deciphering the days

Where to begin. So many feelings bubbling up as I sort through relationships... ***** My mom has a 'keepsake box' with my name, sprawled in sharpie marker, on the side. Through the clear walls you can see a red Dolly Parton dress the size of a babydoll, official documents stamped with tiny black feet, crayon lines forming the alphabet, stuffed animals, a taped envelope of 'the first hair cut,' and various other mementos of which I have no recollection as to their origin.  Other than the items contained in that box, all other memorabilia from my childhood has passed on to me (that I know of). I also have quite the collection: pictures from early childhood, awards and ribbons from days spent at the fair, clothes that haven't fit in many years, and hobbies that I have long since cast aside. As I clean them out, I am reminded of times past - both good and bad.  One good thing is that I was able to find pictures of friends. I did not have many close peer...

Once upon a time there were boxes and boxes of specialty paper, certified stickers, scissors for every design, adhesives squares by the thousands, pictures from every angle of every occasion, and lastly... Scrapbooks. Beautiful scrapbooks. Books that elegantly displayed the captured moments of history. There were books of every topic and occasion: siblings, friends, hobbies, holidays, and beautiful snowfalls, to name a few. However, unlike in most libraries, these books were not on display. They were hidden away in a plastic storage container, on a shelf, and in a basement. "Why?" you might ask. I don't know. I never figured that part out. Maybe it was because most of the pictures did not really bring the author joy (did they need ten pictures of a snowfall?). Maybe it was because making the books took more energy than what was gained from looking at them. Or maybe it simply felt weird to the author to have an entire book of themselves riding a horse on the co...

The childhood home was always messy. Literally and figuratively. I have made it a point to have a tidy home; literally and figuratively. If you have read any of my posts you know I am a 'Konvert' and have been tidying  my house according to the Japanese author. I have decreased my possessions substantially. I can find my belongings. I know where things go. I never really have to clean. I pride myself on this. To the point of becoming prideful. Visiting my relatives (which I have done a lot of over the summer) always stresses me. This is partially because of the utterly chaotic belongings mixed with...Dirt. Grime. Animal Hair. Weird Smells. Dirty Dishes. ' My house is so much cleaner ,' I think. Hmmm. Something about pride and falling? I knew the disintegrating basement of our rental home had a tendency to leak. It also rained a lot this summer. I mentioned to the Hubby that we should probably clean out the cardboard downstairs, as it was likely wet. We...

Herein lies the final post in my trilogy of being a new teacher. Previously, I have debated my participation in the occupation ( Part 1 ). Also, I have aired my frustrations, solutions, and unsolved mysteries of the classroom ( Part 2 ). Now, for Part 3. What exactly is the role of a teacher in a public school setting? I don't know but it seems that everyone else does. To be fair, all of us have taught someone something at some point, and all of us have been taught. Which means everyone has an opinion about the teaching profession. Many with experience in education know of the curriculum vs. pedagogy debate, which translates to 'what you teach' vs. 'how you teach,' respectively. Not unlike the nature vs. nurture debate, both curriculum and pedagogy exist and both are powerful influencers, but we are uncertain as to which aspect deserves the most attention. However, during my education classes and in my mere year as a teacher, I have been witness to a th...