Pitbull Advocacy

As many people know, Montreal just passed a ban against ALL pit bull type dogs.  Being an owner of the most loving and gentle pitbull, my heart shattered when I first heard the news about this ban and death sentence.  It's disheartening to know that in this world, not even dogs are safe from stereotypes and blanket statements.
While I was researching different ways I could help, I came across this gofundme page where a young woman is raising money to rescue as many pitbulls as possible and bring them back to the United States.  They have reached their first goal and will be flying some very lucky dogs to a new home where they can start over.  They are continuing to raise money to fly a second plane in and out.

If you are unfamilier or haven't had much interaction with a pitbull, below are a few snippets of one.   My husband took the first video last night and the second one a few months ago.   :-)

First Grade Team

Last school year was when I really began thinking about how truly blessed I am to have such an incredible first grade team.  Not only are the ladies I work with brilliant, compassionate, selfless, and dedicated, but they are also some of my closest friends.

When you think about work, the people you see every day at your job are indeed the people you see more than your family members.  The fact that your colleagues know what you're going through when you walk in on a Monday without saying anything is comforting.  Here is a list of a few important reasons why it's important to have a close knit group of friends at work, especially your grade level team:

1.  You don't need to pretend.  
The fact that you don't need to sugarcoat how your morning is going is liberating.  No need for the cliche, "It's going wonderful", when really it isn't.  It's safe to say my team members know me too well for me to even fool them if I tried.  I love that they are beginning to read me, just like my sisters do.

2.  You aren't alone.
"Did you get your newsletter printed?"
"Are you having your students take the Unit 1 math test this week?"
"Want to go outside for an extra recess at 2:00?"
Everything you do in your classroom, your team is also doing.  We literally are teaching the exact same thing, so sharing resources and teaching strategies are a constant on our first grade team.  I never feel alone and know they are right down the hall if I need anything.

3.  You can vent.
I say this only because I think it's important that people have confidents where they can vent about a problem they may be having, either at work or at home.  I have learned the hard way with colleagues and have found only a few who I trust dearly.  Some days it just feels better to say, "Hey!  I'm super stressed about this parent e-mail.  What are your thoughts?" or "I really don't feel like being here today..." because haven't we ALL been there at one point or another?  It's nice to know that you are heard, and that you can say what's on your mind without judgement.

4.  You become family.
On the last day of inservice at the beginning of they year our school ends the day with an open house.  I brought my tooth brush and toothpaste and was brushing my teeth in one of the student bathrooms before families came.  Right after me, Kelly (who is on my first grade team) came in and began brushing her teeth as well.  As we were standing there in front of the mirror I couldn't help but smile and think about how close we've become.
I have laughed with my team and cried with my team.  They've seen me with spinach in my teeth, marker stains on my pants, and still love me anyway.  I cherish the small family we have become.

Flow

A few months ago I read about the concept of "flow" which is defined by being completely involved in an activity for its own sake.  As I was reading through the article linked above it occurred to me that I have found myself in this mental state many times.  For starters, I paint.  Whenever I paint time stands still.  I have literally sat at my kitchen chair for hours painting without even taking a sip of water.  I suffer from anxiety and I have found that when I paint, my anxiety is completely gone.  It's almost as though all my thoughts and efforts are working together for just one thing and that is- to create a beautiful canvas.

Above is a painting that I painted for a friend of mine for her daughter's bedroom.   

http://philosophycommons.typepad.com/the_grumpy_grappler/psychology-of-jiu-jitsu/

 Other times when I feel completely lost or immersed in something is when I teach.  Flow is something I don't think about often yet it plays an important role in my life along with others.  People have stated that they feel "flow" during sports, dancing, playing music, writing, drawing, and painting.  I believe that by experiencing "flow" one finds an overwhelming feeling of contentedness and happiness.  I'm curious, have you ever experienced flow?  If so, what were you doing?

You

     Image found at -https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2V7GWH5LBc

You inch toward me,

as we just wake up.

It’s another morning

and I feel your hand slide across my body.

Your voice is sleepy as you say good morning to me.

The birds are chirping

as I listen and feel the warmth of my blankets.

My eyelids are still closed and I begin drifting back to sleep.

You reach over and kiss me,

like you always do.

These moments are so ordinary,

yet so precious.

I take this time with you for granted.

I smile and kiss you back,

like I’ll be waking up to you forever.

I'll Never Look at a Whoopie Pie the Same

http://www.simplysifted.com/tag/whoopie-pie/

So there we were, just leaving the field last Saturday.  It was a beautiful day and I was trying to soak up the vitamin D as much as I could, knowing that after fall comes winter.  Tatum, our dog was panting and kept on poking his nose in my purse trying to hint to us that he needed water.
"Grab his ball?" Charles asks as he takes the gate and rolls it open.  Dog in hand he looks away.
That is when it happened.  The whoopie pie, still wrapped in plastic, disappears and it wasn't Charles or myself who ate it.  We look down panic stricken.
"GET IT OUT!" I scream, but it was too late, the dog clearly had the whoopie pie down his throat.
"He just swallowed that whole!" Charles says, upset with himself for looking in the other direction at the tennis players over to the right.
Tatum was still panting, acting like nothing exciting has happened, only that he swallowed a pumpkin chocolate chip whoopie pie whole, still wrapped in plastic.
Charles pulls out his phone after cursing a few about vet bills and bowel blockages.  I try to stay calm, but I'm more grossed out about the poop stink from the plastic doggie bag in the car.

"We need to wait a few days.  The vet said it should come out either one end or the other," Charles relays to me.  Well, this was the beginning of our weekend.  Watching and waiting.  Didn't we say we didn't want kids because of too much responsibility?  Well, that backfired in our faces fast.  Here we were, staring at the dog, worried that something bad was going to happen with apple size plastic in his gut.

Saturday night came and went.  Nothing.  A long Sunday of waiting and still...nothing.  We decided that it will just happen and we'll come home to a mess one of these days but still... nothing.  This morning Charles called the vet again, and they told us to wait a little longer, especially because Tatum was eating and drinking normally.

Now we're into Monday afternoon.  And low and behold, on our walk a couple hours ago it happened.  A clear piece of plastic came out and I never thought I'd be so excited to look in a pile of shit.  My neighbors must have thought I was going crazy, but I was too excited to care.  This is month five since we've had a dog and the first time this has happened.  I'm sure it won't be the last but I'm just ready to relax tonight and not dream about plastic.

Childhood on Horseback

I still remember Christmas afternoon, when my Dad drove me up to Charleston, Maine.
"Just wait and see," he kept saying.   My heart fluttered as we drove in our blue mini van, hands clasped together how I always do.
A beautiful barn appeared out my window after a few different turns.  The barn smell of hay and horses filled the air.  To this day, it's still the best smell in the world.
"Follow me," Dad said as he began to walk to the door, crunching ice while doing so.
I can still remember opening the barn doors and hearing the softest winnies of more than 30 horses tucked away, cozy in their stalls.  After all, it was Christmas afternoon.  Many of the owners were at home with their families.  Not Dad and I.  Here we were, in a beautiful barn, with the best company.  I followed him.  He took a left, and then walked down the aisle.  Stall after stall, horses perked up as they heard our footsteps.  When finally we got to her.  Abigail.  My horse.  My beautiful Arabian Quarter horse who was given to me from a family friend.  I peered into her stall and saw her jet black mane and long tail.  I gently opened the stall door only to find a handmade sign Dad must have made.  It said, God made little girls to beautify the world.  And of course, to ride a horse.  A few years ago, I went back to this barn and tried to find this sign but couldn't.  It will forever be etched in my memory.  Dad decorated Abigail's stall door too.  A beautiful red bow was on it.
"Look, this is Abigail's new home now.  She'll be here where you can ride in the arena and trails and take lessons," Dad explained to me.

And boy did I do just that.  Years and years went by and hundreds of trail rides were ridden.  Jumps were jumped, and hours were spent laying out in the pasture listening to the gentle tear of grass from horses grazing.  When I think back on my childhood, it always goes to horses.  One memory that is so vivid to me was during middle school.  It was a summer night, around 7 o'clock.  I was riding by myself out in the outdoor riding arena.  With the security of the western saddle, I cantered around and around, hair blowing and feeling free.  If someone were to ask me what is one of your happiest memories, this would be up there.  I remember finally slowing down to a gentle lope and raising my arms.  Those were the days.

5 Reasons Why High School Sweethearts Are The Best

High School Sweethearts are rare these days.  My husband and I met and fell in love when we were 15.  I can't imagine my life any differently and I'm so thankful my life has been shared with someone from such a young age.

1.  High School Sweethearts Have Seen You At Your Worst.
Ha!  This is so accurate.  Charles, my husband, met me during my "band t-shirt" phase and skater shoe phase.  He was there with me when I, ---gasp! gauged my ears.  He's seen me fight with my parents about curfew, and cry over my hormonal teen acne.  Yes, he's seen it all and loved me through every second of it.

2.  High School Sweethearts Keep You Honest.
Every single thing that has happened to us since high school, we went through together.  College applications, car shopping, cell phone plans, first jobs, friendships---it all blurs together.  I couldn't keep anything from Charles even if I tried.
3.  High School Sweethearts Have More Memories.
It's almost daily when either Charles or I say to each other, "Remember when..."
"Remember when we got yelled at at Blackbeards for making out too much?"
"Remember when you stood up to Damien, the toughest kid at school when he put his arms around me?"
"Remember our first apartment?"
"Remember when I used to hide cute little gifts behind your car tires after work with a note on your windshield?"

Just a few weeks ago we took out our "special things" box and relived our teenage years.  I can't believe we saved our folded notes from high school.

4.  High School Sweethearts Know Each Other Better.
Quick!  What happened to my Aunt's dog when I accidentally hit it in the head with a rock by the lake?
Why did I stay back in second grade?
Why did my Grandmother always save shampoo bottles?
Where was I during January 14, 2005?  --Just kidding.  But really, all those little details are safe in another person's memory along with your own.

5.  High School Sweethearts Know You Better Than You Know Yourself.
From the exact moment I'm feeling a burning sensation in my eyes, Charles is always one step ahead of me.  He knows that I hold my hands together when I'm nervous, and how sensitive I am.  He knows what I'm thinking, even when I can't spit out the words.  He could explain why I'm a people pleaser much more eloquently than myself.

I can still recall the feeling,

of seeing your eyes for the first time.

Your gaze captured me on my phone screen,

and I was yours that day.

Those longing eyes,

who crave the love from anyone willing to give it. 

Your eyes tell me the heartbreak you’ve felt,

when they left you to die.

I know your broken tail continues to wag with even the smallest,

slightest,

ray of hope. 

I wonder if that car knew that it hit you?

I can only imagine the despair you felt,

with your fragile skeleton body,

sitting on the concrete floor.

Your hip and rib bones protruding out of your beautiful brown fur,

in a high kill shelter.

Who would have thought,

you were destined to be loved by me?

I’m here to tell you sweet boy,

I’m your hope.  I promise I will sew that

broken heart of yours back together as best as I can. 

The little red blanket you were rescued in

the one that has traveled from shelter to home after home,

will stay put.  It will never leave, as you will never

leave.

I promise you. 

Those sweet longing soulful eyes,

grabbed me at the perfect time.

I can’t wait to give you all the love I have,

God knows, you deserve it. 

New Christmas Traditions

Picture found at- wallpaperfolder.com

Last week I was talking to my sister Ashley about Christmas.  She said to me with a saddened voice, "I really don't think I'm going to have the money to buy nice presents this year.  They'll probably be homemade."  This got me thinking.  Why do we care so much about gift giving in our family.  Both my two sisters and I are in our later 20s, we don't have children, why can't we start a new tradition?  I know that between my husband and I we usually spend a total of $1,000 between buying gifts for each other and gifts for our families.

After some thought, my husband and I pitched a new idea to my family.  Why don't we choose a person's name in a hat and they will be that person's "Secret Santa"?  That way, the pressure of buying gifts for everyone is lessened and all you need to focus on is the person you get.

In the larger scheme of things the most important part of Christmas, for me anyway, is who is there by you around the Christmas tree.  Yes, presents are super fun but I'm not saying don't buy them, I'm just saying why can't we give gifts a little differently?  Ever since we were children our parents have bought presents for us girls.  To this day, they still do, plus add in husbands and boyfriends.  That's a lot of pressure and a lot of money.  As my parents are getting older, why is it their responsibility to buy all these gifts?  After talking more about this we decided that this year, we could donate to a charity as well.

Just last week we drew names from a hat.  Our family rule is that no one can say who they have and that the 'Secret Santa' will be revealed on Christmas day.  This only adds to the fun because I'm so nosy and only want to know who has who.

One other family tradition that I forgot to add is our family games.  Every family member in my family puts together a game.  Last year these games included: bingo, puzzle races, darts, trivia, and a chopstick challenge that my sister Ashley came up with after living in Japan for over a year.  The person who creates the games also creates or buys their own prizes for the winner.  These games started when just my Mother came up with a 'minute to win it' game of who can stack 3 golfballs first on Thanksgiving Day many years ago.  The winner then won a Subway gift card.  Fun right?  Except, my husband Charles won and I am really competitive.

Christmas will come and go, and the only thing that stays is family.  The older I get, the less I care about receiving presents.  I think that as time goes by, and us girls get older, all we truly care about is the health and happiness of one another.  Yes, gifts make it fun and we will have them.  I just need to wait until I find out who my Secret Santa is.

Turpentine

One blog site that I came across that is near and dear to my heart is Farm Sanctuary's Blog.  Farm Sanctuary is an American animal protection organization.  Their work is inspiring.   Take a look below.
http://feedly.com/i/subscription/feed/http://blog.farmsanctuary.org/feed/



After visiting Farm Sanctuary in Watkin's Glen, NY a few years ago, I came across this blog post about a very special turkey named Turpentine.  Below I posted a photo of Turpentine and I that my husband took while I was sitting in the grass at FS.  I still can't believe how gentle and sweet he was.  My students love this story and we talk about it often.  Click below to read Turpentine's story.

http://feedly.com/i/entry/7E7b3lqV8ki0CaAlw18K3U83t43SL6TRLQyiE1TEta8=_14b37b92c17:177511b:69c6e04e

Routines and Recipes

So, here I am searching blogs and trying to find something that interests me.  As I navigate through different recipes, I came across a recipe for Do-It-Yourself Power Bars from 101 Cookbooks. (http://www.101cookbooks.com/archives/savory-doityourself-power-bars-recipe.html )  I bookmarked it knowing that my intentions are well and good, but deep down I know I probably won't end up making them any time soon.  This time of year is always the craziest, at least for me it is.  

The thing about the beginning of the year as a teacher is that every single day after school ends, you are fried.  Like, literally fried.  I have found myself walking out the door after school and not being able to make one more decision, even if it's about dinner.  I looked in the mirror before I left the classroom today and it looked like I lost a 20 mile race.  My hair was frizzy and the famous black eye liner smudge was halfway down my temple.  I am exhausted.  The new school year is always exciting and I adore meeting my classroom family, but routines and expectations have not been built yet.  If done right, these take up energy, patience, and routine building.  

As I walk through the hallways I see my previous students from last year.  Oh, how I miss them.  They could basically run through the routines backwards in my room.  I look over at my firsties, see them walking in a zig zagged line, stop them in the hallway, and we go over what a single file line looks like.  The crazy thing about the beginning of the year is that eventually, when you least expect it, students will begin picking up the routines.  Just like that, they'll be able to tell you that math is right after our brain break, and that on Wednesday's we sing our phonics song.  Perhaps then, I won't be as crazed and I'll have time to make those tasty power bars.  For now, I'll bookmark it for safe keeping.

Picture found at 101cookbooks.com

You're a Teacher?

 

picture found at ( teachercaicai.blogspot.com )

You’re a Teacher?

Last month I was getting my haircut and my hairdresser casually asked me what I did for a living.

“Oh, I’m a teacher!” I explained with proud excitement in my voice.

“I feel sorry for you...” she sympathetically said, “especially kids these days.”

My heart sank. How could someone see my profession with such negativity. It was while I was sitting in her chair silently that these thoughts went racing on in my mind.

I don’t feel sorry for myself. Teaching is the best job I could ever ask for. In fact, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I don’t feel sorry for all the smiles I see coming through my doorway each morning. I don’t feel sorry, when, on the last day of school a student looks up at me and says, “I’ll remember you forever.” I don’t feel sorry for when that child finally ‘gets it’ and begins reading and writing fluently. Or what about that tough child? The child that only needed love. I don’t feel sorry for all the love I poured into them day after day and then finally, they begin following directions just because they too love you. I don’t feel sorry for teaching children how to respect others. What about kindness? I don’t feel sorry for teaching students that kindness goes such a long way. How about the neglected child? The one who continually reaches up for your hand because they don’t have someone to hold hands with at home? You bet I grab that hand and walk with them down the hallway. These children are our future. They are our best bet for a kinder world. How could you ever feel sorry for me if I’m helping shape that?

Baby Fever isn't Something I Want to Catch... (at least not right now)

                         (image found at http://ladyclever.com/mommy/im-childfree-by-choice-but-im-not-a-bully-about-it/ )

Last week I was talking with a previous coworker that I ran into while shopping. With a smile on her face she asked the question my husband and I are always asked.

“So do you have any kids?” As soon as those words hit my ears it took everything that I had not to scream and run out of the store. But instead I kept my composure, smiled, and said, “No, not yet.” I didn’t feel comfortable elaborating on about how my husband and I aren’t even sure if we want kids. After getting married at 21 there were a few questions here and there but not enough to warrant a problem. Now after turning 28 we can’t believe the societal pressures that are put on us to have a baby.

First of all, I have never had this “baby fever” that so many people talk about. I know that it exists and I have very dear friends of mine who were destined to be parents and I love them, but as for me I have never felt that incredible pull to procreate.

“Oh, you’ll change your mind,” a friend says to me as I smile politely and listen. Inside I’m always thinking, “but when?” Both my husband and I are 28 right now and we are open to the idea that we may change our minds in 5 years, but I’m tired of hearing it. Clearly, I'm not alone… childlessbychoiceproject.blogspot.com

What if we never want to have kids? Why is it such a big deal to others? It’s almost as if people get offended hearing that we don’t want children. We then get the label of being, “selfish” when really the only reason we would have kids is to have someone to take care of us when we’re old (which isn’t guaranteed). That is selfish. What a horrible destiny to be born into. You are here so you can change my bedpan. No, I’ll pay someone if need be. I only wish that there is more of a societal acceptance for those who do not want children.

The best line yet that we have received has been, “I didn’t know what love was until my son was born.” Well damn, sorry to hear that my husband and I don’t know what love is. That sucks. I understand that the love between a parent and their child is special, but how can you measure love?

Studies have shown that more and more millennials are choosing to opt out of parenting. This tells me that the acceptance for childless people by choice is growing ever so slightly. But for now, we’ll continue being excited for you when you announce the birth of your baby and we’ll even come to his birthday party bearing gifts. We do not hate kids. We love kids. I teach children every day. I just personally don’t know if I’ll ever have the calling to be a mom. My husband and I already have fulfilling lives and we know that a child doesn’t need to be born to prove that. Here’s to standing up straight, smiling, and continuing on.