Green Colored Glasses

Maybe I'm just seeing life through green colored glasses.

But this...this has been a good week. I might even call it a lucky week.

One of my darling, thoughtful, adorable students, Rhavon, brought me a bouquet of gorgeous flowers for no reason at all. Actually she said "It's because you're the greatest teacher in the world."


I got to witness my kids' amazing creativity while they created collages inspired by the work of Romare Bearden. These collages show all they know about the new technology of the 1920s, the Harlem Renaissance, the Great Migration, discrimination, Prohibition, and the Great Depression. Just wait til they finish. These are true masterpieces.


I did a "Just Dance" dance with one of my sweet girls to her singing Ke$ha's "Tic Toc" at recess. We laughed and laughed and started planning a big end of the year party for our class when we can hook up a Wii to the Promethean Board!

I laughed until I cried at a Science Fair folder that had "Thongs" (see # 10) on the list of needed materials. (Second place goes to "Stuffin' Junk" as the most hilariously inappropriate title).


I had a fantastic interview for the Upstate Writing Project's Summer Institute and am already planning what kinds of projects I'll create if I get in. Absolutely can't wait.

I got ALL my grading done. I mean ALL of it. That never happens.

I made my mom's marinara sauce and enjoyed dinner with of my most favorite friends, Dan and Mollye. What a wonderful respite from "dinner for one!"

I ran 7 miles and did a kickboxing class at the gym. Feeling so sore that I can hardly walk. I love this feeling. It's a feeling of accomplishment, of growth, of progress.

My lifelong bff Liza "LuLu" Morgan chose ME as her "Friday Face" for her blog - which is AMAZING. Check it out: http://yayalulu.blogspot.com/ She is an incredible writer and friend. I feel so happy and so honored to be chosen!

And now...the pièce de résistance....the weatherman's calling for snow. This is my lucky week. I'm seeing a 2 hour delay in my future.

All this, and it's only Wednesday!!!

Now I know:
Life isn't just good. It's a gift.

Mother Teresa and Brad Womack's Abs

I am a little pencil
in the hand
of a writing God
who is sending
a love letter
to the world.
-Mother Teresa-

At LIFE tonight the theme was about the connection between love and service. (Awesome job on the talk by the way, Jenko!!)

Ironically enough, when I got home I turned on The Bachelor. The contrast was so great that I couldn't not write about it.

Jesus's idea of love is to serve others.

The world's idea of love is to desperately seek someone who can serve you, who can meet your needs, and who ultimately will never let you down. The world's idea of love is spending time in Costa Rica with Brad Womack's amazing abs.

Hate it break it to ya, America, but those abs ain't gonna last forever. (His commitment issues, however, probably will. ZING!)

I feel like I am constantly sucked into the lie that this life is about ME. What I can get. What I look like. Who I will marry. What I can accomplish. What I want to do with my free time. How many things I can check off my to-do list while still getting plenty of sleep.

After LIFE tonight, I am reminded that life, real life - is not about what I can get.

It's about what I can give.

If I write a kind two-word note to one of my students on a post-it, I am showing love.

If I stop to thank the custodian and ask about her day, I am showing love.

If I tie a kindergartener's shoe at breakfast, I am showing love.

If I am vigilant about noticing the needs of others and trying to fill them, I am showing love.

Now I know:
God is writing the story. I am just a little pencil.

Eating an Elephant

=











I could make a list a mile long of the reasons why I love teaching. Sometime I might just do that.

But today, I want to talk about the biggest catch to the job that I love and adore. It is the bane of my existence. The robber of all my free time. The reason for my quickly failing eyesight.

Dun dun DUNNNNNNHHHHHH!!!!

Grading papers.

Seriously, grading is a real drag. You might think that grading sounds like a cinch. How many papers can I possibly have to grade anyway, right?? Well, let me give you a quick little math lesson before I get to the point of this entry.

I teach 5 subjects each and every day (math, reading, writing, social studies, and science. Also spelling, but for my purpose today we'll leave that out). So 5 subjects times 26 kids. That pans out to a nice little 130. I am required to enter into the grade book at least 9 grades per subject each quarter.

So that's 1,170 papers, four times a year.

At the bare minimum, we're talking 4,680 papers per school year. I've always been an overachiever so of course I grade LOTS more than that.

Today when I sat down with a toppling tower of manilla folders full of papers to grade, I felt completely overwhelmed. But suddenly I remembered some immortal words of wisdom from a very wise woman: my mom.

Whenever I started to freak out over a project, a paper, or the thought of cleaning my room, she'd simply ask me, "Honey, how do you eat an elephant?"

The answer?

"One bite at a time."

So this afternoon I decided to take my Leaning-Tower-of-Pisa papers out to my screened-in porch. I sat on my porch swing, turned on some chill music, and started grading away. One bite at a time.

Now I know:
Eating an elephant one bite at a time is much nicer on a screened-in porch.

Song Saturday #1

If my life was a play, I'd definitely want it to be a musical.

I go throughout my day constantly humming and singing to myself, have background music on whenever possible, and if a song comes on the radio that I am especially passionate about, I sometimes get frustrated that my radio can't go any louder.

It's always been amazing to me how a three minute song can instantly give me perspective, can make or break a moment, or change my mood in a millisecond.

In honor of that truth, today marks my baby blog's first "Song Saturday." I hope the songs I post here will have lyrics that make you think and melodies that make your ears smile.

Today's song teams up Joshua Radin (who I happen to be seeing live in concert tonight -WOO!) and the incredible Patty Griffin, whose brilliant harmonies bring tears to my eyes. In a good way, of course.

PS: This one goes out to all those boys that it didn't work out with - that still have growing up to do.

Cheers!



I’ve been down this road before
I walk out the door
Leave you on the floor
Sometimes you run and hide
Your foolish pride’s
What keeps me from giving you more

So the best thing
I can give to you
Is for me to go
Leave you alone
You got growin up to do

Some day I’ll return when it’s time
For payment in kind
The church bells will chime
You’ll stand before me surrounded by lights
Dressed in white
You’ll throw flowers in the air
this night

But the best thing
I can give to you
Is for me to go
Leave you alone
Cause you’ve got growin up to do

Looks like the rain’s pouring down on me
It’s drowning me now
All I want is to come back home
And this old corduroy coat it’s not keeping me dry
But I can’t think of what else to try

That’s why the best thing
I can give to you
Is for me to go
Leave you alone
You got growin up to do

The best thing
I can give to you
Is for me to go
Leave you alone
You got growin up to do

Dolly Parton Optimism

I think Dolly Parton is one amazing woman. (I dressed up like her a few years ago for Halloween, as you can see above. Surprisingly no one knew who I was. I got several Jessica Simpsons, a Pamela Anderson, and ironically someone asked if I was Taylor Swift).

In my opinion, none of those buxom beauties has a thing on Dolly. When someone inquires, "If you could invite 6 people living or dead over for dinner who would you ask?" Dolly is at the top of my list.

First of all, her style is impeccably cheap, and she knows it. The original Backwoods Barbie has a sense of style that is all her own. I love the glitter. I love the big blond hair. I love the bright colors she wears and the fantastically high heels that coordinate perfectly with her too-short dresses.

When I was little, I'd say, "Mom....Dolly is so BEAUTIFUL!" To which my mom would reply, "Oh honey, no! She is TACKY!" So then I'd respond with a huge smile and a sigh, "Yeah...she's so TACKY!"

From then on, I thought the word "tacky" meant "beautiful."

I guess my sense of style was always a little tacky. I had a pair of glittery pink jellies complete with a gigantic metallic bow on each foot. I had an Easter dress with puffy crinoline skirt and jingle bell hidden on the hem. I wore overall shorts with a big old belt, a pink and turquoise turtleneck, and hiking boots. Some of this was the 80s, but some of this was my desire to stand out and be original. Dolly inspires me because she is true to herself and wears what she thinks is beautiful - no matter what anyone else has to say about it.

The second reason I love Dolly is because she has voice as unique as her style. In my humble opinion, her version of "I Will Always Love You" trumps Whitney Houston's any day. She wrote that song, you know. She didn't need a team of songwriters to produce some homogenized hit. She took her experiences and channeled them into pieces of perfectly phrased poetry.

Anyway, the reason I was thinking about Dolly today was because of all this rain we've been having in Greenville lately. One of my favorite things she ever said was, "If you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain."

There are a lot of people - including me - that have been in a grumpy funk this week. The constant cold downpour has brought with it days of indoor recess and frizzy hair. I haven't felt like working out. I hate having to find an umbrella and despise accidentally stepping in puddles in ballet flats.

But Dolly sees the puddle half full.

Now I know:
Instead of shaking a fist at the heavens and cursing the nimbus clouds above, I should embrace the rain, throw on a pair of hot pink galoshes, and start looking forward to the rainbows.

Dinner for One

So (one of) the (many) downside(s) of being single (1) is having to cook dinner for one (1).

I'm thinking of it like a math equation. Cook + 4 + 1 = BIG TIME BUMMER.

I try not to eat fast food. I certainly have a love affair with Chick-fil-a... but all those waffle fries aren't doing a thing for my "wobbly bits," as Bridget Jones would say. I try my best to eat healthy and include lots of colors in my daily diet. Not to wane esoteric, but do all the colors of peanut M&Ms count???

Sidenote: Tim Hawkins has written an extremely clever ode to the world's best fast food restaurant. Check it.



Anyway, I also have a lifelong hatred of leftovers. I'm not gonna make a casserole that I have to eat 3 meals a day for the next 10 days. Uh-uh. Not gonna do it. I always admired my old roommate Darsey (shout out! miss ya girl!) for making big pots of Brunswick Stew and eating on that thing til the pot was dry. She's a fan of leftovers. Me....not so much.

So, back to the idea of today's post. My quest to make myself dinner tonight.

I come home after a FANTASTIC arts integration workshop at 7:00 pm, wearily open the refrigerator door.

Close it. Open the freezer. Poke around at ancient bags of frozen vegetables. Gross.

Open the refrigerator again.

Since there is nothing to my liking I go for the canned goods. I notice towards the back a large can of Progresso French Onion Soup covered with a thin layer of dust.

I don't have any real bread to go in it, so I get out a stale bagel-thin from the refrigerator, tear it up, and find an almost-expired piece of sliced provolone cheese to put on top!

As I settle down on the couch to take my first bite, I nearly spit it out. The broth was watery and weirdly sweet. It also tasted like a can. I have a weird thing about canned soup tasting like a can. (Definite food issues....I know.) The bread was soggy, but not in the right way. It tasted like a yellow dish sponge. The cheese was also old and tasted musty. Like goat cheese - which always smells like gym sneakers to me.

Not to be defeated, I head back to the fridge for another look. Don't see a thing. Notice a bag of rice in the freezer that you can steam in the microwave. I take it out and also notice a bag of frozen grilled chicken pieces that have been in there forever. Perfect! Some protein!

Just in the nick of time I remember a bag of dusty can of black beans that was near the soup in my other cabinet. "Excellent!" I thought. "Black beans with chicken and rice. Totally carby, but at least it will be hot and filling. Just what I need after the soup du jour disaster."

So I put the chicken in a pan with some olive oil. It smells weird. I look at the date on the bag. Expired 5/2010. Oops.

The result was a bland beans and rice mixture that had me feeling like I was back in Nicaragua for breakfast. I ate about three bites and gave up.

Now I'm going back to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal.

Now I know:
Growing up eating mom's insanely delicious homemade meals really spoiled me.
AND
I need to clean out my freezer more often.
AND
I can't wait to have a family to cook for. :)

Student Sunshine

I woke up today with a headache. A real eye-slicer - right above the brows.

I was in the kind of bad mood that no number of diet cokes can cure. I had to be at school by 7:15 for morning duty so I could be the quiet police for the kids that eat breakfast in the cafeteria. My backpack was so heavy with papers to grade that I was hunched over like Quasimodo. I had slept with my hair wet and the flat iron only made the pieces sticking out look like tree branches. I felt thrown-together. Rushed. Ready for a nap as soon as my eyes opened.

Well, the first ray of sunshine hit me at about 9:00. We were practicing math problems on our white boards. Before I could make it back to the front of my room, one of the little girls in my class, Eboni, raises her whiteboard to let me see what she had written. It said "LOVE YOU MOM!" (She always calls me Mom. She tells me it's because "We's a family. You's our Mom and we's yo kids.") The clouds of my bad mood parted and my heart felt all melty like a hershey kiss that's been in your pocket.

The second ray of sunshine hit me as we went down the stairs to P.E. "You look so glamorous today, Ms. G," said Harriet. "She looks glamorous every day," said Sydney. Even with sticky-up tree hair, my girls think I'm glamorous. My heart was now more like chocolate fondue.

And then at lunch, all the clouds parted and my students' sunshine thawed out my bad mood completely. Bettye Sue began to tell me about a book she is reading called "Out of My Mind." It's about a girl that is completely paralyzed. "She can't talk or move or anything," Bettye Sue said. "So everyone thinks she's retarded. But she's like the smartest person in the world! Then this other girl comes along to help her. Her name is Katherine. When I'm reading I totally picture you when it talks about Katherine. She's so sweet and helps everyone just like you." That did it. My heart was a steaming mug of hot cocoa, warming me up from the inside, melting the headache and worries that had plagued me since 6:00 a.m.

My students are incredible. They give me hugs every day. They shower me with compliments. They laugh at my corny jokes and sit attentively for my stories. They clap for my writing and silly dance moves. They sing with me on Fridays. They get me diet cokes from the refrigerator in the break room. They write me sweet notes. They would do anything to make me proud.

Now I know: My students are my sunshine.