At work last week, one of the Attendance clerks was wearing the prettiest blue top you ever did see.
But when I was in the Break room with her, before the school bell rang, she admitted something. The top was brand-new; she bought it at Ross. Brought it home, was cutting the tags off and… what do you suppose she found? A maternity tag!
Here she was so thrilled with how it fit, and come to find out, it was a maternity top!
Warning: This post does not contain the folly typically found therein. Sorry. But non-folly thoughts were in my head and I needed to let them out.
Totally understand if you click away.
(I’ll judge you, but I’ll understand.)
This last week, I came to a startling realization: we White People are a sensitive lot.
Make that damned sensitive. Continue reading “Why Are White People So Sensitive?”
Continue reading “TeacherScape – A Game of Strategy and Broken Dreams”
The backpack plopped on my desk.
I look up and see a student, freshman by the looks of him, with shoulder length brown hair parted in the middle, ringlets of curls around his ears.
“My backpack broke,” he tells me, holding it open to demonstrate. “It’s the zipper.”
I nod, not quite grasping my role in this situation. Was I supposed to repair it? My sewing machine was home. Somewhere. Maybe in the garage. Continue reading “Lady, Can You Spare a Backpack?”
This is my second week in Niki’s Kindness Challenge, which you can read about HERE.
This week I was to be mindful of acts of kindness around me, which made for a fun week, let me tell you. First, let me give you the highlights, as I interpreted them:
Monday: A co-worker left a package of microwave popcorn in my mailbox, with a note that said, “Thanks for popping in!” Her office is a little secluded and I stop in to say hi from time to time. I didn’t realize it mattered to her, so the popcorn was a sweet gesture and, therefore, kind. Continue reading “Week 2 Reflection — Looking for Kindness”
Warning: This article contains grown up words like penis, vagina, and boobs. If that offends you, then you need to read this article to learn why it shouldn’t.
Daughter was four, Son was five, and we were living in a small town in Colorado. In a big house we didn’t own, across the street from a library and park. Charming, right?
But just like all parents, I harbored fears that someone might harm my children. I didn’t obsess over it, but I remember that little niggling fear anytime they wandered out of sight, or when I lost them in a store, or if I saw yet another news story– what if it happened to us?
Then the newspaper ran a series of articles. They interviewed convicted pedophiles about their crimes. Five of them, and they held nothing back. They told everything — when they started, how they chose their victims, what they looked for, how they planned it out, how long they waited to make their move.
Continue reading “My Daughter Was 4 When I Told Her About Sex”
I can’t remember if I’ve ever told you where I work? It’s at a large public high school — I’m one of the secretaries. Near my desk, immediately to the side of it, is a little sitting area with a sofa, chair and coffee table.
The woman who had this position before me policed the sitting area with great rigor. Students were never allowed to sit there.
If they did, she’d make snarky comments to them in a sugary sweet voice, along the lines of, “Oh, are you here to see the Principal? Shall I tell him you’re waiting?” And then she’d snicker as they scampered off.
It may not surprise you to learn I’m a wee bit more lenient. But please be aware, my leniency arises not so much from kindness, as apathy. I simply don’t care who sits there. My only rule is that they are quiet.
Lately I’ve come to the realization that in the three years I’ve been here, the sitting area has taken on a certain ambiance — a kind of geeky milieu, if you will.
I told the other secretaries we should start calling it “The Island of Misfit Boys.” Continue reading “A Safe Place for Misfits”
