Jumpin' Off the Edge

It is the end of the school day and here I sit in my classroom. My goal was to get caught up on grading and lesson plans. Instead, I am thinking about how to give my students the same opportunities as those in more affluent communities. More specifically, access to computers. I taught a class today where they needed to use the computer to analyze a few different types of media (an article, music video, and map). They were asked to synthesize the information and type a couple 10-12 sentence paragraphs answering two questions. There was no way the majority of them were going to finish it in class. Knowing that several do not have computers at home, I spent some time problem solving with them how to complete the assignment. I am not willing to accept it if it is handwritten. Why? Because if my students want to be able to compete in the academic world, they need to work through the challenges of accessing what they need. I will not dumb down an assignment because they do not have acces

I fully believe the Universe gives us what we need when we don’t even know we need it. Last week, I had the privilege of attending the Ultimate Life Summit. I saw students embrace the concepts of the 7 Mindsets and begin to live them. Every day, I was more and more inspired both in education and in my life. And then the Ultimate Life Summit collided with Brave New Voices. We had the privilege to attend a couple of workshops at the BNV national convention. I went to the workshops expecting to learn how to be a better teacher. Instead, it was a life-altering personal experience. It was so powerful, I felt compelled to write for a few hours afterwards. Healing from the ugliness that remained after abuse so many years later. I share a piece of it with you. Devin We stood in the circle following the path of our eyes It was him The same young man I had seen three times in the last 24 hours Over 20 workshops, and here he was in the same room Ready to do some “Finding of the ‘in

I have an armor of fat. It protects me from the effects of my past... or so I think. I shed it from time to time  only to put it back on, this armor of mine. Time for it to go To be taken off for good. I know it needs to go piece by piece A little at a time. Yet, knowing is not doing. It weighs me down, Hiding me from Me. The zipper is stuck. What will it take to finally get it off?  I am in need of the help of another  To get the zipper started  So I can take off the rest And be armor-free, lighter Me.

I recently wrote about how sexual abuse I experienced as a child impacted me as an adult. I was surprised at the number of people who called me brave because I spoke about it. It got me thinking about how powerful and destructive secrets can be. We keep things to ourselves because we are ashamed of them. Yet, by protecting the secret, we harm ourselves more. It is when we acknowledge our imperfections that the healing begins. The day I wrote about how the abuse affected me something in me cracked open. It was not an easy day. I spent the evening sobbing for my lost innocence. I felt the weight of my uncle on me all over again. I heard the neighbor boy telling me what to do in the closet. I saw the man who date raped me ignore me when I said I didn’t want to have sex. All very real feelings. Raw emotions came forth as I felt like I was breaking into a thousand tiny pieces. Yet, with each tear I shed came a fragment of peace and light. Once the secret was out, the power of the past

One in five girls is sexually abused. I am the one. I know I am not alone. Sexual abuse has messed with me in ways I am just now beginning to understand. Sexual abuse brings with it shame. It brings secrets. It brings questions. Today, it brought tears as I wrote about coming to terms with yet another part of how it has impacted my life. I contemplated keeping this one private. Instead, I am choosing the vulnerability of bringing you along on my journey of becoming the Me I want to be. If it helps just one person, it was worth it. When I was five years old, my innocence was taken from me when my uncle lifted up my nightgown, laid on top of me and said, “This is what people do when they are in love.” Needless to say, love scares the hell out of me. In less time than it took Sonny and Cher to entertain their viewers, the way I saw myself as a female was changed for 45 years. It took me years to acknowledge it was sexual abuse. It has taken even longer to identify and accept the way

As Patti’s healing continues, it is sometimes not so easy to continue to find blessings in it. She is frustrated by her limp. A limp which slows her down and has people frequently asking her if she is okay. Yet, it is in her limp, that my blessing comes. I tend to walk fast everywhere I go. Growing up, I often had the shortest legs in my group of friends. I learned how to take two strides in the time it took them to take one. At school, I speed walk through the halls to get to where I am going. I leave school right at 3:30 and usually go right home. I frequently stop to experience what is around me, but rarely slow down. I enjoy having my children along with me when doing things. In the past they have asked me to slow down. I had a tendency to get where we were going quickly and wait for them there. My feet just felt the need to move. And then Patti got hit by a car. The blessing of life and the ability to walk continue to be easy to identify. In the month since she has been hit,

  It is funny how life has a way of bringing people into our life when we need them most. Even more so when we don’t know how much a random person we meet can have an impact on us. I have been thinking about her all night wondering about the next part of her story. A series of unplanned events lead me to her. It had been one of those days at school when the contracted time to leave could not come soon enough. State testing, 7 th graders off the wall, and not enough time in the day to get done what needed to get done left me drained. Rather than run out to the nearest bar for a drink when the bell rang, I sat with a friend and colleague and chatted. Before we knew it, an hour had passed. We said our goodbyes and headed toward home for some relaxation. The only thing I had to eat all day was a banana. I figured I would stop at Burger King on the way home for something to take the edge off the hunger pangs. I am not sure why Burger King was the chosen fast food joint. I had ne

“I can’t close my eyes. I will die.” She told me as her breathing grew shallow. “I can’t breathe. I am dying. Please tell my friends what happened.” “Look at me. Breathe with me. In through your nose. Out your mouth.” I attempted to calm her by speaking quietly and rhythmically. Slowly her breathing became deeper. “I just know I am going to die. What if I have a disease that is from another country and the cure is not in America yet? I don’t travel to other countries so I will die.” Again, I talked rationally to her hoping to ease her worry. She continued to tell me she was going to die. No matter the rationale I used, she continued to be convinced that come morning, she would be dead. No matter the number of times I told her I would keep her safe, she was adamant that she was dying. No matter what I did or said, she knew she was going to die. I would like to tell you that this is the beginning of a story I am writing. A piece of fiction. This is no piece of fiction. The anx

It has been too long. Too long since I have written. Too long since I have run consistently. Too long since I have gone riding by myself. Too long since I have listened to that little voice inside of me. Throughout the last few months that little voice inside has been screaming at me. I turned up the noise in my head in response. “Personal things are going on. Things I don’t want to share. Things other people wouldn’t understand.” Instead, I ignored the urge to write, sat on the couch, and joined friends on ride. Tonight, I open the laptop and type out the whispers of my soul as I continue to transform into the woman I want to be. (Thank you, Cassidy, for the encouragement to start up again.) \Changes abound since my last blog post. It has been over a year since I have written on a consistent basis. Why did I stop writing? Was it because of the Hell a divorce brings? Was it when I stopped running and lost track of a part of me? Maybe it had something to do with falling for a separa

I am all about having adventures. Living life to the fullest whether I am jumping out of an airplane, riding through the mountains, or meeting a stranger-no-more. So when I saw an advertisement for Speed-Dating, I knew I had to give it a try. It is important to note: I never went into it for a date, a relationship, or a husband! It was for the adventure aspect I was after. And an adventure it was! The night of the short dates, my daughters proudly exclaimed they picked out my outfit for the evening. Looking back, I could have included them in the fun and wore the casual outfit they set out for me. Instead, I had a moment where I lost my confidence in the woman I am and morphed into a teenager flinging rejected outfits onto my bed. After trying on a variety of outfits from casual to dressy, I got a hold of myself and put on a denim mini-skirt and cute black shirt. A bit of make-up and a few strategically placed bobby pins and I was ready to go.   I got to the location of the even