My Classroom Became Silent

Rain dripped patterns of heartbreak on my window as I packed up my classroom. What was once covered in colorful successes and messy imagination now whispers a still voice. One by one my students embrace me, looking up at me. I kneel down so that I may look each of them in the eye so that I may tell them how I much I love them. How proud I am. How amazing they are. How they inspire me. Inspire me.

There were two parents who spoke words of wisdom as they helped me tape my boxes. Just two. Thats all I needed. Belongings that were used to teach became buried in a brown box with printed pictures of styrofoam cups. Precious belongings that my children learned from, loved and touched disappeared as I struggled with the folds, taping them shut. I could hear the voices of my children as I stuffed their artwork with handprints, crooked flowers and letters to me. Emergent writing makes me smile.

I clean each desk wishing I didn't have to wipe away the marker scuffs and I heart Just Beibers. Their name tags were weary and scribbled on. I find little treasure box toys and light up pencils in their desks. Things they won't want next year. They won't need next year. Only in my class. Just in my class. Their scissors were dull and their erasers gone from correcting their sweet mistakes. I loved their mistakes. I loved when they corrected their mistakes.. without my help.

I stacked their little chairs which once held their little bodies. They grew out of those little chairs. They aren't so little anymore. I sweep the floors which were once covered in dusty footprints and tape residue which had to be torn from the floor and re-adjusted everytime they had a growth spurt. I delete picture albums from my computer and I erase anything that may be confidential. I use Mr. Eraser, Clorox wipes and bleach but nothing can erase the beautiful mess my kids left behind. Memories.

Leggo's, manipulatives and science center toys are found behind large cabinets and tables. They were looking for those. Our hampster spins her wheel frantically knowing that a new home awaits her where she will finally be free of the crazy volume that would shake walls and break glass. I like that kind of volume. From them.

I empty drawers and dispose of empty pens and dry sharpies. I collect each push pin that humbly held hundreds of worksheets, accomplishments and decorated construction paper. Staples become stubborn as they refuse to let go of walls that colored the classroom with vibrant colors, shapes and motivational quotes. I dust my desk one last time and tape up the last few boxes. I sit in my squeaky leather chair and take a look around. For once, my classroom is quiet. Too quiet. Not so beautiful.

The principal walks in holding a stack of stapled papers in his hands. I click my pen and prepare to sign what every teacher fears. He presents these papers on my desk and pulls up a chair. " This is for the best. I didn't want to do it. I'm sorry" I read the fine print and sign my first middle and last name on the dotted line. He doesn't say anything to me. Instead he stops and looks at my boxes and takes one look around the room. I felt like a grain of rice in that big classroom. He smiled and walked out. I took a minute to reflect on all the goodness that happened in that room. The sweet smell of learning. The magic that happened in front of my eyes. The love of a child. The way I changed lives.

I finished loading my truck with each box with a strip of black tape. I leave my keys on my desk and turn off the lights. I take one more look. They say your not supposed to look back. I had to. I closed the door and kept my hand on the handle. A teacher walked by me and asked why I wasn't returning. I looked at her and said..........


Budget cuts my friend. Budget cuts.


If you think cupcakes are sweet... Try teaching. :)

You.

      Hi you,

   


     I can't write for awhile. My heart and soul has nothing to say right now. I'll be back.



follow me.

Rain

Rain finally sends its showered blessings from the heavens. Raindrops beat on my windows, the sun sleeps. Clouds shaped like contorted figures skate across darkness with a desire to find some sort of illumination. They won't find it. Not today.

Thunder rolls chords of intensity. It is sure to cover every fiber of the galaxy. Lightening bestows a silent film as the sky flickers with light. I stare up into the heavens and imagine millions of fireflies sending signals of their love for each other. Electrifying. Magnatizing. Beautiful.
I stand in my classroom, soaked. Drenched. Somewhere out there, children are leaping into puddles and..... two people in love are dancing in the rain.

It's a good book and a cupcake kind of day.

Tonight, Not Again

  The night                            


                                 You brushed your hands upon my flushed cheek
                              Smelled of childhood remnants of a dusty weeping willow
                                 Clouds soothe, Shredded by the calico
                                Were so vast and quick as I was on my own now.

                This time like every other time I believe that I never find
                    Another sweet girl with sequined sea foam eyes
            Ocean lapping voice smile coy as the brightest quiet span of sky
              And I'm all alone again tonight not again, not again, not again.

                And don't it feel allright. and don't it feel so nice. Lovely.

                               Still I'm unable to inhale all the riches
                             As I'm awkward as a wound on my bones
                  Still I've got cobblestone joints and plate glass points
                        As I'm all by myself tonight not again not againe

                            Well if you should nervously break down
                       When its time for the shakedown would you take it?
        It's when you cry just a little but you laugh in the middle
                    And don't it feel allright. and don't it feel so nice.
Lovely.

Say it again. Lovely. So lovely. to do it again
Again. Loving again. It's coming again.

Lovely.

Yours truly,
   Jason M.

First Dates

First dates- in other words, an interview.  We dress to impress and stuff our breathing orifices with sticks of minty gums and spearamint hard candies.  We brush our cheeks with pink tones and stroke our lips a fancy tint.  We lush our lashes so that you see the depths of color in our eyes.  Our hair is straitened, curled, crimped and intertwined just right. We hang our clothes to prevent any kind of wrinkle.  Our shoes are lined up according to which ones will match better and which ones will show off our fabulous gabs. 
      We run late as usual.  Nora Jones plays in the background as we scrummage through our aphrodiciacs.  We sprits our skin with sweet poison, a scent that will flirt with your senses.  Scents that will cause your brain to want to ask questions that you probably shouldn't be asking.  We calm our nerves with a glass of wine and we giggle as the butterflies flutter in our stomachs. We change five times and do our best to respond to incoming texts from our overly excited, nosey girlfriends.  Mirrors laugh as we rehearse how we are going to greet you. 
     " So good to see you"
    " How are you tonight, good to see you"
     " I've missed you, good to see you"
      " Hey there!!  I'm obsessed with your teeth".......     okay no.
     We do some last minute cleaning up and apply our last dab of chicka cherry lipgloss.  We hang up our damp towels that once embraced our wet hair as we prepared our beautiful faces.  Deodorant becomes an important component to staying fresh under dior circumstances-  first dates!!  We lather lotions and give prettyness one last look.  Deep breaths and sucked in guts make our way downstairs to prepare our clutches. 
    Identification- check
    Money- shouldn't need it ( hehe) but.. check
   Lip gloss- double check
   Mase- check  (haha)
   Gum- check
    Roadside assistance in case he gets a flat - check (haha)
      We carefully get in our vehicles and turn on the AC to prevent any kind of perspirations.  We find the best music to rid our nervousness.  We continuously look at ourselves in the rear view mirror to check for signs of  unevenness or loose mascara resting under our eyes. 
     We arrive at our destination and we hope that you don't see us pull up.  This way we can do any last minute adjustments- wedgies, hair fly aways, leggins twisted, bra's inside out. Haha. We grasp our clutches and hope that you are as nervous as we are.  We see your vehicle parked in the front.  More deep breaths occur as we open the door. 
   Then..
     There you are.  Smiling.  Sweating alittle.  Hands in your pockets.  Wearing your cargo shorts and a polo shirt- untucked and wrinkled a bit.  Crocs slipped over your big feet.  Your tattoo peeking under your sleeves.  Your hair is spiked and ...
              ...  you smell so good.

First date desserts- cupcakes :)

Hey! I Got Laid

        No, not me.  A very close friend of mine. "Hey guess what? I got laid".  That was the text he sent me late last night.  I have known him for eight years and he was my only virgin friend left on this planet.  He was always picked on for his choices to wait for someone he loved.  Not by me.  I loved that about him.  He is a goofy, witty and super good looking.  If you google Stefano from this seasons  American Idol, you will know what I'm talking about.  They are identical.
           Okay so I'm just gonna say it. I made the decision when I was younger to wait on doing the " great bambino" with someone until I was married.  I am 28 and I'm still holding strong.  There, now all of OS knows.  It's cool.  I think? It's really not that bad since I don't "crave" it like some people do after they do it a couple times.  Well, so I've been told.  I have been asked all kinds of questions and I have collected many pennies for when people tell me " yeah right, noone is a virgin anymore".   So, I'm rich by the way. haha. 
      My friend and I would always talk about it and kind of make fun of ourselves.. with all respect of course.  We wondered how old we would both be when we "hit the jackpot" and.. I'm not talkin about money. I JUST talked to him last week- then a virgin.. then BAM now he's been ... um... laid?? Do we still refer to sex as getting "laid"  Why?  Does anyone take it serious anymore?  Or is it just me and all the other 20 something year old virgins sneaking up on 30? Goodness.
     I spoke with him this morning and I totally expressed my feelings about him just going and doing whomever.  Yeah, to each their own.  Some people wait and others don't and that's okay.  Really.  However, he had such great intentions on waiting for the woman he truely loved.  I knew him better than that.  I asked him why he took the plunge and he replied " well, I really wanted to wait for someone I loved, but it never happened so I said screw it and just went out and did it".  
            
 WHAT??? Just like that?

  Sigh.  Crazy guy. 

I don't know if I'm more disappointed in the fact that he was so whateve about it or that he totally, sneakly beat me to the punch. Haha. 

Now what will we talk about?

Casey Grunts

    This will be short and sweet.  I am totally loving Casey on American Idol.  His voice is so brash and sexy.  He grunts and skats and kisses the judges.  He is a Seth Rogen, Lance Hartley piece of goodness on rock and roll crack. He kills it.  Kills... it.

Cupcakes with Casey tonight.