"Every strike gets me closer to my next home run."

I freaking love baseball!  I love watching it on television (which almost never happens until the World Series, and then it is so late I become not very nice), listening to it on the radio (yep, if you pass me in my car and I am animatedly discussing something with no one, you know what's going on), but the very best of all is being there.  I love walking up to the ball park and seeing all the people in their sports attire. I love the food in the ballpark--the Crackerjacks and the Kettle Corn and those almonds covered in sugar are my favorites. I love that it is in spring so you are never sure what the weather will be. I love that perfect green and brown of the field.  I love that in baseball there is time for the fans and friends to wander in between innings, or discuss with their neighbor something either about the game or something totally random--and this is acceptable and expected behavior.  But, mostly I love the game.  I love that at any moment; someone could do something amazing--someone completely unexpected--and entirely change the game!  I find myself holding my breath with each pitch, only daring to exhale after it has been delivered and whatever is going to happen happens.  I feel my body pitching forward in my seat, willing what I want to happen to happen, and it never does, and yet I never give up!  I will sit at a baseball game for hours, with my team  losing 12-2 because I know that even in the 9th inning, when others have left, 2 outs on the board, it just takes one spark to change it all.

My favorite guy and my favorite team! GO HOGS!

Last week was simply crazy, and this new week is going to be probably more overwhelming than the last one.  Last week my son had his senior pictures taken by a very dear friend, and he asked his beautiful girlfriend to prom (which was a big to do, but so incredibly cute and thoughtful).  My daughter had play practice every single night, and my seniors are testing me to see exactly how far they can slack before I have to call their parents and get them back to the graduating side of the aisle.  This week is my son's last choir concert-ever, the opening and closing of my daughter's play Hairspray!, prom, and my students' and my son's last day of high school EVER!  Oh my goodness, this really is the 9th inning.  And the pitches they are throwing are right down the middle, fast and hard, and I feel like I all I can do is hold my breath, watching these people I have loved and coached and loved stand in for their shot.  The time for chatting between innings is gone and it is up to us to do something amazing.

One of my favorite senior pictures!

I really don't know what is going to happen next week.  I believe I have prepared in the best way I know how.  My daughter's play will be fabulous, but it is live theater--something she loves--and therefore it is inherently risky.  Each time the curtain goes up; those actors are wholly responsible for what happens.  She never ceases to amaze me, how she manages to live in those moments entirely, soaking up the experience (which for me would be utterly terrifying, but for her seem to be the most important moments of her life).  I will watch with wonder and awe, and as I always do, I will cry, just a tiny bit, because seeing someone you love do something they love is an overwhelming experience and for some reason, my overwhelmed seems to leak out of my eyes.

One of my amazing students at our school play last night

I am in denial about this last choir concert thing.  I have sent in a baby picture and a senior picture.  I have been to the final choir concert at my school each year, and I have cried each year, but there is no way to prepare for what is going to occur on Thursday night.  I am not wearing eye make-up, I am bringing tissues--that's all I got folks.  The students on that stage (especially that one, amazing young man who truly does belong to me), are incredibly dear to my heart.  I guess I have prepared by knowing them, hopefully teaching them something, spending time doing things that have hopefully become memories.  Just writing this makes me cry, so I am not sure what is going to happen.  This is their moment, and I will do my best to take it all in, to be in that moment, focusing on what is happening--watching the amazing unfold before my eyes.

Some of my seniors and I, celebrating a regular Friday :)

Each year, much to my seniors’ horror, and unlike the other nice Senior AP Language teacher, I assign a final Senior Project.  What can I say, I'm a mean teacher.  Each year it is something designed to use language to force them to reflect on their high school experience.  This year I did something entirely different.  I have no idea what to expect.  Again, I have done all I can do--I prepared them, I designed the assignment for success, I have been available for coaching, but this time, they are in the box, and as the coach all I can do is wait.  I am sure I will be surprised, probably amazed, at what they will create.  But, I never know.  "Mrs. Moore, you could just not do it!" they hint at me with their pleading tones (translation, "I feel like I'm done and I don't want to do any more projects.")  But, for me, not doing it would be not playing the game at all.  Because what I really freaking love about baseball, is that win or lose, each player has to get in that box at some time or another--each player has his chance at greatness.  I know on Friday I will be a mess (again, the no make-up tissues thing applies) because I will stand right behind the plate, cheering them on, watching the magic happen.

So, I guess what I cherish this week is letting go (please don't sing that song...), and watching as your team does what they do.  After all the practice and coaching and preparing, bearing witness to "The Moment Is Now" moment that belongs to someone you love.  I realize that I trust my people; in that trust is the most genuine kind of love I have ever known.  I can let myself be overwhelmed, but instead I am going to do everything I can to totally present, soaking up the memories.  It is really really scary being here, but it’s kind of awesome, too!