After the Victory...

"Actually, the moment of victory is wonderful, but also sad. It means that your trip is ended."

Bill Toomey

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I love the trip.  Not that kind of trip...well...

Maybe I am in love with the routine of the trip.  The end of that brings me nothing but sadness. In the middle of the trip I am planning and making list like a crazy lady.  In other words pure joy.  

It never matters what the "trip" is I love the mad drive to go.  The adjustments to time and schedule, the dead lines and the rhythm of it. The attacking, and unrelenting obsessing about something I want so much.  The problem lays in the ending...what then?  Then is the depressed period while I search my soul to find a new journey to travel. Once I lock on to the next one...the sails are set and joy returns.  I am not good at languishing. At all.  

This is probably why the end of the school year is so fun.  I am gearing up for the next trip/ school year.  I have new programs sketched out on note cards hiding all over my desk.  The calendar is full of cross outs and ideas for how to conquer this for next year.  Planning is going in full force.  

Time to wrap up and start the next journey. 

Unraveling

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We survived the last state test for 7th grade today.  What does this mean?  We are on the last home run for the year.  In the next 4 weeks we have a field trip, a week of reviews and a week of test...then....(drum roll please...) we have summer vacation.  

Did you let out that big sigh?  I did.  I love teaching.  I love my kids but in May we have had enough of each other and need a little time apart for the heart to grow fond.  This part of the year teachers start to share those stories...the ones that keep us here.  

Random 7th grade stories

• During testing one little boy farted really loud.  He must be on that high fiber diet too.  All the kids have been properly scolded about their required silence. So when "the noise" occurred they all looked at the teacher whose face was enough to send them all into silent giggles and complete glee.  What other job are you going to get that kind of total joy from such a simple accidental act?
• A fellow teacher came into and was relating to an older story with my friend and I.  He said when he taught in another state, another school his buddy was teaching a resource reading class.  The student a really low reader shouted out, "Coach, I don't get it.  Mydickserrect."  The class broke out in uncomfortable giggles.  The Coach knew he had to squash it.  He asked assertively, "What?"  Sure that the student didn't say what he thought he did, the Coach waited for a reply. "Mydickserrect?"  The class roared in laughter again.  The Coach knew that he had to figure out what was going on before the little girls in class got as uncomfortable as he was.  Looking at the book that the student was reading, the Coach read.  "My Dixie wrecked." 
• During tail end of testing the teacher had turned in her materials and unlocked the lockers with the student's backpacks so they could retrieve them in the 15 minutes when they would be going to passing period.  The teacher went back in her room.  When the students got their stuff a little boy shouted out that his phone was missing.  The teacher frantic to get the missing phone issued an email to all the 7th grade teachers.  The email stated the situation and that if the phone was not returned the video from the cameras in the hall would be checked and charges would be filed.  Like all good teachers we all properly put complete fright into the kids.  We had kids confessing about just walking by the open lockers. We had others ask if they would go to jail, and if this would end up on the "permanent record" of the offending student. After the teacher checked the video she saw that a fellow teacher, an elective teacher that was not included on the first email had picked it up and turned it in to the office.  Opps.  

Have a happy Wednesday!

Tattered

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Rip it.  

All at once. 

I want to hear it.  

Feel it.  

Let the pain drip down.

Pull it. 

Please. 

I don't want it.

Take it from me.

The weight is too much. 

Hold on to it. 

I have to leave.

Coming up for air. 

Untangle your fingers. 

Let me go. 

"Just rip it," I said. 

I know you know.

Your eyes are here. 

All over me. 

Get out of my ear. 

I need air. 

My chest is heavy. 

Is that my heart? 

My soul isn't clear. 

Where do I start?

Get a needle. 

Or do I need thread?

Let it bleed.

It is me. 

sisters...

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If you haven't seen this wonder floating around on Pinterest you haven't been hanging on the right boards. 

I love these two.  

They are the perfect combination of snark, and sexy sass.  I think everyone has a friend that they hope to have this lifetime connection to. That one that will tell you to wipe your nose and will let you know that you have "out grown" those pants.  She is there to cry to when your self created drama is blowing up in your face, and to laugh with when your pants rip in the middle of a work day or you accidently shave off your eyebrow.  

She makes fun of you because you don't know a stranger but is happy when you find someone to escort you to the hotel you can't find. She is the one that can give you one look and remind you that maybe the cinnamon roll the size of a human head is not the best choice for a breakfast treat. And she will gladly share her carrots when you walk away from temptation.  

She pushes you in the gym, name calling and cajoling you into thinking you could be an athlete. She is your biggest cheerleader, the founder of your fan club, and the first one that will fight for you even against your personal demons.  

Sisters, don't have to be born of the same blood.  They can sometimes just be. 

Relapse..

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There isn't enough air. 

It dries up.  

Everything deflates. 

I feel my ears pop.

Or was that my heart? 

Yesterday, it was better. 

The winds blew. 

My soul was strong.

I know it will be again. 

I can see the wind on the horizon, 

It ruffles the leaves of the trees. 

But it doesn't come near me. 

Here I go again.

Quick Kisses

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I had imagined them for years. 

Soft, thick and slow

but they were lost.

Seeing your photo quickened my pulse.

You reached out.  I reached too.

Writing you was our only foreplay. 

Maybe that was as far was it was supposed to go.

You had another and knew all along

we weren't to be. 

Seeing your photo still quickens my pulse.

Pursed lips

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Hello, my name is Valerie.  I need to confess...I am white.

I know...it is tough to tell.  I like to call it camouflage for when I stand next to white walls, white boards white fluffy snow and white light.   Unfortunately this means when I am angry my lips nearly disappear and my nose flares.  Attractive, no doubt.  It also means that my least favorite season is coming.  

In summer time I return to my dark cave.  Walking by windows gives me burns...damn you skin.  I tried in my youth to pretend to be tannable.  I'm not.  I will be lucky not to get skin cancer.  

So time to load up on the spray, and the long sleeves....and the water. Don't want to pass out.