Teacher Appreciation

Pin It

It was Teacher Appreciation last week.

Monday dawned and I arrived at school—just an ordinary day.

After I finished working with the students at before-school homework lab, I moved out to the student drop off zone for early-morning duty. As parents drove up to the curb and dropped off their children, I was approached by one of my students, Joey. I did a double take as I noticed that he was dressed up in a shirt and tie.

“Why are you dressed up today, Joey?” I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders and uttered a noncommittal, “Umm Neah.”

“Well, you look nice today.”

He grinned as he turned and walked to our line up area.

A few minutes later, I noticed another one of my students who was also dressed up.

Odd…very odd.

It was at this point that I had the thought, they all dressed up because of their president reports today? Hmmm…that’s strange, I never said anything about them having to dress up for them.

Well, as it turns out, most of the class had dressed up for me. They’d conspired together sometime during the previous week and decided that the best compliment they could give their teacher was to dress up like he did for school.

Without saying a single word they were speaking volumes. In essence they had said: Mr. Z. You dress up nearly every day to teach us, and to show our gratitude and respect for you we’re dressing up, too.

Needless to say, this was teacher appreciation at its best.

Darkness and Light

Pin It I hadn’t planned on posting tonight.

I’d planned on wallowing in a pool of self-pity.

Isn’t that the fashionable thing to do? After all, it’s all about being ‘in,’ right?

The past few days have been a battle for me...I’m not going to lie; it’s been a skirmish in endurance and perseverance.

…make that survival.

Do you ever find yourself in the midst of those days when you just feel that you can’t go any further? That you can’t do any more than what you’re already doing? That you have given your all, and it’s just not enough? That every time you start to get a bit ahead, you suddenly find yourself three steps behind where you originally thought you’d be? Then, to top it all off, when the day has ended, there is still far too much to do?

The inbox is still full.

The outbox is much too empty.

The dishes are piling up.

When you came to work the past few mornings, the sun still had at least an hour before it even considered coming over the horizon; then, when you left, it had set many hours before, leaving you in total darkness…

It’s been one of those days, for the past several days.

I came home tonight in darkness. I walked outside feeling as empty as the parking lot which was laid out before me, a shadowy reflection of myself in the twilight.

I closed my eyes, allowing it to drench me, to consume me, and overflow to capacity.

I breathed in the warm evening air.

I opened my car door and started the ignition, thinking of tomorrow. Despite it all, I smiled. I found myself taking comfort in the fact that a warm bed awaited me, and a new day was readying itself in the wings for the morrow. When I was to awaken, everything would begin again yet anew, and it would be better.

The sun would rise again…and when it did, I would see it.

Friends, there is light.

I awoke to an orchestra

Pin It The flash of light ignited against the other side of my closed eyelids; that’s probably what awoke me from a restful slumber. The low, guttural tones of thunder followed only moments behind it, chased by the rain. The glorious downpour smattered down upon rooftop in cascades of monsoon. It layered the sidewalks in shimmery wet, inviting worms to surface for schoolchildren to step on as they make their way to my classroom later this morning in this watery-shimmered world.

I moved through the house with lights off, attentive to the wondrous orchestra playing all around me—reverberating through the four walls and ceiling—and even permeating through the very earth below me.

Light flashed, bringing to life the images hanging on the walls of my home for a brief moment of time.

Exhilaration.

Windows were thrust open, and the sounds were fully welcomed into my world—or I into theirs. Above, the lights of the city reflected off of the dark, twisting clouds as a train whistle pierced the darkness from someplace off in the distance; a melancholy souvenir of places far away, and stages of summer I loathed, yet hunger to live again.

But for now, the rain continues to fall in its eternal drizzle from the skies above me, and the August rushing of wind hits the trees in my Olympic-sized backyard, adding to the ensemble which continues to acquire its musicians.

Like before, I am prepared to meet with a smile whatever challenge is here to greet me today,

Welcome, rain.

Moments that matter

Pin It There are moments.

Moments that occur in our lives which can define us.

It is through these little instances that our lives become intertwined with others, where we mix the colors of our life sketches together for short or extended periods with those which may or may not be family members. It is in these small, perhaps seemingly insignificant moments that we mold ourselves—or even those around us—into the type of individuals we will all one day become.

These are the moments which matter.

I switched on my computer this afternoon and logged into my Facebook account—I wanted to check the activity on the site when I noticed that an old student and boy I’d mentored several years ago had tagged me in a photo. I clicked on the link and was a bit surprised when I was greeted with this image:


I scanned the photo and started to read over the descriptions; as I moved the mouse over the picture, I noticed that names would pop up—squares which had been tagged by people, as friends or acquaintances of theirs who’d fit the description of said box.

When I scrolled over one of the boxes a name popped up I recognized.


The name was mine.

I sat, staring at the screen for several moments in bewildered silence.

I was speechless.

I hadn’t seen the young man who’d done the tagging of this particular image for quite some time; but I thought of many of the experiences we’d had in the mentoring program over the years—all of the good times—as well as the struggles and hardships over the five years I’d worked with him as a young boy growing into adolescence.

I have not been his mentor for a few years now. I have not been his teacher for even more of those years—yet there was something I did which made a difference, something he still remembers.

I am still speechless.

I am reminded of what I said a while ago when someone asked me what my future goals were in regards to my life; to this I responded: I plan to one day take the ultimate photograph, to have a student come back after graduating high school because I made a difference in his or her life, to see each kid in my class feel a sense of belonging, and to get up each morning with a smile on my face and project that into the lives of those around me.

These are the moments…

Messages to heaven

Pin It
The chirp of magic markers sent up a chorus of sound in the otherwise silent family room—like an orchestra of crickets—as we each penned our individual messages of gratitude, of appreciation, and of love.

The minutes passed and still everyone wrote.

Some drew.

We had no idea what the others were writing.

When everyone had finished, we took our helium-filled balloons to the front yard, the yard she loved, filled with flowers and the aroma of the night breeze off of Lake Pend Oreille.

As one we sent our messages skyward, a rainbow of color against a blue canvas of sky.


We stood and watched, arms around each other as the nine balloons floated away to the east; one for each of us present—and one for Mom. We stood there watching until they had completely vanished on the distant eastern skyline—still huddled together in a small group.

Like a family.

Just like us.

Vandalized

Pin It I was standing in my classroom after school had ended. The call came from the office saying that something had happened to my car.

My heart constricted in my chest, and I found myself gripping the phone rather tightly.

“Vandalism?” I asked incredulously.

My principal immediately began to clarify. “It’s nothing bad. In fact, it’s something good. You need to get outside before it’s ruined though.”

Good vandalism? Ruined? How odd, I’d never heard of that before.

I hung up the phone, grabbed my camera, and headed out. So just what was it that met my wandering eyes?








I guess somebody thought that I was down due to my post last night. I wasn’t—really. It was a post about something…good. About not giving in, and moving to fresh waters. It was about newness & hope. It was about others’ needs, and not being willing to give up on them…no matter how terrible the waves, and how many times I’m buffeted by the winds of change.

Refusing defeat.

It was while writing last night that I decided to listen to music I’d not heard in a long time…it was this which led my questing mouse to The Weepies. As I was listening to their music, “The World Spins Madly On” came over the speakers. At once I found myself lost amidst the chords and harmonies. I was thinking what a wonderful song this was, and how I wanted to just share it with my blogging friends. I didn’t think of the ramifications of the song along with the poem, until I started to get a few emails and postings about life becoming better.

To whomever it was (and I have my suspicions) who ‘vandalized’ my car today—thank you. The gesture was duly noted—as well as appreciated. Just remember, good things always come baack to us. Dear friend, I thank you—whoever you are.

I especially enjoyed the Dr. Pepper. Just the doctor everyone needs, no matter what kind of day they’re having.

Happy Thursday

Pin It So, what does one do when it’s approaching midnight and they cannot seem to fall asleep? In the old days, I’d have simply tossed and turned for a couple of hours.

Not anymore. Now, I blog.

Isn’t it interesting that little things happen which tend to make our day just a little bit brighter? Knowing that someone—somewhere—took the time to do a small act of service simply to remind us that we are important?

I left work this evening with a migraine which had taken over sometime around 9:00 this morning, and had dominated my pain receptors the entire day.

It was simply too much.

When I was leaving work at 5:00, I stepped out into the softly falling snow, which blew and eddied about my feet in washes of eggshell. I put my laptop, as well as other various and sundry items, into my car. It was at this particular juncture of time that I noticed the envelope situated on my windshield, partially veiled under a dusting of fresh snow.

The envelope simply read:


I had no idea that Thursday was such a cause for celebration of messages or gifts; however, this mattered not. So, despite the migraine pounding in my skull, I felt a sense of gratitude as I tore open the envelope and a small, folded piece of paper fell into my hand.


Now, who can’t find gratitude for a free Dr. Pepper?

Especially when he has a headache at the time?

Now, I have a fair idea of who this item is from, so I’ll simply tell this person out stalking the neighborhoods planting small gifts of friendship and appreciation….

Thanks. It meant a lot. Not only to the headache, but to me.