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Showing posts from June, 2017

This is a post about misconceptions.

We all have them about each other - about who we are as people, about what our jobs entail, what our families are like - sometimes for better and sometimes for worse. It seems that the more we are able to share those misconceptions with other people, and through that, gain support and acceptance for the skewed way we view each other, the less we care about correcting them.

I've talked before about how in Idaho, if you hold a K-8 All Subjects Certificate, you are legally "highly qualified" to teach all subjects in grades kindergarten through eight. Period. The end. Your college coursework is deemed enough to prepare you for any and all of those positions.

I can't even begin to cover the countless flaws I see in this system. But I can bring your attention to two specific specialty areas covered in that certificate that are not what they seem.



(You thought I was going to say Music, didn't you? Pshaw. That would be so obvious. Hang in here with me.)

I …


I tweeted earlier "I think my biggest fear is amnesia."

All joking aside (and obviously, all the replies were jokes) - forgetting is terrifying to me.

I'm reading What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty, about a woman who wakes up from a fall and can't remember the last decade of her life. When she wakes, she feels like herself from 10 years ago, but around her, everything has changed. I've spent the first quarter of the book in fairly frantic tears, my chest tight. I don't want to forget. I NEVER want to forget what has happened to me - none of it. Good or bad. I can't imagine what it would be like to see a dear friend and not know them. To not be able to share a joke or a knowing look. In the story, the main character even forgets her children. She wakes up and is a stranger in her own life.

I feel like it hits close to home, not just because I am a visceral reader, (I have some of the worst book hangovers you can imagine.) but because someone near to me ha…


I guarantee that inside each of us is a kernel
A small, hard nugget
Of our true selves.
Not the self we put on for our friends
Or even when we look in the mirror.
A single grain of sand
Irritating our softest parts
We cover it
Secrete this life
Over top of it
Smoothing out the edges
Becoming luminous

We clamp our shells down
Unwilling to lose what we’ve
Worked to build
Over who we are deepest inside

A beach is made from sand
Smoothed by the ocean
Warmed by the sun
Sinking between our toes
And clinging to our skin
Each of those grains beautiful
Useful together
And more comfortable than
Walking on pearls.