Category Archives: Uncategorized

Prom Pictures

Since this was my last year teaching, I did things I wouldn’t normally do in the past…like chaperone the prom.  I really had no interest in reliving it after my own, but it was fun to see so many of my students dressed up, looking so mature (though my husband kept saying, “Aw, they’re just babies.”)  We got our picture taken while there and I just picked them up last week and decided to share on Facebook.  People love pictures and it got a good response, so I decided to share here as well.

Prom chaperones 2012- FPCHS

Prom chaperones 2013- FPCHS

Of course, after this I got nostalgic, so I found my actual prom pictures from high school.  I have little to say about them.  I’ll let the pictures mostly speak for themselves.

1994.  My junior prom, with Andy- WCHS I believe we played at Toys-R-Us before the dance.

1994. My junior prom, with Andy- WCHS
I believe we played at Toys-R-Us before the dance.

And of course, my senior prom…

1995.  Senior prom with Darryl- WCHS I even got my hair done.

1995. Senior prom with Darryl- WCHS
I even got my hair done.

Proud to be a Grammar Nazi

Yes, it is true.  Apparently, I am a grammar nazi, not to be confused with an actual Nazi of the Nazi party- I certainly am not one of those.  However, I do enjoy neat and orderly grammar and mechanics when I am reading, and I take offense to the butchering of these important guidelines of communication, because getting them wrong can completely change or obscure the meaning in one’s writing.

Today, I saw a car on which someone had used window paint (at least I hope it was something equally as temporary, for the sake of the car’s owner) on the back window to write, “TAG your it:)”  This could have been a fun and harmless prank if written correctly, but the use of your instead of you’re actually brought several questions to mind.  “Your it” could be a reference to a number of that person’s personal objects, right?  How will the owner of the car know what he or she should tag (and why was TAG all in capital letters)?  Perhaps the car is the “it.”  A simple understanding that your shows ownership and you’re means “you are” is important in order to get across the proper idea.

Written communication is at least as important now as it ever was, and perhaps more so, yet people are becoming more lax about using it properly. Aside from the usual suspects of texting and email,  I blame spell check, grammar check,  and auto correct.  Because of these, today’s society is fostering the idea that being thorough in our spelling, grammar, and mechanics is not that important anymore.  Why think for ourselves when a machine can sometimes successfully do it for us?  Few people proof read.  In other fields of study, such as chemistry, just being close could cause an unintended explosion, or even inadvertently cost someone his or her life.  Yet if someone tries to helpfully point out the correct use of their, there, or they’re, oftentimes the response is, “Whatever.  It’s close enough.  You knew what I meant.”  That may be, but sometimes the only way I know what someone’s mistake actually means is because I know what people tend to get careless about and I have to try all possible combinations in order to figure it out for sure.  Sometimes I never do figure it out.

I just ask that people pay more attention to the words they write.  My head hurts sometimes when I read posts on Facebook… probably because I tend to bang my head on the desk when I see this type of grammar abuse.

Remember, even the placement of something so small as a comma (imagine if I had typed coma) can make the difference between being a cannibal or feeding your grandmother:

Let’s eat Grandma.

Let’s eat, Grandma.

I was told by some students that this video reminded them of me.  The very end may be a little gross, so consider yourselves warned.

So, Now What?

I honestly don’t have anything interesting or inspired to write today, but I’m doing it anyway.  I decided when I woke up this morning (way earlier than I would have liked) that I was going to have to establish routine in my life, or I really will feel like I’m on a perpetual summer vacation, which though many people feel I am, I am not.  I will need to do something in the near-ish future to help earn money around here.  We’ve lived off one income before, but it was not fun.

So I am setting out to create a routine for myself in order to make sure I get what I need done so I won’t feel guilty when I do what I want to do.  For some reason I have a real problem with that.  I think maybe because I worked nonstop as a teacher I feel I am not allowed to ever do anything for myself.  Obviously this is an issue I need to get over (and part of the reason I knew I had to leave the profession).  I can’t spend all my time reading, writing, or watching Doctor Who, now can I?  I have a constant to do list scrolling through my head, so I need to compromise with myself.  Being the organized person I am, this should not be a problem.

The other predicament I find myself running into, due to my preoccupation with my previous occupation, is that much has built up that needs to be done around the house in the form of organization, and it may not fall in the category of routine, but it does fall in the category of some stuff seriously needs to be thrown away if it doesn’t get put away, and I need to figure out where “put away” actually is.

This isn’t an exciting post, but I feel I have accomplished something I can cross off my Monday list, and I always feel better when I write down my frustrations.

Also, I’ve had much time to myself in the last week (maybe too much), so socialization should probably be added to my list. As an introvert,  I forget to get out of my own head and into social settings sometimes. The dilemma here is that since most social settings revolve around food, and I am currently limited in that area since Robert and I are on a strict two-week flush and detox diet, I have purposely closed myself off.  Today begins week two, so wish me luck in eating my veggies but not becoming one.

Maybe Not so Ordinary

Last August, I published a tween/young adult novel, Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl: The Middle-ish Ages.  Then the school year started and I did little to promote it.  Now that it is summer and I no longer have the doom of an impending school year ahead (since I quit my day job), I am working towards getting the word out again on my book.  And I am working on the sequel.  The protagonist, Drew,  must move on and join those who have lived in the misery of being a freshman.

Who would like this book?

Who wouldn’t?

Seriously, the target audience is middle school girls; however, many adults have read it and enjoyed reliving their awkward middle school moments as well.  It’s a humorous tale of a girl figuring out who she really is, and it’s set at the cusp between the ’80s and ’90s, so if you enjoy nostalgia, give it a try.

I’m also trying out a new summer pricing of $2.99, down from $4.99.  This is far less expensive than most alternative forms of “entertainment” out there these days (anybody attempt to go to a movie any time recently?), so take a sneak peak, buy it, read it, and tell all your friends about it, especially if they have preteen girls.  I want to build up the proper age of followers as well.

 

My Road Less Traveled

As a literature major, obviously I realize one could analyze many different meanings from the well-loved and timeless poem “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost, but one thing about poetry is that the meanings of works may change for the various readers, and that’s okay.  As this school year ended, I found myself becoming even more reflective than usual, as I had never taught seniors before, and of course I knew I was nearing the end of my teaching career.  As I sought to do something nice and symbolic, English teacher style, I thought of this poem.  I printed out copies and glued them onto card stock with Dr. Seuss illustrations from Oh, The Places You Will Go on one side and wrote a little message for each of my seniors: “Don’t be afraid to take the road less traveled.”  While I worked on this project, I realized that I am doing exactly what I told my students to do, and I felt proud to not just be someone who says to do something, but I am a living example of actually taking that less traveled path.

The goodbyes were hard with my students, both the ones that were current and the others stopping by because they had heard I was leaving.  Explaining why was even harder, but quite a few got it, or at least they got it enough that I know when they look back at it later, they’ll see it clearly.  The goodbyes at the last faculty/staff meeting of the year were tough too.  Not everyone knew I was leaving before that.  Then I had to clean out my classroom.  My husband took the day off just so he could be there for me, and so he could be the voice of reason on what I should keep and what I should leave behind for the next teacher.  That went much more smoothly than I had expected, until the moment I turned out the lights and I closed and locked the door for the last time. No analogies or metaphors can truly capture what I felt in that moment, so I won’t try.  I pried my name plate off the door and that is when the tears came, but just for a moment, because sometimes even when goodbyes are hard, they are necessary.  Sometimes they allow us to step off that well-trodden and obvious path in order to take the one where we must forge our own way.  But that is how we find out who we truly are.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost
classroom pic

Quitting My Day (evening, weekend, and vacation) Job

It’s here, and I have been fantasizing about this for a couple years now.  This week will be my last as a teacher, not just for the summer, but forever (as far as I know anyway).  If you’ve followed my blog for at least a year now, this comes as no surprise; I’ve been hinting at it at least that long.  Also, if you’ve followed my blog for any length of time, I apologize for slacking the last month or so, but I’ve been busy preparing to quit my day job.

This Thursday will be the end of my seven year stretch as a high school English teacher.  Due to some of the adult reactions I’ve had to this news, and undoubtedly some of your reactions, I feel the need to clarify that it is NOT because “kids these days are horrible.”  Whether they are or not is all subjective, and even if they are, I love them anyway.  The problem with my job has never been my students.  Sure, I’ve had bad days, and I’ve even had a few kids I wanted to throttle from time to time, but overall, they have been the best part of my job.  Not everybody likes teenagers, but I find them to be fascinating.  They’re not adults yet, but they’re not really kids anymore, and they’ve got great ideas and unique views on life that make conversations with them so very interesting.

I have had amazing classroom moments and interactions with my kids when I just knew I was changing lives for the better, and I have had times when I wondered why I even bothered.  I have been lucky enough to have students deem me as important enough in their worlds to share exciting news about getting parts in plays, doing well in band competitions, getting into the colleges of their dreams, passing their hardest classes, and even having baby siblings or getting new puppies.  I have also had students who sensed my concern for them and found me trustworthy enough to express to me their biggest fears, their hearts’ desires, and their home and family struggles.  My heart has both soared and broken for and with them on more occasions than I can remember.  I have no regrets for the time I spent as a teacher.  Even though I am leaving the profession, I feel it is the noblest of all careers.

Therein lies the problem.  I never do anything partway or just “kinda good.”  When I do something, I throw myself into it completely, and honestly, it was taking a hard toll on me.  I would never make it another 23 years at the rate I was going.  Teaching advanced level language arts classes requires evenings, weekends, and vacations.  It’s a good thing I never felt the need to become a mother, but my poor husband became second to my job almost immediately, and though I have consciously tried to rectify that, the nature of the job only allows me to do that sometimes.   We don’t have a bad marriage, and in fact I feel ours is healthier and stronger than most, but I know it can be better.  Fortunately, I have an amazingly understanding husband; however, my priorities were askew.  I need God first, my husband second, the rest of my family and friends third, and then my job.

So, what am I going to do now?  This is the question everyone wants to know.  Oddly (and it really is odd for a planner like me), I do not know…exactly.  I need time off to figure that out, and so leaving my career is necessary.

My principal gave a great speech at graduation this past week.  She told the students not to worry so much about the “what,” but to worry about the “why” of their futures.  I felt like that speech spoke to me.  I do not have the exact “what.”  But I do have the “why.”  My why is getting my life back and prioritizing it the way I believe God wants it to be, and then Robert and I are going to figure out what the plan is for US.  We both feel there is something else for us…together, because we are together for a reason and we both have a passion for social justice against human trafficking.  It’s funny that there was a rumor going around that I was leaving to join the Peace Corps.  Other than almost every teenager who graduated from high school on a sit-com in the ’80s getting into a fight with their parents about this, I don’t really know much about the Peace Corps.  But I do have a desire to reach beyond my current world to seek justice for those who cannot achieve it on their own.  I know that will not be easy either, and then why would I want to leave one stressful job for another?  Because I feel lead to do so, and this time, I’ll be doing it with Robert.

I’m sure the details will not be made clear for some time, and I’m ok with that.  I need some time off anyway (I’ll use some of it to write more), and then I’ll do projects, or part time work in order to supplement Robert’s income.  It will all work out, and though it’s a bit frightening, I know it’s the right thing, and I feel happier than I have in years.  I feel completely at peace, which really says something for me, because I can be a bit tightly wound.

I say goodbye to my kids this week, to my colleagues, to my classroom, and to my school.  Though I know I’ve made the right decision, this will not be easy.  I’ve tried to make it clear to my students that they are not the reason I’m leaving.  I hope they get that.  I also hope that they won’t be afraid to come say hi if they see me out in public, and that they know that even though I may have been hard on them, it’s because I really cared all along, and I want them to be successful.  I don’t know if they can ever know or understand how much they have all meant to me along the way, but I hope they do, and I wish them all the best.

From some of my students.  It was supposed to say "Scruffy-faced nerf herder," but I guess the guy decorating the cake didn't get it; however, I guess (other than the spelling) the nerd herder part makes sense considering the classes I taught.  It was definitely one of the coolest gifts I've ever received.

From some of my students. It was supposed to say “Scruffy-faced nerf herder,” but I guess the guy decorating the cake didn’t get it; however, I guess (other than the spelling) the nerd herder part makes sense considering the classes I taught. It was definitely one of the coolest gifts I’ve ever received.

Runner’s High

I’ve been called a pessimist before; however, if that were true, would I be sitting at my computer, writing a blog post about how much I love running while I’m icing my knee because I went running? No.  I have found the positive in a sometimes painful personal sport.

The personal part is what I first learned to appreciate about running. When I run, I think, clear my head, and concentrate on the beauty I am generally surrounded by when I run (I saw a dolphin last weekend as I ran over a bridge over the intracoastal waterway).  I was never a team sport kind of girl.  In fact, I was never a girl who did anything resembling a sport when I grew up, and I despised running…with a passion.

A challenge was thrown out that I run in a crazy 200 mile race (Ragnar Relay) as a fundraiser for my favorite organization that works to fight human trafficking (Love 146).  I weighed that option for a good while before I agreed to rise to the impossible challenge.

At 32, I began running, for the first time in my life.  I worked out already and thought, “How hard could this be?”  I set out one morning to run a mile down our road (which meant another mile back).  I seriously thought it would be do-able.

It was not.

I made it about a quarter of a mile and thought I would die right there on the road behind my house.  I walked then with spurts of running in between.  Pathetically limited and short spurts.  I made it to the end of the road and realized I had to get back.  Grr!  More of the same walking with short running intervals, an encounter with a weird bug that would not leave me alone (I’m not generally an outdoor girl), and the Florida heat and humidity of a June morning all but discouraged me.  Had I not already invested money into the Nikes I found on sale for $20 (I’m cheap), I would have called it off right away.

But I didn’t.

I continued almost every day in a similar manner for the next two weeks until I made it the mile to the end of the road without stopping.  Then I stopped and walked for a reward.  When I began to run again that day, my knee began to hurt in a way I had never felt before.  Research told me it was my IT band.  I had just started and would already have to take some time off.  I just knew I was not meant to be a runner.

I researched how to “fix” the injury and found I needed to do good stretches and work all my leg muscles through cross-training in order to strengthen what doesn’t get used in running.  Ice also helps.

At that time, I felt it was my chance to give up.  Who would have blamed me, right?  I just wasn’t meant to be a runner and it was something better left for those more equipped.  But then I remembered why I had agreed to run in the first place, and I decided to go back out there, into the hot Florida summer’s oppressive humidity, for the kids that could be rescued and protected by my fundraising and awareness efforts.  So in the moment I made that decision, two passions began in my life.

Running got better for me, and though I often get discouraged still, I keep doing it.  Even after I had to take off a few months because I was having issues with my ITB again.  I think about those kids, my health, and now I also get support from our fantastic local running community.  I’ve gotten faster and my endurance has increased.

Now, it isn’t just a personal sport for me anymore.  I try to mix it up by running a few times a week on my own, doing speed work with a group one evening, and then putting in miles with a group early on Sunday mornings.

I feel I’m becoming a more well-rounded runner, and other than the pain I occasionally feel in my ITB, which I’ve learned how to take care of (as long as I put in the time), I love the way I feel when I’m done.  If I run in the morning I feel amazing all day.

I’m learning to give myself personal challenges and not to compare myself to other runners.  I can do the running in community, but it is still a personal endeavor as I am the only one in my head and body.  I can do it physically, if I can just get my brain to believe it too.

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Another cool thing about running is the excitement of races.  I’ve earned medals for just finishing, and even a few prizes for placing in my age group at a few races (1st in my age group at the last race I ran).

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End It

End It

Shine a Light on Slavery. Let’s be in it to END IT.

A New Hope

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away… or in present time, right here in our own world… injustice seemed to have the upper hand in the lives of women all over the world- held in captivity, worked in sweatshops, and abused in just about every way imaginable.  And all they wanted was a chance to live in health and to provide for their loved ones.  Trades of Hope is a company that seeks to give these women just this chance at dignity, and I’m excited that I will now be part of their efforts as a Compassion Entrepreneur!

I consider myself to be an abolitionist and an activist for justice, and I have found that empowering women is a passion of mine (especially in the area of redemption from human trafficking).  Women are by nature the nurturers in any society; therefore, it is said in many parts of Africa, “If you educate a man, you simply educate an individual, but if you educate a woman, you educate a nation.”

Please understand that I am not bashing men.  I’m just sharing the shocking knowledge I have learned…the knowledge that made me realize one of my heart’s deepest passions.  Two interesting facts I found while reading The Hole in Our Gospel, written by Richard Stearns, President of World Vision:

*Women own less than 1% of the world’s property

*Women work 2/3 of all the world’s labor hours, but earn only 10% of the world’s wages

Stearns believes, “the single most significant thing that can be done to cure extreme poverty is this: protect, educate, and nurture girls and women and provide them with equal rights and opportunities- educationally, economically, and socially.”  I agree.

What I really love about Trades of Hope is that it is not a provider of charity, but it gives women the ability to work in fair conditions and for fair wages in order to support themselves, their children, and their communities.

I once sold Mary Kay, but not successfully.  I lacked a passion for it.  Sure, I enjoyed the products, but cosmetics are cosmetics.  There was no deeper cause.  Now I have a deeper sense of purpose because I am not just raising money for myself, but I’m helping women around the world live a better quality of life… and for the first few months I will be using whatever I earn towards my Guatemala mission trip this summer!

I am so excited to see where this leads and I hope it opens more doors where I am able to minister towards and in defense of  women needing justice.

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves;
ensure justice for those being crushed.
Yes, speak up for the poor and helpless,
and see that they get justice.”

Proverbs 31:8-9

If you are interested in ensuring justice for those being crushed, please support me in my endeavors with this blessing of a company, Trades of Hope.

My Heart and Sole

The title is a bad pun.  Sorry.

The whole soul/sole thing is right at the start of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, and I have again let the English teacher nerdiness of my being take over my blog.  I’m not really ashamed though.

This really is all just about a pair of shoes, but not about just any pair of shoes.  These are my “magic shoes,” or at least my favorite pair of shoes I’ve ever owned (though I am now in love with my latest pair of running shoes).  Shakespeare’s cobbler would have a hard time wearing out these shoes in order to get himself more work (Do you see how thick the bottoms are?).

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I’ve owned these beautiful Doc Martens for about 14 years now!  This is by far the most durable pair of shoes I’ve ever owned, but that isn’t why I love them so much.  I experienced love at first sight with these shoes, and I knew it would take time to save up to buy them, but a worthier investment I’ve only made I think one other time.

I used to wear these shoes for every possible occasion.  Sadly, over the years, I’ve had less opportunity to work them into my adult wardrobe.  Now when I remember to wear them to school on dress down days I get comments such as, “Are those Doc Martens, Mrs. Harper?  My mom has a pair,” and I feel like the kids are trying to tell me I’m old.

But I never feel old in these shoes.  To me, they are as much a part of me as my old lunch box, and like Rose to Jack, I’ll never let go.