Two weeks before it was time for me to leave West Virginia and go back to North Carolina, an opportunity landed in my lap to spend my days working on the Cohen Building in Grafton. It was an old, nasty building that the city of Grafton gave a friend of ours as a thank you for putting wireless in the town. A group of people had made lots of plans and dreams for the building, but because most of the people involved have incredibly busy lives and schedules, they hadn’t been able to get much of a jump on turning the building into a human-friendly space.  Heather happened to have some time off before she started her new job, and Jacob worked nights for the first week and had his days free, so we were able to dedicate some serious time to it and make a serious push towards turning it into FaithWorks Ministries.

While putting in so much time moving things, cleaning things, scraping things, painting things, designing things, building things, getting covered in poop, dirt, dust, paint, sweat, and occasionally blood, I was blessed over and over again in a lot of different ways.

Blessing #1: Heather

Usually I get to spend some quality time with my sister in the summers. We usually take a trip somewhere, but then she’s got to go back to work and our time cuts down a lot. This summer we spent pretty much every moment together. We traveled, worked, and played together, and did so with gusto. We got in one dispute, but we compromised to the point where we were both pleased. People often look at our relationship and think it’s a little bizarre, but I just really like her!

Blessing #2: Jacob & Joel

Between these two, a person can’t help but feel passionate about her faith. Around Joel, you can’t help but talk. He is more passionate about talking about Jesus than anyone I know and than he is about anything else. Joel walked in one day talking about something besides Jesus, and I literally thought something was wrong. Where Joel is the talker, Jacob is the do-er. He never stops. He’s the person who makes you excited to find out what the next work to be done is, even though it most likely means you’ll be up to your ears in something gross. The work might be gross, but it’s never un-enjoyable. These guys are incredibly refreshing to be around. It seems like subtlety and cynicism are trendy in faith circles lately (or maybe I just convinced myself of that), and passion and sincerity are a welcome deviation from that. Also, having these guys around really makes me take a look and realize how wise and passionately excited my dad has become. He’s an old man and has the faith of a 22-year-old. He’s become such a seeker, desperate to know more and adamant that, in the scope of everything he could know (and of all the things he’s changed his mind on in his lifetime), he doesn’t know much of anything. The humility of being willing to question your ideas in your 60s is pretty impressive.

Blessing #3: God’s provision

Watching this building and ministry shape up means seeing God provide over and over. We’ve been able to find and use a ton of materials that were already in the building. We found floor tiles, ceiling tiles, a bar, chairs, booths, vintage free standing video games, pieces of metal for signs, pool cues, and a lot more. Plus, we’ve had $2,000, 40 gallons of paint, 3,000 square feet of floor tile, and a urinal donated. Also, we knew we wanted to find a way to partner with Honduras, and a first step towards that fell into our laps yesterday when I was asked if we’d be interested in hosting a benefit concert for a mission in Honduras. (That’s happening September 24^th. Be there. I know I will.) All this makes any worry and frustration we may feel over how in the world we’ll make all of this come together seem completely futile. Because we don’t have to make sure it’ll all come together- God’s got it.

Blessing #4: Expect dramatically, not minimally

I have a habit of setting low expectations, especially for my personal life, on the theory that anything better than my expectations is awesome. But I don’t think that’s how God calls us to hope. He wants eager expectations. And the combination of all of the great things about these weeks is slowly teaching me to expect great things. Invite everyone and see what God can do. Jump in, say yes, plan to be finished, expect to move the mountain.

The crazy thing is, working in the face of all these blessings, the work never got tedious. I could be sore, my eyes blind from being oversprayed by the paint sprayer, hair covered in pigeon poop, hands blistered, and generally epically sweaty. But it seemed fairly impossible not to enjoy being there, have fun, and want to get up early and show up again the next morning.

Fast forward a few years. Because of my Michigan education (and dual certification), my travel experience, and my propensity for thinking out of the norm, I have my dream teaching job in a random tiny town. Concurrently, this year I started taking grad classes at a branch of a well-respected state university. I have now encountered a lady I will dub “Dr. Evil” OR “The Anti-Dawson”.

Dr. Evil- How do I dislike thee? Let me count the ways.

1) Your syllabus. The whole point of a syllabus is to give clear detail of the expectations for the class and for major assignments. From the syllabus a student should be able to discern what the reading is for each week (without having to have a special class devoted simply to decoding which information is intended for which week in the schedule). Said student should also be able to look to the syllabus when sitting down to write major assignments and be able to put in an appropriate amount of work to achieve the intended grade. If a student decides to work ahead and not procrastinate, that student should not be surprised with added expectations or requirements a week before the paper is due.

2) Your asinine assignments in class: This is a graduate level class. We do not need to play games (and I mean this literally). You do not need to assign us an hour to go somewhere and talk about the reading before we come to class again. You are wasting our time here. Either a) assume we did the reading and be prepared enough for class to conduct your own discussion, or b) give us a question and 10 minutes to discuss it and we’re good to go. Here’s a hint: if you give us an hour to answer 5 questions, we’re going to get done in 15 minutes and use the other 45 minutes to commiserate on how our time is being wasted.

3) Your choice for use of valuable (and expensive) class time: In reference to uses of time mentioned in the last point, I am not going progressively more and more in debt AND paying $60 extra a month in gas to come to class to sit around and draw pictures of my classroom. I’ve got pictures of my classroom on my computer. And while we’re on the topic of my computer, everything your articles from the 80′s told me to do using computers is already irrelevant to the level of technology I use in my classroom. But I’ll get to that in point 8.

4) Your lack of rubrics: I would like to inform you that I bust my butt to make sure that I have a complete and specific rubric for every project before I assign it to my class. And that is around 10 projects a year. All I’m asking you to make is 1-3 rubrics, depending on the amount of major assignments you want to assign. Every teaching program in America will tell its teachers that it is imperative that students know exactly what the teacher’s expectations are for a successful completion of the assignment, and the clearest way to convey that is through a detailed rubric. You did not give us ANY rubrics ahead of time. When you did bust out with what you call a rubric ON THE DAY OF THE PRESENTATIONS, it was really just a little check sheet of random topics. It was NOT a rubric by any stretch of the imagination. Let’s go back to that computer I mentioned. I’ve got a whole stockpile of rubrics we can look at. In fact, I just made one for an analytical paper. I’d prefer you use it than whatever subjective system you are using to grade our papers.

5) Your tendency to randomly throw in elements of major assignments and then treat us as if we should have known even though it is not documented anywhere: The most clear debacle demonstrating this point has to do with our papers. Every single person in the class thought that she told us that we needed to turn in our rough draft, sources, and prospectus with the (busy work) portfolio on the last day of class. It makes sense to turn it in then- it’s a progressive demonstration of what we’ve done all year. Then randomly ON THE DAY THE PAPERS WERE DUE she insisted that she had told us that we needed to turn them in on that day with the papers. Some of us, myself included, just happened to have all of that stuff, but others were forced to come back on other days to turn in work we weren’t aware was due. Clearly there’s a communication gap here. It’s not like we’re irresponsible students that somehow accidentally found ourselves in grad school.

6) Your innocent and somewhat condescending demeanor: I knew from the time I approached her about an unavoidable absence and she attempted to mask  snarkiness with sweetness that she rubbed me the wrong way. It has only gotten worse.

7) Your idea of appropriate grading and feedback: FYI, Anti-Dawson, “Check Plus Plus” is not a grade! It’s not even understandable. 2 checks is an A, but one check is a B? What?! Could you post your check mark to grade scale continuum somewhere so that we wouldn’t all be so completely confused as to whether our posts are even receiving a grade or not? That would be great, thanks. Also, there is a grade posting portion of Blackboard. We would probably all respect your grading system (and the assignments you make us do that then ultimately don’t end up being part of the grade) if you would post grades and make it look like you’re on top of your game. Guess what- my students can constantly see their grades in the gradebook online. Know what that leads me to do? Stay on top of my grading.

8 ) Your irrelevant course materials: The vast majority of our reading material has been from the 1980′s. Please don’t preach to me about incorporating relevant technology in my classroom when your example of relevant technology is Microsoft Word. If I have to log in through DOS, I’m not incorporating it in my classroom.

9) Your unwillingness to see the inconsistencies in your practice: You are NOT a model of “best practices” or “21st century skills”. We have harped over and over again about how our individual classes need to be relevant to the students’ everyday lives, but pretty much none of this course material is really applicable to our teaching lives. It’s all hypothetically going in circles around the same point. Again, I am so glad that I did my initial teacher training at Rochester, in Michigan, under the supervisors that I did. Randolph, L. Stewart, Dawson, Bentley- I appreciate you.

10) Short pants. This one is entirely petty. Cheap shot, Stew.

Siderant: I do not like my professor this semester, nor do I like the topic of the class in general. This makes it difficult to care about the work.

SO, back to today. I found myself faced with the following to-do list:
_Outline and 2-page report (summary & criticism) on article “Research with Language-Minority Students”- due Saturday at noon
_20-25 minute presentation on said report- due Tuesday at class
_Handout to go along with the aforementioned presentation- also due Tuesday at class
_Read Mike Rose’s Lives on the Boundary and write a 400-word post on what the book says about teaching English in the 21st century- post due Sunday by 5:00
_Write a draft of my final research paper in order to meet with Dr. Jones- due Tuesday before class
-Redo prospectus because Dr. Jones does a bad job of communicating her expectations- due at an ambiguous time because Dr. Jones does a bad job of communicating her expectations

I finished & submitted the report, outline, and handout this morning then drove to Marshville to sit in a coffee shop and read the book and write the post. Between all of the thou-billion things I could be doing at my house and the puppy nipping at my ankles, home was a toxic place to work. I still have to write the paper, but I’ve given up working for the night. I find it difficult to let go of the fact that I could be working, even though I did a crapload of work today.

I said all that to say this: I am freaking ready for 1) Easter break, and 2) May when this class is over. My class last semester was challenging, but I found it relevant. This class isn’t necessarily challenging, I find it arbitrary, and it frustrates the crap out of me.

Wow…this post was a completely self-serving rant. My apologies.

9. Love Lockdown: Heather and I planned our trip to Honduras this summer so that we would be there at the same time as our longtime friends, J.T. and Anna Spivy. While in Honduras, due to political unrest and action, we decided to put ourselves “in lockdown” in Jen & David’s house for 2 days. While it might seem that this defeated the purpose of us being there to serve, there’s a chance we gained more from that than we would have doing something else (something I’ll never really know). While there Yoni, Yovani, Marvin, Mario, Francisco, and Antonio spent the night and made us love them. This lockdown also resulted in a fortification of the Stewart/Spivy attachment. Due to this, we seem now to be much more frequent parts of one another’s lives. My life needed more Spivy in it.

8. Protesting and Political Activism: After we left Honduras, we felt like a lot had happened to us that other people needed to hear about. We felt like an injustice had been done, and that if ever there would be a good reason for us to use our political voice, this would be a good time- to use our voices to speak for those who don’t have a voice in the American political system. It did, however, bilaterally benefit me as well: it satiated the poly-sci dork in me that just loves to be giddy over democracy. It had been a while since I reminded myself how much I love civics.

7. UNC Pembroke: I started a graduate program in the Fall in Literature with Masters in Teaching certification. I chose the program specifically because of a class they offer entitled “Americans in Paris”. I’m eagerly watching the class offerings for when it pops up. In going back to being a student, I’ve realized two things. One: I am unabashedly a nerd. My brother and sister have always made fun of me because at one point in my childhood I said, “I can’t help it! I just like learning!” It’s true. I missed being in class, having homework, and having intelligent conversations about a topic with intelligent adults. Not being around my best friends, it’s entirely possible without class that I can go a whole day without being challenged by difficult questions/thoughts without class. Two: I’m a better student after being a teacher. The point of grad school is, in theory, to improve my skills as a teacher, but the reverse is true as well.

6. Media, Truth, and Cynicism: Through watching the “coup” in Honduras unfold from a front row seat, I have become more of a media cynic. I’m not saying this is a bad thing. I watched the news ignore a potentially explosive situation until it actually did explode, providing better images for the news. I then watched as (repeatedly) the things that were happening unfolded differently than the story on the news. Probably the most valuable lesson I’ve learned from this is that if I really want to know closer to the full story on something, it is best to look at a few different news sources here as well as a translated version of a local news source from the place the news is happening. The news is still valuable- otherwise the world lives in complete isolationism. But if news requires choosing sides, I’ve learned that one should always seek to fully understand the sides first.

5. Creativity, Ingenuity, and New Tech: I was really afraid when I got my job at New Tech that I would ultimately find out that I am not as capable, creative, or well-suited for my job as I’d hoped. I was fully and completely intimidated by the uniqueness, rigor, and expectations of the job while also being so excited to be there.  What I have found after roughly 1.5 years and 15-25 projects is that creativity and intelligence do not run out if you constantly use them and give them away. They run out when you assume that there is a limit. I don’t feel that I’m here yet with my freshmen, but with my sophomores I feel like every time I plan a project I expend all the creativity I have, and every time I teach them something I teach them everything I know on that subject. What I have found is that instead of running out of material, I find more to give.

4. Faith Through Works: When it comes to missions and faith, I’ve always felt a little selfish. I never thought I was truly service-minded. Heather is really good at seeing people’s needs and meeting them without having to be asked. I’m much better at cerebral things. People, interpersonal relationships, and caring about people are more my schtick. Also, I have absolutely no problem with faith- when I feel like I should go, I’m going to go and reflect on the questions later, but I’m not necessarily an all-star at the practical application of serving. I’m the Mary, she’s the Martha. Through the short time we were in Honduras, though, I have found that I am not able to just sit back and be okay with poverty and pain. While my action may look different than Heather’s, I need to act just the same. I don’t know where that need goes in the long-term, but it will result in something.

3. Interconnected Isolation: My life in North Carolina can lean toward the reclusive sometimes. I’ve got friends, I hang out, I go to church, I talk to people in my class, and I love the people I work with. But in competition with my house, couch, bathtub, or even car, I have to convince myself to choose to step out of my own company and not be such an introvert. While this may not be the healthiest social life ever, I don’t think it’s the worst thing, either. I’m very dependent on a few people in the world, and I would drop everything at a moment’s notice for those people (and do when the opportunity presents itself). There are about 6 people in my life from different venues that make up the core (or tier 1), and they are the most important things in my life. Because of that it’s not that I feel that I’m above making friendships, but I don’t feel a pressing need to create new best friends. In some ways I think this is healthy. I’m able to live my life independently, not need someone’s constant presence and reassurance to survive, and rest in the knowledge that my life is completed by and completes the lives of others, whether or not they are sitting on my couch.

2. We Are Not The Same: For most of my life, people have commented along the lines of “You and Heather share the same brain”. That can be self-fulfilling. We do have very similar senses of humor, interests, and outlooks. On the other hand, we are extremely different. The idea that we are the same made us very close to one another, but it also led to some extremely difficult conflict. Gradually we have grown up into the realization that we are not the same person. We are extremely different in a lot of ways. She thinks in pictures; I think in words. She’s cautious; I’m an adventurer. She’s a planner; I’m spontaneous. Her life is inextricably tied to mom & dad’s while I am prone to wander. The list goes on and on. By acknowledging these differences, we’ve been able to appreciate each other for our differences as the reasons we love each other and be much better for one another because of them.

1. Faith, Confusion, and Disappointment: 3^rd point about Honduras. Up until this point in my life, I had not really encountered true, deep disappointment. Sure, things in my life had occurred in such a way that I would not have planned or chosen if I had my way, but they made sense to me eventually. When the Honduras debacle went down, I had to confront my own disappointment. I went to Honduras really feeling like God was pointing me there, and then none of it worked out so that I felt as useful as I wanted to. With the whole “love lockdown” family, there was a lot of confusion and disappointment to be confronted. We had an idea of the things we wanted to do, and 5 days of lockdown was not exactly our plan. Being ridiculously reflective, however, I can look back and see that I was there just long enough. One day less and I would not have been as abidingly committed to the people, as enamored with the boys, or as compelled to help.

I’m pretty fearless about a lot of things. I’ve gained a reputation in my family as the one who will always survive, but will do it in the most adventurous way I can. My mom told a friend of hers when we were in Honduras that she had no doubt that we’d make it out, but we could do it one of two ways. If Heather was in charge there would be a plan and a backup plan, and there would be tickets booked for all contingencies. If I were in charge, we’d get out, but we’d end up riding to the airport/janky airplane in someone’s field on the back of a donkey for which I bartered. If it’s exciting and/or could make a good story, I’m generally in.

When it comes to people, however, I’m exceedingly cautious. I was very shy when I was younger, and I grew into or forced myself to become social enough to fake extroversion when I need to. It took an act of will and a good dramatic foil to teach myself to express when things anger or annoy me, and I still only do it when I feel it’s absolutely necessary. I spent a year and a half not saying things that were on my mind because I was afraid to push too far. I like to think I’m growing up, but at my core I’m just a shy little girl.

I still find myself unable to trust others to manage their own thoughts. I feel like it’s my duty to protect them from what’s going on my head so that they won’t have to deal with it. I just hold my breath and hope that eventually the world will read my mind without my having to articulate. That is a recipe for regret. It’s often said that writers and lovers of words are such because they are people who struggle with their own ability to solidify and realize what they truly want to say. They spend lifetimes frustrated that what they write will forever be just a doodle of a daisy in the face of all they wish to say. I think a lot of times I have so much that I want to say that I’m afraid I’ll botch it, so I just don’t say anything. (In fact, as I write this I’m thinking “I’m not saying this right. I’m not going to be able to explain, so what’s the point? I might as well just delete it, because when I read it later, I’m going to be disappointed in myself for not getting it right.”) I analyze all the good things that could come of speaking up. Then I analyze the downsides. Then I spend my days fixating on the ways that speaking my mind could go horribly wrong and mess up the status of my lovely quo. I typically only let my guard down enough to think about the way things could go well when I’m asleep. I wake up trying to grasp the dream, and then chide myself for hoping.

As a champion at guarding my heart, I don’t think I’ve learned where the line is between guarding it and building a fortress around it. I don’t want to be this independent. On the other hand, it scares me to be dependent on someone only to realize that they’re not so committed to being depended upon. (I know there’s a dangling preposition there, but I can’t get rid of it.) I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to give in to being vulnerable enough to be dependent until I’m forced. This is why dating doesn’t work for me. The people I’ve truly been interested in in my experience have always been my friends. It does not, and will never, make sense for me to date someone in order to get to know them. I already don’t let my guard down easily, so why would I let it down with a near-stranger who happens to be buying me dinner?

I struggle with knowing how this conundrum plays out in my life. I don’t want to be independent forever, but I’m unwilling to love a stranger just to have someone to hang out with. I only see myself being interested in people who I’ve already gotten to know as friends, but I move around so much that I’m always leaving friends behind. I guess that’s where the adventurousness comes in. I think I’m adventurous because I have a gift at acting on faith. Not giving in to the pressure of settling is an act of faith for me. My standards are high: I want to love my best friend. I want to be in awe of the fact that that person chose me, and I want them to feel the same way. I want to be just enough the same to always have fun, but just enough different to always challenge the other. I’d rather be single than be less than that, and that takes an act of sheer faith to wait.

This situation has taken us by storm because, in the very short time that we were in Tegucigalpa, we fell in love with the people there. Honduras is the second poorest country in the Western Hemisphere (IFAD). The majority of the population lives in a state of desperation. It was an immediate reality check to realize that, while I may be frustrated over not having enough money to buy more clothes that I do not need, those people are literally unable to feed their children. In the midst of that poverty and desperation, they find the wherewithal to be loving, patient, and grateful for what they have. In my world, where barely surviving is relatively foreign, that gratitude in the face of hopelessness is incredibly humbling.

We were in Honduras during the political action that some are calling a “coup d’etat”. We carefully followed the Honduran news as the president pushed an election in which few people believed. We got daily reports from people witnessing what was going on in the city. When the government shut down the power to avoid the broadcast of Zelaya propaganda on the proposed day of the election (and the day of the removal of Manuel Zelaya), we spent the day completely without phone, Internet, or television, in a state of information darkness. Throughout all of this, we were aghast at the complete lack of attention from the news media to this major political occurrence that was happening to our lives and the lives of the people we cared about. Michael Jackson took precedence.

On Sunday we found out that the Congress had impeached Manuel Zelaya and had taken him into exile. To be honest, we were pleased and saw that as the best solution. The missionaries we worked with who know Honduras well felt that that was the best solution to a cancerous governmental problem. Micheletti, the next in line, had indicated that he did not support Zelaya’s attempts to change the Constitution and extend the limits of his term. As soon as events took a turn for the dramatic, it canvassed the world news. Instead of reporting the events in Honduras and the opinions of Hondurans, the news reported exactly what the Central American leaders wanted to be reported. We were out on the streets briefly on the day of the coup- the calm, quiet streets where Hondurans were quietly and safely staying in their houses as they had been told. At the same time we looked at pictures on CNN of people rioting in the streets. When 90% of Hondurans support the actions of their Congress, we were blown away by the fact that riots and backlash were reported all over the news. We were completely taken aback when President Obama spoke up in support of Manuel Zelaya. It is widely the opinion that, by supporting Zelaya, one supports Venezuela’s Hugo Chavez, Cuba’s Castro brothers, and Nicaragua’s Manuel Ortega, a trifecta of would-be Communist dictators. Obama called on Honduras “to respect democratic norms, the rule of law and the tenets of the Inter-American Democratic Charter,” which the Legislative and Judicial branches of Honduras believed they were already doing.

This has greatly changed the way we view media. It has taught us to look not only at what is being said and pictured, but also at what is not being said. As a long-time consumer of the news and a social studies teacher, I may never be able to view world news again without a great measure of cynicism. I will heretofore encourage my students to dig. I have realized how important it is to receive news from its place of origin, even if I have to use the Internet to translate it into broken English. It has also led me to passion and action. For the first time in my life and the lives of all 10 people who went with me, I participated in a protest in Washington, D.C. in front of the White House. It is my great hope that through all of this I will be able to increase awareness. I consider it my duty to spread the word about Honduras and what the Hondurans want. On top of that, however, I consider it my duty to plead with the world to delve before they decide. It seemed in this situation as if the world had made up its mind before ever taking the time to understand it. In the last week, Honduras has ended up standing alone, defending what she considers to be a legally sound action, against an entire world that accuses her of staging a coup. My sister and I are choosing to stand with Honduras.

REWIND: A few weeks ago there was huge drama when Dr. Firn (superintendant) sent out a letter to the 8th graders informing them about their high school choices. In describing New Tech, the letter was poorly worded and came off as very demeaning to our students, staff, and the rigor of classes that we offer.

Basically what came to light in the hubbub was that parents had been told by school board members that their kids weren’t going to meet graduation requirements if they stayed at New Tech. According to what they were told, the data indicated that our students weren’t learning anything, our classes weren’t honors level, and our students were level 2-3 students (that’s low). It is a gross understatement to say that our parents were pissed. That’s basically telling them that, while they’ve seen HUGE growth in character and intelligence in their students, and while they watch their dear babies scratch and struggle and hang on for dear life to earn a B and be hugely proud of that B, in reality their kid’s education is inferior and is not going to be acknowledged by the administration.

The parents got the wolf pack together, got organized, did crazy amounts of research, and showed up en masse at the school board meeting. The letter was sent out too late for the parents to get on the agenda, but it’s law that they have to allow anyone to speak for 3 minutes at the beginning of the meeting. The parents just wanted to express their concern and request a meeting with the parents, Dr. Firn, the school board, the teachers, and the students- all the parties involved. Two parents spoke about 2 different topics they’d decided on. One of my kids, Curtis, spoke about his experience at the school. He talked about how he’d always been a good student and a leader, but how he’d never until this year had to try or work to earn a grade. He told them he’d NEVER until this year been proud of a grade he’d received.

The board voted and agreed to have the meeting. Action is not usually taken based on the speaking segments before the meeting, so that was a big deal. Nothing has come of that meeting yet.

TODAY: All of that helps to make today more spectacular. My kids took the English I End of Course test today. I was straight up nervous. On top of it being my first state test as a teacher, there was the added pressure to beat the other English teacher’s scores from last year. 93% of his freshmen were proficient. It’s worth noting that the main high school in the county’s proficiency rate is in the 40s.

I prayed for a long time last night. Today, as I was administering the biology test, I walked around and prayed for each of my kids. I prayed for my voice to haunt them in the back of their minds, for focus, for confidence, for patience. I even prayed for their subject-verb agreement.

After they finished, one of them came up to me and said, “Ms. Stewart, I think I did good! I might not have done so well in class, but in there it was just like everything you’d said just hit me in the back of the head!”

After the kids were gone and the answer sheets sorted, Chris took them to Central Office to be graded. We all waited around, torturously unable to work on anything. He came back sooner than expected, which was a blessing on the stress levels.

He walked in and had us all come into one room. Carter had to go get LaBree out of her room, so we had to wait. Chris told some random story about the scanning machine while we were waiting, and I was going CRAZY. They were laughing at me because I was shaking and bouncing and fidgeting and ridiculous. LaBree came in and sat down, and still Chris was stretching the conversation. I burst out, “JUST TELL US!”

He made me come up and stand beside him and said, “In her first year of teaching…..Stewart’s freshman clas received an overall score of………….(long pause)…………..100%!!!!!”  I SCREAMED and jumped up and down like I’d won the lottery. ::Hugs and high fives all around!::   100% proficient. That does not happen. I could not stop grinning. Cloud nine never floated so high. LaBree’s biology kids were 98% proficient, which is amazing. One kid out of hers didn’t pass. He’ll take it again on Tuesday. It was an amazing day for Anson New Tech.

The thing is, how do I beat that? I can’t imagine that that will really ever happen again in my teaching career. So next year if my students get a 98% pass rate, it will be ridiculous to be disappointed (because that’s ridiculously high), but I probably will be. It’s been hours since I found out, and it’s still ethereal. All those times this year when I had minor panic attacks that my students might not actually be learning anything and I might be a horrible person who is ruining the youth of America one project at a time….? I’m over it. George W. Bush, my 100% proficiency IS LITERALLY no child left behind. How about you get someone to give me a raise?

Throughout the last 9 days I have reunited with the SuperFriends through lots of food, the fort, the holler, Fairmont, Morgantown, Panera, the Suburban, my parents’ ever-changing house, and extremely conservative and unabashedly voiced opinions (not so much ours). I have spent the night with Heather, gone to Blackbear with Heather and Sara, shared new music with Sara, gotten my hair cut and lusted over George with mom, had lunch and looked at the improvements on the classic cars with dad, taken Maggie to a movie, eaten dinner with mom, dad, Jess, Jen, Maggie, and Heather, and a lot of other miscellany. It’s been good to be home.

I do, however, have a ravaging headache because I do not like my dad’s coffee. Today I tried to drink a Pepsi to fend it off, but no such luck. I could have fought it off by making a pot of the Starbucks they have on hand after dad polished off his “Jamaican Blue Mountain”. But I didn’t, so instead I just focus on my forehead. Thrice I convinced whoever I was with for the day that it was necessary to make it to Morgantown or Clarksburg in order to sneak in some Starbucks. Muahahaha.

I could stand to stay here for another while and not head back to the ‘Boro. I do miss my own space, though. I miss my stuff and the way it’s organized and so very ME. But it is nice to be home, to be known and understood, to be appreciated for the nuances that the ‘Boro people just haven’t learned to recognize yet. I do, however, think that it is better for everyone involved if I am not at home for long stretches of time. It makes everything harder. Before I left for NC, I was home for 8 months. That was just long enough for everyone in my home life to get firmly attached to the idea of having me around. I love being home, and I appreciate and long for it more when I’m away. But (while they would disagree) I think it’s a bit selfish of me to stay for too long and let everyone get perfectly content and attached before ripping myself away again. Not to say that I won’t visit as often…I will. But it does hurt to be the one who is constantly ripping the bandaid off.

This is going to hurt me just as much as it hurts you.

3/6/09

The Sun is setting in a spectacular fashion directly behind the routinely wearied head of the American Airlines attendant at Charlotte Douglas. It amazes me how airport names mean nothing until you use them, and then they’re stuck. Detroit Metro. Pittsburgh International. London Heathrow. London Gatwick.  Charlotte Douglas. Vienna International. Sydney. Dallas Fort Worth. DFW was the last piece of America I saw before leaving for Europe. Now it’s the blessed location of my bestie, who I’ll see for the first time since her wedding in 3 hours. Excited, exhilarated, anticipatory…none of these adjectives are strong enough. The term “missing” aptly describes my feelings for not ever seeing Nai. That is because the few people who actually manage to become close to me become a piece of me. When they are not there, it is like a piece is missing.

We once dreamed of living in a commune with all of our beloved ones, growing corn, and happily being socially awkward freaks for the rest of our lives. Unfortunately, we’ve all been forced to grow up and make lives. I love my job more than any working schmo should, but I would trade a lot to be a socially awkward corn harvester.

The list of lessons, blessings, delights, and obsessions I have collected from Europe is nearly inexhaustible, and there are several journals devoted to them. There is one skill, however, that I adore over and over: the ability to pack everything I might need and more for a weekend or a week in the space of a backpack. To stroll into the airport, swipe my credit card, get my ticket, and saunter onto the plane is the most empowered and unencumbered feeling. I am tied down by no checked bag or lost luggage counter.

I am ease and low-maintenance and spontaneity in one. I am boarded. I am excited.