First you dive, and then you swim.

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Waves. Darkness. Seasons. Analogies for grief are not in short supply.

But the swimming pool surprised me a little.

When I was a little girl, I thought I knew how to swim. I had an above-ground pool in the backyard, a little over waist-high to a six-year-old. I could easily walk across the pool. “Swimming” amounted to one or two strokes before having to turn and head the other direction. Sometimes, if no one else was swimming at the same time, I could swim around and around, lightly touching the outside wall of the pool.

Then one summer I unofficially became a member of the Davis family, who went to our church. Their oldest daughter, Deanna, was my babysitter that year, and Deanna’s dad listed me as a member of their family so that I could go with Deanna to their swim club.

The Morgan Wynd Swim Club had a sizeable inground pool with two diving boards, a slide, and a snack bar. To this day, I smell chlorine whenever I open a bag of barbecue potato chips, the associations of the two are so strong in my memory.

Swimming around the Morgan Wynd pool meant bouncing on my toes around the perimeter, hanging onto the edge. I couldn’t actually swim proper strokes across the length of the pool, but I could bounce up and down and make it all the way around the pool, even the 12′-deep end of the pool where the high dive was, thanks to the concrete overhang and the curved wall.

Of course, the quest of the summer was to dive off the high dive. Of course, it took me weeks to get up my courage. Of course, the high dive was in the middle of the deep end of the pool. And of course, I’d focused more on being afraid of the fall than figuring out how I’d make it back to the safety of the concrete edge.

In I jumped, feet first and holding my nose. There is nothing worse than a noseful of chlorinated pool water, so I avoided that at all costs. I went down, down, down, figuring I’d touch the bottom and push hard at an angle to emerge closer to the edge. At that point, I was betting I could swim two or three real strokes to reach safety. The only problem was that I didn’t realize my little six-year-old body was too light to make it all the way to the bottom of the deep end, even jumping off the high dive. When I stopped sinking there was nothing. No concrete bottom. No concrete wall. No concrete ledge. Nothing.

I had enough sense to realize that I was going to have to move myself towards the surface, so I lifted my arms above my head and pulled them back down through the water over and over, swimming awkwardly in a direction I’d never gone in my backyard pool: up. When I finally broke the surface, I managed to doggie paddle to the edge, terrified.

Jumping off the high dive forced me to learn how to propel myself through the water, from the depths to the surface.

And that’s what grief has been like.

For the first few weeks, everything centered around the funeral and thank-you notes and cleaning out mom’s apartment and getting the estate opened. Then things got quiet and normal returned. And I realized I didn’t quite know how to move through life without my mom. She’d been both the wall I pushed off and the edge I’d hung onto. What I did with my time depended on her schedule of doctor appointments and house-cleaning and errands.  Choices I made about healthy living habits came in reaction to her poor choices in nutrition and exercise. I even chose what I wore based on what I knew her reaction would be to my fashion choices. When I was frustrated with my husband or overwhelmed with raising my kids, she’d exhort me to get over myself or assure me it’d be all right. And then she was gone.

For several months I felt like I didn’t quite know how to move through life. I had my husband and youngest son to take care of on a daily basis, but they were at work and school and involved in sports and activities. All the time I’d spent caring for my mom was now free time. All the choices I made about what to eat, what to do, where to go, what to wear… those were mine and overwhelming.

The six-month “anniversary” of her passing was October 7. It was a Monday. I thought about it the weekend before and was impressed that I didn’t have a sense of dread. A good friend asked me if I’d like to get coffee. She’d lost her father recently too. She asked how I was doing, and I told her I was doing OK. I mentioned that day marked exactly six-months from the day Mom died. She talked about struggles with her family since her father died. We chatted a little more. She said something that should have made me smile, but for whatever reason, it hit a sore spot in my heart. My smile disappeared. Tears welled up in my eyes. She tried to make me laugh. I apologized, grabbed my tissues and my purse, and left the coffee shop sobbing.

I cried all the way home; I couldn’t even see the lines on the road, I was crying so hard. I went inside and cried more. I washed my face and breathed deep breaths. Then I started sobbing again. I ugly-cried off and on for about five hours, texting my husband and telling him what had happened. I was sad. So so so sad. I begged the Lord to let me feel His presence and His comfort. I was in full-blown lament mode. And then, I was at peace.

Other than grace, I have no way to explain what happened. I was just filled with peace. Deep, deep peace. And I knew I needed to move towards the surface. So I did.

Things I had held onto (material things) because I was afraid my mom would be disappointed with me if I got rid of them, I felt free to deal with. I emptied the last of the home-canned produce she’d taken with her to the independent living community. It was old and had turned a funny color, and it smelled bad when I broke the seal of the lid. It needed to go. Then I cleaned out her old metal filing cabinet that I’d brought to my house exactly as she left it. I organized her important papers and put them into file boxes until we close out her estate.

I even found a home for the planters we’d given her a few years ago for Mother’s Day, to keep her gardening (her joy) without having to negotiate the brick steps to get to her backyard.

By grace, I emerged from the depths, swam to the side of the pool, and climbed out.

I still love my mom. I still miss her. But I think this will be the last post on grief for a long while.

I’m moving on my own, and that feels amazing.

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I had lofty plans for this blog.

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I had lofty plans for this blog. And then life happened. And death. 

I retired from teaching full time to help care for my elderly mom. I thought I’d start a blog to keep my creative and intellectual sides working, even though I wasn’t bringing home a paycheck. 

About a month after my official last day of work, my mom took a tumble going to the mailbox. A few days after that, she announced it was time. Time to sell the house she’d lived in for 57 years–the only home I’d known until I left for college. It was too much for her and too much for us. And even though we’d renovated part of the main floor of our house into a guest suite with the thought that she might come to live with us, she never did move in. She said she thought the changes at our house were nice, but she thought it would be best for us and for her if she moved into an independent living facility. She said, “We’re too close and have too good of a relationship to mess it up by trying to live together.” 

Of course, that statement had a whole history of “it’s complicated,” but she was right. It was for the best. 

Over the course of the next six weeks, we went through her entire house, sorting things into trash, sell, and keep piles. We had a massive yard sale. We cleaned out the whole house, and we were able to get Mom moved into an independent living facility about a mile from the house she’d lived in since the early 1960s. Same grocery store, same pharmacy, same doctors, same hospital, and virtually the same neighbors. 

Life in the senior community went well for a while until things began unraveling. There was a power struggle over the library: readers vs. socializers. There was an argument. Things changed. Mom changed. She started saying things so outrageous that sometimes I’d have to leave to keep from saying something I knew I’d regret. We were confused. Was it a mental illness? Was it dementia? Was she having strokes? As we set out to find the underlying cause of the change, mental deficiencies evolved into physical deficiencies. 

She had an accident in the laundry room–bumped into a chair propping open a hydraulic-hinged door. The door closed, hitting her right shoulder. We never could figure out exactly how it happened because her account of the story was always a little jumbled. She had x-rays that showed no injury. She followed up with doctors who couldn’t find any physical signs of impact. Along the way, she quit using her right arm altogether. She talked constantly about being in pain, but the focus of her pain traveled from arm to shoulder to back to hip to feet and around again. None of her pain medications helped.

The medical professionals were as flummoxed as we were. The injury was followed by colds; colds turned into long-term stomach ailments. She refused to go to the dining room for meals, saying she had an upset stomach. She refused dining room delivery of food to her apartment. (We later discovered she’d ordered food from several different restaurants during the course of her digestive woes.) She claimed the housekeeper quit coming to clean. (The housekeeping had come by her apartment twice the day Mom made that claim.) I cleaned her apartment for her. She got upset. 

We called in more doctors, but before we could figure out the underlying physical ailment, she fell. 

The night she fell her spiral of decline tightened, both mentally and physically. The ED visit turned into an outpatient stay for observation, which turned into a visit to rehab. Rehab led back to the hospital, thanks to a raging UTI. The UTI treatment resulted in C.diff.  C.diff under control, she went back to rehab. The back-and-forth between hospital and rehab lasted about a month. She quit eating and refused to drink unless the water was ice cold. The straws were too short for the cups at rehab, so I ordered her longer straws. She still wouldn’t drink water on her own, so CNAs and nurses helped us make sure she was drinking throughout the day. 

On Friday, April 5, we found her in her rehab room, unresponsive. The nurse in charge called EMS. Mom’s blood pressure dropped so low during transport that they had to rescue her medically on the way to the hospital. By the time she rolled into the ED, she was stable, but her kidneys and heart were fighting each other to see which would completely fail first. She regained coherence enough to tell us and the doctor that she was tired of fighting and ready to go home to see her mom and dad and my dad, who had all passed years earlier. 

Our entire family gathered at her bedside that Friday night. She had something to say to each one of us. And then she said good-bye. Her thoughts and words were clearer in those last conscious moments than they had been in the past few weeks. She drifted off to sleep, aided by morphine. We stayed with her round the clock. 

On Sunday morning, April 7, the nurse woke my husband and me and said Mom was getting close to passing. We held onto her, told her we loved her, and a few minutes later she was gone. 

The six months since she died have been a lot. Actually, the past couple of years have been a lot. Looking back I can see clues that her mind and body were failing, but I always thought she’d rally. She’d faced challenges before–big challenges like a shattered pelvis–and she’d always fought her way back. But not this time. 

Grief is a road paved with second-guesses. I wonder what I could have done differently. 

Yet there is also grace. I loved my mom dearly. Our relationship was close and complex. I think many mother-daughter relationships are. We shared a faith in Jesus Christ and I am confident that I will see her again one day, in the presence of our Redeemer. 

In the past few days, though they’ve been the most emotional days since her death, I have sensed that it’s time to move forward. I started this blog the month after I retired from teaching, which was right before my mom decided to sell her house. I’ve posted a couple of times, but life and death have a way of bringing projects to a halt. In contrast, healing has a way of getting things moving again. So here we go. 

I’m recasting the vision for this space from an education-focused blog for parents, students, and educators to a broader scope of content, which will cover all sorts of things I’m learning, from books  I’m reading to courses I’m teaching to resources I’m developing to projects I’m attempting to, well, who knows? That’s the adventure. 

I don’t mean to be selfish, but instead of trying to gauge what readers want and getting all stressed out about pleasing other people, I’m doing this for my own growth. 

If you’re up for it, join me. Let’s see what we can learn. 

P.S. Mom, I love you and I miss you. 

Think While You Listen: News Podcasts in the Classroom

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Sarah Koenig changed everything with Season One of the “Serial” podcast.

Before “Serial,” most of us were content to listen to “This American Life” on NPR. Occasionally, we might visit the website. But when Sarah Koenig began to unwrap the saga of Adnan Syed, we consumed journalistic storytelling with abandon. We learned where podcasts lived, and then we subscribed, listened, binged, occasionally rated, and subscribed some more.

Podcasts worked their way front-and-center onto our media consumption menu. Podcasts didn’t require listeners to WATCH and listen, so people could drive, walk, or jog and still experience investigative reporting or creative cultural analysis or sassy social commentary or just about anything else.

Podcasts gave great storytellers a platform and an audience. Podcasts also gave some not-so-great storytellers a platform and an audience too.

Listening is one of the four core language arts. Along with reading, writing, and speaking, listening gives us a tool for educating ourselves to engage in public dialogue.

In the high school English classroom, listening skills have traditionally shown up in the form of audiobooks and classroom speeches. However, the proliferation of podcasts gives high school teachers a new realm of opportunities to teach their students critical listening skills.

Episodic investigative journalism podcasts that focus on one story told in many parts are largely enthralling and binge-worthy. Season One of “Serial” was like watching a novelist, week-by-week, figure out what story she was telling. We got to see characters develop and the plot unfold. Except “Serial” was real-life and the characters were real people and the plot didn’t resolve in a neat and tidy manner or in a timely fashion. The story of the first season of “Serial” is still working itself out.

In contrast to investigative storytelling, largely for entertainment purposes, is the science of daily newscasting in podcast format. At the pinnacle of daily news podcasting is “The Daily,” produced by The New York Times. Hosted by Michael Barbaro, “The Daily” tackles one long news story each episode. Using sound bites and sound effects, along with music that keeps listeners slightly off-balance with the way it lightens the mood of even the darkest stories, “The Daily” takes a deep dive into the complexities of current events and cultural phenomena.

Barbaro typically interviews a New York Times reporter, who shares background and analysis of the topic of the day. Each episode is rich with information, and at a point in our national history when everything in media seems designed to spin towards an extreme of the political spectrum, “The Daily” always manages to acknowledge what is at stake on all sides of the event or phenomenon.

The reporters are tenacious, intelligent, and eloquent. Barbaro serves as an engaged Everyman, asking “So what does this mean?” and restating the information while adding analysis—“So let me get this right… If… then… And that’s the chief concern.”

While the trend toward using podcasts as curriculum content in the classroom has been around for a few years, thanks to Koenig, the potential use of podcast analysis as curriculum enrichment has risen as another pillar of listening instruction. Episodes of “The Daily” pair nicely with the high school English class curriculum. The theme of the corrupting influence of power runs broad in current events and culture. Elections, social media giants, international business practices, crises of conscience… they all play into the idea that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Literature is effective in pointing out to students the great ideas that shape our world and our character. Daily new podcasts give students specific examples where truths revealed in literature are truths that run through the real world.

To help students analyze “The Daily” podcast content, I made a worksheet. Teachers can use the worksheet to help students analyze a current event or cultural phenomenon presented on “The Daily” as an end to itself. For this purpose, teachers can focus on hows and whys of the episode topic, giving students room to express their own opinions on the subject and evaluate the effectiveness of the podcast.

Or the analytical worksheet could be the springboard for understanding the event or phenomenon in order to draw parallels between real life and literature.

A free copy of the worksheet is available in the Always Learning HQ store on Teachers Pay Teachers.

The worksheet allows for teachers to choose whatever episode of “The Daily” works best with where they are in the curriculum. However, a couple of great suggestions from fairly recent episodes and how you could use them in the classroom are as follows:

White, Evangelical and Worried About Trump (Nov. 5, 2018) – Relate to Antigone and the cost of following personal convictions

What a Border Sheriff Thinks About the Wall (Jan. 11, 2019) – Great for discovering what the differing opinions are, what is ultimately at stake, and how views on the issue can change

What Facebook Knew and Tried to Hide (Nov. 16, 2018) – Tracing tangled threads to uncover the truth

The Human Toll of Instant Delivery (Nov. 26, 2018) – The unintended consequences of excellent customer service.

I would love to hear how you use this resource in your classroom. Please leave a comment below.

 

Writing A Great Teacher Recommendation Letter

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Fall is the season for college applications and teacher recommendations. While students are snowed under the back-to-school courseload, extracurriculars, and senior activities, teachers are slammed with parent communications, lunch-hall-carline-whatever duties, lesson plans, in-class engagement, and grading.

Adding a stack of college recommendations to a teacher’s otherwise overstuffed life is a necessary burden. Most teachers who have been around the block a time or two have a go-to formula to help save time and still write insightful information that is helpful to the admissions offices.

For those teachers who are new to the teacher rec-writing game, here are a few suggestions to help develop guidelines for writing college recommendations that give admissions readers crucial information in their decision-making process and also save the teacher a little time in completing this added blessing on the fall to-do list.

1. Be sincere. Your personal integrity with colleges and universities is riding on your honesty and authenticity. Not every student you teach is in the top one-to-two percent of your career or the top ten percent either. Overestimating a student’s ability or character could get that student into a college that is not a good fit. Moderate your language and try not to write everything as a superlative. On the other hand, if a student is at the top of all the students you have taught through the years, break out your strongest endorsements and superlative statements for them.

2. Be up-front. In everyone’s best interest, if you feel like what you can sincerely say about a student will not help their chances of getting into a college or university, let them know so they can ask a different teacher to write the recommendation. One year, I agreed to write recommendation letters for two editors on our student magazine staff. Shortly after, these two students started showing up for class a few minutes after the tardy bell a couple of times a week. Each time, they would apologize profusely and say it was because they were coming from an AP lab course and their lab ran long. When I began to doubt that their AP science class would be doing labs that often, I pulled them aside and told them I could no longer excuse their tardies. They apologized, as usual, and started getting to class on time for about a week. The next time the students were tardy, they came wandering into class halfway through the period, without excuse notes. I asked them where they had been and one student said, “Well, you know, boy problems. We had to have a little girl talk.” I looked at the other student and she said, “Well, I couldn’t tell her no.” Nope. That moment was not one of my better teaching moments, but ultimately, I let both students know that, in their own interest, they should probably find a different teacher to write their recommendations. Nothing I could say about their character would be helpful in their college admissions process.

3. Be concrete. Open the letter with a significant narrative. Explaining the situation that first made the student stand out to you is a good way to start. Maybe it was a class discussion. Or maybe that student stepped in to defend another student who was being bullied. Or maybe the student routinely spends all of lunch hour tutoring a friend who is struggling to understand a complex concept. Maybe the student’s research project was so well-researched and written that it had an impact on your personal beliefs about the topic. Whatever the story is, tell it. Let your opening paragraph be a verbal “video” of what you remember as most remarkable about this student.

4. Be thorough. Follow your opening narrative with a discussion of one or two character traits that best describe the student. Again, the strength of your own writing will come in your ability to help the reader “see” the student’s character by sharing narrative examples. Tell the story. Tell the story. Tell the story. Don’t shy away from sharing examples of growth… situations in which you’ve seen a student become more confident, kind, or hard-working. While it is easy in the body of the letter to recite the student’s resume, that information is already on the application. What is most helpful for admissions is knowing the person behind the accomplishment. Therefore, if an honor or award has a story behind it that shows student character, then tell the backstory. The journey to success is always more interesting than simply knowing there was a success. While most teachers want to paint a picture of perfection, the authenticity of a struggle that leads to growth is often more valuable in identifying whether a prospective student is a good fit with the prospective campus’ culture.

5. Be clear about what you see for the student’s future. Try not to end the recommendation letter with something like this: “Therefore, I highly recommend this student for admission to this university.” If you can see that student spending summers as an undergrad volunteering as an office assistant for a pro bono legal services agency near campus in preparation for law school where you are confident they will become a civil rights attorney, then say that. If you believe that the student will be more successful in college than high school because your school has few technology course options, and the student spends every free moment reading coding books and just needs an environment rich in technology to thrive, say that. Get into the specifics of why this student is a good fit for this college and this college is a perfect environment for this student.

Once you get a few teacher recommendation letters written, you will develop your own style and rhythm. Be careful not to slip into autopilot, though. Make sure your recommendations are genuine and thorough.

Do you have a particular way you prefer to write college recommendations? Please share in the comments below. The more people who jump into the conversation, the better we all become.

Choosing a Common App Essay Prompt

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Photo Credit: Pixabay via Pexels

A quick visit to the Common Application website reveals that over 800 colleges and universities now accept the Common App. From years in the teacher-trenches during college application season, I can attest that the Common App is one of the biggest timesavers to come along in… well, ever.

Along with the one-shot input of name, address, and other vital information comes the opportunity for students to put all their energy into writing one spectacular college essay. While many colleges and universities have additional essays to complete, the supplemental essays are focused on specifics the university wants to know. Quite often supplemental essays also help filter students for honors programs, scholarship consideration, or specific learning communities. As far as essays go, however, the Common App essay factors heaviest in helping admissions readers see the human being behind the stats and scores on the rest of the application.

By nature, the Common App essay is a personal narrative. On the bottom of the 2018-2019 essay prompts announcement page, the organization included the following paragraph:

“Through the Common App essay prompts, we want to give all applicants – regardless of background or access to counseling – the opportunity to share their voice with colleges. Every applicant has a unique story. The essay helps bring that story to life,” said Meredith Lombardi, Associate Director, Outreach and Education, for The Common Application.

Your voice. Your story. Personal Narrative.

Seven essay prompts appear on the Common App website again this year. Breaking it into broad categories, three lead students to reveal an area of passion, and three ask for examples of personal growth. The final prompt knocks the essay topic wide open and tells students to write absolutely anything. Below is a list of the prompts, broken down into their broad categories:

[Passion] 1. Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.

[Growth] 2. The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?

[Growth] 3. Reflect on a time when you questioned or challenged a belief or idea. What prompted your thinking? What was the outcome?

[Passion] 4. Describe a problem you’ve solved or a problem you’d like to solve. It can be an intellectual challenge, a research query, an ethical dilemma – anything that is of personal importance, no matter the scale. Explain its significance to you and what steps you took or could be taken to identify a solution.

[Growth] 5. Discuss an accomplishment, event, or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others.

[Passion] 6. Describe a topic, idea, or concept you find so engaging that it makes you lose all track of time. Why does it captivate you? What or who do you turn to when you want to learn more?

[Open] 7. Share an essay on any topic of your choice. It can be one you’ve already written, one that responds to a different prompt, or one of your own design.

Source: 2018-2019 Common Application Essay Prompts

The Common App essay prompts for 2018-2019 remain the same as in 2017-2018, largely because they are well-written prompts that give excellent direction while preserving the student’s ability to share a unique story told in an authentic voice.

How does a student choose which prompt to write? Ideally, students select the prompt that “connects” with them the most. The prompt response should include a narrative element (a story, as in a chronological sequence of events). It should also have an analytical component that reveals self-awareness of the role of that particular area of passion or personal growth in the student’s life or development. The analytical component is where the readers hear the writer’s voice loudest. The prompt in which story and analysis come together strongest is the prompt a student should choose.

Before locking down the final Common App prompt selection, students should take a quick peek at the supplemental essays for the specific colleges on their list. If a supplemental essay for a top-choice school requires a student to write an essay that is the same or eerily similar to the Common App essay response, choose a different Common App essay prompt. Writing the same basic content for multiple essays going to one college or university is a surefire way to prove a lack of creativity, depth, and work ethic.

As college application season kicks into high gear, here are some action tips for students, educators, and parents to help everyone thrive:

Students – Choose wisely, and keep the big picture in mind. Use narrative and analysis. Tell your story; use your voice. A planner, personal journal, or Bullet Journal could come in handy when it’s time to brainstorm stories. This should go without saying, but students should not wait until the last minute to draft their Common App essay. Leave enough time to try and fail and adjust and try again. Try two or three different prompts to see where they lead you before deciding on “the one.” Time and reflection will be your best friends in finding your voice.

Educators – Give students plenty of practice writing personal narratives. High school English classes run deep in the ruts of literary analysis, research-based writing, and argumentative essays. But students struggle to write their own stories. Do not neglect narrative writing, especially personal narratives. To junior English teachers specifically: at the end of the year, consider a brief personal narrative unit. Keep the word count similar to the Common App (maximum of 650 words). Let your juniors leave school prepared for the college application season ahead.

Parents – Help your students carve out time to choose their Common App prompts wisely. The ideal time to begin drafting college essays is in July between junior and senior years. Most supplemental essay prompts are out by then. The Common App recently has announced prompts in the winter or spring before the next application season. They announced on January 12, 2018, the return of the prompts from 2017-2018 for the 2018-2019 college application season, so it would stand to reason that the Common App prompts will be readily available in July too. Encourage your students to start early. Once students return to school in August or September for the heavy academic and extracurricular load most college-bound seniors carry, they will be writing whatever comes to mind from a sleep-deprived state and settling for just getting something written instead of writing their unique story in their authentic voice.

Questions? Write them in the comments below.

Suggestions? Write those in the comments below too.

 

To Seniors Who Are Chasing College Dreams

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This one’s for the kids, although educators and parents might want to listen in too.

You are AWESOME! True story. You were created with an incredible set of innate talents. Add to that all the skills you’ve acquired in your years of education, and… whoa… Look. Out. World.

Here’s the thing, though–college application season is harsh, and it stands between you and higher learning, which stands between you and said world.

This fall many of you are going smack your forehead on the doorframe of college admissions. Soon you will realize that getting into college seems to hinge on persuading the institutions of higher learning that you are a perfect fit. You have everything figured out. You have not only a planned major for college but also a plan for greatness that will bring renown to the university and untold riches into its coffers. All you need is four years there, the right post-graduate programs, the perfect professional training experiences, and life will be positively Edenic.

Having your life 100 percent figured out before you are legally old enough to vote is a lot of pressure. It’s gut-wrenching to camp out on the notion that life will suck if you get the whole college application thing wrong.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! High stakes!!!!!

Stop it. I mean, if you need the catharsis… purge away all the emotion. Cry, belt out a primal scream, run to the gym and lift for an hour and run back home again. Do whatever you need to do to get it out, and then bring it in for a landing.

You see, here’s the secret: the college search and application process is not a gauntlet designed to prove your superiority or inferiority. It’s an opportunity for you to discover on a deeper level your innate talents and hone those skills you’ve worked on all your years of education. It’s not a quest to present yourself as the perfect addition to a university’s student body; it’s a chance to find a supportive environment that will help you discover the center of the Venn diagram of what you love, what you’re good at, and where the opportunities are.

I’m going to recommend a book for you. Actually, I’m going to recommend the first of three parts of a book. David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits, and the Art of Battling Giants by Malcolm Gladwell. To get the full perspective, you should read the Introduction and all of Part One. But if you want a quick-hit story that may help you figure out where to concentrate your efforts, at least read the story of Caroline Sacks.

Then you can go back to adding schools and application fees and additional charges for sending standardized test scores and school-specific supplemental essays to your figurative college admissions cart. If you still need to.

You are one-of-a-kind, created with a set of abilities and aptitudes and perspectives and no one else on this planet has. Your contribution to life in this world is unique. Find a college where you have the grace to discover your passion, the blessings of success and failure, and the gift of growing, instead of simply achieving.

Hello!

business-coffee-computer-601171Photo Credit:  Tirachard Kumtanom from Pexels

On June 1, 2018, I graduated from high school for the third time.

The first time, I earned my high school diploma.

The second time, I was eight months pregnant with my first child.

The third time, it was just time… for a myriad of reasons, most of them personal, but one of the biggest reasons for my most recent graduation is gaining flexibility in my schedule to take care of my aging mom. 

Today I find myself sitting in my home office, a table on the front porch, feeling that tug to get going on the new school year. It’s July, which is dip-your-toe-into-planning season for teachers, but this July, I’m not planning for next year.

Instead, I’m starting a blog and opening a store on Teachers Pay Teachers because second only to the magic that happens in the classroom, my favorite thing about the teaching profession is developing resources to use in the classroom and sharing them in collaboration with other educators.

I miss my students and their families and my colleagues, so I’m grateful for the digital company. Thanks for hanging out with me!