Month: March 2014 (page 3 of 3)

Thoughts on Growing Up

Today I was asked to write about a time when I was launched into adulthood. I had a hard time thinking about when I decided to grow up. Upon reflection I thought about my life experiences and how I was always the youngest kid and I was coddled. When I was old enough to work, I chose to teach summer camp with the Girl Scouts and babysit. Then I chose to teach, in part because I thought it would be a joy to surround myself with children who had a spark for life’s moments, both big and small.

I never feel like a grown up when I teach. Sixth graders are this funny age in which they sometimes act like adults, then like kindergartens and then like emotional teens. Often I feel like they do, wearing my emotions on my sleeve spewing out my excitement or feelings of frustrations that bubble up to the surface, often when things don’t go my way.

I definitely don’t feel like an adult when I get to talk excitedly about the Divergent movie or about a new pop song on the radio. I feel joyful, excited, engaged. Isn’t that what we want from all students? Isn’t that what we hope that they never loose? I hope to always be a kid, if only a kid at heart. 



Hmmmmm………What To Say….

This is the third time I have restarted my blog post tonight. All this fidgeting tells me I can’t quite concentrate, I can’t quite get into the groove.

Type erase repeat.

“Write something, anything!” I tell myself. And so I will write about this moment when I cannot write, when I do not know what to say. And yet I am writing, my fingers clack across the keys. The more I write, the more confident I feel.

Yesterday was easier. The ideas just flowed. Today I feel as though my ideas are stuck in mud, like I have to pull them out slowly, one by one. Like I’m at the dentist with a tooth slowly being pulled. And yet I know the tooth has to come out to feel better, to feel relief.

Afterwards at the dentist I feel better, as though I learned it wasn’t so bad after all. The next time I go back I’m not so afraid, unsure. The next time I put pen to paper or fingers to keys, I will feel more confident. That’s the hope, anyway.



And the Point is….

Tick tick.

The time keeps passing.

Tick tick tick.

Darkness has arrived.

My left eye begins to twitch, telling me to sleep.

Thoughts of my warm bed creep up into my brain.

It would be so nice to cuddle up in my bed.

To dream away the work load.

To dream

To  s   l     e     e    p.

To imagine.

And then I remember.

And then I cannot forget.

The blogs to read.

The comments to make.

The questions.

The need.

Reading and typing, reading and typing.

I read…

A funny phrase

I find…

A snippet, a snapshot.

I did not know…..

the fall on the skateboard, the almost accident, the friendship

I connect…

How similar we are

What needs we all have

to be heard

to be noticed

to matter

how to tell them

how to make them see

it does matter

I do notice

They are special.


The Lemon Zester

Most nights I cook at home. Since my roommate and I get veggies from a local CSA there is always plenty to eat in the fridge. Cooking tends to relax me and lets me be a bit more creative. Lately I have been trying out new recipes, trying to use up produce that I don’t know what to do with.

For the second day in a row I have used tried to use lemon zest in a recipe. I did not know that lemon zest required a tool other than a grater. Three graters later and a few layers of freshly peeled skin I had given in. The kitchen tools tore a chunk out of my finger right across the knuckle of my thumb, for the second day in a row. I gave in to the kitchen gods, threw up my hands and finished the meal sans lemon zest. I’ve decided that zest isn’t worth it for me.

I’m not one for useless kitchen tools but this is getting ridiculous! I might need to buy a zester before I do any more damage to my hands. I know kitchens are dangerous places but hopefully I won’t get scarred in the process of making dinner.





Mystery in the Unexpected

March 4, 2014

This is my first blog post for the month of March.  I am starting the slice of life challenge. I am writing every day for the month of March. Yes you may be looking at your calendar and thinking this post is a bit late for the month of March. Well I was gone this weekend, backpacking in Cuyamaca, right next to 6th grade camp. We passed the sign on our drive in! Sorry 6th graders, I don’t have photo evidence.

This was one of the rainiest weekends in San Diego and I was scheduled to go backpacking with the Sierra Club. I prepped and packed the week before, begging and borrowing from those I knew to make sure I stayed as dry as possible. Worry crept into the back of my mind, wondering, if  my gear would hold up?  By 9 a.m. on Saturday morning we were at the trailhead, bundled up from head to toe, about to tackle the mysteries that lay ahead.

2014-03-01 10.21.48


As we walked the wind whipped up the rain into our faces. We trekked through the forrest, away from the freeway, from the cars and into the wilderness. After all the planning, we were on our way. Then something wonderful happened. All the stresses faded away. We walked into the wilderness and away from the daily responsibilities. Meadowlarks sang in the flat stretches of land. And we walked on. Large trees changed into valleys of grasses and  we walked on. Raindrops pelted our hoods and backs over hills and valleys as we walked. With each step I felt lighter, more free.

When we arrived at camp, the rain stopped and we set up the tents. The air, rich with fresh smells after the rain, permeated the forrest. Later on the rain began again. We cuddled up in our tents, listening to the pitter-patter of drops on the tent roof, hopping we had set up the tent correctly, that we wouldn’t be flooded.

2014-03-01 14.13.57

After the heaviest of the rain clouds passed, we hiked in the mist to a mountain top, looking out among the clouds. That night we sat under tarps strung between two trees listening to the rain attack our shelter, huddling together with new friends. While sitting under the tarp, I felt a renewed appreciation for a warm meal, for the comfort of a shelter and for the joy to be alive!




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