My Thoughts

 Lost potential and opportunities that I wish would have presented themselves…..  There is just so much to say and not enough words. Where would my life be if things had just been different? What would it have taken to actually score the one boy in my class that could’ve altered my life path?? I started this July 2025 right after a funeral for a classmate and the devastating Kerrville flooding.  I was haunted for weeks by the lost potential.  The Tragedy of the "Almost" I believe the saddest tragedy in the world isn't always what we lose; it’s what we never had the chance to become. I grieve for the lost potential—in the world, in the people I love, and most acutely, in myself. It is a quiet, persistent ache for the opportunities that never knocked and the doors that were locked before I even reached for the handle. The Boy and the Altered Path I find myself thinking about a specific boy from my class years ago. It’s not just a crush; it’s a symbol. I wonder:  W...

 It has literally been "years" since I sat still enough to blog.  I miss it; it's hard to put into words the power of journaling and the effect of not journaling on my over restless brain.  Today is December 23, Christmas Eve Eve.  Ha "Eve Eve".  I am alone in my kitchen, nursing my Dirty Chai Tea Latte, listening to instrumental Christmas music and pondering deeply. Who am I? What does it all mean? What do I do with it all, anyway? Where do I go next? Is it ok to let go of a long-held dream? So, in. no particular order. In the last 27 months, I have lost 3 siblings, my dear uncle, my best friend / neighbor and 2 distant cousins.  I don't want to minimize the distant cousins, but I knew them, was close once to the parents (my cousins) and have childhood memories attached to them.  As for my siblings and uncle, those deaths have ranged from severely tragic to old age, and each has in some way affected me beyond comprehension.  Grief is funny that w...

The Currency of Survival Growing up in the shadow of addiction and narcissism, I wasn't taught that love or help was a free gift. I was taught that it was a trade. In my house, there was no such thing as a "favor." There was only "the debt." If you needed something—safety, time, a crumb of affection—you had to pay for it with your own autonomy. For a Gen X kid raised in that dysfunction, "I owe you" isn't just a phrase; it’s a shackle. The Granddaughter and the Conference Period Recently, I asked for an hour to attend an award ceremony for my granddaughter. A simple request. A human request. Later that day, I was asked to surrender my conference period to cover another class. When I tried to hold my boundary, I was told: “Well, I let you go to that ceremony, so you owe me this.” That sentence didn't just annoy me. It "wrangled" my spirit. It felt like a trap I’d been running from for fifty years. The Lie of the "Goodness Ba...

Original Post March 2020 It's the hundredth day of school, and this year has been incredibly challenging. Without going into excessive detail, I can say this year has made me seriously question my decision to return to education. One crucial lesson I've learned is that true leadership sometimes means putting on a brave face, even when you're struggling, to maintain a positive environment for those around you. I've also encountered 'bulldozer parents' for the first time. I'd heard the term, but never truly experienced it. These parents set unrealistic expectations for their children and, in the process, demoralize their teachers. I've spoken with several educators who are leaving the field due to these difficult parents. I believe supportive administration could mitigate this, but that hasn't been my experience. I've been called into the principal's office almost weekly since the start of school. Some parents refuse to communicate with me dire...

Original Drafting March 2021 For the past nine weeks, I've completely overhauled my classroom approach, abandoning the familiar flipped model in favor of intensive, direct instruction. This shift, driven by a desire to bolster student success, has proven to be the most draining period of my entire teaching career. Over winter break, I meticulously analyzed student performance data and survey feedback from the fall semester, searching for patterns and insights that might illuminate areas needing improvement. I reasoned that a more structured, teacher-led approach could address the identified gaps. However, the sheer effort required to maintain this direct teaching model is staggering. Every lesson is meticulously crafted, every concept painstakingly explained, and every student interaction demands focused attention. I'm essentially doubling my workload – creating detailed lecture materials, designing in-class activities that reinforce learning in real-time, and providing constan...

Even though I logically understand what the expression “too much on your plate” means I don’t think I ever fully grasped the dynamic and emotional reality of this expression until just recently in my life. I’m 57 years old and there have been a lot of things in my life that I have struggled through, waded through, survived. I often look backward in amazement that I was able to juggle so much chaos at different points in my life and somehow get up and make it to school or to work or to soccer practice for the kids, and I never felt that I had too much on my plate. And somehow at my 57th birthday, I fully feel that expression for the very first time and I really don’t know how to process it.  As a 911 operator, I once took a call from an older woman, probably in her 60s at the time (making her almost 80 now), whose dog had escaped her fenced yard. She was hysterical. Initially, I didn't understand the severity of her distress. I even asked my coworkers what the 'big tragedy' ...