through my eyes

 Anthony came to Grandview at the beginning of this school year. New to the district, he quickly stuck out as a kid who had not been indoctrinated in the Grandview way . A small public school, Grandview prides itself on producing all-star athletes, students who achieve greatness academically, and students who abide by conservative rules with smiles on their faces. But society is edging in on Grandview and we are getting more and more students who challenge the system. Anthony is one of them. But he only lasted a few weeks before his actions resulted in his being whisked away to a more rigid educational system known as DAEP - a system designed for troubled kids that have been kicked out of regular school. Anthony came back in January. Admittedly, I sighed a huge inward sigh of annoyance and appropriately disguised a major eyeball when he walked through the door of my classroom.  Anthony. Is. Challenging. He does so many things that put me on the struggle bus. For starters, it takes him

 Sometimes Roy and I play a game: What was the best thing about your day? What was the worst thing about your day... And so, in the evenings as the hours wane, darkness hovers, I often reflect on my day: what was  good? what was difficult? I figure I should stop for at least a moment as soon the day will be done, and only a vague recollection will remain...if that. It amazes me sometimes - this thing called time - and how it just keeps rolling like the waves of the ocean...on and on and on...Each day offering up its own gift to be treasured and yet, more often that not...forgotten. My word - I struggle to remember what I ate for dinner the night before. And unless something major happens ( please God...no) , I most likely won't remember much about it - other than it was a date on the calendar, a blip in my own personal history... I actually have a 5 year journal that I started 3 1/2 years ago, and I love it. I remember things now simply because I wrote them down and had I not, they

 I ordered a journal today. When it comes to journals, I'm picky. I like what I like. Maybe everybody does? I dunno.... First of all, it needs to be a soft cover and softbound - not a hardback or spiral. It needs to be moderate in size - not so small that it fits in my hand but not so large that it's burdensome. And it needs to have college ruled lines - no blank pages or wide ruled for me. I could spend hours looking at journals honestly. And I know  it when I find it. It has my name on it.  My closet shelf is lined with filled-up journals - each serving a unique purpose through the years. Back in the early days, I had prayer journals, each entry written in earnest, begging for a pure heart and yearning for God's Presence in my life. And then there are journals filled to the brim with gratitude, outlining all of the blessings that I've savored in the day to day living. I have journals that read like a diary and journals that have entries written on a whim. Each is spec

 I have dreams. I want a puppy.  Right?  I do want a puppy, don't I?  Honestly I'm not 100%. I love the idea  of a puppy: soulful eyes, wagging tail, its eager grin when I walk in the door...But then I think about the reality  of owning a puppy and I'm suddenly filled with trepidation: sad eyes following me woefully as I walk out the door...again; finding someone to keep him when we away for one too many days; potty breaks when the wind whips and the rain falls; walks when I would rather laze... And there we go. That's what I do...day after day after day after ... Last night Gina and Eric came over as the Husband just had surgery so they brought dinner and well-wishes. We'd just settled down for some good conversation when Gina whipped out her phone: Hey, do you wanna see a picture of our puppy? First of all, let me say... I would not have said Gina is a dog lover. But? She's always wanted a Yorkie and through a series of events, someone is actually gifting  her

 I am digging deep. As of today, I have 23 days left with my kids. And counting. Let me say, I have the best kids this year. They are kids for sure. They like their cell phones, earbuds grow from their ears, and some girls can be rather snarky. But my issues have been typical  issues that one expects when teaching high school students. Last year I struggled with rampant disrespect, excessive talking despite my pleas, and behavior that left me shaking my head helplessly. None of that this year, thankfully. I've often wondered if it's me  or if my kids are just nicer this time around. Probably a little of both. I learned a lot last year about managing 28-30 teens in a classroom. Pretty sure I learned far more than them. So suffice it to say, it's been a good year.  But things are beginning to unravel now. I am finding myself exhausted at the end of the day - sitting down in my desk chair and staring off into the distance. My motivation has vanished and I no longer have a list

 Roy and I live our lives by routine. Sometimes I feel like we're really 90 years old in our middle-aged bodies because we think  like old people. We have a routine for everything: We buy groceries on Saturday afternoon We clean the house and do laundry on Sunday mornings We pack lunches for the week on Sunday (but sometimes Roy sneaks it in on Saturdays, much to my dismay.) It's a whole thing - this packing lunches. But we have it down and we can work side-by-side wordlessly, getting it all done in record time week after week after week. We go out for breakfast at Chaf In every Saturday morning if Roy isn't working (and yes, that's how it is spelled. Weird, I know. Like, did the owner really not know how to spell Inn  or was his name Chaf and it was a play on words - like Hey! I'm in! I'm always baffled by that name, cocking my head a bit when I contemplate the spelling...) We often go out to eat mid-week at Cotton Patch though we proclaim weekly that we are go