Mrs. Moore's Musings

  My students who won my"Breakfast of Champions" competition                     As a high school student, I never played sports.  My mom loved sports, and my grandpa, who I loved dearly and who passed away MUCH, MUCH too young, was an amazing baseball coach, but as for me, my lack of coordination and self-confidence ended any aspirations either of them may have had for my sports career.   I avoided anything that might have put my coordination dysfunction on display for all those to see.  However, there is one thing that stayed with me from my peewee softball days.  One distinct memory I have of my grandpa is seeing him at the ballpark or football field or basketball court. He would be in a constant state of motion, pacing, cussing, gnashing, urging with his whole being—willing his team to accomplish their very best.  My grandpa LOVED to compete.  And let me tell you, that trait must be genetic, because I cherish good, fair, challenging competition.                

This are my boxing friends, Lee-Ellen Kees, Genoa Price, Carrie Combs, myself and Kalvin (I'm the one in the Geek sweater, Kalvin is the boy) Taken before he leaves on his quest to conquer the world I am a high school English teacher.  I love telling people this because I usually get the same reaction.  A look of combined pity and curiosity followed by the words, "Oh, I could never do that."  Let me clear this up for everyone: BEING A HIGH SCHOOL ENGLISH TEACHER IS THE MOST AMAZING AWESOME JOB ON THE PLANET.  I love almost every single thing about it.  Okay, I'm not so awesome at the paperwork, and I am far from very good at politics, but I have never done anything that comes close to feeling of seeing a student, who you love, do something incredible.  I guess it's kind of like motherhood--you can't really remember the pain of childbirth because the rewards are just that breathtaking--that's what teaching is like every day.  In my five years of teac

I am excited to write a post about my classroom and my amazing students, and it's coming, I SWEAR!  I was starting to draft it today while sitting with my sister and my dad at chemotherapy (3 out of 6--half way--even I can do that math) and my husband walked in.  He walked in because he wanted to be there.  He had a bottle in his hand of mouthwash for oncology patients that he had seen while walking around a pharmacy waiting for his flu shot that he had picked up for my dad because my dad was on his mind.  I got up and gave him my chair, proceeded to sit in his lap, and we sat there with my dad for the last hour or so of his treatment. He just wanted to be there.  I didn't ask him to be there, I didn't even say, "Hey, it would be nice if you would come sit with me and my dad."  NOPE--nada--nothing.  He just came.   Because he is always here for me.  He can't see the clutter in the house or the mud he tracks in when he comes in from doing whatever it is he do

Yesterday, my husband reluctantly took me to the movies.  We have VASTLY different tastes in movies.  My husband is an amazing person; he is one of the most kind-hearted, patient, silly, GOOD, manly men around.  He loves silly, ridiculous, gross-out comedies, action adventures, and scary, scary—why would you do that to your psyche— scary movies.  I can watch a gross-out comedy and appreciate it, I love superhero/action movies, but I cannot ever EVER watch scary movies.  It goes back to that over active imagination business.  But, more than anything else, I love a good, thoughtful STORY.  I cherish stories.  I love sitting in a dark movie theater and crying my eyes out, not because the movie was horrifically sad, but because my heart was tremendously moved.  My husband puts his arm around me and tries not to laugh at me. We saw Philomena , and I can’t give you a summary, because it will sound ridiculous (google it).  My husband saw a cast list filled with people he had never heard

Okay, new day, new post.  I have thought about this one a lot.  I sat yesterday with my sister at a cancer treatment center.  We were sitting with my dad.  Right after my 40th birthday (whew!) my dad was diagnosed with stage three throat cancer.  In typical fashion, we rolled up our sleeves and prepared for battle.  The tumor was non-surgical, so the treatment plan is six weeks of radiation and six weeks of weekly chemotherapy treatment.  Yesterday was chemo 2--I know that is a certain percentage done, but I'm an English teacher, so I just know 2 down, 4 to go! Chemo began last week.  My sister and I sat with my dad during his treatment, and we also treated ourselves to a leisurely, sister-filled lunch.  I love hanging out with her, and my dad was in great spirits.  This week, when I got there, my sister was there, and I was ready to hang out.  As the IV dripped, my dad napped, and my sister and I enjoyed the company of someone you can be with without having to say anything.  I w

#OneWord2014 New Year's is quite possibly my favorite holiday.  I love permission to get all nostalgic about the past year and daring to dream about amazing things in the future.  I am a continual resolution maker (oft breaker) and a person for whom the glass is not half full or half empty, my cup runneth over!  So, when I saw a story on the the Today Show explaining the One Word 2014 challenge, I was ALL IN!  I loved everything about this idea, and immediately opened my brand spanking new twitter account (follow me and help learn to love it please) and started following, finding myself continuously enchanted by people's wishes for the new year. However, the pressure of ONE WORD was daunting.  One of my celebrity crushes, Walt Whitman, was describing me when he said, "Do I contradict myself?  Very well then, I am large, I contain multitudes."  Yep, I am a lover of the idea of one word with the contradicting position that one word will not suffice for the greatness