deciphering the days

I am familiar with hospital stays, but I am always two social circles away from the sick. I am not the daughter; I am the granddaughter who brings food, water, phone chargers, and toothbrushes to those who are spending the night. I am not the spouse; I am the one who goes and feeds the family pets and who takes the little ones on a walk in the garden. The doctors have no reason to update me on how things went, but I know everyone's coffee order.  But I wasn't the second circle this time. I was the first. And I wasn't ready.  My dad was in the ER for a couple days for a heart stent. I knew what was needed: food and water, hygiene, taking breaks to walk around the hospital, leaving the hospital to get fresh air, bringing books or small crafts to keep my hands busy. But I wasn't ready. I remembered none of those things as I rushed out the door, went straight to the ER, and didn't leave his room until he was discharged. What if he came back and I wasn't there? What ...

In my rural hometown in the Appalachian Mountains, a common topic of discussion is the surprising increase of mental health concerns, especially anxiety and depression.  They will sit on the front porch with a glass of homemade tea that is noticeable thick with sugar and pass around a pack of Marlboros or Camels. Then someone brings up the unfortunate incident of someone taking their own life with a "Well you heard about Barbara Anne's nephew right? That downright pains me to even think about. God, he was so young too." The conversation will start with a recap of the story facts, then migrate to the undo strain it will put on the mother and remaining family. "Bless their hearts. Is somebody taking them some food?" Then, without fail, the conversation will wander to other people who have checked into mental hospitals or are taking medication for mental health, and they light another cigarette. Then people will start commenting on the strange increase of mental he...

Early in me education career I was told that I would need to "pick my battles." And though I would have to do that in order to make education sustainable, there is no world in which I look at a student making a inappropriate choice in my classroom and ignore that behavior. I really believe that letting bad behavior slide because it "isn't the chosen battle" is why we have so much violence, tardies and absences, belligerent outbursts, cheating, drug use, smoking/vaping, missing work/failing classes - I could go on, but you get the point. If that behavior is not one admin's or teacher's "battle" then the behavior is allowed to continue, students are then offended when a different admin or teacher addresses it, and more students follow in suit with delinquent behavior, because other people are not getting in trouble for it.  I think the phrase "pick your battles" is perfectly appropriate when raising children. Debating as to whether a to...

Every couple of years or so, one of my high school students will ask me, "What is love?" Despite being with my husband for ten years, I've never had a good answer.  "Love is a person not a place." "Love is when home becomes a person." "Love is when you care about someone else more than yourself." "Love is choice." When students ask me, I always freeze a little, am uncertain how to answer, and end up spouting some platitudes or maybe admitting that I don't know.  Many people have asked that question for many years. The arts often express the emotions and thoughts of love through songs, poetry, paintings, and dancing. But I still don't know how to answer.  Last week, two students were asking me how I knew I was in love with my husband, specifically the first time I knew I was in love.  When my husband proposed to me, it wasn't a surprise. We were talking about getting married, had a to-do list google document shared betwee...