The 200 Point Game

I don't write about my physical or mental health often because it's just...a lot. But today, for some reason, I started thinking about my mental health and games. I love games. In college, we used to play spades but at one point we had to find a new game to play because I was too competitive and made it less fun (oops). I grew up playing canasta with my parents and of course Monopoly and Yahtzee, all the typical kids games. I say this because one day, I got a letter in the mail from my oldest brother, Ryan, and it was a game. Being completely transparent, I have been diagnosed as Bipolar I and had just been released from the Behavior Health Hospital after having a severe suicidal depressive low. I was still low, but doing well enough that my doctor was willing to release me.

Depression is a thief. I did not feel like doing anything, talking to anyone (except my mom), getting out of bed--life was just rough. Knowing he was miles away, my brother had created a game for me to play. In the letter he told me there was a prize at the end and if I didn't want to play, just to let him know and he would just send me the prize. But he knows I am a gamer and had an inkling that I'd play. What he did was make activities and give each activity a point value. For instance, cook spaghetti (my favorite food) +2 pts, go to mass +10 pts, meet someone new +5 pts, and then I got a bonus 2 pts for everything I tweeted and hashtaged. I can't truly express how low I was at this time in my life but I was just making it minute by minute. But this game gave something to do--I know this sounds dramatic, but something to live for. I was excited to do the things on the list and accomplish something. It made me feel real, whole, like I mattered again. When I finally won the game (200 pts), he sent me the prize--a custom puzzle of mine and his dog that crossed the rainbow bridge together three or so years prior. I sat down and tried to do the puzzle but it was extremely hard. I took it home for Christmas and we all worked on it together and got it framed before I came home to Denison. 

I look at the puzzle on my wall every day and am reminded of that time in my life compared to now. I have seen those dark times again but every time I have managed to come out on the other side. My family is my greatest support system, not to mention I have a small handful of good friends. But if you ever need something to keep you going, try a game--even if it is computer solitaire. 

Chicken Tendies

 

This weekend I have been relaxing and grilling on my back patio. I have stayed put mainly because my car needs new brake pads and rotars and I'm not willing to risk going out--and it's been a good thing. I've needed the rest. 

My parents taught my brothers and I to cook, and "grill", at a young age. Granted, they ate plenty of battered  pancakes, undercooked burgers, and a generous amount of mishaps on my part--but I did come out a decent cook on the other side, or I'd like to think so at least. Now, I can turn on a grill (electric), light a charcoal grill, and get a Traeger ready, but it wasn't until I lived with my oldest brother, Ryan, that I really learned and garnered a love for the grill. He would use the grill all the time. We had steak, burgers, salmon on cedar planks and salt blocks...we were LIVIN'. 

When I moved to Denison (in my...mmm...third or fourth year...) I came back with an old charcoal grill that was at Big John's that our neighbor Darlene let me have. Let me tell you...I used this old, beat up, probably spent ten years in rain and snow, charcoal grill every day for at least the last three months of summer into fall and again when spring came into summer. It might sound dumb, but this charcoal grill and I had a bond. I could sit outside and watch it smoke until the coals were that perfect gray color, and then I would grill whatever cut of meat for however long my brother taught me to grill it and boy was I living the dream. Guaranteed, my mom got tired of hearing about my love for this grill over the phone. But the old charcoal grill took something I had very little of--patience. I couldn't just turn it on, wait ten minutes, and put the meat on like I could with my parents electric grill. I had to get the coals lit, let them smoke, and then after they rested I could put the meat on. This process reminded me, or even more sent me back in time, to when I was an altar girl swinging incense. In order for the incense to smell and smoke, and fill the church with the presence of the Holy Spirit, the coals have to be lit and burn together much like they do in a charcoal grill. 

Today, unlike a lot of weekends, I am grilling. I still have a charcoal grill but have upgraded to the lovely Akorn Char Griller gifted to me (us) by my roommates parents. The Akorn is fancy, easy, has smoke handles and three different grilling platforms. My original charcoal grill was simple, one rack, three wheel rods--that constantly fell off when grilling, watch out baby! But boy did I love that grill. It taught me so much about grilling and about life. Just the same as the incense always did--I learned so much about being careful (not to burn down the sacristy), and how to get it just at that burning temperature that the whole church smelled and looked like the Holy Spirit had come down. 

Anyways...eat them ribs.

Whisper Words of Wisdom

 I've been writing this blog post in my head for about three weeks now...what to write about, how to start it, who my audience is, and so on. Forgive me if the outcome is discombobulated and more of a purge than a post. 

Growing up, certain memories stick out to me more than others--like I'm sure they do for you.

• I remember my parents making my brothers and I paint the outside of the house--that was character building for the ages. 
• I remember being very little, riding in the car with my mother, and her telling me that I was going to start going to Rosie's instead of Doris's house where I would have to take a nap. 
• I remember my oldest brother's senior bonfire and standing at the top of the home side bleachers while crying and not knowing what I was going to do without my best friend. 
• I remember walking up to the hospital the afternoon Ali died and seeing all of my teammates in tears.
• I remember my mom coming to my side when I had to put down my sweet Reggie boy the day before my tonsils were removed at twenty-four.
• I remember the day Spanish just "clicked" for me after staring at a knife for about five minutes and finally remembering the word for it. 
• I remember the day I started this blog...sitting in the upstairs quiet space of the St. Edward's library...back when it had books in it. 
• I remember watching my mom hug my brother after we lost the coin flip to be in the football state playoffs. 
• I remember Mr. Amaya teasing me every morning in Raymondville about how he knew when I showed up to the gym because I always showed up early enough to set off the alarm. 
• I remember being on the road and having to make the most difficult call to my best friend Mary that our best friend LJ had passed away.
• I remember the past seven years running the pool in the summer and all of the kids that I have been able to watch grow up--swimmers and guards alike. 
• I remember the day my doctor sat me down and told me I was Bipolar I. 
• I remember the day my brother took me to buy my new (used) car. Right around this time of year actually...
• I remember tweeting every funny quote or word of wisdom Lady would give me on Sundays. I cherish these now as she grows older and is less and less witty.

I remember these things and so much more. 

When I am teaching kids to write, I will often draw shapes on the whiteboard and tell them that there has to be an imaginary string that ties the shapes together or it's just poor writing...so what is the string in this post? In everything I remember, there is always someone there who is in my support circle, who cares for me, whose love never sways--in the highs or the lows. 

Some people in my circle have known me for years; some people in my circle know me intimately; some people in my circle come and go; but what I know of all people in my circle is that they love me for me, and what a blessing. 

This fall I have decided to do something new to reconnect with some of my people. I had never been to a college football game until this fall (private school problems). So, I decided that I was going to see as many games as I could with as many of my people as I could. I am right in the middle of this endeavor and it has been so fun. Each week (give or take) I get to experience a new crowd, a new game, with my people. 

I want to give back to you, my people, as much as you have given to me--though I know that will never happen, I can still try, right?

I will be the first to admit that I do a very poor job of texting or calling and an even worse job of answering said messages or calls. So, if you would like to hear from me, I would LOVE to catch you up. Drop me a message with your address and I will write you a letter. How about that? Snail mail style--messy handwriting and all. 

Let it be.

LAW

The Signature

 My oldest brother Ryan and I were home with my parents during the first part of the pandemic for about five and a half months. During that time, he pushed me to do something productive every day--along with gently pestering me to do more than one thing...which was good for me but I would never admit it at the time. He and my dad kept telling me to read a book...specifically "The Story of a Soul" about St. Therese of Lisieux. I said no multiple times--mind you I did start a book, just not that one. The day before I was leaving to come back to Denison, they were telling me how she would leave roses for people as her signature. Both of them said jokingly (but not so much) that I would see roses all the way back on my drive. You better believe I looked for them roses but didn't see a damn one. I was SO disappointed. 

Last week, was her patron saint day and you better believe both my dad and brother told me about it--my dad twice (good thing too). My dad texted me early that morning and told me about it, my brother had told me the night before, and my dad told me again that afternoon when I was Facetiming him and my mom. I said blah blah blah when he told me again...then...he asked me if I had seen any roses. 

So my hair. My hair is kind of my thing. It has been since high school. It's long; it's pretty, and I love that it's naturally straight--and no, I'm not trying to be vain; I just feel like Samsom but thank god I don't have to cut it off. I decided for the first time in about...oh two years that it was time to get a haircut. I happen to have an old friend who has a hair salon in the area so I made an appointment with her and went to get my haircut on the patron saint day of St. Therese...MISTAKE, just kidding. It was really good to see my old friend and catch up with her. I was sitting there getting my hair cut and noticed a beautiful dozen roses she had sitting in her station. I told her they were pretty and she said her boyfriend had sent them for no reason--just because.

I told my dad no, I hadn't seen any ros...OH SHIT WAIT! YES I DID SEE ROSES OH MY GOD. And her boyfriend sent them for no reason...YUP that's about how my life goes. 

FYI I had started reading the book already (and hate it for the most part) but I guess I'll finish it. 

Suntans, Friendship Bracelets, and Guardian Angels

Running the pool in my hometown is my favorite job. I love the summer and everything about the pool. The smell of chlorine and sunscreen is an aroma I will never tire of. People like to think that my job is just getting a nice tan and swimming all day--and it is--but it's not. I know that every kid who is swimming in the pool is a life I potentially will have to save.

I haven't had to save anyone this year (knock on wood) but by the end of the summer it usually happens. If I were just tanning, we all know the child would be in far more danger. Besides watching the water all day, I give swimming lessons.

Swimming lessons are a life survival skill and I really enjoy teaching them. I teach babies all the way through grown adults. Don't get me wrong, I don't do the survival teaching for babies and toddlers--so most of my 1-4 year olds don't come out as Michael Phelps but they learn to embrace the water and basic instinct techniques. Some of my kids are head first, no fear of the water, and are ready to jump off of the diving board within the first five minutes. Once such kid came to the pool today and kept asking me to watch her do her tricks--which I happily obliged when I could. Others are timid and eventually just get in and go. The last of the trio are those that are down right scared. Scared of the water, scared of not touching the ground, scared of having their head go under--the list goes on. I don't ever remember being afraid of water but believe me this fear is real. 

Today I had a kiddo who was scared. We were at the end of our lesson and I was telling him how excited I was to see him tomorrow and he asked his mom what happens if he gets scared again. What she said made more sense than anything I've ever heard about kids and swimming in the pool. She said that tonight they would go home and pray to Jesus that He would send the child's guardian angel with him to protect him while he swam. MAN THAT MAKES SENSE. Because let me tell you I was sitting there today with forty kids in the pool wondering why I hadn't had to jump yet--it's all the guardian angels. I'm sure glad they are professional swimmers. 

There are many great things about the pool but one of the best this year is my crew. They are awesome. The best I have ever had. All of them care about their job and doing it well. They arrive on time, stay late, and are always willing to do anything extra--like vacuum for six hours after a windstorm. During our breaks we sometimes make friendship bracelets. It might seem kind of corny but I love them and am embracing the hippie or 90s life whichever you see it. I see my bracelets and am reminded of how thankful I am to have hardworking guards who care about the pool like I do. 

Now, lets be real, I love my tan, sitting out in the sun all day is my favorite, but after today I'll never look at the pool the same way. Instead of just kids I'll always see the guardian angels floating right behind them. 

Peace 

Day 10

Today is Day 10 of my quasi-quarantine. I have been making rosaries everyday and would like to make you one...if you are interested! All I ask is that you donate to my favorite seminarian. Here is a picture of what the rosary looks like:

I hand make them out of string. My mom taught me how to make them and she also makes them as well. They are nice gifts and keep me busy during this time. I started a puzzle last night and if it weren't for my brother, I would have put the puzzle back in the box and started a different one already.

Tomorrow we start our online instruction for the students at Denison ISD. I have my assignment posted already and hopefully they all find it to be simple and not time consuming. I think that during this time, we as teachers, need to be considerate of what our students are going through. I know many of my kids are taking care of their siblings, fixing meals during the day, and doing much more than I am throughout the day. I am NOT trying to put more stress on my students and I am definitely trying to make school something that is not a huge thing to stress about. I think that the last thing that my kids need is one more burden to worry about.

"We Didn't Start the Fire"

I actually thought I had a blog titled this already but I ran through my titles and I don't. I remember in high school, my teacher, Coach Felderhoff, had us do a project where we finished "We Didn't Start the Fire". I remember the project because I had such a good time doing it and it helped me understand how the world would always have problems no matter what age people were. I know there is someone out there who has already added the lyrics to the song featuring COVID-19 so I don't plan on writing my own. However, if I were still in Coach Felderhoff's history class, you can bet I would write some killer lyrics for this decade.

Stay hopeful.

LAW

Day 9

I've been in my own personal quarantine for nine days now. I did drive to my parents' to stay with them so I wouldn't be alone for two more weeks. As my brother told me this morning, we are living history that people will write about and remember for years to come. The things I will remember about this time include not being able to go into stores or come into contact with other people, teaching online classes to my students, how to get through multiple hours in a day without becoming completely bored, and I'm sure much more.

The more news I read, the more I think that the effects of COVID-19 will last much longer that anyone originally anticipated. To pass the time, I have made rosaries, colored, wrote cards, and watched plenty of television. I never thought I would be ready to go back to school but I miss the daily routine, the kids, and the challenges of teaching.

I am also ready for warm weather. If the weather was over forty degrees, I think I would be more content with being at home. There is something about warm weather and a hot sun that bring me peace. I am glad to be out of the rain in Denison but am ready for a sunny day--hopefully tomorrow.

One person I am grateful for during this time is my oldest brother, Ryan. He keeps me on my toes during the day. Granted, he's sometimes a pest, but we have a lot of fun together. It would be great if Reidy was here too but he is in Fort Worth working at the bank he runs. My brothers are two people who are always fun to be around. They are always laughing and have a joke for every moment.

Raider, my dog, is just like the rest of us. He paces back and forth down the hallways, takes naps, eats, and comes around for the occasional pet. He is living his best life.

Today, day nine, is eleven days away from the next announcement that the school will make concerning our return or lack there of to our regular schedule.

Until next time,

LAW

Not that it matters

When will we be on lockdown? That's the latest question I keep asking myself--not that it matters.

Today I drove home to be with my family for a little while instead of holding up in my house alone for the next two weeks. The roads were fairly empty and the drive was easy. When I got to Gruver, it was sunny and windy...I swapped out the rain for the sun and wind--I'm okay with that.

This morning our school met, tomorrow morning they will meet again, to develop a plan for our online learning platform. It is weird for me to think that I will spend the next two weeks, and potentially more time, teaching online. Honestly, to me, it feels like one day I was going about my normal daily life, and the next, everything was turned upside down. Going into my own personal lockdown did not seem gradual. I came home from a softball game last Wednesday and Thursday I had decided I was not leaving the house again.

Being home already feels better. It's nice to be in face to face contact with other humans. Granted, I know that I will still have to find things to do and work on my online classes, but this is better than being at my house alone finishing another season of South Park.

If we were in school, we would beginning to read "The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson. I'm still going to teach the short story online but it's just not the same as being in a live classroom engaging in meaningful discussion. If you haven't read "The Lottery", I highly suggest doing so--it's a very quick read and a great story. Let me know what you think. I can always use suggestions and thoughts for my lessons.

XX

LAW

Write About It

Mom said that kids should write about COVID-19 because of the importance it has during this time in our lives. I figured I should write too--not just the kids. 

I have quarantined since Thursday and our school is closed for this week (at minimum). The five days I have been alone in my house seem like forever. I have cleaned, cooked, got donation bags together of clothes, and watched half of the South Park series. Besides watching South Park, all of the other things I have wanted to get done for quite sometime. Currently, I am watching RAW. Because of COVID-19, RAW is being produced live with no crowd. It's pretty fascinating to see the worlds best entertainers keep a show going without a live audience. Now to some of the questions...

Am I afraid of COVID-19?

Yes and no. I am afraid of getting the virus. My immune system is stronger than it has ever been. For those of you that know me know that if I haven't been in the hospital this year then I'm doing great with my breathing. I can't remember the last year that I haven't gotten bronchitis or pneumonia--knock on wood that I don't get sick with either of those OR the coronavirus. Still, getting the virus is a real fear for me. I'm not afraid of school being closed or that I have to stay in my house (though I might go crazy) but don't come near me unless you're washing your hands--and even then I might still tell you to stay away.

How long do I think the effects of COVID-19 will last? 

Short term, until summer. Long term, at least a year. I'm not sure that we will be able to finish out the school year. Dallas canceled school indefinitely today and we are only an hour from Dallas--there is nothing to say that we aren't next. All the college sports for the year have been canceled, the casinos are all closed around our area, and it seems to me that we are headed towards a lockdown. I think the community and local businesses are being fairly proactive in closing or limiting their interactions with patrons to certain hours or drive-thru only. Regardless, I think we all need to be prepared to hold up in our houses for the long haul.

There are plenty more questions I could answer and much more that I could write, but for now...

LAW

The Puzzle

Over Christmas, our family made a goal--to complete the puzzle my brother gave me before I came back to Denison--which meant we had seven days. I don't know how to explain the puzzle other than it is impossible to complete by matching colors--you can only complete it by matching shapes. It is by far the hardest puzzle I have ever completed. I absolutely could not do it on my own. In fact, I was so frustrated with the puzzle that I put it back in the box. When I did that, Mom told me to bring it home and her, my dad, and Ryan would help me do it when I was home. Her and Ryan stayed up until the late hours the last night completing the final masterpiece and gluing it together (I went to bed early as I had to take an exam the next day). The next day my mom bought a frame for the puzzle, Ryan helped me glue it in (he did most of it) and now it's hanging on my wall at home.

I'm not kidding--this puzzle was extremely hard. Since then, I've moved back into my old puzzle ways--Buffalo brand 500 pieces. What was really neat is that Dad said we should do a puzzle every Christmas. I thought that was also a great idea--maybe next year we won't do one that's so difficult.

LAW

The Greatest Gift

I didn't want to keep you waiting too long...

The gift came in and it was a personalized puzzle (I LOVE puzzles). The photo was of our two old dogs who passed away a few years ago--Reggie and Maggie. He was right. It was the best gift ever.

Moving on, I have watched "Silver Linings Playbook" more than once this week. I'm sure I have blogged about it before but if you haven't watched it yet, do. It is one of those movies that can change your life or at least how you perceive life.

This week is the end of the semester and man what a semester it has been. Never did I think that I would be where I am in life right now at the beginning of the school year. I have met new people, been through trying situations, loved deeply, been hurt greatly, and then came out on the other side a different and stronger person.

I'm not one for New Year's Resolutions but maybe this year I do need something. I am really looking forward to 2020. No, I am not wishing my days away but I am just anticipating great things to happen--to be a better version of myself everyday.

I am ready to go home this weekend and visit my family. I am ready for the relaxation and rejuvenation that comes with being with my people. Only one more day...


--LAW

The Greatest Game

If you read my last blog, you know that now, for almost a month, I have been gluten-free. Honestly, I didn't realize how good my body could feel. I've lost weight, don't have crazy digestive issues, and generally feel better overall--most days anyways. So yes, eating a gluten-free diet for a gluten-intolerant person is worth it, no matter how hard it may be. 

Moving on, I want to tell you all about the game. During the time when I was really not feeling good, my family was constantly reaching out to do anything for me that might help me feel better. I'm beyond blessed with a great family but what my oldest brother did is beyond what I ever could have imagined as helpful. I open a letter from him one day and he has designed a game for me. If I played the game, and reached 200 points, I would receive "the greatest gift of all time". Now, a few things you should know to preface the rest of the story...

• My brother and I lived together for two years back when we both lived in Gruver so he knows me very well. 
• Giving gifts is something we both love to do very much--but not just any gift, the best gift--the kind of gift that makes you go, "Man, this person really thought about me."
• I'm competitive. I will play almost any game--especially if I can win. 
• My brother knows that I won't turn down a challenge.

Alright, taking all of that into consideration...I receive a letter from my brother and on the back is a game. Everything in the game was worth a certain amount of points. For instance, I would get fifteen points for meeting someone new, or two points for giving my dog, Raider, a treat. There were all sorts of to-dos on the list--from coloring to getting a snowcone and writing the person who made it a thank you...nothing was out of the question. I didn't have to do everything on the list to get to the 200 points but I would say that 80% of the things were out of my comfort zone. The game pushed me beyond what I thought I could do socially and somedays mentally. It gave me a reason to do something besides sit on the couch at night after dinner or on a Sunday when I got home from Lady's (my grandmother). 

I met new people, went to church, made rosaries, cooked spaghetti, cleaned my kitchen, took Raider for walks, wrote Wikipedia article summaries, and all sorts of other things. 

Did I get the 200 points? Sure. Did I get the gift? Absolutely.

Until next time. 

The blood test said what???

I have been wanting to blog for quite sometime. The main reason I haven't is because my personal computer went awol about a year ago. However, I finally decided I needed a computer and so I got one. To me, it is amazing the difference of living with a computer at my house versus not living with a computer at my house. It isn't like there is an astounding difference--just that if I want to blog, or work on things for school, I can.

I am currently at my parents' house in Gruver where I am able to rest, blog, work on things I have put on the back burner for months, and spend time with my beloved family. I am not one for holidays but I am one for spending ample amounts of time with my family. I love when the garage door opens at the end of the day and I know my mom is home. When I wake up in the morning, I smile when I hear my dad drinking his coffee in his office through the wall between my room and his domain. I needed this time at home to rest and rejuvenate. Of all the Falls, this has been one of the hardest seasons of my life.

Back in late September, early October, I got very sick. I will spare you all of the details but I haven't been myself since. Through the thick and thin of it all, I gained a circle, a village. I have never felt so much love and genuine care for me as a human being as I have over the past two months. My circle is small but big enough that everyday I feel loved, cared for, and know there are people I can turn to when I am at my worst. Though I love my circle, it has been hard. Hard to be vulnerable to people who I am sitting here thinking, "How in the world did you even end up in my life?". But I quickly realized that the African proverb I read all the time is so very true--"The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel it's warmth." My village embraces me everyday. They embrace me when I am running away from them; when I am having the worst day; when I refuse to be embraced; they all bust through the walls and embrace me with genuine love. I have slowly started to let my circle embrace me more and more and what I have come to find is that I couldn't have made it through this Fall without my circle. I couldn't have made it without their embrace. For my circle, I am forever thankful.

My family has been my rock throughout this time. My parents are always there for anything that I need and my brothers constantly check-in and are always looking for ways to help me. I have struggled with my health all of my life but at my most recent appointment my doctor dropped a bomb-shell on me...

"I saved this blood test result for last because it makes most people mad and if you're going to get mad I'd rather it be at the end of the appointment," my doctor said. I'm sitting there thinking it couldn't be anything worse than any other health diagnoses that I have ever received--right? He says, "You're gluten intolerant." I laughed and said, "Uh that's a fad and people who say they are gluten free are just on the diet." My doctor looks at me wide-eyed and says, "No really, you're gluten intolerant. You can't have it. That's why your body has been going nuts. There are people who do it as a diet and then there are people like you who really have the allergy." Still in the "this is a stupid fad mindset" I ask him, "Soooo do I like have to go gluten free or what? Can I just like watch it and lower the amount I intake?" Then he looks at me and turns the papers that show my blood test results around to me. He said, "Look at this number, this means you cannot eat gluten. Your body hates you when you eat gluten." I said fine as if I was a three year old who was just told they couldn't have a lollipop and then said, "I'll do it." To which my doctor replied, "You don't have a choice unless you just want to stay sick the rest of your life." He then tells me to look up the research about gluten and it's correlation with depression--which I have been struggling with. I said, Oh I believe you doc--it's just not something I was expecting." I see him again in a month. We will see where I am then.

After I leave the office, I text all of my nurse friends who are all super optimistic and explain to me that I will feel so good once I go gluten free. And as moms do, my mom does all the research, and explains to me the positive outcome this will have on my life. Don't get me wrong, I think it will be good for my health and I trust my doctor and am obedient to what my doctors ask me to do--this is just a big one.

Now I am constantly looking at the nutrition labels to see if something has gluten. I need all the tips and help I can get--so please message me, leave comments, text me, send me all of your advice. I know the internet is full of it, and I am doing research, but there is nothing like talking to someone you know who can help.

Until next time,

LAW

Are they learning?

I started my teaching career as an English teacher. Teaching English was my passion--I had always loved reading and writing and felt that teaching English came naturally to me. My students did well on standardized state tests (though many educators think these are useless and counterproductive) and even more national tests such as the AP test. I never went into an English classroom thinking that my students wouldn't learn at the end of the day. I can attribute my confidence teaching English to my degree in English and my love of the language. I get emails, texts, and tweets all the time from past students thanking me for teaching them and how much they learned in my class. Many are in college now and tell me how easy writing an essay is for them and thank me for pushing them even when they were being difficult.

When I transitioned to Special Education, it was almost like I lost some of my teaching passion. I'm sure many teachers have gone through the same type of experience when they are transferred from one subject to another. Special Education is individualized to the point where teaching and learning is almost not a part of the education process. Mastering IEP goals and ensuring that students are in the right classes to learn at their level is what tracks teaching and learning in Special Education. Though a broad definition, I never felt as though I could teach a group of students and everyday I was challenged to meet every kid where they were despite the learning gaps between students and each student needing something drastically different. I did not love teaching Special Ed. like I did English. Was I good at it? Not so much. What I was good at was giving my students the emotional and social confidence they needed to overcome their intellectual differences from other students. In a Special Ed. room, I was the teacher that I have always known myself to be--a relationship builder.

Moving to Denison, I originally thought I would be teaching Speech. I was fine with this as many of my high school accolades were in speaking and I have always been able to help people with public speaking. Though not an English job, Speech was appealing and the coaching fit was my predominant focus. I have always taught something on account of coaching. Whatever I have been needed to teach, I would, because of my passion for coaching softball. The only job that wasn't tied to my love of coaching was my original English job where I was actually advised not to coach because my training with Teach For America would be so rigorous--funny how life works out right?

When I was asked to teach Spanish I said to myself, "Okay, yup. I can do this." Spanish is what the district needed me to teach so I said yes. Getting my certification in English and Special Education was a walk in the park--I studied...not at all...never worried about either of them...and was almost positive I'd pass both on the first try. Spanish was a different story. I learned Spanish through immersion--I didn't sit in a classroom studying grammar or learning to write properly. I learned to speak and understand. Conversational Spanish came naturally to me. I struggle to explain it to people when they ask me how I learned the language so quickly--even I don't really know the complete answer. I can tell you my reading and writing was lacking. I went in to make the test, expecting to fail, still not having studied (yes, many of you may think this is dumb but I wanted to see where I was at before studying for hours). I scored 200 and needed a 240. I hadn't been speaking, reading, and writing Spanish constantly, mainly just translating at the school and the swimming pool that I run in the summer. Starting the year, I knew the goal I had for my students--to speak and understand. I know many people who can read and write Spanish but what people desire the most is to speak and understand the language and that is exactly what I planned to teach my student. People learn to speak a new language like a baby does--they watch how the lips of the person speaking move and how the letters sound and repeat it. I know it sounds weird but I teach my kids to watch my mouth and how it moves when we work on repetition of words etc. I struggle with teaching Spanish because I don't walk into my classroom everyday with the confidence I did everyday in an English classroom. There also isn't a test or standardized method of measuring growth or if a student is learning Spanish at all. I am always caught in a catch 22 wondering if my students are actually learning or not...until this weekend.

I don't like to write about my students' lives or stories because those are their own to tell but this weekend I received an email from a student I currently have in my Spanish class. My student explained that she was in Mexico with her family (she is not bilingual or fluent) and was able to communicate with family members she had never been able to communicate with before. She went on to tell me how amazing of a Spanish teacher I was and thanked me endlessly for teaching her how to speak and understand so that she could communicate with her family. I wrote her back and thanked her and also commended her for her willingness to learn. But wow, what a blessing it was to receive her message.

I know the same isn't true for all of my students and not all of them will be put in a situation like she was to truly gauge if they have learned the language or not. However, her message gave me a breath of fresh air and new perspective on my ability to teach Spanish. The kids I teach will come into my classroom and pay attention because for the majority, they respect me, and we have built a relationship. But now knowing that my students (or at least one for sure) are learning the language is an incredible feeling of joy to me as an educator.

If you want to be humbled...

...learn a new language. I watched my dad read one of the prayers tonight at mass, in front of a packed church, in Spanish.

I find it rather frustrating to hear people say, "I wish I could speak Spanish." The answer in my head is always, "You can! Learn it!" My dad is doing just that--learning Spanish. He was sitting on my bed the other night reading me prayers and a homily he would read in Spanish at mass. He'd read them multiple times and had practiced them over and over but they still weren't perfect. He was frustrated as he stumbled through some of the more difficult words and even some of the words that are easy to pronounce but fumble out. He groaned and I laughed, and then we laughed together. We talked together about how difficult it is to speak Spanish and I assured him his Spanish was getting better (I don't know how much he actually believed me).

You see, it's hard to believe someone that you are speaking a language better unless that is his or her mother tongue. I get it--it isn't as reassuring to him that I am telling him his Spanish is getting better as opposed to someone who has spoken Spanish all of his or her life. I spent months living in Chile for the sole purpose of learning Spanish and I still get excited when someone compliments my Spanish.

Learning a language requires an extreme amount of vulnerability...well if you are really learning it. To those of you who do Rosetta Stone or your Dualingo everyday, I commend your efforts but is that all you're doing? I'm guessing if you have done either one of those you can read, write, and speak in small phrases. However, how long would the cat have your tongue if you were asked to speak or converse with native speakers? Speaking and listening add a whole new level to learning a language. You know you will make mistakes. You know you will fumble through words. You risk being laughed at--or even worse, someone just giving up on you and saying, "Sorry, I don't understand".

When people realize I speak Spanish, I keep saying Spanish because that is how it relates to my life and perspective but I feel as if the same applies to any language, and they do not expect me to speak Spanish, the first thing I hear is, "Say something to me in Spanish!" I used to do this when I was little--but boy do I hate this phrase now. "What would you like for me to say?" I respond. "I don't know, just say something in Spanish." Wow, what an annoying and tiring conversation. Not only does it put you on the spot but it also puts doubt in your mind (or at least it does mine). For instance, what if I mess up or it doesn't sound correct--of course I can say something in Spanish but clearly that is not the point.

Even now, as a Spanish teacher, I still second guess myself many times. I can think in Spanish, have long conversations, go to a restaurant, talk on the phone, etc. all of the things that I can do requiring me to speak in English I can also do in Spanish. My dad isn't there yet, but he is well on his way and I am proud of him for that.

If you really want to learn a language, get off of Rosetta Stone and humble yourself to the world and conversations of other people from other cultures and other languages.

Dare Greatly

Looking back through my blog, I find that the majority of my posts came while in college during a time of exploration and then slowly the posts became fewer--until now, where you see a post from me once every couple of years. The two year post has always been written when a significant change is happening in my life--when I was entering Teach For America, when I was moving to my placement region, and most recently (2015), when I was moving from Raymondville to home. Writing today, being no coincidence at all, I am also experiencing a change--in town and teaching discipline.

Someone asked me the other day how long I had been teaching, and when it dawned on me that I was beginning my fifth year in the classroom, time seemed to stand still (think of a slow motion video of your life from the past few years flashing in front of you). Many of my mentors have been teaching for numerous years and have experience far surpassing my own. I am thankful to have all of these wonderful people in my life. Two weeks ago, I moved from Gruver to Denison, TX where I will be teaching Spanish and Coaching basketball and softball. When deciding where to move and continue my career, one of the most important pieces of my ideal environment were the people I would be surrounded by. I had a chance to move to a different school, as a head softball coach, where the team had been to the state tournament the past few years and will probably continue to do so for the next bit. However, in Denison, I have people. People who I love and know love me. People I am loyal to and are loyal to me. And to me, being happy is being around these kinds of people. 

When I graduated from St. Edward's University, with my degree in English Literature, I was not sure how I would be able to use my education--mainly because there are many evil articles filling the internet such as "What to do with an English degree". Though these articles are meant to be helpful, often times I think they are misguiding. I am a firm believer that with an English degree, you can get hired to do what you want to do. When I graduated from Johns Hopkins University with my Masters of Science in Education, I had no idea how I would use the degree to continue my career (I still don't--clue me in if you have any ideas). Though both experiences were different, there was one constant throughout all five years--the people surrounding me and supporting me throughout my education. If you don't already know, my parents are hands down the smartest, most selfless, most loving, and undoubtedly coolest people I know. My best friends are wonderful--whether they are near or far. All of the professors that I had in the English Literature department deserve a raise because they continue to teach me even though I no longer sit at a desk while they teach from the podium. And last but not least, my brother, who let me live with him and managed to deal with my all-day Sunday homework studies while I was working on my masters. 

The other constant support that I have received since I was sixteen is from my late dog Reggie who passed away in June. Though many of you may not understand the value of companionship with a dog, Reggie was with me through many bumps and joyous moments and was the only one who greeted me everyday after school with a twist of his body bucking up and down like a bull because he was so happy to see me. I have adopted my parents' dog Raider who is now with me in Denison. He's not Reggie and hasn't been my boy for almost ten years but he's a great companion as well and gets riled up in excitement when I get home everyday. 

The last time I wrote a post, I was fixing to be entering the world of Special Education. I wasn't worried really--I just had no idea what to expect. Teaching English is still my forte and I imagine I will love teaching Spanish as well. But at this point, I have decided that my true gift is not what I teach, my gift lies in how I teach. I am a relationship builder and have a love for teaching kids that is, at this time, unexplainable. Someone who I respect once told me that my greatest strength was being able to pull the good out of kids that no one else could even see. I know I am only able to do this because so many other teachers have done this for me. 

I moved into a rent house in Denison that some would call luxury and others would call a dump. For me, my little house is perfect. Living abroad and living in Willacy County taught me that I don't need much to be happy. I have a roof over my head, cool air, a bed, and couches that are comfy. To me, living in Gruver was luxury. Here I have a fridge that is regular size and makes ice--in the first house I lived in, I had a mini fridge and no freezer. I have my very own washer and dryer! After going to the laundromat for two years and washing my laundry at my aunt's house during college (Wid you're the best), I know the value of being able to do laundry at home--let me tell you, it's a blessing. I have wifi--which I did not have in the Valley and I also have more than five gallons of hot water. My house is just right for me--it has everything that I need and I couldn't be more thankful to have found such a great place so quickly (I also have a stove where all of the burners work). Many students that I have taught and will teach do not have these things in their houses--the harsh reality is that some are even homeless. 

Every person that I have met (seriously) in Denison has welcomed me and has told me how glad they are that I am here. The people are genuine and the Yellow Jacket family is real. Though I know few of my colleagues intimately, they are all in the arena with me--I can tell. 

Speaking of the arena, this became my mantra last year and has stayed my life mantra since--I also think this is a good place to end...for now. 

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." -Theodore Roosevelt

“I want to be in the arena. I want to be brave with my life. And when we make the choice to dare greatly, we sign up to get our asses kicked. We can choose courage or we can choose comfort, but we can’t have both. Not at the same time. Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage. A lot of cheap seats in the arena are filled with people who never venture onto the floor. They just hurl mean-spirited criticisms and put-downs from a safe distance. The problem is, when we stop caring what people think and stop feeling hurt by cruelty, we lose our ability to connect. But when we’re defined by what people think, we lose the courage to be vulnerable. Therefore, we need to be selective about the feedback we let into our lives. For me, if you’re not in the arena getting your ass kicked, I’m not interested in your feedback.” 
― Brené Brown, Rising Strong

"...if you're not in the arena getting your ass kicked, I'm not interested in your feedback." What a great way of telling the haters to shut their mouths.

Two years

For those of you who still keep up with my blog and do not know, I am leaving Raymondville to move home and teach. Teach For America is a two year program--I finished the program. Had it been a five year program, I would have stayed five years and who knows then. Is TFA the reason I'm not staying to teach in Raymondville? No. However, because my commitment to the program was over, I had the opportunity to leave if I wished. A couple of months ago I received a call from home about a job at my hometown high school asking if I would be interested in coming home--my answer was, absolutely.


After living in the community while teaching and coaching for the schools, I can tell you that my experience was nothing like what I thought it would be. My experience here was everything I had hoped it would be and more. I have spent the majority of my time at the school, gym, and softball field.

In that school are caring administrators who are always willing to sit down and have a conversation with me. In that school are the friendliest janitors and lunch ladies who will always say hi and smile. In that school are the wonderful teachers I have had the privilege of teaching with these past two years. But more than anything, in that school, all over that school, are my kids--the reason I have made it to work for the past 187 days.

Transitioning to freshmen this year was the best thing that has happened to me--I'm hoping that soon the same will be said for SPED. Freshmen are innocent, excited, and loving. We succeeded together because our energies were always merging and at some point the classroom became familial. Our end of the year project was to create a playlist of songs that is a memoir list and give each song a reason as to why you chose them. The kids were thoughtful about the project and the end of the year went, as it does, out the door.

My class of juniors is, and will most likely always be, my favorite class to teach. They were studying to pass the AP English Language and Composition exam. This class is difficult. To the juniors who made it though the year, I commend you--I know it was challenging. Keep reading. Read Faulkner, Milton, Plato...and so many others--just read, it changes your life.

Leaving this little town is difficult--this has been home. I will miss breakfast tacos at Antojito's in the mornings with dirty water. I will miss driving by Smiley Face park in the summer and watching games go on all day long. I will miss the kids and parents who always bring me food or invite me over for dinner--those people give me a family here. I will miss walking into my classroom with its blue walls, and into the gym, and onto the softball field to drag it that one last time...

Once I was talking to my kids about places that felt peaceful on campus and my top two were my classroom and the softball field. The amount of prayer and blessings that have been extended on both create a protection around them. I close the door to my classroom and everything else goes away. We hit the softball field, and as Blue and I start dragging the field round and round, everything else doesn't matter anymore.

Regardless of what the media, statists, or state assessments may say, I know that I teach the best kids--I wouldn't trade them out if I could. They are the most loving, considerate, humorous, and ridiculous people. I love them--in a completely unexplainable way.

As I begin my move home, I am excited to work for the district where I received my education. I am thrilled to work with the same group of teachers who also gave me my education. I'm excited to be the baby and not the person people ask a million questions to.

More than anything in the world, I am excited to move back to my family. They were the missing component in Raymondville and it was just too far. I loved it here. I did not get forced out nor was I ready to leave. But ready is relative and I was more ready to be with my family than I was to stay another year.

To all of those who have been with me these two years:

Thank you for letting me educate your children.
Thank you for letting me be your teacher.
Thank you for letting me work for your district.
Thank you for supporting me throughout this time.
Thank you for the smiles, for the food, for the laughter, for the tears.

"Raise 'em up."

LA

Where do all of the lonely people go?

At the hand of one of my friends, I have finished watching the movie "Her" twice this weekend. I never would have watched this movie if I hadn't been asked to--I love movies but really only a handful of movies that I watch over and over again. I would rather watch a movie that I have seen five times than watch a movie I have never seen. Creature of habit--that's me. 

Anyways, this movie really made me think about the difference between loneliness and being alone. I think as humans we often have a hard time distinguishing between the two. Living by myself in the Valley gives me many hours of alone time--but it's not until this year that I have felt lonely. Granted, I am an introvert, I avoid social engagements at almost all costs (unless the group is limited to two or three), and when I tell people this information they are always confused as to how I ended up being a teacher in a classroom full of thirty students all day. Back to the point--I love alone time but I don't like lonely time. And these days, where do all of the lonely people go? To their phones. I'll be the first to tell you that I am on my phone a great deal of the time checking emails, answering messages, and doing...whatever--because I am lonely. I am not saying this so that you will pity me because I will also be the first to tell you that not answering my phone and talking to people (leaving my phone in another room...) doesn't make me anxious or feel like I am somehow missing out on some part of the world happenings around me. To be frank though, those moments only really happen when I am home, with my family, in a community full of people who already know me--those I am not afraid of. Most people who know me will tell you that I'm friendly, outspoken, loud, and a talker--those things are only true to those who know me. I'm generally not rude but I won't go out of my way to be your friend. If I am in a group of people I don't know, I won't speak my mind unless I am certain it is for the better of the group goal (and even then I reconsider five times). I am pretty quiet...just my thoughts are loud and most times (unless it's to my mother--or a topic I am interested in) I am not too much of a talker. I would rather read a news article than go to a group outing. I would rather sit on my couch than at a bar. I would rather spend an hour with old friends than days with new ones. But after watching "Her" I question--is this because I have underestimated the power of intimacy and only long to be reassured in my endeavors? 

Is this world meant to be affirmed by a timeline or posts on a feed? Are we meant to post our happiest moments in photographs for all of the world to see? Ten years ago if you asked someone what they would take from their house if it was burning, they might have said the family picture on the mantel--but now that picture is a cover photo on Facebook--would the picture on the mantel even matter? If my house was burning to the ground, I would want to save Reggie (my schnauzer companion of seven years) and my copy of "Paradise Lost" from my junior year in college. I have a stack of pictures on my end table but those moments don't even exist in my memory--do they matter? At this point, I think we walk the fine line trying to define what is human and what is robotic. Our phones have a switch that we never power off and our computers have a battery that we never let die. What happens when we stop and consider where all of the lonely people go?

YTB

I cannot sum my year up in a single blog post writing in an effort to make the trials and tribulations of 2014 seem as if they are the lose ends of a rope that have simultaneously been tied off as the year comes to a close. I do not have plans to make a resolution that will slowly slide from my focus after the first week of the year. My resolutions from year to year have consistently stayed the same and are more of a bucket list than anything--I cross something new off as each year passes. I am not setting expectations for what I anticipate the new year to bring--mainly because people do the bringing, not the new year. What I am going to do is be obedient to what my mother asked of me and sit here and write this blog post.

When I was home for Christmas, I saw a quote on my door which begged the question, "If everyone on the team is doing what I am doing, is the team getting better or worse?" I was given the quote my sophomore year of high school--I only know that because it is to "Leeon" which is a nickname that lasted me all of a few games my sophomore season--and thank god because I would much rather be LAW. Thinking about the quote and about how it applied to my life in high school and the girls that I coach now, I am thankful for what basketball (and not necessarily basketball per se but a shared mutual love and passion) has brought to my life. I played with a group of girls who worked hard and all of the life lessons I learned by being a part of that team are lessons I want to teach my girls between now and the end of their senior season. No, basketball isn't life, but I would argue that it taught me more about life than most things I worked at in high school--besides Mrs. Watson's calculus class. 

I learned that just because you get a year older doesn't mean that you gain a year in ability. I remember being in a huddle down by the free-throw line at the visitor locker room and being told that just because you graduated from your junior year to your senior year didn't mean that you would get any better at basketball. I also remember in that conversation our coach telling us that not everyone will be the best player--regardless of how hard they worked. But then go back to the quote--if the best player on the team isn't working as hard as I am, are we getting better or are we getting worse? My girls and I have this conversation all of the time--about basketball and about all aspects of life--you have to work hard. 

I learned that the team doesn't need you--you need the team. Whenever a player gets to the point where they think that the team cannot succeed without them, they are a virus to the team. My principal tells us this all of the time as well--the school doesn't need any one specific teacher or administrator to function and do well. High school girls (and probably people in general) seem to particularly struggle with feeling that they are needed but I think it is a good lesson to learn sooner rather than later--the team doesn't need you. 

I learned that Press Maravich was right...

Press Maravich: [to his players at practice] I am not spending valuable hours of my life just to teach you boys to throw a ball through an iron hoop. This is a way of life, I want players to think. Work, sweat, challenge themselves, discipline themselves, because anything else you boys it just isn't worth it, to anyone. The problem with you boys is simple. You're all a bunch of dummies 'cause you think you know it all. Give me the ball.

[He draws a small circle on the ball]

Press Maravich: You see this circle? The size of this circle represents everything that I know about basketball. But the size of this ball represents everything about the game that has never been dicovered.

[He puts a small dot on the ball]

Press Maravich: This dot is what you know, combined.

[throws the ball back to the player]

Press Maravich: Now if you'll forget about the girls and cars and listen to me you can accomplish things that you never thought were possible. I don't care if you're short, slow, tall, or small. You can play with the best of them if you'll dedicate yourself to becoming better.

I'm pretty sure our coach also thought we were dumb a good portion of the time--we were definitely a bunch of know-it-alls but we were also smart girls and wanted to work hard. I don't know that we ever forgot about the boys and honestly, we didn't really accomplish anything overly great in basketball. However, I know we have accomplished things we never thought were possible--for instance, I never thought I would be the person standing on the sideline of a game. 

I grew up in a basketball town--sometimes I think it's something in the water. We played basketball all of the time. No, we weren't in the gym every single day of our lives, but a good majority of the year we were in the gym. I never had to struggle through my teammates not knowing the game or buying into whatever our goals were as a team. Everyone expected us to play basketball and at least be decent--and by everyone I mean our coaches, parents, teachers, peers, the whole community. In some ways it was easier to work towards our goals--people supported us and believed in us (or at least I think they did). I do not coach in a basketball town. No one expects my girls to play ball decently. I have watched them struggle through this season of change and their growth this year is just a testament to how much they love the game and how much they care about one another. The other two coaches are supportive of our girls and I really do love working with them because we all share a love for the game and even more, teaching the girls how to work hard. There isn't anything in the water and I doubt this will ever be a basketball town but the girls are passionate--I believe in them and the goals that they have. So if nothing else, I hope that basketball teaches my girls about life and more than anything to know that they are loved. 

The Next 180 Days

Today I finally logged into this page and it greeted me like a friend whose face I haven't seen in some time. I meant to write a reflection at the end of the school year about my first year teaching, again when I came back from my adventure to Chile and Peru, at the end of my time in California for the Fides et Ratio seminar, and I thought time and time again this summer how I would sit down to write, but I never did.

The end of the school year was just that--the end. There was no big hoorah celebration or sigh of relief that it was over. The year came and then it went. I learned more in my first year teaching than I have most years in my life. If I just bulleted a list of things I undeniably learned more about this year, the list would look a little something like this:

• You have to be willing to give before you can ever expect to receive. 
• Scheduling and planning looks different to everyone. 
• I had no idea what the words flexible or communication really meant.

Chile and Peru I can only describe in pictures...

In California, I had the opportunity to attend a literary seminar. I was able to spend a week of my summer reading and discuss books with a group of about thirty other teachers, professors, and a few others. Among the thirty some odd books I read, I was pleased to find many of the books to be books that I had read throughout my education at St. Edward's on the list including: "The Power and the Glory", "The Diary of a Country Priest", and many of Hemmingway's short stories. We also worked through some of St. Augustine's "Confessions" as well as Woodrow Wilson's campaign speeches. I enjoyed my week discussing literature at a round table again. I was taken back to the many wonderful discussions and lectures I had the opportunity to be a part of at St. Edwards--I'm biased, but never have I ever met a more intellectual and motivating group of individuals as I have in the English literature department at SEU. As a teacher, I aspire to emulate the stimulating dialogue that my professors were capable of facilitating in our classrooms. 

As I begin this new school year, I look forward to the days ahead. I know that I will face many challenges but that in each of those I will also be given the opportunity to grow as an educator and more importantly as a person. Here's to the next 180 days.