Lucky Lady!

Since mid-March, life has flown by and I've neglected to mention the most exciting news of all. Adam and I are engaged! My love asked me to marry him on March 24 while we were walking along the National Mall, right at the foot of the Washington Monument. Adam had the ring sent to the hotel. He suggested we go to see the monuments lit up, so we took the Metro to DC and ran between the monuments. We only had a short time until the Metro stopped running, so we had to move it. It was a wonderful evening. We celebrated our engagement at the Hard Times Cafe near our house. It was the only place open and the name made us laugh.

I really should be more eloquent about the whole event, but what I really want to say is how wonderful Adam is. I am far too blessed for words. Adam is an incredible man... consistent, dedicated, wise, loving, gentle, encouraging. He has strong morals. He is patriotic and adventurous. He is athletic and positive. I am excited for the life ahead and incredibly thrilled to be spending it with Adam.

I am a lucky, lucky girl.

Leaving It Behind

I walked out the door today, arms filled with a box of assorted office what-cha-ma-call-its, a treasured book, a picture of me and my dear Adam, and a little vase filled with three beautiful fake flowers that has kept my desk cheerful and maintenance-free for the last six years. It really just seems like any other day today. But it's not. Today is tearfully different. Today is the day I say goodbye to the school that lead to my growth as a teacher. It's the school that saw me through a rough patch and watched me meet my soon-to-be husband. It's the school that I poured heart and soul into for six wonderful years.

I couldn't let go of the feeling that I was leaving something behind. I looked up and down the hallways and although I could see nothing that I was forgetting to take with me, the weighted feeling that I was missing something important remained. I went to complete my last task - boxing up some paperwork that was to be shredded. And I realized it was the final mission I would take on for this school.

I've taken on a number of missions, miniscule and monumental, for this organization. Some I couldn't wait to have off my plate and some I heartfully struggled to step away from. It is important to me that my efforts make a positive impact on a school and not just a little impact, but a huge, lasting, magnificent crater.

And with this thought, I realized what I was leaving behind. I was leaving behind myself. It was nothing that I could wrap in tissue paper or package in bubble wrap. It was nothing that I could take away from this school at all. It was the contribution left by hours of dedication and love for the students of this place. Through my bleary eyes, I realized that the magnificent moments that changed my heart and the hearts of my students... the beautiful moments in which a student believed that maybe something difficult was actually possible and that it was within them to achieve it... were what I left. These moments travel on in my mind, in my heart, and in the hearts and minds of my incredible students. I'm grateful that these moments live on and I can only hope that they will be magnified by the choices of my kids.

The next chapter is vague and unknown. But this is one thing that will continue no matter where I go. I want my life to publish hope. Always.

Sweet Satisfaction

They say that satisfaction comes from a hard day's work. True. That's a pounding and thrilling feeling. That's an entirely unique form of satisfaction.

But, there is no satisfaction quite like the satisfaction that comes from a crispy, steamy-hot plate of fries and a refreshing, creamy-cool shake. Salty all along the edges and warm starchy deliciousness of seasoned potatoes bursting from inside. And JUST before it tips over to dry or too salty... the heavenly chill of sugary, smooth creaminess. It's envigorating!

Satisfaction. What is it anyway? Contentment. The little "aahhhhh" after whatever grumble existed. But you can't forget that little grumble, right? If you forget it, then the satisfaction isn't quite what it could be. It's like knowing the breath of winter after the burn of summer or the touch of silence after the brutal scratch of a turbulent room. You have to remember the burn.

When things get really wonderful, and satisfaction sets in, forgetting the burn makes you lose the full wonder of the wonderful. Perspective. The adventure is so much more rich with all of it wrapped up in one exquisite box.

DC Adventure Begins

Well, we made it 1,691 miles across the country driving a 16-foot moving van and pulling our very Colorado blue Subaru behind. There was no mistaking us for any mid-western city folk. We had three pairs of skis in the ski rack and two pretty rocking mountain bikes hanging off the back. There was no doubt. We are from Colorado.

This has been a huge mix of emotion for me. I am leaving everything. Everything except Adam. Because of this, there is a pile of excitement, a bushel of sadness, and a boatload of nervous expectation. It's hard to anticipate what any new experience will do with my psyche. I jumped in the Subaru as we pulled into Virginia - Adam driving the van as we left the car trailer behind in Frederick, MD.
I was super excited to change the clock in the Soob to eastern time and I scrolled through the radio stations to program the very best of 80's hits and bluegrass and classic rock. I didn't find a suitable KBCO substitute... yet. Nor will I, I imagine. This whole suiting-the-car-up-for-Virginia-living had a positive vibe to it.


Adam and I pulled into town, drove through the new neighborhood, met with our landlord, and headed out to find what we may decide to call our little corner of town. We jumped on the Metro (I say that cautiously... everything new takes precision and thoughtfulness)and decided to get off at King Street. The delicate white lights adorning the trees called us off the train. In fact, we passed the stop and came back to it because it was so appealing. We wandered down the puddle-patterned streets until we hit Tiffany Tavern. We'd read about it in the Lonely Planet guide to Washington, DC and decided to duck inside to have fish and chips and a crabcake sandwich. We were not let down. A small six-piece bluegrass band was set up at the front. The bar was filled with lone business travelers and east coast locals. The bricks and dark wooden beams showed all of the building's 120 years.
I ordered a Smithwick's, which I found out later at seedy little O'Shaugnessy's is correctly prounounced Smiddick's. It truly was a delightful way to spend our first night in DC. But for whatever reason, perhaps it was the familiar hum of bluegrass or the feeling of miles between me and my home, I got choked up. That's the polite way to say I pretty much bawled. It wasn't anything in particular I was thinking of... other than that I'm leaving my Colorado home. My quirky family, my unforgettable friends, my altitude, my microbrews, my raindrops on sunny days, my piles of snow, my abrupt Spring and Fall, my job, my students, my ski seasons, my mountain towns, my simple transit. Everything. Of course I will miss the Colorado people I love the most... my pillars of strength and my blankets of comfort.

I know there will be more adventures to have and more places to love and more friends to laugh with. But it's not that easy. You got to let go of allllllll of that awesomeness and bankrupt yourself for a little bit until you've got a little start to a foundation in a new place. I am not excited about that. I am excited, however, to start a life with the man I love. I am excited to learn a new place with him and to dream up new dreams and find ourselves in wonderful new places. We are lucky to have found each other and I can't wait to spend my days with him.

Pet Peeve #2

Dear Long Hair Football Players:

You are totally disgusting. Your gross hair repulses me. I don't understand why you can't take your job seriously enough to keep a normal length of hair. Clay Matthews, I am talking to you. You were just on Leno and I wanted to rip your hair out of your scalp. You twirled it all around and when you whipped it back over your face, I saw your gross manly face peering out from long luxurious locks and I threw up in my mouth. Troy Polamalu, I am talking to you. I can't even imagine what foul creatures must be lurking behind those curls. You are repugnant and I wish some hoodlums would jump you and remove your hair with scissors.

Looming

I used to lick the ice cream out of the bottom of my bowl. I wanted all the goodness. The yummy sweet delicious drops of melty, melty lllmmmmmuuhhh.

Therefore, it's hard for me to admit that I believe that really, really crappy things are bound to happen. Why do I think this? It's all these underlying ideas that linger around unpondered. Every now and then, this undetected anxiety pops up. It's like watching a scary movie. The music turns dark, someone wanders around ignorant of looming danger, and BOOM! Something terrible happens.

Of course, it's the hard times that make the sweet times that much sweeter. And I know what hard times are like. I know that they broaden your perspective. I know that your life becomes richer. I just don't want any more. And I don't want to feel like something is right around the corner.

I guess you take the good with the bad. Isn't that from The Facts of Life? I am in what I consider to be a good long stretch of good and I don't want anything to mess it up.

Success

Being a teacher is interesting. I had begun getting frustrated with how poorly we pay teachers - especially good teachers. Good teachers are worth at least double their salary, and poor teachers about half. But Adam says we are public servants. What that means to me is that less of our reward is in the paycheck and more of it lies in seeing others meet challenges, seeing them succeed. And that's true.

I've never gotten emotional over a paycheck.

But I HAVE gotten emotional over seeing my students rise to the occasion. In my seven years of teaching, I have seen a number of students hit a wall. Frustration mounting. And suddenly, they pop up over the top of the wall. That feeling of success does not go away. That is lasting. I would hope that those experiences stick with my students in a way that it begins to define them. I want them to know that a challenge is a regular, expected life event and that each time they come up against a challenge, hard work and perseverance will win. And that they would begin to define their lives as successful, growing people.

I began storing these tales of success in my memory. Stacking each story next to the one before. But they are beginning to moosh together. So here is success story number one:

I have a student who struggles in reading. She was scoring about a year and a half behind her grade level. Sometimes there is a quick fix for academic issues. But sometimes these issues respond to obscure solutions... and finding that solution is like finding a needle in a haystack. I hoped that something would click with her, and it appeared like it had. So, I gave her an assessment. Her assessment showed no growth from the previous year. How could this be? NO growth? We had been working so hard. I began to feel ineffective and hopeless. I can only imagine what she must have been feeling. I didn't want to believe that no growth had taken place, so I administered the tests again, this time having her use the strategies we used in our reading group. She FLEW through it. Not just with partial success but with full, bold, torrential success. I took the assessments to her classroom teacher and I could barely manage to show the results without getting choked up. Something WORKED. And it isn't just working on assessments, it's working in her LIFE. And that is what matters. A shining beam of success to motivate her to not give up. Glorious.

And that's why I love my job.