I feel like summer has always been reserved for indulgences.  I taught the poem, “Summer,” by Walter Dean Meyers last week to my kiddos and it really resonated with me.  He talks about summer being a time to be relaxed and lazy, while also exhilirating and hyper active.

  Talking about summer to my students made me really long for all that encompasses summer: Ice cream, pool parties, tiny umbrellas, summery cocktails, cold beer, playing outside, running, biking, soccer playing, inventing, bright colors, sweat, dancing, reading for pleasure, road trips, plane trips, new cities, and constant movement. 

I’m planning on trips to Austin, Dallas, NYC, some hiking trips, and maybe a little out of country experience.  Basically, if you want to get a mini road trip together, let me know- I’m in “Yes Man” mode.

Nothing deep here.  I just wanna dance, listen to some sweet jams, and embrace all that is summer.

Three weeks ago, I started my poetry unit with my 7th graders. 

This is altogether interesting because when I was in 7th grade we touched nothing more than a Shel Silverstein book, or maybe referenced a Dr. Seuss rhyme scheme.  I had never even heard of Langston Hughes, or Pablo Neruda until high school.  Poetry was not even in my life until my AP English teacher strangled us with Emily Dickinson’s tales of sadness.  Even then, I remember thinking that I was supposed to really like this stuff, (because intellectuals like poetry) but I was just not feelin’ it.  I just felt like trying to derive meaning from something like a description of two different roads was just plain dumb.

I pretty much felt like this until one of my friends made the connection for me between poetry and music.  I don’t remember the conversation or the “light bulb” moment, but I remember thinking that it made sense.  Lyrics indirectly directly tell you something.  Since I fancied myself as a music lover because of Chris Carraba’s “lyrical stylings,” then of course, it would be hypocritical to not give this poetry thing a shot. 

By the time I got to college I definitely appreciated it, but I was swept up in a lib arts degree, so reading freely isn’t really easy to do.  Needless to say, until I got introduced to spoken word my freshman year by a professor, I had no idea Mos Def’s HBO special was actually real.  Then, a couple of my friends got into going to see live performances, and other friends started performing themselves.  I think that’s when I really started to appreciate the writing and the performance aspects of poetry. 

I’ve been searching for ways to connect spoken word to my poetry unit, and just like last year, I invited a couple of friends to come and show my kiddos what it’s all about.  However, this year was different.

The kids loved every second of Bill, Safi, and Zach’s visit.  They literally ate it up.  From poems about texting, hip-hop, lions, to 9/11, to racial disparities, I was so impressed with “the poets” as my kids call them.  A couple of the administrators at my school came to watch the creativity bouncing off of my classroom walls.  It was so cool to see my students light up with words.  They thrived off of the concepts, the word choices, and the overall passion behind the words spoken.  It was truly a beautifully inspiring moment.  As a teacher, who the kids see every day, it’s really hard to ignite that spark on a regular basis.  Teachers kill for that kind of spark and excitement.  I just felt so genuinely thankful that you could bring art into the classroom in such a raw and educational way. 

So, thank you boys.  Thank you for inspiring the little poets in the room.  Thank you for making the Gs in the room sit up straight when you walked in.  Thank you for making my shy girls speak out.  Thank you for bringing life to words in a way that I can’t (I mean you saw my skills in the ad-lib stuff).  Thank you for dedicating time, money, and energy to a group of kids you’ve never met.

These moments are the ones in which teaching is most rewarding.  I appreciate the times I see my kids for who they are: young, impressionable, movers and shakers.

One of my co-workers sent out an email about two months ago asking if anyone wanted to participate in a 203 mile relay across the state. Instantly, I read the email and replied with, “I’m in.” I had no idea what I was really committing to, but the idea of doing a competitive run with twelve other ladies sounded pretty awesome. The Texas Independence Relay consists of a 40 leg race with legs ranging from 2 - 6 miles. Our team signed up 12 ladies for the race. You can divide up the legs any way you want. I was scheduled to run one leg on Saturday and two legs on Sunday. So, during the weeks leading up to the relay, I tried to prepare; running more consistently, eating better, and drinking tons of water. Unfortunately or fortunately, a scheduling conflict came up with a school trip, that was going to make it nearly impossible for me to run in the relay. However, we reconfigured my legs so that I could still participate. I found out on the Monday before the race, that I was going to be running 3 legs in one day. Needless to say, I was more than a little nervous. Part of me was really excited about pushing myself, and part of me wasn’t sure that I could do it, since I hadn’t been training for it. The entire experience was crazy. As you run, your van is allowed to drive by and give you water and then proceed to the leg exchange point where the next runner is waiting. The next runner is waiting for you to “slap bracelet” them to start the next leg. While you’re running and waiting in the can, everyone is full of energy, full of spirit, and extremely supportive of one another. You can’t help but get swept up in all the commotion. Two weeks ago, I ran all three legs (two back to back) Leg 2- 3.84, leg 3- 4.09, and leg 14- 4.69. It was incredible to test your physical and mental strength. At one point in the race, I remember looking down at my legs and noting that they were indeed still moving. You get to a point where your body keeps going, it’s your mind that stops. Luckily, one of the vans had the phrase, “ridin dirty” tagged on their window, so naturally Chamillionaire’s “Ridin Dirty” scrolled through my brain for a couple of miles- still can’t remember what comes after “patrolin…” I tried to think about things like social issues, family things, basically anything that was too convoluted to think about with your morning coffee, in effort to get my mind off of how much my legs started feeling like anvils were strapped to my feet. Ultimately, the sense of needing to finish strong for my team outweighed any negative, nagging thoughts. After my first two legs, I was able to cheer on the other girls on my team, and eat something substantive. By around 4 o’clock, we found what looked like an abandoned porch (which later we found out was just a porch in front of a property that was for lease) and laid outside on blankets and rested and stretched before starting our next set of legs. Before starting my last leg of the day, I was a little sore, but excited to run a shorter leg. Just as I had done before, I made sure I was hydrated, and danced up to the exchange point. This exchange point had a DJ, so naturally I danced (trying to move only my arms to conserve energy) to the coned off exchange point. As I started my last leg, “Party in the USA” was playing and I’m pretty sure I started way faster because of Miley telling me to nod my head like “yeah.” Eventually the music faded, and I was sandwiched between a girl fastly approaching, and a dude that looked like a tiny ant running from rain. Needless to say, curly hair was on my heels, so I let her pass me. Right at this point I was falling into my rhythm, so there was no need to try and fall into hers. Throughout the entire race, I constantly had to remind myself to stay consistent, and keep MY pace. As I ran through the last turn, this guy caught up to me and tried to have a conversation with me about how tired he was, and I entertained the convo, until the last 100 yards. At that point, I sprinted to the exchange point, leaving my new found friend in the dust (or only about 10 yards behind me).

 The entire experience was so challenging and so rewarding. 

Ready to run the next adventure.

One of the many reasons I like Portland (Taken with instagram)

So beautiful. (Taken with Instagram at Long Beach, Wa)

Found this to-do list from college. Felt good to check some of these things off.

I’m motivated all over again.

Thanks past me.

Came to my classroom Friday morning and saw this.

It takes five minutes to ask a kid why they’re sad, and try and help them through it.

Even though I thought I was helping her, she was the one that actually brightened my day.

Kids are cute.

Yes. This makes me all kinds of excited.

I’m going to randomly start recording some funny conversations with my kiddos.  This conversation is from a student I taught last year whom I bonded with by quoting Never Shout Never (pop punk band adored by EVERY middle schooler at my school)in class, and suggesting that he read the Grapes of Wrath because his reading level was outta control high.  Basically, I love this kid.  However, since he’s a big, tough 8th grader I don’t see him as often.  Here’s a glimpse of a normal conversation with him (aside from the oh so candid one we had last week about his new toy robot).

student: “Miss!”

me: confused face “Why are you yelling across the cafeteria?”

student: ”Because I want to ask you if you know who you remind me of?”

me: “Oh well, no. Who?

student: “Zooey Deschanel from the New Girl”

me: “Oh yeah… “

student: “Yeah Miss, you have the same hair and the same jokes.  She’s also a teacher.”

me: “Well, I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

student: “Okay.”

me: “Did you like the song she performed this past week?”

student: “Yeah!”

me: “It was almost as good as the rap I made up for reviewing phenotype.”

student: “haha you’re funny.”

Bright spots.

Send me back to this moment.

The weepies.