The Older I Get, the More I See the True Measure of a Man

Last week, I simultaneously experienced the sadness of attending a funeral and the honor of being among those in attendance who were better for having been a part of a service that celebrated the life of a young man who considered everyone he met a friend.

She Was Not So Strong

I’m not sure whether it’s the time I’ve spent as a quintquagenarian thus far, or the state of the world, but my thoughts have drifted, increasingly, to include my own mortality. I don’t mean this in an uncomfortable way, though these conversations can get cringeworthy quickly.

Navigating that first wave of problematic behavior in the classroom

By the middle of September, we are well into the first semester of school. Back-to- school routines are in place, and the newness of shoes, uniforms, supplies and the classroom has worn off. The formerly compliant, respectful and pleasant attitudes of some students have waned.

Banana Snipers & Tiny Raves

Excerpt from the journal of a madwoman, circa 2016. I’m just a girl from the country, raised among feral cats, ride-able donkeys, and the occasional cur dog. I’m not above mucking around in the what-have-you. I’ve shot a gun a few times. I can drive a standard if need be.

The Teachers’ Lounge

The academic condition of students in America is alarming. There are four million 4th graders in the United States. Three million or 75% of them cannot read proficiently.

It’s a Bittersweet Symphony, This Life

There’s an oft proven fact concerning matters of the heart. Opposites attract. I’m not talking about Paula Abdul and an animated cat dancing in a music video. I’m talking love. I’m talking rock ‘n roll. I’m talking Rick Ocasek and Paulina Porizkova.

The Teachers’ Lounge

Time and technology have had a profound effect on priorities in the field of education. Reading, writing, arithmetic and science seem to have remained high on the list of priorities, though in some places, certain components of writing may be a slippery slope to oblivion.

Fear is Just a Transitive Verb

In the fall of 1981, I sat in the center aisle, second row, of what would now be considered Freshman AP English, in Seagoville High School. I figured that was about the best place to be. I’ve always been an over thinker. For half the summer, I had pondered this moment in my head.