tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88990369069431744012024-02-18T19:57:52.055-08:00Mrs. Moore's MusingsKaty Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-86272418222688288472022-02-16T19:06:00.004-08:002022-02-16T19:29:47.919-08:00We need to talk…<p><em style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(1, 1, 1); color: #010101; font-family: "PT Serif", serif; font-size: 19px;">‘We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?'” (Bradbury 50)</em></p><p><br /></p><p>Here’s my hot take: posting about going out to buy the books that are being banned is grossly oversimplifying a truly terrible issue. Don’t get me wrong, you should read Maus and Thirteen Reasons Why and The Hate U Give. Read whatever you want, but the current movement to ban books from public schools and libraries has nothing to do with the texts themselves. The ludicrous notion that the brilliant, heartbreaking, and challenging graphic novel Maus was banned for a couple of curse words and a tiny piece of nudity reveals much about our current culture. I know, Tennessee school board, it would be difficult to defend not wanting our children to grapple with the horrors of the holocaust (heck, that might even get you canceled), but protecting them from “nudity” - that’s something “everyone” can support.</p><p>I believe that removing engaging, beloved texts from classrooms and libraries is the culmination of a culture that fundamentally distrusts educators. To reveal any biases, I am a teacher. A large part of my job is helping students develop a love of reading and critical thinking to write their truths compellingly. I make decisions about the texts my students read based on my district requirements and my team of brilliant, thoughtful educators. When I choose an article, short story, novel, play, speech, work of art, etc., for my class to read, I think carefully about the learning objectives I am trying to achieve. Is this text going to offer “profound insights into the human condition and serve as models for students’ thinking and writing“ (this is directly from my state teaching standards, which I know very well because I am an educator, and we are supposed to know this stuff). The current banning craze isn’t about not letting kids read the books. It is about not allowing kids to read the books in classrooms where a trained educator can guide them to critically think about what they read, ask their own questions, and codify their own beliefs and ideas. Teachers are exhausted and outraged not because they took one book away but because teaching these texts to get to the deep, complex thinking is our job--our passion. So, go ahead, buy the books that people are banning. Read them. But then, start talking about them. Ask questions. Write bravely, and then listen. Listen to the teachers who are desperate to teach your kids. Trust them. Listen to your kids. They want to be challenged; they want to learn and succeed as much as their teachers want them to. They are curious and thoughtful, and brilliant. Trust them. They are the brightest hope we have.</p>Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-75423526880211384332019-01-02T14:53:00.001-08:002019-01-02T14:57:51.401-08:00"Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen." Winston Churchill<div>
Listen.</div>
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I love words. I love the sound of the word listen-the soft sounds-the first syllable emphasized-the ending is left almost like an invitation to lean in and be a part of something. The potential opportunity to receive a gift from someone, to participate in something beautiful, interesting, funny, challenging, confirming, lovely--I love this word. This is my word of 2019.</div>
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Unlike last year, this word has, in its soft, gentle way, been shouting at me to be still for a minute and LISTEN. I was perusing the internet and fell into a tiny, intriguing rabbit hole on a site called Medium that hosts blogs from some fascinating people. They were posting people's words of the year. My favorite by far was by Nancy Gibbs-her word was "listen," and the title was, "We risk getting dumber and meaner when we don't listen." I started really thinking about when I felt dumb and mean. It was almost always a result of me hearing something but not really listening. I hate that feeling. I worry that I am at risk of insulating myself from that feeling by choosing only to listen to the things I want to hear (no worries about having to hear something I don't like and having to deal with the fact that maybe I have been dumb and/or mean even if I didn't intend it). And, the truth is, the only time I ever got over feeling dumb and mean when was someone patient and kind allowed me to really listen. When someone gave me the gift of allowing me to hear their story, ideas, and authenticity I grew. I knew that I wanted to figure out a way to make sure I got some more of that in my life.</div>
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Next, I posted a simple post about something happening at school. I think the post asked about what my friends wished kids could learn. Someone I respect posted, "I wish we could all learn to listen to each other." Wow. I thought about that for a long time (Okay, I'm writing about it now, so I must still be thinking about it.)</div>
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Last year was filled with some of the best memories and travels, and watching people I love grow and bloom, but it was also filled with tremendous change and challenges for my family and me. 2019 looks to be equally as challenging, and I am excited and nervous and thoughtful about what I need to do.</div>
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And I know I need to listen, to really listen instead of merely hearing. I want to listen to understand and learn, not to judge or fix or interject. </div>
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Last year my word and my goals were immeasurable, and I feel like I let myself slide, but this year, I am resolving to do something each month outside of my comfort zone--maybe I'll read a book or poetry from someone not like me, listen to music I don't naturally gravitate towards, visit an exhibit from a different point of view, talk to someone I normally wouldn't, listen to a podcast that holds an opinion I don't understand or hold--I have no idea what I will do, but I'm going to try some new stuff. I will try to write about each experience I have. I am going to seek out people, and places, and culture that is not like me and I am going to spend time listening. It's what I most want for the world, and so I'm beginning with me. </div>
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So, if you'd like to talk to me, I'd love to listen. I appreciate so much all of the fantastic, different, and astonishing humans in my life, and I am genuinely looking forward to my year of working on listening.</div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-18793662274418890532018-03-05T17:10:00.000-08:002018-03-05T17:53:28.636-08:00“Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle.” MLKTuesday, Feb 14 in the afternoon, during my 7th hour class, a student looked up and said, “Mrs. Moore, something has happened in Florida.” I thanked him for the update, refocused the class, and we moved on, working on our research projects. As soon as the bell rang, I met with some students regarding their college interviews and we practiced questions. During these sessions we had heart-to-heart discussions about how senior year is wonderful and horrible. We talked about how it is never what we think it's going to be. We talked about the idealism of the year versus the actuality of the year. There were tears and laughter. As I headed to my car, I felt really great about my day, and I was authentically excited about my lessons for the next day.<br />
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On the way home, I turned on NPR (because I’m an English teacher and I don’t want to disappoint your stereotypical view of me--I also wear funky patterned dresses, carry a huge bag, wear my hair in a bun occasionally, and love office supplies). “17 dead, 14 hospitalized after a student entered a Florida school and engaged in mass murder.” My breath caught in my throat. Not again! As the days passed, I avoided some social media and tried my best to insulate myself from all the politics. But I can’t any longer. If you want to read on, KNOW THAT I’M GOING TO GET POLITICAL. People need to understand why politics matter now, and they also need to understand why, unintentionally (I am choosing to believe) some of the kindest hearted, most thoughtful people are posting incredibly offensive and insensitive things and it needs to stop.<br />
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First, when I teach my students, I explain to them that educated people see through over simplification. If you are posting something that oversimplifies and proposes a simplistic solution please stop. This is a complex, heartbreaking issue that will not be solved by a meme or a tweet. Educated, thoughtful people don’t do this. A tweet or meme or facebook post is not a solution and will simply create more polarization. Engaging in discussion about the really challenging, nuanced issues and working to a better solution will require an acknowledgement of all sides and solutions—and money and time to implement things. It is time we invest our time, our intellect, and our dollars to improving the safety of schools.<br />
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The first incredibly insulting thing I have seen is a picture of the school shooter with a post about his problems with the insinuation that perhaps if a teacher had paid a little more attention, or cared a little more, maybe this would not have happened. I am in no way taking a position about what this young man’s educational journey was like. But, insinuating that a hug or extra attention and love can help a mentally ill individual is not only absolutely wrong, but goes to the heart of the mental health crisis in our country. You cannot hug away diabetes or cerebral palsy, Why have we made it acceptable to believe you can hug away mental illness? When we put this idea in the world, we make the mental health patient feel like a failure when hugs don’t work, and we make the people surrounding that individual feel at fault because they didn’t love them enough. We need to recognize mental health as a health issue. It is not a teacher’s fault or responsibility to cure mental illness. We do need more training to recognize issues, and we need to know how to seek help. But again, this is complex and requires not just time and effort but resources.<br />
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The second thing I have seen is the comparison of school shooting with drunk driving. Please stop. A school shooter has purchased a weapon (intended to harm) and executed this plan. Drunk drivers did not purchase a car to kill people. They are not intending to harm when they get behind the wheel, and they are vastly impaired-true by choice-but they are not actively deciding to kill another person. And, we have made laws, based on loss of life and political activism, that has made drunk driving a top of mind issue. We have marketing campaigns and do lots culturally to discourage this behavior. When a school shooting happens we offer thoughts and prayers, and then we forget.<br />
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Finally, stop insinuating that this is not a political issue. Political, by definition, means relating to the public affairs of a country. There is not a more beloved public institution than the American public school. It is our duty, as citizens, to care and to work to ensure that we are creating an environment that is safe and will allow the greatest possible good. Teaching is, by definition, an act of social justice if we believe that education is a pathway to more enfranchisement, options, and ultimately a better life for all kids, which should lead to a more just society. In essence, engaging in thoughtful discourse and ultimately instituting change in order to provide for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness is the most precious ideal of our nation, and therefore, the time has come to stop acting like this isn’t political, to admit that it’s complicated, and to enter into the arduous process of putting down the twitter/meme/facebook post, and start engaging.<br />
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Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-66186920726523486862017-09-18T19:56:00.001-07:002017-09-19T04:09:14.427-07:00Practice What I Preach<div class="MsoNormal">
I am a lover of words and language. I believe with my whole heart the power words have to heal and to connect. I
have prayed about this, wept about this, and tried to make peace with
this. I have brave students, who have
written powerfully, who have used their words to help heal and connect through
their true pain. I have been a coward.<o:p></o:p></div>
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September is National Suicide Prevention Month. I’m still afraid. I don’t want to be a person who preaches but
doesn’t practice. So, I am writing. I am writing as real and as true as I
can. There will be grammatical errors and
there will be things I leave out that will be important, but I know I need to
write and I need to tell my story because I want the world to be a place where
no one else is afraid.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am a teacher. I am just a regular teacher who loves her
kids. I have the privilege of teaching
Language and Composition. I am unafraid,
in my classroom, to approach difficult subjects because I know I am doing this
to help kids think. I know I am doing this
to make kids grapple with important ideas and learn how to take a strong
position and defend their position. I love my job.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I also do everything I can to love my kids. I try to listen-not simply to hear, but to listen-
to what they say. I fail a lot. Often times I am afraid of what they tell me. I am overwhelmed. Last year, I had so many students, from so
many places and backgrounds who had so much pain. I didn’t know what to do. I prayed a lot. I cried a lot. My husband would sit with me, as I wept at
the dinner table for all the pain and unfairness my students were facing. Yet, because I love my job, and I love my
kids, every day, I tried to put on my bravest face, to open my heart, and to
listen without judging.<o:p></o:p></div>
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One of the students (who I truly loved) was hurting. I watched him slipping away. He had always been such a contemplative
observer. In the final weeks of senior
year, something scary was happening. I
received an e-mail from a student I didn’t know, begging me to help this young
man. The student I did not know was
terrified. I knew all the trust I had
tried to build with this student would be ruined if I did what I had to do. I
had to talk to someone.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ll never forget going to talk to our school
counselors. They were (and are)
wonderful. They knew his friends and I
were scared. They listened without
judging, although they were probably terrified, just like I was. They didn’t promise to take my burden, but
they made me know I had done the right thing. I kept telling myself, “Not telling isn’t helping. What could be worse than his not getting any
help?” I cried. All day, I cried.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I didn’t know what the process was, but I knew the next day
he was so angry with me. I knew. In that moment, I knew. I loved him more than my fear. I loved him enough that his hating me was
worth his life. I told him that. I told him to his face, “I love you enough to
let you hate me because I want you to be safe.
I love you.” I cried.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, the next day, our school had an electrical fire. A freak, crazy, one-in-a-million electrical
fire. No one was hurt, but school was
out. I didn’t get to see him after that
conversation. The next morning, all the
teachers met in a church across the street to try to have a “digital” day of
learning. It was the expectation that
all teachers contact at least one student via technology during the day. I laughed with my teacher friends because my
phone was blowing up, and I knew I had this in the bag. As my principal was talking, I wasn’t
supposed to be checking my e-mail, but I opened my computer just to check. And there it was. An e-mail.
A good-bye. From my student. Who was going to take his life. Right then.
And in that moment, I yelled out, in this church, surrounded by a
community of people who could help me. I
yelled, “Help me.” On any other day, in
any other circumstance, I would never have checked this e-mail. But in this church, in this crazy, never
before situation, I checked, and I yelled, and I was answered.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Immediately, I was surrounded. Teachers who are my family encircled me. The remarkable counseling staff helped me find his
contact information (the systems were out because of the electrical fire, so
this was so challenging) as the minutes ticked by. They held me up. My brave principal and amazing leader got the
police on the radio, and EMT’s and police were dispatched. I was beside myself. I could not see. I remember knowing, in my heart, he was
dead. At one point, I knew I was not
going to be able stand up any more.
Somehow, I found myself in a back room, sitting in a child’s chair
sobbing. My principal came in. “They have
him. He’s hurt. But, he’s going to be okay.” That’s all.
I fell on the floor. I begged someone
to help me find my husband. I don’t know
what happened. This precious team of
people somehow got my husband there. He
put me in his car. He took me home, and
my whole family was there. They held me
together.<br />
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I’m not over it. I am
not a hero. I didn’t do anything
extra. But, I was crippled as I watched
him struggle over the weeks, with the burden of telling. I struggled because I loved him. I didn’t want to believe this could
happen. I didn’t want to risk my
friendship with him. In the end, his
life was more important than my fear. I
know that I was supposed to learn that.
Being a church, I know that God was there, reminding me, I am not in
charge. I am not brave. I am not different. We have such a stigma in our culture of
getting help. My student needed
help. I needed help. We all need help. We need to face our fears and recognize that
when we truly love people, we fail. And that is the hardest part. The real test, the real love, is in how we face the failure.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It is National Suicide Prevention month; it is about
creating a world where we can all feel free to get help. Where we can remove the stigma of fear of
talking about mental health. We need to
stop expecting everyone to know what to do, and we need to admit that sometimes
we are lost. We are afraid. No one needs to be a hero. We just have to believe and know there are
people who can help. We can make a
difference-together.<o:p></o:p></div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-77871990970460162252016-11-12T16:06:00.000-08:002016-11-12T16:10:23.124-08:00One Little Old English Teacher Lady's Response<div class="MsoNormal">
I woke up Wednesday morning and did what I always do. I made a cup of coffee, turned on my local
news, and grabbed my iPad. My husband had
sent me a text message at 2am telling me I was right, it was over, and Mr.
Trump had won. It said some other
private things that I will cherish forever, but that is private. I feel like, as a nation, we've forgotten
some things can be private. My husband
and I have never discussed who we voted for or why in public forums. We watched the debates, and as a teacher of
language, my students and I discussed both candidates' rhetoric. We discussed the different media approaches
to the election, and had lively, thoughtful discussions. I would wager that many of my students have
no idea who I voted for. It never came
up. I am a teacher of language. We analyzed the language on both sides and
had wonderful discussions about how both candidates were attempting to address
their target audience. That's my
job. To teach my students to be critical
thinkers-to examine the evidence and make a decision-for themselves. To develop their own arguments (with
evidence) and to attempt to see both sides of an issue. Wednesday morning, as I scrolled through my
social media, I saw on Facebook so much panic and disbelief. I took a breath, and got ready for what I
knew would be a difficult day. I put on
a cheerful dress, an extra layer of mascara, packed extra chocolate in my girl
and I's lunches, and headed to school.</div>
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This election for me is not about anything other than
fear. With the ability to encapsulate
yourself into a small spot on the internet and surround yourself with people
who think like you, you can feed your fear and disdain of others. The people who are devastated by the election
of our new president are afraid. They
fear the racism and misogyny and hate that they believe will be possible-and
even desired-as a result of Mr. Trump's election. They surround themselves with people who
encourage and support their fears. They
read articles about how horrible Mr. Trump will be. They reinforce the fear and highlight the
evils of Mr. Trump. The spread news
articles about the Trump supporters (considering there were thousands of them,
I imagine it is a tiny percentage of them) who are engaging in their own
hateful, disgusting actions. But, I
wonder if they've even considered the fear of the Trump voters? Have they considered how marginalized these
people felt-no one listening to their concerns?
They have tried to make themselves heard over and over again, and they
talk in their own isolated corners of the internet, creating their own fear and
hate of others. They spread news
articles about immigrant crime and other candidate indictments and trade
deficits and growing government debt.
They spread articles of riots and violence against Trump supporters.</div>
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My question is, what have we done to overcome the fear? The only way I know to overcome fear of a
thing is to get to know it. I am not
afraid because instead of issues being a paper and pencil threat, I see the
world as human. The things I fear are
the things I don't understand or know about.
I have seen the most ignorant kind of hate alleviated when barriers were
removed and the people got to know each other.
It happened to me. I never really knew an illegal immigrant until I was
a teacher, and I sat with terrified families and listened to them, taking on
their fears and trying to see America through their eyes. I never really understood their struggles or
understood how much these people could teach me. I had never met a transgender person until I
was a teacher. And then, I learned to
love a young man, laughing with him and him teaching me humanity. Watching his struggles on every level taught
me so much. And by authentically being
able to talk to him about my misunderstandings and misconceptions he learned I
wasn't trying to marginalize him, I was just un-informed. I want to believe we both gained a lot from
our relationship. Honestly, I had never
really known someone who is truly racist until I became a teacher. And I have watched walls come down with
students when they befriend a black or Hispanic person. Of course, at first, they just think their
friend is an exception to all the hate they have been taught, but it is the beginning. If I start off, with any of these people, by
being closed off, refusing to listen, exactly what do you imagine these
students would learn from me? That they
shouldn't change. That their teacher
is-insert whatever extreme group they think I belong to-and they don't have to
listen. Harper Lee's remarkable book, <i>To Kill A Mockingbird</i> comes to mind for
me, when Atticus Finch says, "You
never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of
view..Until you climb inside his skin and walk around in it." I try every day to leave my biases at the
door (impossible but I try), and to, instead, create and model a classroom
where listening is valued. I try to let
students have a voice that will not be mocked, and I try to encourage them to
listen. I try to show my own curiosity
and open-mindedness, and hope that maybe they will take a risk and listen to
someone different from them. Many of
them don't. I am aware of this, but if
even one student hears something different,
thinks a little differently, I think it's worth it. If I let my fear of the unknown of the
upcoming four years show, I am giving permission to some students to feel afraid,
and I am showing other students I am biased against them and their parents,
immediately building a wall that they will refuse to tear down in the short
time we have together.</div>
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What I am seeing, is not just a refusal to try and see
anything from someone else's perspective, but an out and out war on people who
are trying to learn from people different from them. In the worst post I have seen, a person I
thought was loving and kind, posted that Trump supporters were terrible
parents, they could "go f*** themselves." Can you imagine this bringing anyone
together? As a parent, I try to live by example. I have never posted a curse
word-particularly destined for another person.
What kind of parent writes this as an example to her child? This person is claiming her daughter is being
bullied. Have you tried getting to know
the families of the so-called bullies?
Have even attempted to understand another side of this? Have you asked your daughter why the students
that say these hate-filled things feel this way? Get off your computer and get
into the world. Go hug a bully. See what happens. Don't show your daughter the isolating,
hateful, exercise of complaining and name-calling and accepting the evil. Face it.
Reach out. When you write that
hate language, you immediately make people not want to learn from you. You either reinforce other scared people who
feel like you, allowing them an excuse to keep to their corner, or you alienate
the people who think differently from you, causing them to fear you and, as a
result, refuse to listen to you. By the
way, another thing I have learned, is that the overwhelming majority of parents
are making choices they genuinely believe are best for their children. The audacity for anyone to assume they know
why someone was motivated to make decisions they did, and to insult their
parenting, is the most hateful type of action I can imagine. To believe, in the most ignorant way, that
people voted to hurt others, and not even consider that, they, just like you,
voted in a way they believed was best for them is the definition of elitist and
in my opinion horrific.</div>
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So, what to do with all this? Where do I go? Here's what I know. Now, more than ever, I need to teach empathy. I need to give space and time for students to
learn to listen. I need to read articles
that are counter to my own positions.
I need to remember, despite all the fear, that love and understanding
really will triumph. Because, I can't
forget Scout's most profound idea, "I think there's just one kind of
folks. Folks." I am going to try
to model empathy, and when I fail, I'm going to admit I was wrong and pray for
grace. I am also going to offer grace and refuse to believe anyone is the
oversimplified version of themselves they are creating on social media. I am going to reach out in love and an
authentic attempt to learn. I wish you
all the best in your journey.</div>
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Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-9045107551810686042016-01-01T15:44:00.003-08:002016-01-01T16:31:06.506-08:00Present: Being HereWelcome 2016! For the past two years, I have selected a word to focus on. I saw a guy talking about it on the Today show, and I was hooked on the idea. The first year, 2014, was the year my son graduated from high school. I picked the word "cherish" and I did my best to focus on enjoying the process. Last year, I picked the word "embrace" because I knew it would be a year of a lot of change. This year, my word found me. In the last month of the year, I had several things happen that drew this word to me.<br />
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First of all, I have lost touch with many of my writing friends. Every time they planned something, I couldn't make it. I was too busy or it seemed too far away. Then, one of the most important people I associated with the Writing Project passed away. He was always planning ways to keep us together as a group. I felt horrible I hadn't been to any gatherings. However, at the busiest time of the year, I found a way to make to a writing session. I don't know why I felt so compelled to go in the last week of school, on the night of my school's Christmas party. But, I went. And it was wonderful. We sat and wrote and talked, and it was a gift. There was a woman there who I admire very much. She taught me when I was in the Writing Project, even though she didn't remember because she has helped so many teachers and shared her gift with so many people. As we talked, she shared, even though I don't think she wanted to, that her mother had passed away recently. She talked about being intentional. She talked about being a person who doesn't just say things, but a person who takes action. It really affected my thinking. Then, she asked me for my blog address. I wrote it down, and thought how kind it was for her to ask. But, something remarkable happened. She read it-she read it-and she left me comments and I felt validated and important. She went to the beginning and read my entire blog, and then I went back and read the posts and it was one of the greatest gifts I received-her commitment to actually do what she said she was going to do. I will never forget this.<br />
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Then, I gave a final to my seniors. We had been studying the Holocaust, and our final reading was from <i>The Book Thief</i>. It was the short story within the novel called, "The Word Shaker." It is a deceptively simple story about words, and their power. Inevitably, even if you have all the best words in the world, and you don't share them, you can't make a difference. For our final, we became "word shakers" and gifted each other words or phrases that had been gifts in our lives. As the days of the final approached, I felt apprehensive and worried that the students would take it as a joke or be stories. It was my favorite day of the year.<br />
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As I was driving home, I got a text from my mom. My dad fell over Thanksgiving break and in complete shock, my mom shared that he was not well. To add to the news, there is not really anything doctors can do. This is not a surprise, he has not been well for a while, but this seems like another thing. They told him he can't drive any more. All of this seems really scary and sad. I am always so wrapped up in my own head, I want to be there for my dad and my mom. I want to recognize that nothing is permanent. I want them to know I love them dearly and I want to make memories.<br />
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As I reflected on these things, I thought about my word for the year. I thought about words like intentional and action and purposeful. I mean, these things were all of those. I know that I don't want to sit back and think magic and luck will make things happen. I want to participate, I want to be active. As I thought about it, I realized all my favorite memories are the ones where I am <b>PRESENT</b>. Authentically, entirely, present in the moments in my life that truly matter. And I knew, I knew my word and my commitment to myself and my friends and my family is to be present.<br />
<br />
<b>present </b>[prez-uh nt]<br />
adjective<br />
1. Being, existing, or occurring at this time or now; current:<br />
2. At this time; at hand; immediate:<br />
3. Grammar. Noting an action or state occurring at the moment of speaking or writing. Noting or pertaining to a tense or other verb formation with such meaning.<br />
4. Being with one or others or in the specified or understood place<br />
5. Being here<br />
6. Existing or occurring in a place, thing, combination, or the like:<br />
7. Being actually here or under consideration<br />
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All the definitions talk about being, immediate, existing-and that is my goal for 2016. I hope to be present in my life and for the people that I love. I hope to write more and participate and help shape the memories I can't wait to make. I wish you all the best friends! Happy New Year!Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-19526628543640229512015-12-31T07:00:00.001-08:002015-12-31T07:00:31.323-08:00In order to find joy, we must embrace the challengeHOORAY! It's my favorite time of the year. I love New Year's Day, and this entire season-more than any other part of the year (not weather related of course). New Year's Day is my most favorite holiday of all of them. It's because it's not about anything other than giving yourself permission to attempt to be better. New Year's is time to acknowledge your blessings and truly reflect on your goals. My family traditions include sitting around all day and watching Netflix (I'm pushing for an all Gilmore Girls extravaganza of awesomeness-we are on the final season, and I hate it, but I will push on). We will have a toast in our ONLY NEW YEARS ONLY fancy champagne flutes we got as a wedding gift, I will make black-eyed peas with ham and green vegetables with bacon and cornbread in a cast iron skillet, and we talk and laugh and love each other. I freaking love this holiday!<br />
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As you may know if you read my blog, three years ago I stopped making resolutions. Instead, I began choosing a word of intention for the year. I am staying with this again this year. I have been thinking about what my word for 2016 will be, and I'll be blogging about it on New Year's Day. This tradition has been a great one for me personally. I love thinking about and focusing on a word that has the power to affect my thinking and my actions. It has been incredibly powerful in my life.<br />
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This year, my word was "embrace." I'm not being authentic if I write that I opened my arms and embraced this year of incredible change. I chose the word because I knew this year would be challenging. I have also thought about this blog, which I did not succeed at this year. I have thought a lot about the purpose of writing all these things down. Then, I went back and read some of the old posts. This blog is my history. It is me. Right now I am going to embrace the fact that 2015 is ending. It was a year of growth in my life. It was a year that I humbly failed at some things. I am thankful to embrace the fact that I have a long way to go.<br />
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In 2015 my son continued his journey to adulthood. I knew I was going to have to embrace the fact that he has to struggle a little if he wants to be a good man. I didn't do as well as I would have liked, but I believe our relationship today is one of much more mutual respect than it was this time last year. I have watched him make choices on his own. It was really difficult this summer when instead of moving back to our home, he got his own place to live-his first home. The fact that he has become a wonderful cook and a kind friend has made me incredibly proud. I have seen his generous heart in action. I have seen him face a challenge, and I am resolute and confident that he is going to be an amazing person.<br />
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My daughter turned 16 this year. I did not do well embracing this challenge. Holy macaroni, I was terrified. However, last week she drove me around in her brand new, adorably perfect for her car and it was wonderful. It was my turn to run the radio, and we laughed and listened to my playlist for a change. She is so much more capable than I would like to admit. Today I met her at a local grocery store. I walked in and she was shopping. I saw her before she saw me, so I watched her for a second before joining her. She looked so confident and self-assured. I stood in that store and tears welled up in my eyes. I hope she knows how proud I am to be her mom.<br />
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I knew this year was going to be challenging for me at work. Change was inevitable. I knew it would be easy to simply cross my arms and set my chin and be miserable. I would have plenty of company. On a lot of days-I failed to embrace change as I would have liked. I failed more than I am proud of. I struggled and I fought myself. But, my word kept bringing me back-I kept turning it over in my mind every time I heard myself resisting a new challenge. I have really fought myself to embrace the things that will make me the best teacher I can be for the people I am privileged to serve and that I love so dearly.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidvjwaS3sqSCL820ix9jG9jrt9h46RwdXU7Cf-VXrgIrZFHRCB20jTYnuln3xJmqT04aDN0Ynzl0hhIzHBLfXow4o01QvSzwW9q4wfXr2jIpdqVT9Jmnin5kSyi7uiLvSvCJHTgeQ7VD8/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidvjwaS3sqSCL820ix9jG9jrt9h46RwdXU7Cf-VXrgIrZFHRCB20jTYnuln3xJmqT04aDN0Ynzl0hhIzHBLfXow4o01QvSzwW9q4wfXr2jIpdqVT9Jmnin5kSyi7uiLvSvCJHTgeQ7VD8/s200/FullSizeRender+%25281%2529.jpg" width="198" /></a>I did embrace adventure in unprecedented ways. My daughter and I traveled all alone to Europe. I made a promise to myself I would try the food, refuse to miss anything, explore every opportunity we were given. We met some of the most amazing people and had the time of our lives. Travel is truly fatal to prejudice and the greatest teacher. I still can't believe we wandered all over Paris, just the two of us-lost as we could be, but continuing to laugh and explore and celebrate. The memories I have will last forever.<br />
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I applied for and was accepted for a professional development in Washington D.C. at the US Holocaust Museum. I went all by myself. I promised myself I would not sit in the back and let this experience go to waste. The first evening, I wandered through the national mall, basking in my favorite memorials and filling my heart and soul up with history and legacy. I love DC and I was humbled and honored (and hungry). I met some of the most talented, intelligent, and compassionate teachers during this experience (#yellowdots4life). I also embraced trying new curriculum and teaching my students something entirely new because of this experience. I believe we are all better off because I refused to let my fear of really difficult content to override my belief that my students deserve to be trusted with the intellectual challenge they have earned.<br />
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I have a lot of new people on my team at work. I am nothing if not an acquired taste. Sometimes I can be really overwhelming to new people because I am kind of passionate about kids and education and I have a million ideas in my constantly moving and changing mind. I will not lie-I was really scared on the first day of teacher back-to-school professional devevlopment. However, my new team has been truly the biggest blessing. I love each person I work with with my whole heart. They have accepted me. They keep me grounded. They make me want to be better every single day. The teaching has changed! I am, for the first time in my career, advising a group of sophomores. Every single day, for 30 minutes, I have the chance to talk and care about these 15 new people who are not students in my English class, but people in my awesome advisory "framily". I'm working on it. They are generous. They are patient. I am trying to be patient. At our Christmas party we celebrated the fact that this was our first annual Christmas party. I promise to do my best for them. <br />
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In 2015 I saw some of the most amazing people graduate. I had an incredible number of students go away. This was hard for me. I have tried my best to send encouragement and love as I was awed by their success. I loved last year's crew. It was not possible for it to be better. However, my word was embrace, and so I went into the first day of school ready to embrace whatever was going to happen. Best. Decision. Ever. My new students are amazing. They are propelling me to be more curious and creative-to think in new ways and to show up every day ready to be challenged and to learn. I am embracing the fact that I am a constantly changing person.<br />
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So, 2015 was a year of challenge. I expect nothing less from 2016. I am eager to welcome a new year. I hope I am humble enough to recognize that my year of "embrace" was wonderful, challenging, flawed, perfect, and absolute necessary in my life's journey. Happy New Year Friends. I can't wait to see what comes next!Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-9930333728671959532015-12-22T06:33:00.000-08:002015-12-22T06:33:03.673-08:00I love-I love-I love-I love OLIVIA!<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One thing I love about teaching Seniors is that I get to participate in an event each year that marks a definitive change in someone's life. I have been blessed with participating in so many young people’s life changing moments. Today marks one of the most important personal moments of unequivocal change in my own life. 16 years ago, December 22, at 3:32 in the afternoon, one of my most favorite human beings came into existence-my daughter! I was there the whole time! Olivia Linda Moore, I have loved you since before you existed, and now, 16 years later I am absolutely certain I will love you forever and always. In honor of your day, I want to celebrate 16 of my favorite things/memories/awesome things that make you the greatest gift I have ever received:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbR8a4taxuVAuSTvCnwQRRa8X7NDQmCsRfovvFV9iTvy_GwdEEBUEjcgsZrejfI2VivyyLCGfAZF75FlKbusMnypZjupvqJJ6fLxEME_ulkup_XpDr-I7_zKD-zzQvEaHFcOUiHmbjPpI/s1600/IMG_9988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbR8a4taxuVAuSTvCnwQRRa8X7NDQmCsRfovvFV9iTvy_GwdEEBUEjcgsZrejfI2VivyyLCGfAZF75FlKbusMnypZjupvqJJ6fLxEME_ulkup_XpDr-I7_zKD-zzQvEaHFcOUiHmbjPpI/s200/IMG_9988.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-0acbaf8d-ca03-c1b6-e7a1-71200f9b7939" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You hate mornings and love late nights, and I love mornings and hate late nights: This might not be everyone’s favorite, but some of my favorite memories we have together come at really not great hours for either one of us. I love that you were born in the afternoon, kinda a truce time for us. When we were in Europe together, jet lag had nothing on us-our late night giggles (that I’m not exactly sure happened at night for our bodies). I love falling asleep, and then suddenly you are saying something that jolts me up in giggles or astonishment. I also love the fact that I get to wake you up in your groggy state. It is, and always has been, my favorite thing. I am not forgetting to buy you an alarm clock-I forget because I don’t want to loose my morning cheeriness which you don’t understand and that first head kiss each day.</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your fearlessness: You are fearless in the way that I will never be able to understand. Each time you audition, I stand out in the hall or outside the door, and hold my breath until I nearly pass out. I am inspired by the fact that you know what you love to do, and unlike most people I know-YOU DO IT! Some of my favorite memories are sitting in a crowded theater with everyone laughing, and tears running down my face with pride as I can’t help but laugh at your amazing talent, timing and spirit!</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your passion for weird animals: You always want to stop and pet things. You are truly a donkey whisperer, cats flock to you despite the fact that you are allergic, you loved your bunny bunny and you would welcome a buffalo to our backyard if I let you. You have a kind and adventurous heart for all creatures.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9lXzuHjMgL6ILwdvg5rKIe-KfIXbC1ZVcxZQUOD3vx-pzXVnosrosODRdpkSHX-UKcDd3CY-fj6AsPchwdRkOCS3nlZKvfKxLr4HW_Wh6io10dHkcDNJcuDHZDTZp_gcKdIiKK_eS1nI/s1600/IMG_0454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9lXzuHjMgL6ILwdvg5rKIe-KfIXbC1ZVcxZQUOD3vx-pzXVnosrosODRdpkSHX-UKcDd3CY-fj6AsPchwdRkOCS3nlZKvfKxLr4HW_Wh6io10dHkcDNJcuDHZDTZp_gcKdIiKK_eS1nI/s200/IMG_0454.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your music taste: I love your eclectic music taste. I love that you have helped me appreciate edgy Broadway to 21 Pilots to Elton John to Disney Princesses to Justin Bieber to Dio. I love that we can sing and rock and not worry about the cars around us.</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your sense of right and wrong: You have an incredible sense of morality. You absolutely want to do the right thing, and you always strive to be the best person you can be. You hold people to a very high standard, and you make me want to be better always.</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your love of old things: You love old cars, vintage clothes, old TV shows and movies, and lots of super cool vintage things. You are authentically in love with stuff that other people try to be in love with to be cool. Thank you for helping me discover Cheap Thrills and old cars.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpn0Az0hJ8QRgZE2ou8yPe7-nQVcG3QWo77jyzKUKAZx-nAbPQlQtY8W1teti1MKwLdI5MIJ9qevLTr36JvyDblCkghoPnKzRgwsFUgy-TnTuE-tkWF7aRlp464vla7j8AePkn7ISkLW0/s1600/IMG_0261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpn0Az0hJ8QRgZE2ou8yPe7-nQVcG3QWo77jyzKUKAZx-nAbPQlQtY8W1teti1MKwLdI5MIJ9qevLTr36JvyDblCkghoPnKzRgwsFUgy-TnTuE-tkWF7aRlp464vla7j8AePkn7ISkLW0/s200/IMG_0261.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your love of tradition: You want to keep traditions alive. This is really important to you. I love that when I suggested changing something about our Christmas feast, you looked at me like I was speaking another language. You believe in the power of tradition and the sentimentality of things. You make me appreciate the memories and the connections that I often push aside.</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your love of roller coasters and fast things: I can’t ride roller coasters. I can’t even watch roller coasters without getting a little queasy. But ever since you were tiny you climbed to the highest places and fought to ride the craziest rides. You have made me peak and wave and celebrate as you sit next to your brother and dad and laugh with unabashed delight.</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_kffO9BxeEQhpQ574ObFoN7_gb2dnvfc1CpUK3_yVr3icYrzUUUB5N43O_53iH3l-bETg_hcgMJrfpjyf41xVV6GhIgirUEI0Q1tcQ3lZEw7gpYfddZnmhyphenhyphenjnt0DDCesjV5F2s1K8MvY/s1600/IMG_0008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_kffO9BxeEQhpQ574ObFoN7_gb2dnvfc1CpUK3_yVr3icYrzUUUB5N43O_53iH3l-bETg_hcgMJrfpjyf41xVV6GhIgirUEI0Q1tcQ3lZEw7gpYfddZnmhyphenhyphenjnt0DDCesjV5F2s1K8MvY/s200/IMG_0008.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your sense of direction and correct song lyrics: Okay, you have neither of these things! When it comes to song lyrics, I love that you sing whatever you feel like to whatever tune you desire whenever you want. You make me realize that music is the most fun when it is the music you make yourself! As far as sense of direction, I love that when you were three you got lost in the indoor PlayPlace at McDonald’s. I’ll never forget your face staring down at me, wondering how you got there as I sent Austen up to save you. However, because you have no sense of direction, we have been on many interesting adventures. You are never bound by what is close by or what is far away, because you're not really sure what town we are in, so I am often willing to just go and see where we end up. Thank you for making me realize the most fun can often be the journey, not the destination.</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your wit: You are freaking funny! I mean authentically make me laugh out loud funny. You see the world unlike anyone else, but you explain it in the most relatable way. Thank you for always making me laugh.</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuVbxn2TL8bl-r8QakhLI57saNT3ez7dkSmTQtMFEhl0Kcykg8nswiT5K_Mzyz_Mhsxk3ojVkrHrXhRuonDg1i2fp6-dIa4qgrNv7iFNRGgsaBqc-cJc_Jj1SOuWicaJQY0jOHbJ2_sw/s1600/E14F140F-4AC5-4BA6-AC11-070447D96F41.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuVbxn2TL8bl-r8QakhLI57saNT3ez7dkSmTQtMFEhl0Kcykg8nswiT5K_Mzyz_Mhsxk3ojVkrHrXhRuonDg1i2fp6-dIa4qgrNv7iFNRGgsaBqc-cJc_Jj1SOuWicaJQY0jOHbJ2_sw/s200/E14F140F-4AC5-4BA6-AC11-070447D96F41.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your individuality: I love/hate playing games with you, because you see the world in a way no one else does. I’ll never forget playing pictionary with you, and you would get so angry that we couldn’t guess your drawings. You drew a man in a suit with a really big head and you were so mad that we didn’t get it. The word was “global warming,” and clearly you had drawn Al Gore. This is how your beautiful brain works and I wouldn’t change it for anything.</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your love of rain and pajamas and lazy days: I don’t love do nothing days, but you have made me appreciate Netflix marathons and popcorn and fuzzy socks.</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your intelligence: You are smart-I mean smart in a usable way. You enliven any conversation and you come alive when you school us all as the youngest who often knows more about stuff than we do.</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your desire to make everyone smile: Even when I have been really upset, it has been your driving desire to make me laugh. You will do stupid stuff or say crazy things because you hate for people to be upset. Your kind heart feels the pain of people around you and you will do whatever it takes to make them smile.</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your authenticity: Oh my, this one is such a gift. You are truly always yourself. I remember being so afraid when you went to middle school. I cried and begged you to stay true to yourself. You have. You are the most authentic person I know. I am incredibly proud that you are always you.</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your beauty: You are truly the most beautiful person I know. All of these things shine in you, and you simply take my breath away. I have never been prouder of anything in my life than the fact that you are my daughter.</span></div>
</li>
</ol>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Olivia, I love you truly madly and eternally. I hope you have the best year ever. Thank you for making my life so much fuller, happier, and filled with beauty.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-67065644780449109192015-11-25T19:17:00.000-08:002015-11-25T19:17:02.272-08:00Enjoy the Little Things...<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
I am unequivocally one of the luckiest people I know. I am
so freaking blessed, I don't even know where to begin. I have an
incredible husband who loves me and makes me feel valuable and special and
loves all my weirdness. I test him and push him, and despite everything-he
is always by my side. I have two kids who love me and accept me.
They have become amazing friends and who love each other. I am not even
exaggerating that random people have approached me to tell me amazing stories
about my kids. My sister is the BOMB! If I go more than two days without
talking to her, something is seriously wrong. My friends are super ridiculous.
They are smart and funny and we have discovered Snapchat together. They
make me think critically, and when I can't do that anymore, they make me laugh
at really ridiculous double entendres that only English teacher people can
understand (we have the ability to make everything dirty-I mean everything.
Staff meetings and CPR training are potential gold mines for us).
When I have a super bad day, they convince me I'm not ruining the future
or going to go to the bad place (another high school). I have read
amazing books and traveled to amazing places. I wake up nearly every
single day and can't believe I get to the work I get to do. I teach remarkable
human beings who teach me so much more than I could have ever thought possible.
This being said, I thought I would write a post about 20 silly things I
am thankful for. Yep, still thankful for all the biggies, but here are 20
little things I am so thankful for today and always.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span>My dog: I love her. When I talk to
her, she makes dog noises like she is conversing with me-even when no one else
will. She does sometimes poop in places I wish she didn't, but it's a
small price to pay for a creature who is so delighted to see me at the end of
the day she throws herself off of very high places and flings herself into
doors simply to welcome me home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span>Netflix: I am not good at watching
programs when they are on TV. I am years behind. But I freaking love
Netflix. I have had love affairs with House of Cards, Breaking Bad and
Gilmore Girls. I am so much cooler because of Netflix.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span>Yellow Downy Fabric Softener<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->4.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span>Baked Cheetos: They have powdered cheese,
they are not too greasy, and I can convince myself I am making a healthy
choice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->5.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span>Hot Hands Hand Warmers: When my husband
and I were dating, he had a jeep. The jeep was held together with safety
pins. It is much more awesome to talk about it now than it was to live
it. Our first Christmas together, in my stocking was hot hands hand
warmers. I used them when he took me to his mom's for our first
Christmas. I am so thankful for these amazing scientific wonders. I
still love them to this day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->6.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span>"Heathers-the Musical" Station
on Pandora: There is no end to the amazing singing that has happened in my car
due to obscure musicals that I have come to love due to hours of listening to
this amazing station.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->7.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span>Strawberry Flavored Cupcakes<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->8.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span>Wine in a Box<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->9.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span>My Husband's Love/Hate Relationship with
Social Media: I love this man. He is bold. He is brash. He is
unafraid to tweet KFC to stand up for the respect he believes is due to the
original Colonel Sanders. I am in constant wonder of the magic of my
husband on twitter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->10.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Mark Twain<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->11.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->My ridiculously fancy watch: For our
wedding anniversary, my husband got me a super fancy watch. I wear it to
run on a treadmill because it is super fancy and I love it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->12.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Dresses: I love dresses. I love
weird patterns and the fact that they are only once piece. I love feeling
put together and I love expressing myself through my odd fashion choices.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->13.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Chick-Fil-A Breakfast<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->14.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Converse<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->15.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Sunglasses: My husband never trusted me
with more than $7 sunglasses. For my 40th birthday, he trusted me with fancy
sunglasses. I still have them, I still rock them, and I still love them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->16.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Edna (my car): She is very forgiving
and she is unafraid to go over instead of around when called for.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->17.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->The ability to pause television<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->18.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->My Nook: I need to be able to access a
preview to any book at any time. This makes me feel so freaking powerful.
I can't even tell you how many samples I have on this thing!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->19.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Monday morning coffee in my favorite mug:
I love coffee, but I have this one brown mug-it is my favorite. Every
Monday I make sure it is clean so I can make sure to have an awesome day that
begins with my favorite mug.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->20.<span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Cheese dip<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
These are 20 little things I am grateful
for. I am also grateful for so many people who read my blog. If you
read this, I would love to know, what is one little thing you are thankful for
this year? I wish you the best Thanksgiving and holiday season!
Thank you for being a part of my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-30166755500159004052015-11-23T08:17:00.000-08:002015-11-23T08:17:53.149-08:00“We must find time to stop and thank the people who make a difference in our lives.” John F. Kennedy<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
Thanksgiving! It is not my most favorite favorite, but I
love it. Our family likes to chill out, eat, and celebrate all darn day!
I love to send texts to people near and far all throughout the day to let
them know how thankful I am to have them in my life. I've been thinking
about writing this post for a while now, but today seems like the perfect day.
I have read a lot of posts grateful for teachers-from students and
parents and friends. I am a high school English teacher, and I appreciate
the fact that I have so many people have lifted my profession (and myself) up
and encouraged me and thanked me over the years. I work alongside some
truly gifted educators and people who humble me not only with their intellect,
but with their compassion and generosity. I hope that they know how
thankful I am for them. My family is ridiculous. They love me and
support me and encourage me. They put up with so much so that I can do crazy
things and be myself. I will NEVER be able to be thankful enough.
But, today, I want to write about some people who rarely get
recognized-my former students. I remember when I started teaching, I
never fully grasped the concept that the biggest blessings and challenges of
teaching is that each year you start with a brand new team, which means that
each year you have to say good-bye to a group of people, many of whom you have
come to love dearly. The common conception is that you will likely never
see these people ever again. Because of social media and my small town, I
have many former students I have been blessed to become friends with.
This is such a special thing. I hope my dear former students you
know how thankful I am for you. Here are five reasons I am thankful to
have you in my lives:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b>1.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>You
help want to be my best</b>:
You are right now doing amazing things. You are in service to our
country, or working, or going to school, and even though you don't know it, I
hope that these challenges are a little easier because you trusted me to help
prepare you to face the challenges you are overcoming. When I see you
doing miraculous things, I resolve myself to do my best every single day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b>2. You showed me each moment can be a
memory</b>: When I post a
picture or write something, often times I get a message from you about how you
remember our class. I am always surprised because it is not often the
"big moments I thought I was killing it as the most amazing educator of
all time" you write about. It is often the tiny moments I struggle to
remember that you reflect on. You don't often remember the amazing
feedback I gave you on your essay or the titles of the books we read, but you
remember getting your point across this one time in this one Socratic circle.
You remember making a new friend. You remember laughing with me at
the oddest moments. You remember taking a selfie in the rotunda. You
remind me that each moment counts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b>3. You made me more compassionate</b>: When I first started teaching, I really
believed I did not have to go "all in". I thought I could just
teach you about reading and writing-maybe laugh a little, and we would be all
good. You showed me that this gig is not a temporary thing. You
told me about your lives, you wrote about your struggles and your triumphs. You
shared your heart with me and wanted to know about me in return. After you
graduated, when I have posted about my struggles, many of you have sent me
messages. You check on me. You wish me happy birthday. You
take time to be a good person, and you make me realize no matter how much I have
to do, there is time for connection.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b>4. You aren't too cool to hug an old lady</b>: As a teacher, I don't really expect for
anyone to remember me. But, when I ran into you at that football game or
at the mall or at Starbucks, you ran up to me and hugged me. I was giddy.
I was there with my friends or my family, and here comes this
"got-it-all-together" young adult who I remember as a slightly less
together teenager, who is willing to come up to me and give me a hug and catch
up for a minute. I am so thankful that you would take your time to say
hi. You will never know what that means to me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b>5. Your success honors our work</b>: When I see you post on social media
about passing a test in college, or getting a promotion, or getting married, or
loving your children, or simply being happy, I feel so much pride. I
listen to the music you create, I read your blogs, I look at your photographs
of your families and your friends and your travels and I celebrate your
success. Your transition into adult contributor of society makes me
humbled and so freaking proud. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Dear former students, I hope you have an
amazing Thanksgiving and holiday season. Thank you from the bottom of my heart
from just a little old lady English teacher. I wish you many many
blessings.<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-91042571848828114882015-10-24T07:55:00.000-07:002015-10-24T19:19:27.440-07:00Embracing Imperfection<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Over the last couple
weeks, I have had some pretty amazing opportunities. First, my students
and I applied and were selected to attend not only a reading from Taylor Mali,
but we got the chance to write with him in the afternoon. Then, this past
Thursday, I took 80 of my high school seniors from my AP Language and
Composition class to Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, a world class
museum located in Bentonville, Arkansas. After our trip to the museum, I
was honored to watch my daughter perform in her first high school play (along
with several of my students). It has been a whirlwind of a couple of
weeks.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">There is something that
has been hitting my heart as I have been participating in this crazy season of
my life-imperfection. I am swimming in a sea of imperfection, and I need
to figure out how to embrace this. Taylor Mali, a nationally acclaimed slam poet
and author, asked us to describe a page in our journal. Then he explained
that he usually gets two types of responses. The first one reads
something like, "My journal is filled with hopes and dreams. The
writing is illegible. The pages contain scribbles from a young man/woman
seeking the impossible." Okay?!? But then, he said, he
sometimes reads this, "At the top is a coffee stain</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">, not because it was an
accident, but because I thought it looked artistic. I see the beginnings
of the song lyrics I was writing to him, "On the wings of a dove..."
There is a random phone number that for me, no longer has an owner. There
are also the beginnings of a list: key chain, apples, light bulbs,
oatmeal." Clearly B is so much better-but why?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMW0iEj8KVmFvA_6tvWntROe84zCOpfj2Y9a5C1vYirFVtC-Fsub6F5rbjGtYb6TK2bOuTsS7s2QuKyWIaDK1V9EAsMsKwB8MH9dejzS5d9xG8qgvtLguX0iS4kPb3Fiuc6yRdhpD-PQY/s1600/IMG_0109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMW0iEj8KVmFvA_6tvWntROe84zCOpfj2Y9a5C1vYirFVtC-Fsub6F5rbjGtYb6TK2bOuTsS7s2QuKyWIaDK1V9EAsMsKwB8MH9dejzS5d9xG8qgvtLguX0iS4kPb3Fiuc6yRdhpD-PQY/s200/IMG_0109.JPG" width="200"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging with Taylor Mali</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Mali went on to talk to
us about the fear of choosing one-the fear of being specific. What
happens if we embrace and examine only one page of our journal, only one
memory, only one person-will all the others get upset (too bad :). Upon
close examination, will we be forced to describe our flaws-isn't it easier to
appear perfect from 10,000 feet? If all you have to do is look at my life
from afar, I am certain I can filter it just enough so that, without even
seeing the filter, you believe the glossed over image I can present.
Clearly, when we wrote the first time, I was response number 1. I
was the ambiguous journal without any real content. I left with my head
spinning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigUwitETctUjhWfM7cw4yDHdSd_itguVhWyZPvxZgBrDZlZvi1Dajd2K-rZDmCzgC-B43cJL5vc0MXEYw4nrxItZhxRa-KXtWYPj43mHMIX3FrBJJaLBm2B7JaDhdplfljC72Nt5TUDPo/s1600/Image-1+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigUwitETctUjhWfM7cw4yDHdSd_itguVhWyZPvxZgBrDZlZvi1Dajd2K-rZDmCzgC-B43cJL5vc0MXEYw4nrxItZhxRa-KXtWYPj43mHMIX3FrBJJaLBm2B7JaDhdplfljC72Nt5TUDPo/s200/Image-1+%25281%2529.jpg" width="150"></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Then, this past Thursday
we went to the museum. I was thrilled and a little nervous. I had
never taken a group this large-in the end; there were 78 students-on a field
trip. I was also nervous because I would be guiding half the students
while the others toured with museum professionals. I would be doing this
in the presence of some of their parents (just so you know, teaching in front
on my students' parents is terrifying-it makes me worry that I am not only
being judged by 40 teenagers at a time, but also their parents might listen to
my lecture, realize I am crazy or weird, and immediately contact my
administrator for a refund and a schedule change). As I guided my
students to the two sculptures we were looking at (selected with help and
guidance and thought from my friends at the museum) I was having a wonderful
time. I was thinking and talking and laughing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">One of the sculptures
was of a giant spider that is located outside the front doors of the museum.
It is titled "Maman" by Louise Bourgeios and it is a tribute to
her mother. Students examined the sculpture and we talked about why spiders
are frightening and then we talked about if that fear is realistic. Then,
I talked to them about this being a tribute to her mother-she calls it an
"ode". I talked to the students about how our mothers in particular
are seen by everyone else but us in a certain way, but that our relationship
will never be fully understood by people outside of it. I asked the
students to imagine the tribute they would make for their mothers that
represented both what the world thought, and what they thought. I did
this in front of some of their mothers. I was so scared. I didn't
even know if they would get it. I had no idea what the responses would
be. At first, to be honest, I feel like my students were confused.
I had not done a good job explaining the complexities the sculpture
represents. But then, a student brought me a picture of a toilet. I
said, "Seriously-a toilet?" And gave in to my usual reaction
that I teach teenagers, and there always has to be a toilet somewhere. But
he said he wanted to tell me about it. His family immigrated for him.
His biological father is in prison, and his step dad works whatever job
he can get to keep his family afloat. But his mom. When she first
came here, she did whatever she could-cleaning, cooking, anything to learn and
survive. But now, she has worked herself all the way into a bookkeeping
job. He said, whenever he thinks of his mom, he can hear her tell him,
"I don't care if in your life you end up just cleaning toilets-but you
better do it better than anyone else." He talked about how toilets
are necessary, even if we don't want to admit it-how life would be unbearable
and would not even function without them. I laughed through the
tears-because he was sincere and lovely and thoughtful and a teen-aged boy all
at the same time. How lucky his mom is to be that toilet. While I
was working with him, I forgot about being judged by the other parents. I
forgot to worry about if my 77 other students were getting it. I simply
lived in that moment-sharing this intimate story and cherishing the fact that
this one human being had decided to share something with me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAkg1FsDww11HcL_A_cjERA5lmIoLy_Ye5TIgR5KL3XeKtUMfDGjpjALLyHQBSI16RMI0n8KNj2h7dYitmO791FnG_Ue7F8P6M0lOceEQtLRE01rGf6JFjr2H-hI7VpFrrmULVJRxRL7w/s1600/Image-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAkg1FsDww11HcL_A_cjERA5lmIoLy_Ye5TIgR5KL3XeKtUMfDGjpjALLyHQBSI16RMI0n8KNj2h7dYitmO791FnG_Ue7F8P6M0lOceEQtLRE01rGf6JFjr2H-hI7VpFrrmULVJRxRL7w/s200/Image-1.jpg" width="200"></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">The amazing thing is I
had these kinds of exchanges with students all day. At one point, I took
a 6'3 football player, and asked him to lay underneath an installation with me,
and we talked about how we could never, not matter where we went, see the whole
thing at one time. People were walking around us; I have a feeling some
people stopped to look at us (I mean, two people, one a giant, laying in the
floor of a museum might appear strange to some people.) But, we thought
about the fact that no matter where we stand, we can never see anything in its entirety. Even the people closest to us. I got up and thanked him and walked away-I have no idea what he will take
from that exchange, but I will never forget it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">My trip to the museum
was not perfect. I had some students get stuck in an elevator (because of
their actions), and I had to deal with museum security and staff who I admired
and who had trusted me to bring this many students at one time. I felt I
would have to deal with the scrutiny of the parents, museum staff, and my own
administration because this had happened under my supervision-this has never
happened in the history of my high school. It hurt my heart and
embarrassed me. I felt like a true failure for allowing this to happen.
I honestly cried about it. I didn't even want to school on Friday
and deal with this issue. I had let a split second decision by three
teenagers impact one of the greatest days of learning I had ever been a part
of. I am human, and I am embarrassed more now for letting these affect me
so greatly. My administration did not yell at me, the museum staff simply
got them out and said it was up to me to deal with them. I have heard
from only one parent on the trip, and it did not even mention the incident.
My students' reflections of the trip are, at this point (I am still
missing many reflections) 100% positive. If I get to go on this trip next
year is a complicated question (field trips are never easy for a high school
teacher) and there will be many factors that my administration and I will have
to consider, not just this one incident. But, I intend to grow from this.
It made me think about all of the wonder I have missed out on because of
my fear or embarrassment. If I had been too scared to teach the students
in front of their parents, or not been who I really am, I would not have
connected with so many of them on Thursday. If I let my embarrassment and
shame prevent me from fighting for this trip next year, I will let my own
humanity get in the way of my students' possible learning. I have to get
over myself, admit I could do better, and focus on the good stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I am embracing the
challenge to look at the imperfections and in them find the perfectly imperfect
truth of humanity. Instead of not looking at the flaws, I want to look at
the flaws and figure out why they are what makes life beautiful. I hope
you find a little something today that makes you embrace your humanity. I
hope you have a wonderful week friends (it's my birthday week :). Thank
you for reading and forgiving me supporting me!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-16337654141611254882015-10-04T19:18:00.000-07:002015-10-04T19:18:43.075-07:00Scatter JoyLast week was spirit week and parent teacher conferences at my school. I am a crazy woman for both of these things. When I think about my word for 2015, when I chose "embrace"-I really intended for it to be metaphorical-as in "embrace the challenges." But, now that I think about it, I think the word has a more literal meaning that has truly impacted my life.<div>
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During spirit week, Tuesday was the most wonderful spirit day of my existence-it was "Tutus and Ties Tuesday." I was born for this spirit day. My tutu (that I made with my dear friends) was the very most glittery, beautiful creation imaginable, and my tie had been specially made with a super glittery "Go Cats" and paw prints from one of my favorite boutiques in town. I wore glitter tights and I put a glitter paw print on my face. But, what was magical, was the amount of hugs I gave that day. I felt the literal importance of "embrace." I loved every moment of that day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilypQ9XTLxa4nIMB4MITuBfTohBAvztnVALDYuw04EEd3wC3m4rIcirx9101VOr-_HlP4W-JvdixaXe48wEmZTjSvjXkz9bclTubPfJQnAK1OuGc96LLJZqmkHGA7eU5n713w6O_uSle8/s1600/IMG_0022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilypQ9XTLxa4nIMB4MITuBfTohBAvztnVALDYuw04EEd3wC3m4rIcirx9101VOr-_HlP4W-JvdixaXe48wEmZTjSvjXkz9bclTubPfJQnAK1OuGc96LLJZqmkHGA7eU5n713w6O_uSle8/s320/IMG_0022.JPG" width="320" /></a>That night was parent teacher conferences. As I took a breath and prepared to meet parents in all my glitter-fabulous-ness, I embraced the fact that I am a professional-tutu and all. Although I always have fun on spirit week, I do so to connect with my students, to give them permission to remember that school can be fun and teachers can be weird and wonderful. I do not sacrifice academic rigor in my classroom, instead I embrace that learning in itself can be frustrating and challenging, but ultimately fun. I have come to accept that I am, forever and always, "that" teacher. Sitting in a desk in my classroom might result in glitter on your behind, but you will always see my genuine best that I have to give. I will tell you, as loudly and honestly I can what I love about you, and I will scatter as much joy and love as I can while educating you to think critically and communicate effectively, because my love language is creating independence and greatness, praying that my students excel in their wildest dreams.</div>
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I had so many wonderful families come to visit me. Although during conferences we go through grades and assignments (and not all are positive) I feel like I need to give parents some idea of what their children are like at school. I see my students as citizens and intellectuals. I see them struggle and figure things out. I see them for who they are-separate from home. I am privileged to be a part of their lives. For a long time, I didn't really embrace the reality of the responsibility of this gift I am given from my students. The fact that so many of my students share a side of themselves in our classroom is humbling and overwhelming. During conferences, I try my best to honor the remarkable individuals my students are by sharing at least one story from our classroom with their parents or guardians. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6BQzLqSajrDERVnjwXq5l7qKxFKYI8L6wQ6wLu1JkatXzp8FVZIjxi4yTFpfX-HWTA8WWdLF6otopwFIyiacYn9SvTkkmCvjPRM1kDWvELHvUlzkJ_TTR_dp-Jukj5ItmfYdQ7TgIZbI/s1600/IMG_0026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6BQzLqSajrDERVnjwXq5l7qKxFKYI8L6wQ6wLu1JkatXzp8FVZIjxi4yTFpfX-HWTA8WWdLF6otopwFIyiacYn9SvTkkmCvjPRM1kDWvELHvUlzkJ_TTR_dp-Jukj5ItmfYdQ7TgIZbI/s200/IMG_0026.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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I will be honest, this can be emotional-for parents, students, and myself. I get teary eyed thinking about the fact that so many of the parents I am talking with are struggling, as I did, with the reality that their students are leaving home soon. I do my best to thank them, and ensure them of the incredible human beings they have raised. I share stories of generosity and curiosity I have seen in their child. Sometimes, parents and I get misty-eyed. And, often times, I hug them, and they hug me back, as we celebrate the fortune we both have to know such remarkable people. Again, not a metaphorical embrace, but it is such an important human connection. </div>
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This week is not spirit week, but it is another opportunity for me to reach out and connect with someone who needs me. Either metaphorically or literally, I am ready to be my very best. I wish you the very best week friends! Much love and glitter :)</div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-89502965302413833352015-08-31T18:21:00.000-07:002015-08-31T18:21:18.017-07:00Embracing my favorite teachers<div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I am not going to lie,
it's weird for me to blog on a Monday night, but today has been somewhat
unexpectedly challenging. As a lover of learning all things, I have certain
teachers who are definitely my favorites. Tonight, two of the teachers who mean the most to me are
hurting from their own personal struggles, and I really want to let them know,
as privately as I can, what they mean to me and to let them know they are in my
heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Four years ago, I was
struggling to find my true direction as a teacher. I mean, I was doing okay,
but as a lover of all learning, my classes tended to be a little disconnected.
I joined the Northwest Arkansas Writing Project because I figured giving
up four weeks in the summer to learn about teaching writing-that could be
nothing but a party. It was! That is not sarcasm! (Neither is that-I am being
totally serious.) I remember the first few days, surrounded by these
amazing teachers thinking, "What am I even doing here?" To top
it off, they were writers-like not just writing teachers-I mean authentically
awesome writer people. And they wanted me to be one. I was not a writer. I am a
very good reader, I can edit with the best of them (my proofreading is not
awesome), but I was not a writer. One of our fearless leaders let us know
we had another fearless leader who had been injured in a bike accident, and he
would be joining us in a few days. He was going to be my peer response leader.
I was going to have to read this man my writing. My actual writing that I wrote
from my heart and my soul and isn't very good and I was having a panic attack.
This run-on sentence was kind of what my brain was doing. And then I met him.
And he calmed me down. He listened to me without judging me. He made me say
that I was a writer. He taught his demo lesson and moved me to tears as I
wrote, as a real writer, for the first time in my life. He taught me that every
single human being is a writer, and in order to be more humane, we must write together,
listen to each other, and write again. I know that because of his mentorship, I
became a much better teacher-but I know that I also became a little bit more
human. I love you friend!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Last year, in my small
learning team, we got a new teammate. She was co-teaching with one of my
besties. I was game-I added her to the e-mail distribution and got ready. I had
heard so many amazing things about this woman, but I wasn't sure what to
expect. I can be a lot to handle in a meeting. I truly believe in my soul this
woman joined our team for a reason. It was a challenging year for our little
team as we strove every second to do what we knew was right for our students.
This woman taught me about grace and voice and helped me understand the value
of each member of my team. When I had a really bad day, she hugged me and
supported me (even if I didn't really deserve it). She gave me the most honest feedback of my
life, "You are not what everyone thinks you are-and that's a good
thing." She made me laugh. She took us to the side of the road to cut
wildflowers. She taught be about Jimmy John's "unwhich." She made me
laugh and took amazing notes. This woman takes care of people. As her struggles
have become more public, I have seen so many people reach out to her. She
deserves every ounce of love. Her heart has moved every single person she has
ever worked with-and I am privileged to be one. I will love this woman forever.
She is one of my favorite teachers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">If you read this blog, I
hope you will think about not only your favorite official teachers, but the
people in your life who have taught you about grace and forgiveness and love
and life. If you know the people I'm writing about, or not, I would love it if
in your thoughts and prayers you send a little love their way. I am humbled and
sending all my love to two of my favorite teachers tonight. Thank you for all
the gifts you gave that I didn't deserve and can never be thankful enough for.
I love you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-19840576420784376332015-08-14T18:35:00.000-07:002015-08-15T05:06:50.222-07:00The Times-They are a ChangingMonday is one of my favorite days of the year-the first day of school. I am strange in the fact that I actually love change. It's probably why my favorite days are New Year's Day, Graduation, and the First Day of School (and my birthday-October 28 if you want to go ahead and start planning now). While at one point in my life, I feared change, it is now something I tend to embrace, given the fact that almost overwhelmingly in my life, change has led me to something absolutely wonderful. <br>
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I have, like a kid who cannot wait for Christmas morning, peaked at my new class list. Holy macaroni, once again, someone decided I deserve to work with young people who are so remarkable I can only shake my head and continue to live the way I am-reaping the blessings I don't deserve but will continue to be thankful for every single day. Each year I cajole some of my 11th graders into taking the leap into my Advanced Placement course, and this year I have more students I will get teach for two years than ever before. Last night, at open house, I was a crazy woman, hugging and screaming and celebrating what I know is going to be an amazing adventure.<br>
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But the difference for me this year, is that one of my most favorite human beings on the planet-my beautiful daughter-will be a student in my school. I am so bowled over by how much I love her; I am crying tears of joy right now thinking about how incredibly thankful and humbled I am to be her mom! Not only will my most favorite sophomore be in the house, but she has some of the most remarkable friends who I cherish and love and cannot wait to hug on Monday and yell and celebrate and laugh and cry and grow up and learn with. Teaching has been my passion and my heart since I started this journey, but something about this feels new and exciting and scary and wonderful.<br>
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To my remarkable daughter, you have always been so generous with my time. I know when you walk into HBHS, you know that I love all of those Wildcats who have my heart, but I especially love those 150 souls I have been blessed to find on my class lists. Since you have have been in the third grade, you have shared me with some of the most amazing people I have gotten to love. Know, always and forever, I love you best. <br>
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Because I love you best, I will be sure you do not receive any special privileges as a teacher's kid. Your schedule will be random, just like every other person in our building. Don't get me wrong, I have totally talked to your teachers. Just like all of the amazing people I work with, I believe in them. I know they are experts and they love kids and they are excellent at what they do. Your math teacher seems super cool, and your English teacher is my friend. She has the heart of a warrior; I have never heard of anyone who loved kids more and taught more fiercely than this beautiful woman. I don't know who your science teacher is yet, but I know those people and I trust them to help you see the world in a new and amazing way. Your history teacher changed your brother's life. The classes you have chosen as electives--rock on sweet, creative, genius. These teachers will honor your voice and help you find a reason you want to show up at school every single day. Your advisory teacher is (this is no exaggeration) one of my heroes and will help you become an honest and empathetic human. I know you will always have a champion who will always love you. You can tell her things you can't tell me, and as a teenager, you will need this. You may need to tell her about me, and that's okay, because we will face tough times as you figure out what it means to be a young adult, and I promise she will love you and honor your secrets and I will be thankful to know you are safe and loved.<br>
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To the amazing people teaching my kiddo-you do you! <b>I trust you.</b> Thank you for being on my team. I know, as a mama, I will see the world, and my daughter, through a different lens. The girl I know is not the young woman you are educating. I celebrate the fact that she may need to fail. You holding her accountable may hurt my heart and my strengthen my child. Please help me remember, when I falter, that she deserves the opportunity to become her own person. Thank you for your passion and dedication to all 150 of the amazing souls you are going to change this year. I am delighted my daughter is among them.<br>
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To the parents of the children I am humbled to serve, including the moms of my daughter's friends, I cannot express how grateful I am for you entrusting your child's education to me. I am one seven teachers your child will have, and my team is awesome.We will work as hard as we can for your child. I will do every single thing I can to be my very best ALWAYS for your child. I will make choices to teach them in ways I know (because I am professional) will help them become a productive, thoughtful, citizen in our crazy world. I will dedicate my life, for the next ten months, to helping them find their voice. I will give tough love, and I will challenge them and hold them accountable. After that is over, when they walk out of my room, I will cry for those I could not save. I will have bad days some times, and I will rely on you to understand that as much as I wish it wasn't true, I make a lot of mistakes. Learning itself is often the byproduct of trial and error. Your child and I are learning together and it's messy and non-linear and fun and frustrating and I am determined, every single day, we will learn something. I appreciate grace and support. We are a team, and the price of victory is the highest it can be.<br>
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Today, my principal said something I will never forget. He said, "We don't have to do this. We chose to do this." I am so excited for Monday. Change is happening, and it is exactly what it should be-scary and daunting and necessary for life to progress and become even more beautiful. Best wishes dear friends.<br>
<br>
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<br>Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-29230430219252972782015-08-09T19:35:00.002-07:002015-08-09T19:35:21.424-07:00“Wherever you go becomes a part of you somehow.”<div class="MsoNormal">
Summer officially ends tomorrow morning at 7:45 am in the
cafeteria of the high school where I teach.
It is in that place that I will be reunited with some of the most
amazing friends/family/co-workers I am privileged to call mine. We will begin a
week of getting ready for the hundreds of young people we get to serve next
year. I'm truly excited. However, this summer has been exceptional. My daughter and I went on a magical journey
to Europe together (neither of us had ever been), I traveled to Washington DC
on my own for a once in a lifetime chance to learn at the US Holocaust Museum,
and I just returned from a family vacation to Florida.</div>
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I kept a travel journal, and I loved every single thing
about traveling, but as I was on the tour bus from Switzerland to the Cinque
Terra in Italy, I kept a top ten list of important things I didn't want to
forget. Here are the most important
things I think a person should remember
when traveling:</div>
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<ol>
<li>It is okay to laugh aloud in a foreign country on public
transport when words sound hilarious to your uncultured self-and if you are
always taking the Piccadilly line to Cockfosters, it's always going to be funny.</li>
<li>When you force yourself to walk miles to see everything
in one day, you are required to take your shoes off in the middle of Paris and
wait for the swelling to go down while you assure yourself you know where the
next Metro stop is-no problem. It is
also imperative that you do this while looking cosmopolitan for all the
Parisians.</li>
<li>If you are stressed out about the difference in currency,
get with other people on your tour group, pool the "coin" money and
buy wine with it-as much as you can. It will lighten your pocketbook, and make
you friends for life.</li>
<li>If you are invited
to do something or eat something you would not eat at home-DO THIS THING! This
is where memories are created. I will NEVER forget Lord Ken and our medieval <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTxmTzQjX2TVtBcBs_OcwLGD6IYCa_EQMnGfEexuV_wkoqWatrML1RKIlDjmJSp4dcSZ6-6TpFEp_mrMsivg0G1nxGYssPmkP0zXjepuwG71hrX_8S9EDz-Mw65fDxiZ7if5rioiMzOQ/s1600/IMG_9131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTxmTzQjX2TVtBcBs_OcwLGD6IYCa_EQMnGfEexuV_wkoqWatrML1RKIlDjmJSp4dcSZ6-6TpFEp_mrMsivg0G1nxGYssPmkP0zXjepuwG71hrX_8S9EDz-Mw65fDxiZ7if5rioiMzOQ/s200/IMG_9131.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
feast!</li>
<li>If your hotel room turns into a swanky penthouse by
accident, it is the law that you invite all your tour group over for BYOB snacks and
wine and Swiss adventures. If you do this, when they all leave, there will
be fireworks (I know because this happened to me).</li>
<li>If you allow your tour bus drive to choose the music, he
will choose Belgian jazz and it will be amazing and have lyrics like, "Music
is my husband/ Rhythm is my lover"</li>
<li>If you stop at a rest stop that has huge piles of snow in June,
you must have a snowball fight in your shorts and t-shirts.</li>
<li>Read great books and talk to people about them. Then, listen I mean really LISTEN to people talk about
their stories-I will never forget that one of my tour mates had a father who
was in Dresden with Kurt Vonnegut as I was reading <i>Slaughterhouse Five</i>-she
simply leaned over to talk to me, and I am so incredibly thankful she shared
her story with me.</li>
<li>Hold hands and stroll with your teenage companion as
often as she will let you. You will remember the feeling of holding her almost
grown hand for the rest of your life.</li>
<li>The historical/cultural/education things are important.
<b>But the experience is the most important.</b> When you travel, magical things
happen. If you are so focused on
checking off a list or rushing to make sure you see everything, you limit your
magic. When we went to the Deportation Memorial in Paris, we had to wait a
little bit. It was Paris and there is so much "important" stuff to
see and do. However, as we were waiting
in line, we met a man who had served in MI6 during and after WWII rounding up war criminals. He spoke to our group. If we had abandoned that place or rushed
because there were more important things, we would have missed an authentically
moving experience. When you sit with
your daughter in a cafe in Italy, for hours, eating weird cheese and drinking
wine/diet coke and making up stories for everyone that walks by-that is truly
authentically the most important thing you can do. When you are exhausted and jet lagged, but
your daughter gets the giggles at 1 am and wants to talk about boys and school
and clothes and tell jokes-you sit up and you giggle and you live as fully as
you can right then. Travel is about the moment.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This summer will live in my soul, and I know it will make me
a better teacher and mother and human being.
Mark Twain said "Travel is fatal to prejudice." It is also
fatal to stagnation and lethargy and apathy.
I am so excited for the challenge of a new year, and I am so ready to
travel into a brand new adventure.</div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-14720386161525273892015-07-07T13:37:00.000-07:002015-07-07T15:58:29.585-07:00Embrace: The Number<div class="MsoNormal">
I haven’t written very much this summer because I have been
busy traveling the world with my favorite adventurer-my daughter. She and I have just finished a whirlwind tour
of Europe, and I am looking forward to writing about that soon. However, I have
something else on my heart today. This
morning, as I was coming home from the gym I got a text from a very sweet student,
excited over her success on the AP exam (I am humbled and honored to teach AP
Language and Composition). I was very
proud of her. I knew scores came out
today, and I was eager to get home to look at them. I made a cup of coffee and sat down at my
computer, took a deep breath, and logged in to the system to see my students’
scores. Immediately I scrolled through the results, thinking about what these
numbers mean as a reflection of a year of teaching. Would these numbers give me
permission to be proud of the work we did in my classroom this year, or would
it make me feel ashamed and like a failure?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG7yuF-i6xm-sjL65ZVv_QaD5xhZo-x5IxJfIQMku-_fTvF3NGtRRaCT2rR0uN2saXC7F-OB6Rwktj9WQRne3pq_NLEgqbvZUzDA9qLu9h7DQoQr_e2j9gT3Tsv_WV_QMAIYXcg608EJA/s1600/graduation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG7yuF-i6xm-sjL65ZVv_QaD5xhZo-x5IxJfIQMku-_fTvF3NGtRRaCT2rR0uN2saXC7F-OB6Rwktj9WQRne3pq_NLEgqbvZUzDA9qLu9h7DQoQr_e2j9gT3Tsv_WV_QMAIYXcg608EJA/s200/graduation.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that’s where I stopped. I thought. "Is this seriously and honestly all that this year was all about?" I mean, I have thought and prayed and reflected
about this year. There were some things about this past year I would have
changed, and I have already begun thinking about what I can do
differently. But, there were many things
I loved about this year. Should I allow this year to be dictated by one number? My students were amazing. I watched them grow, and
learn, and I felt the success of learning each day. There are so many many
things I will never forget from the people I got to spend an entire year
learning to love. I will never forget our first Socratic seminar, or playing
Catch Phrase (apologies to my neighbor teachers on those days), our first ever APLAC
Christmas Party, our words of the year, the BRAWL, Ben Franklin, our field
trip, the many thoughtful things these young adults said and shared, our final
project-so many things. I hope they know that they are so much more than a
number to me, and I hope they will not use this number to reflect their
importance and learning of our year.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqzSooMoGTLsboBeVDPFPOozCKd-eRui4uC6GWr9uBm7dX75n_zXmEnBt67dtYUUYmlkXNum0Kiqi1RdOpKnl9FdL9VHlyDvDx-2B5UC5zRwlz9kgHpOWBFciCmvWgeM9rvWwLntlnzUw/s1600/last+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqzSooMoGTLsboBeVDPFPOozCKd-eRui4uC6GWr9uBm7dX75n_zXmEnBt67dtYUUYmlkXNum0Kiqi1RdOpKnl9FdL9VHlyDvDx-2B5UC5zRwlz9kgHpOWBFciCmvWgeM9rvWwLntlnzUw/s200/last+day.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I just wanted to write a quick post to my people-I am proud
of you! Remember what I said about your scores in the beginning of our journey-these are
simply a reflection of your writing skills, particularly measured against your ability to write at the collegiate
level. These numbers are not a
reflection of you, your importance, or your value. Some of you demonstrated exceptional proficiency and are ready for a new
challenge. Some of you need the support
of a college composition course. I hope, when you reflect on our time together,
you will allow this number to be only a part of your thoughts on your success and our class. I am going to remember this year as much much more than the results that were posted today. I will not remember you by your score. The
best part of being your teacher was learning with you. Each one of you has something truly unique in
my memory. I wish you all the best as this adventure ends and a new one
begins. You are all a part of my heart, and I am incredibly blessed and proud
to know you and have been your teacher. I love you always!<br />
<br />
Now, I am curious-how do you measure your success? I would love you to leave your thoughts or e-mail/text me. I hope you feel like our time together was valuable-I know I felt honored to have been a tiny small part of your journey. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-28438755564495642812015-06-02T18:35:00.003-07:002015-06-02T20:10:11.637-07:00Embrace your TRIBE!<div class="MsoNormal">LAST DAY OF SCHOOL…Last DAY of SCHOOL…Last Day of School…last
day of school…last day of… Okay, I know if you are a teacher or a student or a
parent or have ever been one of these things you get it! You understand the joy that accompanies the
last day of school-at least for a little bit.
I am extra excited this year because my summer is chock full o’
goodness. My daughter will be starting
at my high school, and she and I are celebrating this gigantic life change with
a European girl vacation-seriously blessed for this gift of time and
learning! I’m still pinching
myself. I am also going to be going to a
few professional development major things which I am giddy about. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At my school, the last day for teachers is not the last day
for students-they had their final hoorah yesterday. There is a reason we spend the last day together,
without kids, and today I want to write about why teaching rocks and it isn’t
because of the students or parents or lessons or cool projects (okay, it is kinda
about that stuff). My team is the reason
I could never imagine leaving my school.
Being a teacher means being on your own, with 150 teenaged, hormonal, lethargic,
troubled (often beyond your control), frustrating teen-aged human beings 80% of
the time. Don’t get me wrong, for some
sick twisted reason, I love this! But
what makes it really work, is that for most of the other 20% of the time, I get
to hang out with the most incredible people who get me and who make me a better
person. Today, on this last day of
school, I want to explain why my tribe is so incredibly important-and I want to
thank them from the bottom of my heart.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First of all, in each tribe you need an elder-the wise one
whose feathers don’t ruffle and who keeps his stuff together. It is my honor to have one of these on my
team. This person always knows what to say,
I’d take him with me into any battle-he is cool and collected. In fact, when I was asked to what school I
wanted to teach at, being in his classroom was a huge reason I wanted to teach
at my school. He can entrance students
by his wit and wisdom. His classroom is
an amazing place where some of the most profound learning takes place. He taught my son, and I am blessed to be a
part of his tribe.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every tribe needs a peace maker. My tribe has the peacemaker
that everyone in the school envies. She
is hilarious and kind and her classroom is a place of extraordinary
safety. She brings people together like
you can’t image. I got to co-teach with
her for a year (dear Lord, thank you for that year) and I learned more about
acceptance and finding common ground and respect than I imagined would be
possible. She taught my nephew, and I am
blessed to be part of her tribe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every tribe needs young, vibrant, bold people with new
ideas. My tribe is blessed with some
amazing young teachers who constantly amaze me.
They push me to want to think in new ways and discover new ideas. These tribe members connect with our students
and have energy I can only dream of. Our
tribe is blessed with people who have different experiences from all different
places. They remind me to be thankful
for what I have and give our students a point of view that helps them
appreciate the world. These people make
me feel inspired and thankful. I welcome
their students and share my students with them, and I am blessed to be a part of
their tribe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every tribe needs the level headed leader. The tribe is
going to go through trials, and there always needs to be that one person that
steps up in chaos and says, “Fire exits are to the left, get in a line, and be
calm.” And for some reason everyone does it.
My tribe has the most extraordinary calm leader. In one of my first years of teaching, I got
overwhelmed with a group of really difficult students. I told her, “If we have a tornado drill, they
can have anything in the room, but I need protection,” and I knew she got me
and would keep me safe. I survived, but
I have seen this person handle sophomores, guiding them into people I actually
want to teach, calming quelling the tumultuous waters of being a 16 year
semi-human being. She teaches next door to me, and I am blessed to be a part of
her tribe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every tribe needs a communicator, someone who can make it
work and smooth the waters. My tribe’s communication
guru is so good other tribes try to use her mad skills. She understands how important this is to make
our entire school function. She
encourages every single student and attends or has eyes at even the smallest
victory my school achieves. She cheers
for everyone and she had mad grammar skills (sorry about the blog friend-not my
strength). I have watched her with
students who did not understand they were valuable, laughing and celebrating
life and success. I pray she will teach
my daughter, and I am blessed to be a part of her tribe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And me-do I belong in this tribe? Every tribe needs a weirdo. A person that defies explaining, who can’t
seem to quite do exactly what is asked at exactly the right time, but seems to
be okay. Every tribe needs a person to
offer a perspective that doesn’t really exist-a dreamer-a person whose brain is
spaghetti and whose mind runs 100 miles an hour. I guess that’s me. The dreamer relies so very much on their
tribe, because dreams can’t succeed without the amazing people who surround me
and encourage me and help me realize ways we can do the impossible.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, on this last day of school, I want to embrace my
tribe. I am sure there are people I am
forgetting, but it’s the last day of school, and I’m getting ready to have a
glass of wine, and celebrate! To my Wildcat family-thank you for
fantastic year-I am blessed to be a part of our tribe. Happy summer!<o:p></o:p></div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-1888267118926974142015-05-18T13:29:00.000-07:002015-05-18T15:18:39.833-07:00Embrace the Weakness<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like almost everything that gets a lot of media attention,
nearly everything you’ve heard about teaching is somewhat true. Kids are tested into oblivion, and these
results are all that matter to administration and the government when
determining teacher success. Teachers are being stripped of their autonomy and
ability to create their own lessons and assessments. Teacher dissatisfaction is at an all-time
high. Retention rates for teachers is deplorable. There are many failing
students in poverty. Teach for America and similar programs inform us that
anyone who has a good intention can be a teacher. No one wants any children left behind, and
all of us wish to “Race for the Top.”
The devil is in the details-as always. I teach kids of all sorts: poor,
rich, white, brown, black, and green (not really-but that would be fine with
me). I teach kids whose parents love and
support them and kids whose home lives have brought me to tears. Despite all of
these things, the fact that people believe my job is easy-so easy anyone could
do it, and the fact that people believe my job is impossible-so difficult no one could do
it-the truth is, it is both.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For six hours of my day, I am in my beloved room C-203 with
150 people all 18 and under. Some days,
they do not want to be in this room.
Some of them struggle because they are hungry, tired from working,
bored, worried about something else-the list goes on and on. Believe it or not,
there are days when I feel the same way.
My dad is sick and my mom is worried and my sister sent her oldest to
the army and my son moved out of my house and my daughter is 15 (that is
enough) and some days these things are on my mind. But, when I get to this room, I take a
breath, and sit and think about what we <b>can</b>
do today. I plan and I prep and worry
and I pray A LOT! As the students
arrive, I smile and hug and cheer-even if I’m not up for it. As soon as the bell rings, I am on, and it is
a battle for their future, and as long as we believe it, we can make something
happen. It might not be what I thought
would happen, it might not be magical or great, but we spend six hours every day
attempting to do something great.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I want to tell you a teaching secret, and I hope I don’t get
kicked out of the super-secret teacher club for telling you this. Every single teacher I know worries that we don’t
do enough. Every single day we agonize
over our effectiveness. At the end of
every lesson I can tell you a minimum of five things I wish I would have done
differently-three kids I should have done more for-17 ways I could have done
more to help my people. We teacher people do this on our own, every single day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had the privilege of sitting down to talk-really talk-with
one of my students for her final English project. I was humbled she chose me as a person who
made a difference in her educational journey. We were talking, laughing, and
crying together. It was wonderful. She
is going away to New York for school-truly chasing her dream-and I admire her
so very much. It is not surprising I love her so because my daughter, whom I adore,
isn’t afraid to dream bigger than our hearts can hold. At the end of the
interview, I got the chance to ask her a question. I asked her if there was any wisdom she would
like me to know. She was talking about my
daughter chasing her dream, and about how impossible it is, and she said, “She
knows. No one needs to tell her, she knows every single time how hard it is.” I have thought about this talk so many
times. It was one of the most
significant things I have been a part of.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This Friday, I cried at work. A lot. Because someone (a
non-teacher) decided to criticize my work. The suggestion was made that the
work I do with my team is not challenging enough for my students or does not
“prepare them well enough for the test.” Normally, this stuff rolls right off
my back. Okay, say what you want, my results can speak for themselves. Although statistics do support my teaching,
that argument was nullified by the critics deciding that my high school has easier
students to work with than the other high school in the area. I cried so much
about this one little critic.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why? What in the
world got into me that I let this affect me so much? It’s not like this is the only person to
criticize me and my unconventional teaching methods. I mean, if you walk in my room, and have no
idea what is going on, it might look like the crazy bus. I've had so many
people support me and love me and compliment me-the fact that this one little
thing broke me down so much is ridiculous.
Finally, a friend and mentor came to talk to me. He said, “I think you are taking this way to
personally.” WOW! He was right. Because in my teacher heart-like every other
teacher I know-I fear that I will never get it right. My fears were articulated: I will fail my
students. I won’t have time to do what I need to do for them. Someday, they will hurt because I didn't do
enough. This one little criticism hit me
where it hurt the most. Because just
like my students who don’t need to be reminded that it’s tough, or that they
might not make it, I know. I know how hard it is, and I know where I fail. I’m
sorry that I let this get to me so much, I am blessed my team literally
encircled me with love and support and I’m moving on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The reason so many teachers take all of the “rumors” about
education so personally, is because it IS PERSONAL. Our hearts and our brains
and our bodies are in it to win it. And
we go in knowing that we won’t win some of the time. We know how hard it is, and we love it
anyway. If you get the chance to break
someone down, don’t do it. They know.
Instead, spend your time building someone up.
They probably don’t know. I just want to thank all of my people for
allowing me my tears, giving me some tough love, and allowing me the grace to
climb back in my crazy bus and try today. I am blessed. Have a wonderful week. <o:p></o:p></div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-20079207498003695742015-05-03T09:34:00.001-07:002015-05-04T04:23:19.983-07:00Embracing Joy Is A Choice<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZ_-CbNsM61C7-EW8k99UQ9TZx7uJIRXcWGp7BJuEcFXy9qj5MCXgzUCJWmp-4ijTQ3vVkO-_5UvlEINw3h0bth6X0svsXrGmHqREwdp762UnixvZc9SbiYntq-VN8vDAeCQ9drHqRC0/s1600/happy+class.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>This week is teacher appreciation week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a teacher (if you have read this blog AT
ALL, you know that).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Teachers have had a
huge impact on my life, as a student, as a teacher, as a mother, as a human
being.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t imagine what I would be
like without the amazing professionals who have shaped me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, before I write anything else-THANK YOU
TEACHER PEEPS-you have made a difference for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Over Spring Break, I received an e-mail from the National
Council of Teachers of English, informing me that I was the recipient of the “Reclaiming
the Joy of Teaching” award for 2015. I was overwhelmed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t even know I was nominated, and I
wasn’t even sure what the award was about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Upon investigation, I learned the following, “The Reclaiming the Joy of
Teaching Award is presented to a teacher at any level that inspires authentic
progressive literacy learning.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, I
was humbled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of my family members
do not even know about this. I’ve been thinking a lot about joy as a result of
this recognition. First of all, I recognize joy is active.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joy does not just happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each day, we must choose joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Second, the word “reclaiming” caught my
attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why should teachers have to “reclaim”
their joy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe there is so much
negativity right now about education that teachers are ashamed to admit the joy
they receive daily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to write a
post about why I find joy every day in my chosen profession.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZ_-CbNsM61C7-EW8k99UQ9TZx7uJIRXcWGp7BJuEcFXy9qj5MCXgzUCJWmp-4ijTQ3vVkO-_5UvlEINw3h0bth6X0svsXrGmHqREwdp762UnixvZc9SbiYntq-VN8vDAeCQ9drHqRC0/s1600/happy+class.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZ_-CbNsM61C7-EW8k99UQ9TZx7uJIRXcWGp7BJuEcFXy9qj5MCXgzUCJWmp-4ijTQ3vVkO-_5UvlEINw3h0bth6X0svsXrGmHqREwdp762UnixvZc9SbiYntq-VN8vDAeCQ9drHqRC0/s1600/happy+class.jpg" height="149" width="200"></a></div>
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My seniors last day
was Friday, and as many of them begin a new, exciting journey, I wanted to
write about why joy is attainable and why teaching brings me so much joy.<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPCcjfkSr8f6rHZFVyO_TLSALNdSV5wYVxbjWTpRf5945PkIIlBToCU2Brgs9dnZ5b8uEUlVFR2ncZlqPMIg3LO8aI8gLU0M4lRzMpqyxzDhjd8k7iecL33HrqL29SQ4ub44TqKtVAAp4/s1600/silly+girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPCcjfkSr8f6rHZFVyO_TLSALNdSV5wYVxbjWTpRf5945PkIIlBToCU2Brgs9dnZ5b8uEUlVFR2ncZlqPMIg3LO8aI8gLU0M4lRzMpqyxzDhjd8k7iecL33HrqL29SQ4ub44TqKtVAAp4/s1600/silly+girls.jpg" height="200" width="150"></a></div>
<ol><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPCcjfkSr8f6rHZFVyO_TLSALNdSV5wYVxbjWTpRf5945PkIIlBToCU2Brgs9dnZ5b8uEUlVFR2ncZlqPMIg3LO8aI8gLU0M4lRzMpqyxzDhjd8k7iecL33HrqL29SQ4ub44TqKtVAAp4/s1600/silly+girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMWp338o2v9klh0j5PPdvsuGpZ8ISYUWd3yAvm4JRUQlJbQIEPd-gOpwuzws3Y1D9VJfjYdo9-39RNVskPEVI3kPcXTGzL6_z1hE-dnmG4OklhS96J0WgIMI_X9m8ep141svGiVimXflE/s1600/peyton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMWp338o2v9klh0j5PPdvsuGpZ8ISYUWd3yAvm4JRUQlJbQIEPd-gOpwuzws3Y1D9VJfjYdo9-39RNVskPEVI3kPcXTGzL6_z1hE-dnmG4OklhS96J0WgIMI_X9m8ep141svGiVimXflE/s1600/peyton.jpg" height="200" width="150"></a>
<li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Know your weaknesses and ask for help: I know what
I struggle with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I first became a
teacher, I was ashamed to admit that I had weaknesses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt pressure to be perfect in
everything-having grades in each week, being organized, having perfect lesson
plans, reaching every single student, having no discipline issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will never find joy if you believe you
have to be perfect in everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
struggle every day with certain aspects of my job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I own this truth, and I have people who help
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My team loves me-warts and all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think this was the most revelatory aspect
of coming into teaching from a previous career.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It isn’t a competition-everyone on my team has something they totally
rock at, and they openly share with me to help me better every single day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knowing I have people who aren’t judging me,
but seeking to help me has paved the way to finding joy for me.</li>
<li>Find the pony: Every single day, at the end of
the day, I sit down and I reflect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
find that a lot of new teachers think reflection is about focusing on the negative,
but that is not what it is for me. How many times after a disaster have we thought,
“Oh, I really need to reflect on that!” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most
teachers I know (including myself) agonize over our failures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For us, they are torturous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lesson may bomb, a parent may be rude, a
student may be struggling, and these are all things I will think about-but if I
let myself be overwhelmed by these things, I will never find joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, I allow myself to think about those
things, often writing them down, with an action plan, and then, I carve out at
least ten minutes to reflect on the positives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some days this is easy- but often I have to really try.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is like one of my favorite stories that I
share with my students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here it is
paraphrased: There were two princes, one was always ridiculously happy and
joyful and the other was always overwhelmingly morose and sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The king did not know what to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew neither one of his sons would be fit
to rule as they were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, he made a
plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took the sad prince and locked
him in a room with every wonderful thing he could think of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took the happy prince and locked him into
a room of horse poop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He left them there
for several hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He returned and
unlocked the room of the sad prince and found him sitting in the middle of the
room crying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The king asked what was
wrong, and the prince said, “I just know I’m going to break something.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The king simply shook his head and walked
away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went to the happy prince, and
as he approached he heard laughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
opened the door to find the happy prince covered in poop laughing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The king, aghast, looked at the prince and
asked what in the world was going on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
happy prince smiled and said, “I just know there must be a pony in here
somewhere.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, every day, find the
pony!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This does not make you blind to
the negatives; it makes you sighted to the good.
</li>
<li>Be real: Two words-two scary little words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I first started teaching I thought I had
to be perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I studied everything I
was teaching so I made sure I knew everything that could possibly come up. I
had listened to the dictionary pronunciations of words to make sure that I didn’t
make a fool of myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guess what
happened-I didn’t know everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
stumbled, probably on the second day, and I felt humiliated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I survived. I learned to laugh at
myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started embracing the fact that
I am just a regular person who knows a lot about English and American
literature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My students saw that I was
being honest, and they started being honest with me. We laugh every single day as
we struggle with this incredibly difficult task of learning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Learning is not linear or neat-it is messy,
painful and beautifully complex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
you are authentic in your desire for learning, and you admit who you really
are, you will find joy.</li>
<li>Be curious: I never stop wondering about stuff.
I read all the time. I watch the news.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
listen to music. I watch movies. I wonder how things work. I imagine. I share
my curiosity with my students. I recognize that the things we teach have
intrinsic value in them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder what
that is. I ask myself, “Why did someone choose this as important?” I share
these curiosities with my students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
question everything. We wonder. We embrace multiple possibilities. It is
joyful.<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></li>
<li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Listen and be thankful: Every single person has
a story. I try as hard as I can to create <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJFpsoKevslZ6n7TU64NzkKCY7pcxMhboRwwF_mxKmcM08mL0McTtk9pqMvnYEM8HQLhgZmjAmNx9QlLViKx-xAwiGUrQCb0LcvfVcM3Z4QFuFE8btBxDcC1jgWulGEVlZDJdsWQFnqPM/s1600/boys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJFpsoKevslZ6n7TU64NzkKCY7pcxMhboRwwF_mxKmcM08mL0McTtk9pqMvnYEM8HQLhgZmjAmNx9QlLViKx-xAwiGUrQCb0LcvfVcM3Z4QFuFE8btBxDcC1jgWulGEVlZDJdsWQFnqPM/s1600/boys.jpg" height="200" width="150"></a></div>
opportunities for students to share
their stories, their own ideas, and their voice. When they do, I am always
grateful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I try to write a lot of thank
you notes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For my final exam, students
had to interview someone who had made a difference in their educational
journey. I listened to every single interview and wrote a thank you note to everyone
who participated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My students thought I
was crazy, but I was genuinely thankful to hear these stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My students are always required to reflect on
every assignment, and I choose some of the reflections each assignment to
conference with the student and thank them for sharing with me their thoughts.
In a world where we have so much to cover and so little time, I have learned
more from listening than I ever could have communicated.</li>
</ol>
So, it’s true, I am a joyful teacher. Joy is not a singular pursuit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For me it requires a school full of
professionals and friends who encourage each other, a classroom full of people
who have their own ideas and struggles, and the safety to share and express
gratitude. If you get the chance, thank a teacher this week, and find your joy!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-41014684211199647272015-04-17T15:45:00.000-07:002015-04-17T15:45:20.183-07:00Embracing the Journey<div class="MsoNormal">
We are entering the last two weeks of my journey with my seniors. This is the most joyous, trying, exciting,
frustrating, exhausting, exhilarating time of the year. Each year, I force my seniors to do some
large, ridiculous-use the last of my power to torture them- project. I have a real reason for this beyond
torture. High school, no matter how much
you want to forget about it, is, for all who endure it, painful. It does not matter where you live or who you
are. This is because growing up is
painful. It hurts. But, I know a secret-it is also
wonderful. It is silly and joyful and triumphant
and defining. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The memories that we keep will be the ones we chose to
keep. Some people chose the painful
ones, and I totally get that. Some
people will look back and be filled with hate and animosity, and that is a fair
way to recollect the time spent at school.
But, if you chose to-you can chose-even if it’s the tiniest of memories
of all, to remember something wonderful.
So, being the evil taskmaster I am, I try to help my students have one
last chance to reflect. And, because I
am a glutton for punishment, I always do my projects with them, and that is why
I get to remember something wonderful from each group I have been honored to
work with.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This year, something unexpectedly fortunate and torturous happened
as I was thinking about my students’ final project. I have always loved StoryCorp on NPR, and I
have used it frequently in class.
Luckily (depending on your viewpoint) the man who developed Story Corp,
David Isay, won the TED Prize, and he developed an app so that all people, all
over the world, can record StoryCorp interviews from their phone. I was inspired. This year, all of my seniors, all 75 of my
people, will be choosing someone who has impacted their lives during their school
years, and sitting down, one-on-one, face-to-face, and talking with them about
real stuff. They aren’t talking about
school stuff, they are talking about life stuff: “What is your happiest memory?”
“How do you want to be remembered?” or “If this was to be our last
conversation, what would you want to say to me?” I know, evil genius teacher right here <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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In order to begin this process, I decided to think about
someone who has significantly impacted my educational career. Who do I want to talk to? Who do I need to listen to? So many people came to mind-I made a list and
I thought about it. I finally decided I
would interview my dad-Gary Edwards.
This choice was really easy because I have never really sat down and had
an authentic conversation where I was the listener when I talked to my
dad. I feel like I have so many
qualities that people attribute to so many things, but I know a lot of them
have to do with the way this man raised me and the example he was in my life. For
example, people sometimes say I am creative-my dad is one of the most creative
people I know. He never accepts something
won’t work-even when I wish he would. I
am a lot like that. In my family,
growing up, there were three loud, opinionated women in the house, and then
there was dad. I knew I needed to talk
to him. I called him on the phone, and
we scheduled our interview. I was absolutely
terrified! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
We met at the Community College library, and we went into a
study room. I closed the door, opened
the application on my phone, and we began to talk. Some of the questions I asked him included, “Who
was someone who was very influential in your life, and what did they teach you?
What is one of your happiest memories? What is something you are most proud of?
How do you want to be remembered? If this was to be our last conversation, what
would you want to tell me? What is your favorite memory of me?” I’m not going
to share everything, but I will tell you that talking with my dad was one of
the most valuable hours I have spent in a long, long time. My favorite question I asked him was not one
I had planned, but I asked him if my life had turned out like he expected it
to. I was so surprised by his
answer. I realized that he knows me so
much better than I thought he did. Sometimes
the people who you take for granted are the people who know you best of all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The most valuable quotation, however, from my dad was when I
asked him how he wanted to be remembered.
He thought about it for quite a while, and then, in his slow, thoughtful
drawl, he said, “I tried…I may not have always done the right thing, but I’ve
always tried.” In those simple words I
found so much solace and confirmation. I
know he will be remembered in so many ways, but maybe my grandchildren, who may
never have the chance to speak with him, will hear this interview and recognize
they come from the very best in humanity with those simple words.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I have begun listening to student interviews. I have yet to hear one that has not contained
something that has moved me. Many
students and their interviewees have cried (I cried while talking to my dad,
and honestly, he teared up at one point.)
The interviews are overwhelmingly NOT SAD, but, they are, in a world
filled with artifice, some of the most authentic experiences I have ever had
the pleasure to hear. The students are
to decide the best question they asked, and put one quotation on their final
art work from their interview. They also
have to sit, and listen, and collect the words from the interview to create a
poem about <i>Experience</i>. I’m not doing this to judge their poetry
skills, I’m doing it so they have a chance to sit and listen, really listen,
one more time to this discussion. I designed this project not only to assess the
student’s language skills (this project requires critical reading, writing,
listening and speaking) but I designed it because I believe that high school
should also be a testament to who we have become through the trials and
triumphs, and these interviews are a testament to the amazing humanity that is
represented in my classroom. As I begin
the final downward spiral into completing another year, I hope I can remember
to listen, laugh, agonize, and celebrate the amazing humanity I have witnessed
this year.<o:p></o:p></div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-74523287113575151502015-03-05T09:43:00.000-08:002015-03-05T09:49:45.500-08:00For my students: Embrace the NOWIt's another snow day today. I am not sure how I feel about it because it seems as if winter is demanding one last hoorah after letting us off the hook for much of this winter. I am trying to embrace it and waiting for my daughter to come down the stairs so we can go do something silly. One of my favorite things to do on a snow day is to go through the numbers on my phone, and send texts to people who I haven't talked to in a while, just simple little notes to let them know why they are so important to me. I figure it takes about a minute to do and maybe someone might need a little reminder of why they matter to someone. If you have never done this, you really should! It is actually as much for me as for the person I am texting. As I was sending a few messages yesterday, I realized that my first batch of junior students are preparing to graduate college this year. I still am in touch with many of these students. They were my first victims. I am not exactly sure what we learned-I know we studied <i>The Crucible </i>for an entire nine weeks and made movies out of it and I still have the video, so please be nice to me :)! I was also thinking about one of my younger co-workers who wrote a blog this week-an open letter to her students. It was lovely. I hope you will read it (I will try to figure out how to link to it). In her letter, she talks about being a young educator, and being so close in age to her students. Despite how I may look, this is NOT the case for me. Even though I have only been teaching for six years, I am, unfortunately, many MANY years removed from the high school experience. I told my friend and co-worker that I was going to copy her idea, and send my own open letter to my students, but from the "older" teacher lady perspective. RachelClaire, I hope you don't mind, but here is my letter:<br />
<br />
Dear Students (past & present):<br />
I am geeky, nerdy, crazy about my content-11th Grade English (focusing on American Literature) and AP Language and Composition. I love almost everything about getting to teach you about using language effectively and watching you wrestle with complicated ideas and language. But you want to know a secret-I know that many of you won't remember my excellent, thought provoking lessons. I know because eons ago I was a high school student, and I remember (vaguely) maybe three or four actual lessons from my high school career. Another secret-that isn't why I design those excellent, thought provoking lessons. I'm not in this gig for you to rock the AP exam or create legions of dedicated American lit connoisseurs. Although it would be lovely, I may not ever teach the next great American novelist. What I need you need to know that the most important stuff about high school isn't the lesson plans and daily work and test scores. I want to stop right now and apologize if I have ever ever made you feel that way. I am sorry that so many people in power believe that this is what our education system is all about.<br />
<br />
It is about making you think. It is incredibly important for you to be able to think critically and find your own voice. What is important about high school is you don't have to know who you are, but you can try on and try out and begin to discover who you are. What is important is that, as much as you feel pressure to perform to a certain level (either academically or socially) that you realize that you have a safe place to learn and question and fail and survive. So many people belittle the pain of failure for you. I know it is real. I know that it can be debilitating. But I also know that we are supposed to create a place for you to heal. The most important lesson I learned from high school was that I was valuable in some way, and that value was unique and would enable me to succeed. All of you have something about you that I will remember forever!<br />
<br />
The memories I have from high school are mostly about the teachers and the people who saw me fail and had the dignity, patience, and grace to allow me to struggle to get back up. I do remember some of the humiliation, but what I really remember is the fun and triumph of some of the opportunities I was given. I remember thinking about and talking with my friends who may or may not have been struggling with homosexuality, home issues, race issues, and genuine fear about what would become of their lives. I remember trying to learn how to talk to people who I was different from and trying to relate to their struggles. I remember feeling lost and like I didn't matter. I remember teachers who went out of their way to let me know I was loved and valuable. I remember believing them, and that being so important to me. That my desire to earn their respect drove me to do things I did not even know I could do. I don't remember the bad teachers-I don't have space any more because I'm old and I chose the memories I keep.<br />
<br />
We are heading for the end of our time together. I am so excited for you. I am hopeful we have time to make some memories you will keep. Do not rush through this last little bit of our journey. Do not focus so much on your bright futures that you neglect to celebrate the present. Do not wish yourself into regret. As much as I am going to push you to think and write and learn in our last few days, I will also push you to make memories and laugh and celebrate. That is where we can help each other. I told you on the first day of school that I did not love you-yet. I do now, and as someone who cares about you, I hope you will find value beyond my awesome daily lesson plans.<br />
<br />
Love always,<br />
<br />
Mrs. MooreKaty Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-36243172271821715502015-01-07T12:46:00.003-08:002015-01-07T12:50:32.940-08:00"...today I choose to feel life, not to deny my humanity but to EMBRACE IT!"<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Embrace </b>[em-breys] verb (used with object), embraced, embracing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in;">
1. to take or clasp
in the arms; press to the bosom; hug.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in;">
2. to take or
receive gladly or eagerly; accept willingly: to embrace an idea.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in;">
3. to avail oneself
of: to embrace an opportunity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in;">
4. to adopt (a
profession, a religion, etc.): to embrace Buddhism.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in;">
5. to take in with
the eye or the mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in;">
6. to encircle;
surround; enclose.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in;">
7. to include or
contain<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2015 is going to be an awesome year! I know because my word
for the year is “EMBRACE.” I thought a
lot about why I needed to choose this word.
It seems almost anti-climactic coming out of 2014, a year that held so
much growth, hurt, triumph, joy and celebration. Although I am always ready to ring in a new
year, 2014 was so paradoxical in that I couldn’t wait to be rid of it and I
wanted to cling to it. Clinging to it
might mean I could cling to my young-adult son who lived at home and needed me
every day and discovering the joy of presenting at a national conference and
feeling great about it, and finding my voice for real as a teacher. Releasing it would be saying good-bye to my
dad’s illness and the sadness of saying too many good-byes. I released it and toasted to my husband and
kissed him because he is my lucky talisman, and sighed and embraced the new
day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I chose embrace because I know that 2015 is going to be a
year of change for me. My school
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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structure is changing. What I teach will
probably change. Who I teach will definitely
change. My daughter is going to be
driving this year. I am getting older
and I am starting to look a little different and feel a little different. I MUST NOT FEAR CHANGE! I do you know--we all do. I am the kind of person who hides her fear
very well. I have a lot of bravado. However, as I sit in anticipation of 2015, I
am shaking in my boots. I have two
choices-stand still and let something happen to me, or make something
happen. I’m not a big fan of the latter! I’m going to reach my arms out and “take or
receive gladly.” It’s the only
choice. I don’t want to be the person
who makes a change half-heartedly, thereby pulling everyone else down. I don’t want to pretend I’m something I’m
not. Nope, I am choosing to embrace the
me that I am, the me that I can be, to try new things, to “embrace opportunity.” <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPZ1EHmx4xutNFPCdNM-rLlxxFN67t5ZUZHZATaXv-QqgCyBTJmANYQeCv_fjMOwh0ljT72wTHjh4ZdCjcIOZEYEy4QNQFhn6tIyrzYMkDmYnOVu5pZPOXJovi3wYspufY_g3xudefQs/s1600/arms+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPZ1EHmx4xutNFPCdNM-rLlxxFN67t5ZUZHZATaXv-QqgCyBTJmANYQeCv_fjMOwh0ljT72wTHjh4ZdCjcIOZEYEy4QNQFhn6tIyrzYMkDmYnOVu5pZPOXJovi3wYspufY_g3xudefQs/s1600/arms+2.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would love your wishes, thoughts and prayers as I forge
into 2015! I started off embracing a “clean
eating” challenge for 14 days. Usually I
would change recipes to make something I am familiar with, and avoid the icky
sounding foreign foods. I’m so glad I
didn’t. I embraced lentils and quinoa
and mint and help me I’m trying dates tonight!
Some of it has been yucky (Greek yogurt with no sweetener is, in fact,
considered torture in some kinder countries) but most have been lovely and
pleasant. I’m owning it!<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I asked my students to consider their “one-word” for the
year. They made posters and hung them
all over the room. I hope you will
choose a word, and that it will bring you some focus and joy in the coming
AWESOMENESS of 2015.<o:p></o:p></div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-14543138728884227342015-01-01T10:23:00.000-08:002015-01-01T10:23:38.288-08:002014: A Year I will forever CHERISH
<div class="header-row header-middle-row">
<div class="pronounce" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="pronset">
<span class="pron spellpron" style="display: inline;">CHERISH: [<span class="dbox-bold">cher</span>-ish]</span></span><span class="dbox-pg"><span><span class="oneClick-link"> verb</span> <span class="oneClick-link">(used</span> <span class="oneClick-link">with</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available">object)</span> </span></span>
</div>
</div>
<div class="def-list">
<section class="def-pbk"><div class="def-set" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="def-number"><span><span class="oneClick-link">1.</span></span></span><span class="oneClick-link">to</span> <span class="oneClick-link">hold</span> <span class="oneClick-link">or</span> <span class="oneClick-link">treat</span> <span class="oneClick-link">as</span> <span class="oneClick-link">dear;</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available">feel</span> <span class="oneClick-link">love</span> <span class="oneClick-link">for:</span><span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link"> to</span> <span class="oneClick-link">cherish</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available">one's</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available">native</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available">land.</span></span></span><div class="def-content">
</div>
</div>
<div class="def-set" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="def-number"><span><span class="oneClick-link">2.</span></span></span><span class="oneClick-link">to</span> <span class="oneClick-link">care</span> <span class="oneClick-link">for</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available">tenderly;</span> <span class="oneClick-link">nurture:</span><span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link"> to</span> <span class="oneClick-link">cherish</span> <span class="oneClick-link">a</span> <span class="oneClick-link">child.</span></span></span><div class="def-content">
</div>
</div>
<div class="def-set">
<div class="def-block def-inline-example" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="def-number"><span><span class="oneClick-link">3.</span></span></span><span class="oneClick-link">to</span><span class="oneClick-link"> cling </span><span class="oneClick-link">fondly </span><span class="oneClick-link">or </span><span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available">inveterately </span><span class="oneClick-link">to:</span><span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link"> to</span> <span class="oneClick-link">cherish</span> <span class="oneClick-link">a</span> <span class="oneClick-link">memory</span></span></span></div>
<div class="def-content">
<div class="def-block def-inline-example">
<span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hR6j4tHoN1vnh-Y5snXTZrQ9xyIRObA8xNvYmGbS-_vlG6X7Ucre3e5H_hntw2JsurTscTjtJWsxR4D9nlhpsZ_141VTclLi-FFgKsMqBR1i-MRwGzvgEyHJ1qCQYCAUD8xmLAP9f3g/s1600/2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hR6j4tHoN1vnh-Y5snXTZrQ9xyIRObA8xNvYmGbS-_vlG6X7Ucre3e5H_hntw2JsurTscTjtJWsxR4D9nlhpsZ_141VTclLi-FFgKsMqBR1i-MRwGzvgEyHJ1qCQYCAUD8xmLAP9f3g/s1600/2015.jpg" height="200" width="158" /></a></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example">
<span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link">Last Christmas break, I was up early, watching the Today show-like I love to do over breaks, and I saw a man talking about New Year's resolutions. I love New Year's resolutions. I am a frequent maker, breaker, and reflector of resolutions. However, this man had a different idea, and one that I found intriguing. Instead of choosing a resolution or 20, how about focusing on one word? Choose one word and focus on that word over the course of one year. I loved this idea! I decided I would try it for myself and share it with my students. I agonized over my word choice. I chose the word "Cherish." I dedicated myself to focusing on this word, including writing a blog (my goal was at least once a month) to force myself to focus on something I cherish. Well, it is one-year later. This is my 41st blog post. I have tried, at least twice a month to sit down at my computer and think about what I cherish. However, this idea has extended far beyond this blog. I find myself, when I am in a difficult situation, trying to figure out what I might take out of this experience to cherish. Cherish does not mean simply to love. It is an ongoing action, it is holding near, continuing to care for, it is never ending. Even when an experience or object or person is no longer within our immediate grasp, "cherish," means that we hold the impression of the experiences with us. I had no idea going into 2014 how incredibly significant that would be for me, as during the year I would transition many things in my life. My word of intention gave me perspective that gone does not mean gone-it means irrevocably imprinted and altered. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example">
<span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example">
<span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link">In order to close my year of "cherish" I want to reflect on just a few of the things I have cherished this year. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example">
<span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example">
<span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link">1. My family: This year, my dad was treated for throat cancer. During his treatment, as a result of the chemotherapy, he had a heart attack and other very significant health issues. Due to ongoing issues, he has trouble eating and now takes most of his nutrition through a tube in his stomach. While this was happening, my mom lost her mother, my last grandparent. Finally, my son graduated high school and moved out of our home to begin his own journey in college. I have often been terrible about taking my family for granted. I have gone long stretches of time without speaking to some members of my family. I always thought family somehow linked to big gatherings or special occasions. I was wrong. I cherish the time my sister and I sat with my dad at the chemotherapy clinic, in silence, all of us simply being there for each other. I cherish the fact that both of my children and my husband turned up at clinics, hospitals, or wherever, not because they wanted to do something for anyone; they just wanted to be there. I cherish the road trip I took with my son and my nephews to Iowa for my grandma's funeral, laughing and playing stupid games and eating Chick-Fil-A together. I cherish the laughter through the tears and taking stupid selfies in ICU waiting areas and hotels outside of funeral homes. I cherish the times when I called my son up, just to say hi, or when I heard his car pull into the driveway because he needed something and then he stayed to chat for a little while. I have learned to cherish family in a new way. Through all of this, my husband, son and daughter stood near when I needed, and stepped away when I needed, and showered me with graciousness I will never be able to be thankful enough for.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example">
<span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example">
<span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link">2. My friendships: Last night I sat on my phone, and sent texts to many people who have become dear to me in my life. Cherish again means that I don't need to see someone every day, I don't need to do anything, but I need to recognize and value the imprint so many people have made in my life. This year, I have tried to be sure that I say, "I love you," more than ever-because I want to be sure the people whom I cherish understand that they don't have to do anything to be significant. Dear friends, thank you--without you I'm not sure who I would be without such generosity and patience. I know I am a very difficult person sometimes, but true friendship has softened me, allowed me to laugh at myself, and showed me that it is not weak to admit you need someone, in fact, some of the greatest strength I have found in myself is when I leaned on you, borrowed strength, and emerged an alloy of my own strength and the strength you selflessly shared with me. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example">
<span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example">
<span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link">3. My career: I often joke that I don't like calling teaching a job, because it seems to lessen what teaching means to me. In classroom C-203, I have learned to cherish the people, the ideas, the smells and sights and messiness of becoming a family each year. The rigor of learning and exploring is incredible. The ability to communicate and read and write and think critically about difficult things is work that makes each person in our room better. The fact that this is my work, and that my work is my dearest passion--I'm probably never ever gonna be able to stop pinching myself that this is real. If you are or have been a member of my C-203 family, or an adult person in charge of one of my "kids" please know that I can never express how much I cherish the generosity and openness that only occurs because of the willingness we have to engage in the messy, challenging work of learning each day.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example">
<span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example">
<span class="dbox-example"><span><span class="oneClick-link">So, thinking back, 2014 has been filled with challenges. However, I know that my "one-word" resolution was a success. I am already thinking about my word for 2015. I can't wait for school to start on Tuesday so I can talk to my students, and share with them my new word and ask them to consider choosing a word. I promise I will blog what that word will be, but that may be the end of this blog journey. I am not sure where 2015 is going, but I anticipate it will be filled with change and things to cherish and challenge and I look forward to continuing to my journey. Happy New Year dear friends! </span></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</section>
</div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-3758464340116467882014-12-28T06:34:00.001-08:002014-12-28T06:34:50.105-08:00“Gracious acceptance is an art - an art which most never bother to cultivate.... Accepting another person's gift is allowing him to express his feelings for you.” <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoZPnZz8azLBIM-ZSnpX8BDfgBBoctYyKPKGGQcMCbqrav-egGqzMvDyLePkfwfNYkGAXv9qbd5fS_Jcw1sfYIyBUDf99APUTAxbTdc2tG28od4AODvrZNeUgYs6O65QMWdYM8PT7PACo/s1600/tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoZPnZz8azLBIM-ZSnpX8BDfgBBoctYyKPKGGQcMCbqrav-egGqzMvDyLePkfwfNYkGAXv9qbd5fS_Jcw1sfYIyBUDf99APUTAxbTdc2tG28od4AODvrZNeUgYs6O65QMWdYM8PT7PACo/s1600/tree.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moore Family Tree 2014</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
2014 is almost finished. What a year it has been! Never in my wildest imagination could I have known what this year would hold for me. My dad has been sick, and well, and sick again-and is finally headed towards peace about his new health challenges. My son graduated high school and began college. My daughter started driving and continues to evolve as a remarkable human being and lovely young woman. My husband and I celebrated our marriage, put in a pool, and I am more madly in love with him today than I was when we met. I grew closer with my brother-which I did not even think was possible-and learned to embrace family far and near. I lost my grandmother and through celebrating her life found joy in the small things with my sister, our boys and my mom. I have deepened friendships and begun new ones. Professionally I have had the opportunity to grow and participate in so much, I am overwhelmed. My life has been filled with so much to cherish and celebrate, I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I have tried to be open to receiving the gifts that I have been given but that is often a challenge. Although it sounds weird, I cherish receiving.<br />
<br />
On the last day of school with my seniors, I gave each one of them a gift I had made for them. This year, our final assignment was a "Mrs. Moore-ism" on something I had read-an idea called "the gift of words". The idea behind it is that words, quotations, song lyrics, movie lines, can be gifts to us that hear them and use them in our own ways to comfort, cheer or connect us. My challenge to my students was to take the word or words that had been a gift to them, write (only for me) the word(s) and an explanation, and then to find a way to give these words as a gift. As the words started to roll in, I received 72 gifts from my students. Reading their words was truly a gift as I learned so much about them. Even the simplest words held such great meaning for them. I cherished receiving them.<br />
<br />
The day came to exchange our gifts of words. I had envisioned kids using scrapbook paper and markers (glitter is always awesome) and writing their words and wrapping their ideas simply. I was WRONG! Students did everything from writing on stuffed animals, making elaborate canvases, creating t-shirts, writing on candy wrappers-it was incredible. We did a fun gift exchange, kind of a dirty Santa game, and then each student opened their gifts. Once they opened them, they got to talk to the giver and find out about the gift. Then, if they wanted to, the receiver and giver got to share with the class. Every single student shared. I was overwhelmed at the respect each student showed. I was also so surprised at how many students cherished their gifts once they learned the meaning behind them. Students showed bravery, honesty, and trust in sharing their stories and creating gifts. Students openly shared about things such as overcoming physical and emotional challenges, immigrating from another country, losing loved ones, divorce, coming out about their sexuality, falling in love for the first time-and much much more. It was truly unbelievable to watch as all of my students sat and listened and cherished the gifts they had been given.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSCKlOdRp12FiL-nXTqip-CkCpt_TsVOQ1EqOc8lCIngbYdjvXlz_jvUS9z6L6bXjyHGWkf-y6oxRoEMZnuh3O3RrC5pRFVcqkMcVdleQHpH-IU1srgbRgG75825QyV6v0Bp6Lv1InzQg/s1600/last+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSCKlOdRp12FiL-nXTqip-CkCpt_TsVOQ1EqOc8lCIngbYdjvXlz_jvUS9z6L6bXjyHGWkf-y6oxRoEMZnuh3O3RrC5pRFVcqkMcVdleQHpH-IU1srgbRgG75825QyV6v0Bp6Lv1InzQg/s1600/last+day.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some Last Days Pics with Seniors 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Many students talked about wanting to take these gifts with them to decorate their college dorm rooms or how they couldn't wait to show them to their families. Then, I gave them the gifts I had made for them. I bought coffee cups from the dollar store, and wrote their quotations, words or lyrics on them and baked them in the oven (thank you Pinterest). I loved making them and thinking over their words again. I was amazed as I was wrapping them that I remembered which words went with which students (I have 72 seniors this year). The gift I had received from each one of them of their words truly made an impact on me. I genuinely cherish receiving these gifts. I will cherish the gifts they gave on that day forever.<br />
<br />
So often I feel compelled to cherish giving or forget how truly wonderful it is to be the receiver of so much. I am grateful I have been the receiver of so much loveliness over the course of this year. I am thinking about what my word of focus will be for 2015 and I can't wait to see what next year has for me.Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8899036906943174401.post-57314094810506952842014-12-14T14:16:00.000-08:002014-12-14T14:16:26.806-08:00“It is time for parents to teach young people early on that in diversity there is beauty and there is strength.”<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have been thinking about this post for a while. It seems incredibly disingenuous to live the life I live and have the beliefs I have and to not write anything about what has happened in America over the last few months. Although I haven’t talked about it a lot, the events in Ferguson and New York have broken my heart and caused me question many things.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-b7b723e3-4ac9-a1eb-2dcd-1a41310666a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As a teacher, I have very few rules or very little rigidity in my classroom. I usually teach content that is timely, so I don’t teach the same thing year to year because I first want to understand what interests my students. Before I decided to become a teacher, I was working for a major corporation and I thought I could handle teaching. Content-wise I was correct. I love my content. However, the biggest learning obstacle for me was that I was teaching people so vastly different than myself- in so many ways. I thought it was no big deal. Just teach them the stuff, and everything would be okay. I could be friendly and kind and everything else would work it out. I was wrong. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If anyone asked how I want to be remembered as a teacher, my biggest wish would be that if they remember me at all, they remember me as authentic or real. I also believe in the deepest recesses of my teacher heart that I should not ever influence my students with my my political or social beliefs. As an English teacher, and one who tends to find much value in connecting content with relevant social issues, this is a constant struggle. However, my biggest goal is to give students a space where their voice is valued. In order for that to be safe, I cannot let them feel like I have an answer I am looking for. All this is to say that writing about these divisive, confusing, upsetting issues is testing the rule that I should not ever influence my student’s deeply held beliefs and thoughts, as I am aware that I have several students who claim to read my blog. But, I also know that if I believe in each person having a voice, and each voice being valuable, that on an issue that has honestly kept me up at night, I need to comment. Because one of the things that my life has taught me is that I value diversity, and that before I was a teacher I didn't really know what that meant, and I do now and I need to speak.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What has kept me up at night, other than the events themselves, is the fact that I can’t find a source where voices feel valued that are oppositional. I see protests happening, and I see people ridiculing each other, but I don’t see anyone listening. I can’t seem to figure out who is leading and who is listening. Where are the people who say they feel differently, but are willing to hear the other side? Instead, whenever a point is brought up by someone that is oppositional to one’s own, work is done-not to understand or empathize-but to belittle and discredit. We have come to believe for some reason that the goals of diversity is to have a bunch of different people surrounding us, but that is wrong. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The goal of diversity, the beauty of diversity, is to be made stronger by valuing voices that are not like our own. I never really understood this until I was getting my English undergrad. One of my favorite teachers was Dr. Collins. She was one of the strongest, smartest people I had ever met. I took every single class she taught. I took a class on lynching and rape in the African-American community. I took a class on Passing from the 18th century- present day, I took African-American literature. I learned that there was so much I did not know, so much I never even considered because I had been believing I was “diverse” and I believed this because I was listening to people whose opinions were exactly like mine. Thank you so much Dr. Collins for pushing me and questioning me--you truly changed my life. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So now, as a teacher, I hope to do the same. I try to provide students with access to a multitude of points of view, and I try to teach them to listen and to argue and to defend. I try to teach them the difference between conceding and compromise and how both can have dignity. The tragedy of Ferguson and New York is that no one is listening. That people who protest get mocked and people who riot get held up as the example of what “those” people will do. Please! You try begging to be heard for years and years and then watch as what you knew would happen, but secretly thought wouldn't happen-because this is America, and you are an American, happens. And then, watch as a few people riot and your legitimate concerns get brushed aside as the media chooses to focus on the rioters instead of the issues-I guess because tear-gas and car alarms and broken glass get ratings?!?</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I value diversity because diversity has made me a better person-kinder, wiser, and more humble. I see students interacting with each other from all different backgrounds and points of view. I watch them struggle at first to say anything, and then I watch them struggle to keep from mocking or screaming at each other, and then I watch them learn, for themselves, the value of someone who thinks differently, looks differently, or speaks differently. I am praying every day that instead of trying so hard to get everyone to think like they do can find some way to learn how to value voices that are discordant with their own. When we don’t value the fact that people can be good, genuine people who look differently that we do, or believe differently than we do, then we begin to fear--and in fear we justify violence and hatred. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am terrified to post this because I know there are people who do not see this issue as I do, and I fear them being angry with me or writing me off, maybe even hating me. Instead, I hope that if you feel differently, we can talk, that I could listen to what you have to say, without trying to change your mind, that I could seek to understand where you are coming from. I hope this week you will seek to read something or talk to someone that you normally would not. That you will take the time to find value in opposition so that instead of being afraid of being wrong or different, you can revel in the uniqueness of America.</span></div>
Katy Moorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13387684580073288136noreply@blogger.com0