11:50am

11:50am is the hardest part of my day. Well... that's not true entirely. 11:50am is the end of the hardest part of my day and then I don't know what to do with myself. I don't know how to come down. I don't know if I just need to eat, or to sleep, or to take a drive, or how to recover so I can finish the rest of the day. So today I thought I'd try a little self-therapy.
I'm not sure why I have this blog and someday I suppose it might just dissappear and all of these questions that I'm asking myself will continue to knock around in my head, they just won't appear in living black and white.
By 11:50am on a school day I've seen 195 Jr High students come through my room. I try to teach them all something, but most days I worry that I'm missing the mark. Meaning maybe I'm not trying to teach them the most important things. Like the girl who seems quite a bit different than she was in September. She looks at the ground more and won't do her work even with reminders. She often comes in late, again with her head down, and I haven't seen her smile in months. And the truth is what makes it funny in that movie - she wears more and more eye makeup. What is it that she needs to learn? Probably not much of what I've been trying to teach her.
Then there is the boy whose parents got divorced this summer and he just wants to talk. He'll talk about anything - the game last night, the new dress code policy, the homework he left at his dad's new apartment, his sister's dead cat - but what he really wants to know is if he's going to be ok. And I don't know. I don't know if he'll be ok. And what does ok look like really?
There was a sub across the hall yesterday who was a little frazzled and I assured her that as long as no one left bleeding then the day was a success. But as I thought about it, I've had plenty of blood in my classroom, and guess what - we're still ok - even after bleeding for a while.
And of course there is the charming mob of 9th graders that come into my room flirting, flirt continuously through class and leave flirting. It's what they do. And those that aren't flirting - aren't flirting. By choice. It's what they do. It makes me smile and let out huge gasps of air as I try NOT to LOL.
Remember when we were going to observe a moment of silence on Veteran's Day and I was explaining to my 7th graders that they would need to stop what they were doing and be very still and competely quiet and one of the boys in utter earnestness asked "Will we need to hold our breath?" and how I didn't lol then either? I just said "Nope. Not this time." And the other students nodded, like "ok good to know." The remembrance prompts me to lay my head on my desk and close my eyes and yes - laugh in delight and adoration of youth.
So - lunch is over and soon they will come back. The most tricky class coming up - only 14 of them. But the combination of these particular gems is something else. And I will try to teach them the right things. If you can really concentrate on what they need to learn, and not what you think you can teach - it's easier. But I tell you what, your heart gets a work out.
Have I recovered?

l.o.v.e.

I think it's best to climb into love instead of falling in. Climbing leaves one strong and empowered. Falling so often ends in a thud.

Landmarks

You know in order to look like you are starving, you have to starve a little bit. I'm starving myself currently. I was recently blessed with a come-around-once-in-a-lifetime motivator to lose weight and for the first time in my life I'm actually losing it. Every time I look longingly at a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie that Douglas makes (ALMOST DAILY!) the children remind me that I'm supposed to be losing face fat. I'm obsessed with the idea a little. It's fascinating what kind of emotional energy it takes to purposefully starve yourself. It goes against those self-preservation and self-advocacy principles I try to teach to my children and students.
David got baptized last weekend. It was a landmark day. Douglas got to do the baptizing and I'm not sure there is a more beautiful sight for a mother to see - the one boy with the other. Friends and family were packed in the house after. There are times that I just feel like our lives are so, so rich. We have piles and piles of dear and loyal friends and family. I'm overwhelmed at the thought even now. I don't feel like I've done anything to deserve them, and the gratitude I have for the service and love they give my children is inexpressible.
The colors outside are golden.
My favorite house is for sale.
My children make me laugh. They make me laugh like I used to laugh with my friends. They make me laugh like I laugh at a sleep over or on a road trip. I laugh and I laugh at the thought of laughing. And they laugh. And you know what? I think they feel honored that I would laugh with them. And I feel the same way. Exactly.
We are so close to the same creatures we were when we were in 8th grade.
Mozart's 40th symphony is perfectly mapable.
There are very few things I like more than crystal light right now.
My mother's father's second wife is dying. She lived a strong and happy life. She seemed content and peaceful at the end of her life. She must have done something right. We went to see her to say good-bye. Strange. None of us really wanted to go, but we all knew we had to bring each other. The experience had as much to do with her and us, as us doing something so right together. The children were soft and gentle, but they spoke with animation and joy. They smiled at her and wanted her to know they were comfortable there with her - like that - so close to the last breath. I think my grandpa and grandma are both waiting for her - and her first husband too. Of course. It's time to go when there is more waiting for you somewhere else than where you are. But the going.... I can't think of it.
I am walking around this planet in a prevalently confused state - but it is a gorgeous place to be. A gorgeous place to be.