeroom for it, as well as all of the other classes. In a box, in the back of a shelf were some B.B. guns and pellets used for ballistics testing. They haven't been used in ages. But a teacher was rummaging through looking for supplies for a physics experiment and ran across them. Then students in that class, asked to take them home to use in their assignment. He allowed three students to leave campus with a B.B. gun and the pellets. One student took his on the bus. Well, you can imagine the rumor and gossip and the parent reactions. Emails, phone calls and a parent escort returning the B.B. guns back to school. Now called the B.B. gun incident- is a 2 day old event but still the topic of many a conversation.

Thus the B.B's, Bunnies and Rogue Tortillas a day that will live in infamy.

Mean Girls and Bully Pulpits (Seeing the Truth about School Dynamics)

I've been a teacher for a long time. Let's just say over two decades. In that time I've been a certified educator at a mere 4 schools. I tend to stay at a school for awhile- allowing the kinks and chasms to appear and discourage before I move on. My first campus was a rough campus, angry students, angry teachers- it took all our energy to keep behavior in check in order to teach at all. I stayed 5 years. Why? To fulfill my promise to myself- I became a teacher not for recognition or glory- but to do what's best for students. To inspire students. It was a 45 minute commute and we moved across town so, change number one. As tough as the student body could be, and as frustrated as staff was on a general basis- we treated each other with respect. Administration had our backs.

My second school was a school not of behavior issues from poverty or ambivalence, but one of privilege and entitlement. Actually, thinking back on it, I'm not sure which one was tougher. This school, one in which I stayed six years until I moved out-of-state, was exhausting. Overbearing parents, helicopter guardians and Gucci handbags. But, learning was happening, and the staff was a lot more engaged in school community and functions. It felt more communal- it was more communal. The thing is- the administration was deceptive. They had their bubble and those well placed within it broke all the rules in an obvious way, and got away with it. Those not in the womb of administrative protection were heavily watched and criticized. It was a mean girls community and everyone knew it.

Then I started in a new state, in a new school, that as I accepted the position didn't look or feel like either of my previous experiences. It was a much larger school, with a lot more pockets of mean girls- but due to the sheer expanse of the building and size of faculty meetings- it was easier to avoid them, which I did. I stayed to myself. But, I ventured out of my comfort zone and took on Future City Competition, Quiz Bowl among other extra-curricular academic clubs. It was being with students and mentoring them that made those eight years both happy and memorable. Administration was supportive- actively supportive for most of that time. Listening, acknowledging, helping and guiding. I was teaching at state and local conferences, teaching science summer camps for the district- it was very fulfilling. 

Eventually though- my passion for gifted education and the opportunity to really dive deep, inspire and guide my gifted students was halted. They changed the program and lessened opportunities to thrive. So I felt I needed to move somewhere where I was needed- where I could meet the needs of students. So again, I moved to another state. This school, I was hoping- because it is so different and unique in its curriculum, structure and design- would be unique in its teacher support and culture. But, alas, it isn't. It is the location of a mean girl and bully pulpit that I was shocked to see.

Of course there are teachers of every 'stereotype'- the lazy ones only do work when someone is watching, the over-achiever too much work, on the brink of burnout, the isolationist, the socialite, and unfortunately the mean girls. We all see them, know some of them. Maybe are one of them. The self-entitled, empowered teachers who are in the bubble. The one's who can scream and temper their way into a result. The one's who get away with anything- and know it. These teachers often stay to themselves and their coven. They are the easiest to avoid- the ones who fly away, cackling, broom setting them aloft- those are the ones you really need to watch out for.

They ambush, they stalk and strategize- they huddle- and with all gusto they attack. They break spirits, crush confidence and for no reason other than to be mean they are allowed - with administrators sitting by and listening- to scream and be completely unprofessional towards other teachers. I don't care who you are- if you are a teacher talking to a parent, student, teacher or anyone at a school you should be respectful and professional. AND administrators should never allow them to be any different. Ambushing someone is awful enough- not allowing them a word in edgewise but to say you are getting defensive and force them to sit quietly and take it. Unethical and unequitable. To me- the worst tragedy possible because you just lost my respect and trust.

This did not happen to me personally. But it feels like it did.

Find the Functionality: Raise the Torch

Functionality requires removal of judgment. Purposeful discourse and meaningful reflection. As educators we thrive on integrating this- it is not always easy, for we are human. But, it is always woven into the tapestry of who we are as educators and why we stay.

There are different days as educators we traverse: faltering and tired, energetic and engaged. Just like our students we find moments to connect and retreat. We have echoes of life that follow us through the door- causing distraction and distance from the foci. The intersection of learning and lessons. The strategies of curriculum versus the blue print of our existence. Some days you see the familiar look of procedure and rules on students faces staring back at you. The "I'm here, but I'm not" glaze of expectation.

We as educators have to pull back this film, this hesitancy, this "going through the motions," both student and educator are navigating. High school students are the extreme of this- the most recognizable symptoms of possibility, prospect, probability and promise. Yet, also the heft of "I just don't care today." 

Some carry the weight of familial forecast, others are lost within the vortex of social supposition. I see it more now that I teach all high school. They can be dismissive, they can be complacent and reticent- but what I see, as their teacher, most of all is hope. They attend, collaborate and grasp the reality of what is coming next. The reality of finding the balance between then and now, future dreams unfolding and finding the path to reach their goals.

I am amazed at their insight. Frustration and disappointment both nudging them into a positive orbit. As much as we educators feel the tether loosening and the pulling away- they need us. They need us to listen and guide and let them make mistakes. I have my own young adult children and adult children. I see in them, the same things I see in my high school students. A view of the world both angry and worried, but encapsulated with a bubble of positivity and hope. As educators, we feel this way most days. But we also carry the heaviness of expectations and administrative eyes- adding to our load. The heft can be burdensome. 

Find the functionality. Listen for it. It taps, it knocks, it pounds on the door of opportunity. It is always there, even amidst the loud, ferocious doubt that darkens our optimism. 

Refuse to carry the umbrella of darkness. Refuse to get caught up in the negativity of disgruntled voices. It has been deafening lately. I have even found myself swimming in the flow of it. I have been quiet, but unwillingly I let the sticky bits get tangled in my hair. So it has been following me home. Intertwining with my balance. Causing me to feel very lopsided lately. I refuse to carry the torch of pointless negativity. I accept the beacon of clarity. I accept the lantern of change- even if it is only to change my own outlook.

Asking what is functioning, and what is not- that is key. That is the spark to light the lantern, to embellish and strengthen the torch of what education is all about. Somewhere to begin. That is where the beam points. Students are searching for the torchlight as well. They give up, they tune out, they don't complete assignments, they get overwhelmed, they shut down. We both, educator and student, go to a place only we know. Our secret place of blockage, shelter and seclusion. We need each other to help pull back the shadow. I find as soon as I open up my gate of sequestration my students notice. As they reemerge from their solitude I notice.

Yesterday was a day different and energizing, after many that left me rundown and feeling useless as an educator. Many days of feeling no matter what I did, no matter the hours of outside the classroom planning, printing, organizing and setting up- my students went through the motions but didn't appreciate anything. At least that is what it appeared to me as an educator. I stopped, I listened and I struck up conversations with my students who rarely connect with me. I asked questions- open ended provoking questions- showing my interest in anything about them- and low and behold- they responded. 

I learned some students want to be pilots. Some have massive fish tanks, some tarantula's or lizards. I learned why some love to wear bows in their hair, or colorful bowties. I discovered that some have stuffed animals or talismans kept in their pockets. I had so many conversations with so many students- I felt energized, and sad that in a week my classes will change again, and be reborn with new students crossing the threshold of my classroom. I figured out an important detail about me- as much as students can be hard to get to know, I am too sometimes. I take awhile to open up and really relax. With only 22 days in a course (if were lucky), it can cause me to feel disconnected. 

We expect to see it instantly, our impact. But most often it builds, it might be all that you get- a quick smile, collaborative discourse, the vibration of learning. Not a thank you or even assignments being turned in, that shine and show interest. But you made an impact, subtle or loud and colorful- one that they carry with them. High schoolers tend to take a lot longer to warm up to us too, they move so much during the year from teacher to teacher, that they are often reserved. Even with my energetic personality, they stay reserved. But I need to keep at it- eventually it leads to a day where I feel like an educator again.

The functionality is not lesson planning. Functionality is not discipline or procedures. It is the process, the purpose and even the components of education that are a given. The baseline. Most educators find this and build their classrooms around it. Sparkly at the edges with gorgeous classrooms and student relationships and community building. Any great teacher has all of these factors connected. It is a part of us. But the functionality, that is letting go. Letting them see your struggles and disappointment. Letting them tell you what they need- even if it isn't what you planned to teach. It is seeing the corners and rather than avoiding the sharp edges- having the strength to self-reflect, course correct and be okay with the awkward moments and disappointment.

The hugs and artwork of elementary school, we miss in high school. We tend to get the shrugs and 'huhs.' It's a learning curve. Once they trust you they lower their dividers and start to talk to you. They seek sincerity and approval just like any other student. They just are more focused inward. You can't force it- you have to be patient. I've learned to be more willing to let things go- ignore the eye rolling, accept the late work without judgement and allow for some deviation from the procedures. It is a struggle some days because again, we seek approval as much as our students do. But often our veneer is tarnished by the pressure from new procedures and often unattainable expectations.

High school students though, their endorsement comes in unique ways. It is often slow in arrival and often we might never know. But as long as we are willing to believe in the functionality as much as the components- we can have more days ending with smiles and looking forward to- rather than a reluctance and dreading returning to the classroom. 

Find the functionality- the conversations, the down time and moments to allow them to just be teenagers- or children. I just think sometimes we as high school teachers deeply want the hugs and visual, outward admiration found in the younger grade students. Find any moment to reflect, look around and notice the slight shift in behavior, conversation and gait as they leave your room. For impact is inevitable. Just some days we don't notice through the haze of expectations and performance- the giggles and excitement our high schoolers subtly exude.

The pandemic changed the world of education. It put students behind both academically and socially and its impact is far and wide. It has impacted students and educators alike. Systems are readjusting and faculties are trying to create spaces to lessen the gap. With this comes a weight, a feeling of worry and anxiety. But if we let go a little- find the functionality- we will find the bridges and stepping stones to do just that- not just 'mind the gap' but eliminate it.

When Teachers Don't Feel Valued

I've only worked at four schools in my 21 years in education. There were times when as a faculty we felt protected, valued and appreciated. There were definitely times when we as a faculty and me personally, have felt like mere cogs, no alignment just equipment in a machine. Although knowing our purpose and finding our rhythm on a personal level, never felling whole as a community. I hate feeling disparate, isolated and out of sync.

I have had amazing principals and administration. The kind that inspire and evolve with the spirit of the community. There were happy places to teach. But I have seen regime changes bring down morale leading to mass exodus. I feel kind of like that now. The waves of frustration and insecurity are flowing. Negative stances and apathy are running amuck. I am not sure how to combat it some days. Its leaking from the vents, its circulating in the ventilation and it is definitely creating a sense of anxiety in teachers and students alike.

I am trying to keep my head down- focused on my room (that is a safe place, a creative space) but even that seems to be ebbing as of late. Bad behavior like a running competition between students. Apathy is a disease. It is like a cancer slowly degrading the once sunny disposition of our school. Complaining, bickering- its constant. What were once smiles and waves are now down-trodden gaits and sighs of disappointment. It comes in waves I keep reminding myself. But it feels more like a surge this time.

When teachers attend meetings with administrators and their concerns are not addressed- or heard but not valued- it sets a tone. When administrators feel like they know more and set standards that conflict with teacher concerns and daily situations- it sets a tone. When clarity and consistency are only expected from teachers not administration- it sets a tone. The tone is vibrating a rhythm in defiance of  the norm. We feel it and our dander is tufted and our anxiety heightened. It is affecting morale, it is affecting discourse leading it into one of complaint rather than creativity.

Walk the walk and keep your head down- right? But when all you hear around you is negative- it takes its toll. When you feel ignored and undervalued it makes what you do meaningless in your mind and the apathy and complacency of others seeps in and entangles you. I do not like this one bit- but I am not sure how to escape the vibe. Even staying away from the deluge, it creeps in. My classroom is not air tight or a vacuum. The inevitable sneak attack is frequent.

I understand that there is a lot of pressure on administrations as well- but you must stop for a moment and listen. You must stop for a moment and observe the facial expressions and gaits of your faculty. We are all worn down and feeling a lot of anxiety. We need to be heard. I am worried about a mass exodus and it will only put more strain on me. So please reset the tone by not hollow words of encouragement but real change and listen to our concerns.

The Deep Leviathan: An Educational Journey

The caliginous space seemed scary at first. Misty and cloudy enough to create a sense of curiosity and adventure. But also, an opaqueness that caused me to feel around in the dark for a tether. It was new, this path. Gravel at first poking through the soles of my experience. Thorny shrubbery scratching with their abrasive reach. Strong enough to be a blatant reminder that I was walking in unfamiliar territory. Hushed and quiet for moments to lure and lull. Then bustling with leviathan and mammoth- rising from the deep. The slosh of the impending splash, rising with every step.

My eagerness was swallowed temporarily by tumultuous chaos. Swirling and undulating like the heartbeat of a large sea monster. Those insecurities of change and expectation: They lurk, they hunt, they devour. Tentacles binding. But great divers, they come prepared. Full tank, tight mask, sleek suit of protection. They venture into open waters where the space, location, and scenery are familiar, yet not. This new territory, unforgiving yet somehow welcoming. It is stitched into our fabric- like algae covering the surface. Taking in the sun for nourishment, all the while, creating a caliginous layer of twilight. Both magnificent and desolate.

This is my high seas. I have laid anchor here. The deck inundated with the waves. The salty brine tickling my nose. I, a teacher do not surrender to its impatience- I take my stance. I know the crest will come and the swells will jostle me about the current. It always does, this navigational drama. Yet, through the upsurge I go. At times my ship takes on water, it feels as if it will capsize. The vibrations of twirl and twist can be discombobulating, up is down and right is left. Corkscrew and curl knock me down. But I catch my breath, I manage to steer clear of the rocky peninsula. 

Sometimes landfall is to be avoided because the tricks of the trade are found far from shore. The comfort of the solid can obscure the imbalance, and from this billow and breaker of hesitancy and doubt, comes creativity and endurance. From this ridge and heave and foamy view- comes those moments of settling in, building resilience and strengthening confidence. I know this better than anyone. My dyslexia and autism the leviathan and mammoth that swim around me. They both navigate me into the storm and away from it. I keep them lower case, blended into my nature. 

The tidal spirits of my personality. They are indelible. Stirring up every demon that I have ever encountered and empowering me to track them- never attack them or endanger them, emboldening me to feed them, nurture them, welcome them to rise from the depths and splash me with insecurity. Because this tsunami of fear has trained me to be a great swimmer. A cautious yet brave diver. A problem-solver. But, these leviathan and mammoths also tire me. They drift me to a safe haven far from prying eyes. An island of refuge. My isolation brings me comfort. I can lie in the sun and rejuvenate. I can seek the mist and shadows. I can find strategies to cope and strive. 

Teaching is all of these things. Deep sea, with scary creatures and a darkness heavy and sullen. Open seas, bouncing and jostling awake within you such a beautiful frame of mind to remind you why you chose this journey. The shallow shorelines where you are protected from predators and feel safe to tiptoe into the sandy muck. But it is also the high seas, too vast to traverse alone. Yet, we hunker down on our ships, built from experience and wonder- and we try. Every day we try. This is why we reach out to other fellow oceanographers, cartographers and even yes, pirates. Because we know the knowledge gained will be the anchor.

These past months I have had many a changes in my professional career. I have changed from being a middle school teacher to a high school teacher. I moved from a classroom surrounded by visitors and friends to a hallway of strangers. Brief conversations but still closed doors. I am teaching new science topics, learning new things everyday- which I love. I am a mentor to another teacher. I am a peer mentor to students. I am raising my anchor so that I can maneuver into new unchartered waters. And as exciting as the unknown is- my leviathan and mammoths are heavy. They are never too far off the stern.

I am a word smith, writer, scribbler of prose- yet for months I have had nothing to say. I have not written a word for months. Yet, this caliginous morning- rainy and windy with a hint of crackly energy- I found my voice. Both poetic as always but with a hint of reporter. I, a journalist of sorts, seafarer and navigator. With a briny disposition. But more an orator of the mystical and magical use of words. I tend to write with imagery rather than realism. This is because this is how my dyslexia and autism report the world to me. My mind not one of literal but of the whimsical.

So this takes me back to the premise of this blog- the deep leviathan, the often overwhelming, isolating, stressful world of education. It can feel as if we are floating in the tumultuous open seas, sea creatures nipping from the dark. It can feel like we have sunk to the dark depths of the ocean- angler fish our only source of luminescence- and these angler fish have sharp teeth. It can feel as if we are trying to steer our ship, jostling and surging in the storm full circle back into the chaos- and we are. Because we are captain and divers. Navigators and swimmers. We swim. We dive. We map out our route to calm seas. But as we are going through the tsunami- we sometimes lose sight of the rebirth that happens once we make it through.

I have been in school for three weeks. Six classes- 4 completely different topics in science. We call them flavors. It takes a lot of planning, implementing and patience. It takes a lot of diving, swimming and navigating. But, I have a sturdy bow. As I look over into the murky waves, I see my leviathan and mammoth sea creatures: tails rising and disappearing, bodies rolling and diving and I feel comfort in knowing they are there. They, the resilience, endurance and faith I have in my skill set to weather the anxiety and joy of what I do. I hope my voice has risen from the depths and has returned. For months a silent mermaid now an aquatic scribe.

I hope you find your voice, your leviathan and mammoth sea monsters to keep you a float and in the center of the storm to come. For education is a storm even on the best of days. It is a beautiful, fulfilling and arduous place to find yourself in. It is exciting and remarkable but also exhausting, frustrating and down right scary like the ocean itself. Just remember to look up once in awhile and notice the mist, the cloudy yet spectacular caliginous skies of teaching. Stay buoyant my friends and have a great school year.

 

At Least, If Only

It's a strange time, so many public events are out of our control. Grocery shopping, doctors office visits, teaching. Devastating events are now daily occurrences. Reminders of our fragility. Reminders to be cautious. We can't prepare- not really. We can discuss and be proactive. We can be observant. But, in the end, we can only stay vigilant. For the wave of angst, unhappiness and violence can occur anywhere.

These days I always seem to be looking out for calamity. Checking the lock on my classroom door. Listening for any weird noises in the hallways. Watching reactions and behaviors of those near me. I want to stay positive and trust strangers, but I have found, I just don't anymore. I took for granted that people are inherently good. This is not to say that most people are not good people- for I know this to be true. 

But, I used to walk around, believing those around me were. I never really felt unsafe. Now that I am more observant I see the rudeness in behaviors. I hear the outbursts and temper tantrums that I used to walk away from. They are all more frequent now and more brazen. The energy is heavy.

I have always scanned the fuselage upon getting on an airplane and counted the rows back and front to the emergency exits. I have always paused at a red light in anticipation of the speedy traveler late for work. But these days, I have found myself scanning and pausing more- and I am more focused on those around me. Scanning the aisle at the grocery store, looking at exterior doors making sure they aren't propped open. I find I am avoiding large venues and crowds- not because of Covid 19, but because of the heaviness in the air. I prefer to be home these days, more than usual.

At least and if only. Two regrets we carry around with us. Shaping our decisions based on past experiences. 

I do not want to carry these around after my safety or the safety of my students, family or friends was put front and center. I want to use them as a defense- reminding myself to stay vigilant. I still go out. Not necessarily to the movie theater- a dark room, strangers. But I do shop and I am teaching summer school for a week. I am not homebound. But I do weigh things a lot more. I make choices I would not have considered before. I find myself erring on the side of caution. This is good, as long as I don't let it keep me from doing things, enjoying life.

I have a mind full of caution. I envision calamity and try desperately to avoid it. But, I know ultimately I can not prevent it. I can plan, be observant, take all precautions- but when and where devastation occurs is not in my control. The uneasiness is hefty some days but I push through it. I smile and have fun. I interact and live my life. I am coping, but it is a daily struggle sometimes to focus on more positive things.

Most people would not know this weary is circling me. Most days feel normal- in the sense I am doing what I usually do. I am out in the world as I have always been. I think most of us are all surrounded by this pause, this scanning impulse. I think it has had me in dark places as of late- fearful and hesitant. I am writing about it now, after months of not writing because I think I need to disperse the energy. It feels like a release of sorts- in order to allow me to focus on other things.

I am sending everyone out there feeling the same heaviness- a hug. I hope you all stay safe. That you enjoy your summer. That you listen to your instincts and stay active and aware.

Thank you for reading this blog, my first in months and hopefully the first of a new flow of energy, a new zone of words that I can articulate in a post. 

I am now teaching high school, same school -a new adventure. I hope to have new insights into moving from middle school to high school to share. I am helping with peer mediation and leadership now at my school, as well, and I hope to share my stories with this new experience as well. So new insights, new adventures are upon me. 

I have felt quiet lately, stifled. Like I really didn't have anything of interest to share. But now my voice, my stories are finding the letters, words and images necessary to make sense. They are finding sentences and paragraphs- thank goodness. I am feeling more articulate. So more blogs to come my friends.