Happy. Now for the hard part.

Adam's deploying. Real soon. And I've settled into it. It was really hard a few weeks ago. Every now and then I get sad. I've never had to deal with anything like this. But there are lots of great things to look forward to. We get this weekend together. We get our anniversary. We get Thanksgiving. Then nine months of e-mail and Skype and letters and packages. I don't even know how to do any of that. But we will be together. That's comforting. I can't imagine packing up and ending everything now.

Adam is wonderful. He is a thoughtful, conscientious, and wise leader. He is committed and responsible. I am so excited to be his girl. I am blessed.

What Now?

So, grad school. What is there to consider? How much money can I find? Where do I want to go? Should I go while I work, or take some time off? I want to start right away. And then there's this thing with Adam. He's deploying soon. Frankly, I want to consider him in this whole decision, too.

I feel like I live in this whole "well, if things change" world. I plan decisions two different ways in case something changes. What taught me to function like that? I guess I know. I only had one plan before Rob got sick. Things changed. Now I feel like I have to have a plan 'B'. Do I? If I plan both ways, I feel like I'm less likely to be disappointed.

Seriously, though. I would decide to stay in Colorado for Adam. For me, too. Staying in Colorado isn't bad. But what about something completely new? Washington state or Australia? It's only a year or two. But my priority isn't my career.

He's Leaving

Our principal is leaving. We learned this just a few weeks ago. Three, maybe. I'm not sure I can articulate what this means to me or to our staff. If I talk about it honestly, you would only think I'm being dramatic.

Working at our school is not like having a corporate job. It's truly like going to be with a family. And he is the center of our school. So losing him is like losing the glue that holds our school together. It's like losing our father. I know that seems extreme. But Roy has always done what is best for our family. He's made our school what it is now - which is one of the best elementary schools in the state. Every one of us is proud to be a part of that school. It's hard to see the future from here. He has shaped my formative years as a teacher. He's provided an environment where I've had freedom to develop my philosophies, to push the limits of achievement with my kids, and to love being a teacher. He's a huge part of my professional accomplishments.

We all know that we will do fine. Everything will be okay. But it's not going to be the same. We want to hear his voice over the intercom each morning, greeting the kids with "Good morning Antelope Trails kids! I'm so glad you're here today! Please stand for the pledge." We want to know we have him to fall back on when things fall apart for us. We want to hear him sing "Blue Christmas" before we head out for Christmas break. No one knows us and cares about us like Roy does.

I think part of my security as a teacher was wrapped up in his leadership. Now, I don't know that I want to be back in my job next year. I'm sorting out opportunities now... International Baccalaureate, Kagan Cooperative Learning, a Master's in Administration. It's time. And it is exciting, but I don't want Roy to leave.

Blabber Protocol

So. You're in a car. With four other people. One or two people are talking unceasingly. By this I mean that their chatter is plentiful as the waters of the ocean or as everlasting as a beam of light from a burning sphere of gases in a far away galaxy. It is not interesting or thought-provoking chatter. It is not entertaining, amusing, or otherwise brilliant. I feel like I am in a chamber filled with gaseous substance such as the substance that fills one's lower intestinal tract and everywhere I can turn offers neither fresh air nor respite from the pollution.

I am staring blankly ahead.

What is the proper protocol for saying, "Excuse me. You are talking too much. It would be really nice to allow others room for conversation. I am tired of hearing your voice. Although you may enjoy it very much, you are always around yourself, so please save it for later." It's social courtesy. Listen to yourself. Has your voice received rest in the last five minutes? If not, s-h-u-t u-p. Whose job is it to teach this? Parents? I don't know.

The problem is that this unending blabber didn't stop when we got out of the car. The continuous stream of fuppernuffence continued in the professional environment as we met with teachers from around the state.

I need air.

Interrupting is not considered polite. So I must wait for this jivnigglenubbant chatter to cease. What's polite about speaking in this way so that no one has a chance to contribute or to provide an interlude? You are giving the rest of the individuals in the group no choice but to be extremely rude and interrupt.

I need a solution.

I want to be blatant. Up-front. Right to the point. "You are talking too much. Shut yer yapper."

Conundrum Hot Springs

Adam and I spent this weekend in the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness. It was a gorgeous day in Aspen. The leaves had changed color and were still bright in the cooling fall air. It was so beautiful that people were out on motorcycles. This was a huge difference from the bitter icy weather in Colorado Springs. We barely made it out of the Springs. Roads were covered in sheets of invisible ice. So we stopped at the Donut Mill to grab breakfast and to let the roads warm up. We then made our way west and escaped the chill of the Front Range. We had planned this trip for a few weeks, so we were relieved to see the weather improve as we headed west.

As we got to the trailhead, we stripped off the thick fleece layers and winter jackets we had been wearing. The walk was gorgeous! Bright mountain sunshine and a rushing stream all along the way. We hiked 8.5 miles up Conundrum Creek to the very remote and beautiful Conundrum Hot Springs. We passed beaver ponds and huge mossy trees. The river had three main crossings with huge logs set six or eight feet above the water. I wore a terrible pair of boots, which Adam made sure I knew was a really bad idea. He was right. I ended up with a big nasty blister.

We walked through thick trees and through meadows. At one point, we made our way over gigantic trees that had been blown over in a recent storm. It was amazing to see these huge, strong trees brought down by wind. It was a little difficult to find the trail at some places because there were so many trees down.

We got up to the campsite around 5:30, just as the sun had set behind the gigantic peaks around us. From the Springs, you can see Conundrum Peak and Castle Peak, both 14ers. And there were another 7 or 8 13,000 foot peaks nearby. We hurried to set up our tent in the freezing air and went to meet other campers who were already in the steamy water of the hot springs. The water was perfect... two to three feet deep in places with pockets of hot water bubbling up from under the ground. Beautiful! The edge of the water touched the rock border and spilled over into the next pool. It was amazing to look out and see the brilliant stars coming out one by one as the light of the sun disappeared. There was a group of six from Denver/Boulder and then a guy from Aspen who had come up by himself. We stayed in as long as we could before we started to get hungry.

The exit was extremely frigid!!! We couldn't dry off fast enough. But we hopped back to the campsite to have a quick dinner and then back to the pool for one more hour before bedtime. All the campers were out. A mom and her grown son, a couple from Steamboat, and the seven we had met before.
There might have been two more, but it was pitch black. This place must be super crowded in the summer. I can't imagine the pool accomodating more than 15. Anyway, what a cool place. It's about a four and a half hour hike. Such a beautiful and authentically Colorado experience.

I think next time, we will be more prepared... It was suggested to us that we bring full-length towels - two, if they fit, a pair of Crocs to wear in the water, my down jacket, blister bandaids, a better pair of hiking boots, a box of delicious wine, and a hot water bottle to throw in the bottom of my sleeping bag.

Adam insisted on bringing only things that would contribute to our survival. I was a little more lenient, but still, the other campers had it made. They also had to carry heavier packs. But I think it's worth it. It was a completely wonderful trip!

Flippers on Land

I've spent a portion of my life being unwise. This is pretty typical to humankind, right? I've made poor decisions in clothing, meals, finances, traffic, and relationships, to name a few. It's just what happens. We try to make the best choices we can, but for whatever reason, I failed.

It took me a while to realize that those poor choices didn't define me. But what they did do was allow me to grow. Some people get stuck in these choices and situations and it weighs them down for the rest of their days. God has taken that from me, I believe. The strength of character that I exhibit today is highly dependent on the idea that I shedded the negative and moved on ahead. Did I have to make those poor choices in order to be in this spot today? Well, I don't know. I think some people have to suit themselves up in wetsuits and flippers and to flop around on land for a little bit only to discover for themselves that it doesn't work so well that way. Stubborn? Yes. Necessary? Who can say?

All that aside, I have developed a strong foundation. It's who I am. None of that other stuff has carried over due to a very gracious God.

So imagine my surprise when I find that not everyone realizes this. Sometimes our past choices get picked up by others like burrs in a cotton sock. They work their way into the flesh of our loved ones so that they can't possibly see beyond it and suddenly we find ourselves judged again.

I want someone to be able to put aside the troubles of the past and to look forward with me in hope. I was ready to move into a wiser spot in my life, so here I am. I'm not looking back or wishing that things were different. I am who I am.

Pet Peeve #1

Ok, people. I presently have 540 students. This is my sixth year of teaching, which means that I have taught over 1100 students. I am pretty good with names, I think. Well, Lisa will probably read this and completely disagree. It's true. Those little guys... 1st grade and under... they are tough. For the most part, though, I know my kids names.

Mya and Sarah teach kids named Sayuki and Yuki and Tayuka (I don't really know this as a fact - I am guessing) I can imagine it's probably pretty tough at first to match names with faces. Knowing their names, in itself, is a challenge.

Even harder is memorizing the exact spelling of every child's name... C-A-I-T-L-Y-N or K-A-T-E-L-Y-N or K-A-I-T-L-I-N. A-I-D-A-N or A-Y-D-E-N or A-Y-D-A-N. What about J-H-A-Y-D-E or when I've got a H-A-L-L-I-E pronounced Hayley or a H-A-L-E-Y pronounced Hallie or a Braden and Brendan in the same class? Michayla Mikahla MiKayla McKenna Kenna Kennedy. How about twins? And then there's the nearly identical siblings. GEEZ!!!! Considering this predicament, I'm pretty proud when I can name 95% of my students right off the bat.

So you can imagine my lack of compassion when a parent mentions how her daughter will be devastated that I spelled her name wrong on a sheet that was to be posted on my door for two days. Devastated? Really? She will have her feelings hurt. Oh, precious. How could that nasty music teacher have dared spell your name wrong? Now, I understand that I need to have correct spellings on printed items like programs - it's precious grade school memorabilia for Pete's sake. But I am not going to spend the ridiculous amounts of time to look every child's name up in each class to find the exact spelling on a piece of paper that is notifying a group of children of some minor detail. Really. That is a waste of taxpayer money. So if your daughter is so sensitive about her name being spelled wrong, you might want to tell her to tighten up her bootstraps and to grow a pair because she's frankly lucky that no one is calling her a doodyhead or divotface.