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Wednesday, December 18, 2013

When you accidentally fail an entire class

My students were reading silently, a few weeks ago, and I was entering scores from their latest article of the week. Typed in the scores, clicked save, viola: updated grades.

Problem number one: Chloe, a pretty close to perfect student, now had an F. I looked back at the few other grades affecting this term; they were all perfect scores. The article of the week I had just entered was not a clear fifteen out of fifteen, but it was no where close to a failing grade.

Problem number two: The rest of the class was failing too. An entire class was failing. Panic surged through my veins for a second. What had just happened? My brain scanned through all the consequences of this handful of F's.

Turns out, I forgot to change the assignment to be worth 15 points instead of 100.

Details matter. Balance restored.

Monday, December 16, 2013

Sometimes I write my thoughts down in poetry form.

Peace - the glass of day
break: the composure;
I am on the wings
of eagles - I rest;
I wait.
I feel all types of unforecasted
weather - and I give
it all away.
Abide here: I must stay.
Change me, over
and over. I will
become clay somehow. I act
in thy confidence:
the very breath I breathe
is thine.

"Busy" is now banished from my vocabulary

I solemnly vow to never say the phrase(s), "I have been busy," "It has just been really busy," and/or "It has been crazy busy," or any such variation of the phrase pendant le rest de ma vie. I don't believe in busy. I don't believe such a state of being exists. And, if by the chance that such state does exist, I do not believe it to be an admirable, desirable, or productive way to live.

Instead, I believe in a full life. A life brimming with love - in whatever shape or form loves takes. Obviously this takes some figuring out: What does matter most to you, and what do you really, deep down, what do you really love?

I am not busy, and I am never too busy, for those things that matter most. Check out one of my favorite speeches of all time - What if love were our only motive?

Friday, December 6, 2013

The Symphony of Snow

Alright all you snow haters, I have to confess, I love snow. I love to see it falling, lighting up the night. I love to feel the safety blanket it lays over the city. I love how it gathers light, making ordinary things more beautiful. I even like driving in it, at least on small roads with no other cars around. Untouched snow - innocence. And snow with footprints and bike tire tracks and the remnants of a snow angel - the beauty of human experience, how we mold and change because of the influence of one another, reflected right there in the snow. And it melts; like other good things, it passes away, leaving us with memories, teaching us to treasure.

It took me four snowy winters  to come to this realization. I mean, how's a girl to know when every complaint is about the wretched snow. I almost thought I hated it just because every else talks about how much they hate it. I do absolutely hate being cold, and that is why I chose to be born during this modern time of electric blankets and hot running water, so I could enjoy the symphony of snow and only be cold a little bit. Rejoice, there is snow.