Dream Big

Fish in Trees

Helping Children Find Their Genius

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

-Albert Einstein

As a public school educator, it's become increasingly obvious that there is something WRONG with education.  It's NOT that teachers are bad.  It's not that they are lazy and overpaid, and don't want to do their jobs.   It is that teaching is no longer teacher driven and child centered.  What we teach and how we teach it is dictated to us as we scramble to push children through the system.  In our efforts to leave no child behind we are mandated to teach to tests, and force every child into the same sized education goals at the same pace and ignore the developmental stages that every child reaches at different times.  I don't want to do this anymore.  I don't think I CAN do this anymore.  It's heartbreakingly difficult to see children compare themselves to one another, to not be proud of where they are in their educational journey, and to think they've failed before they've even truly gotten started.  

I once held a classroom discussion about what we wanted to be when we grew up.  A bright eyed young girl raised her hand and eagerly announced she wanted to be a unicorn.  Amidst the laughs and guffaws of her classmates, tears welled up in her eyes until I told her and the rest of the class that unicorns are the BEST readers in the whole world, so if she wanted to be a unicorn we better get started on learning how to read.  The other kids thought I had lost my mind, my partner in crime (Leslie Thompson) smiled, and the joy once again returned to my young student's face as I validated her dream.  I want to help more children reach their dreams, and to do that I feel like I need to start my own business where I help children discover the world around them in a developmentally appropriate way, through multiple intelligences, and through exploration and play.  For the record, once she started reading (and she did) she changed her mind and wanted to be a teacher.  

Here's my biggest road block to reaching my dream:  FUNDING.  As a teacher with a large family, and an even larger student loan debt, not to mention credit cards, I'm not what the banks will consider a good credit risk.  Especially if I leave my "real" job to chase my dream.  I am terrified of risking my  family's financial security.  Truthfully, calling it security might be stretching it a bit, while we make what appears to be great money on paper, five children at home, one out of the home, bills, and food eat up every cent of what comes in and then some.  I have been inspired by the story of St. Jude's Children's Hospital, and it's humble beginnings and I am feeling called to place my trust in God and listen to the whisper that keeps growing louder with every day.  My time to act upon the ideas placed in my heart is coming soon.  I know that if I can bring my learning center to fruition I can make it successful.

I believe play is the work of the child and would plan days that involve multi sensory experiences, field trips, exploration, cooking, art, drama, dance, imagination, and time to just be a child.  I want to give my future students the opportunity to explore the world around them as they see fit.  I want to let their interests and curiosities drive the direction of our days and to help every child find out what they like, what they love, and to appreciate how much the world has to offer.  I am passionate about learning and believe that it can happen though a combination of all of these experiences.  Learning does not occur after just one lesson, it takes multiple exposures through a variety of mediums to find the switch to the proverbial light bulb.  After 17 years as a public educator I am certain that I can help make those connections become a reality for every child that I work with.  I wouldn't promise a time frame for the light bulb to be illuminated, but I would promise to be compassionate, considerate, and dedicated.  I would promise to make children love learning, believe in their abilities, and chase their dreams.

Here is MY dream, I want to create a learning center called Fish in Trees that is welcoming, accepting, and open to ALL children.  I want space for the children to play, to plant a garden, tend to some some animals, (I'm thinking chickens, rabbits, goats, etc.  (If I'm dreaming dream big right?)  I would help facilitate my children's learning by creating thematic learning opportunities that help children discover not only who they are, but who they want to be.  Exposing children to as many life experiences as possible, from an early age would be a driving force in my dream center.  I'd open Fish in Trees to children from ages infancy on up to preschool age to start, and hopefully expand to before and after care for older children.  I'd also quickly hire back my good pal Leslie Thompson to be my right hand lady again, and I'd try to rope in Debra Stevens and a host of other pals who are adept at working with children and offering therapies to children with special needs.  In my dream world Fish in Trees would be a place where parents would drop their child off with confidence knowing that their social, emotional, and academic needs would embraced, accepted, and celebrated.

Here's my photo list of dreams for those who are visual learners….

I'd love to get this house to turn into Fish in Trees… it's in a great location and looks like it's in move in condition!

I also need a giant van for field trips

I think I could figure out the rest.  I've got tons of stuff to create my dream learning center! 

I'm looking for ways to make Fish in Trees happen.  If you can help me out, or suggest an avenue to get my dream funded, please let me know.  Or feel free to forward my blog to Ellen Degeneres.  That lady is always making dreams come true!  I'm also not opposed to making my dream happen in Arlington Iowa, just in case Chris Soules happens upon this blog post.

God is good.  All the time.

My Daughter is an Addict. Things You Think You'll Never Have to Say...

I've debated awhile about if I should write this post, but I'm at out of ideas, and you never know who you might reach, or who might be able to help in a situation like this, so here I am pouring my heart and soul into this post.  You see, there's this girl, who I love with all my heart, and she's an addict.  She's also my daughter.   My husband might not like me "airing my dirty laundry" but I need air, desperately, and my daughter needs help…even if she doesn't think so.

If you had asked people to make a list of people who might wind up as an addict, I'm sure she would never even make the list.  She was bright eyed, talented, loving, funny, adventurous.  She was a daughter, a sister, a friend, the world was waiting for her to take it by storm.  I know in my heart that deep down she is still all of these things, but somewhere along the way heroin decided to take over.  Now she's homeless, unemployed, hungry, and on probation, and there's nothing I can do.  She's over eighteen, so there is no forcing her into rehab.  I checked.

You can never quite prepare yourself to hear that your child is an addict.  I've done a lot of research and it appears that heroin is an equal opportunity evil.  It takes over the lives of the poor, the abused, the average, the privileged, middle class and the rich, and no matter who you are, or where you come from, you become enslaved by it.  I hate heroin.

We stand by helplessly and wait for the bottom of this pit to be reached, and hope that the bottom doesn't mean an overdose.  We wait to help, to heal, to hug, to listen, and support.  We hope that some day, some how, the daughter we know and that daughter that we love will come back to us.  We love her even as an addict, but we want so much more for her.  We know she's in there somewhere, and we hold onto those moments when we see her, or glimpses of her.  We want her back.  We all do.  Both of her moms, both of her dads, her brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins on BOTH sides of her family.   I am sure that she never expected that we would all join forces to try and save her, and I know it makes her angry that we talk.  I wish she would see that it's because we love her, and we want her back.  We want her happy, healthy, and safe.   Maybe we should have all joined forces together a long time ago, and we could have done something before things got this bad, but to be honest none of us ever saw this coming.  I wish we had, maybe things would be different.

She's come home a few times claiming to want help, but it never lasts for more than a few days.  She says she's done, she's tired, she's ready, but not for rehab. We've welcomed her, picked her up in the middle of the night, cleared out rooms so she can stay with us and get sober, made doctor and dentist appointments, and plans to find her employment, only to have her leave the second we're not looking to go back to her life in Ohio.  She says she doesn't like Michigan, and would rather be in Ohio, but she keeps finding the same people over and over again, and repeating the same behaviors.  .  Every time the phone rings and I don't recognize the number my heart stops for a moment and my blood runs cold.  Before I answer I hope, I pray, I bargain with God… please don't let this be "the call".

There have been glimmers of hope.  Once in a while she asks for help and says she's considering rehab. I spend hours, days, and nights trying to line up assistance only to be disappointed over and over again.  Not in our daughter… disappointed that in the lull between highs there is something, someone, some event, that make her think that she can kick this habit on her own, and then she decides she doesn't need rehab after all, or not yet.  I hate heroin.

My daughter loves children, and there's a little boy she's extremely attached to.  She considers him a son, and I've tried to reason with her.  What if HE was the one addicted, and SHE wanted him to get help.  What would she do?  She brushes me off and says she knows, but she's just not ready yet.  She worries that rehab won't work, that it will be too hard, that I don't understand,  that she'll just make arts and crafts, and nothing will change, but I think that she'll never know if she doesn't even try.  Maybe it won't work, but maybe it will.  Not trying isn't going to change anything.  Heroin is much better with words than I am.

I know that a struggle with addiction is something I can't understand, I know it's hard, it's hard on all of us.  Watching someone you love slowly kill themselves while you stand by unable to do anything to save them is one of the most painful experiences I have had to deal with to date.  It brings back memories of the powerless feeling I had while her sister Briona was in the hospital.  There's a difference though.  Briona was fighting to stay with us while waiting for a heart transplant.   My daughter seems determined to slowly kill  her hopes, her dreams, her spirit. Her fight is with a drug that has chemically changed the make up of her brain and taken over, and won't stop until it kills her or takes her to jail. I hate heroin.

I don't want to bury my daughter.  I don't want to tell her brothers and sisters that their sister is dead, or missing, or in prison.  I don't want to watch the light fade from behind my husband's eyes and see him retreat into himself while battling his grief.  I want my daughter back, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get her back.  I hate telling her no. I hate thinking of her hungry, without a place to call home, and struggling through life.  I have to say no though, because every dollar, bill paid, phone card, or care package frees up room for heroin money.  I want to help her, but for now we have to tell her that the only help we can give her is a ride to rehab but she doesn't want that.  I wish she did.

I want my daughter back.

I hate heroin.

I still believe.

God is good.  All the time.

Following Your Heart

“If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together... there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart... I'll always be with you.” 

― A.A. Milne

My daughter would have been eleven today, if she were born CHD free.  While the years pass by, the loss never lessens, it just changes, evolves, and becomes a part of who you are.

I learned a lot being Briona's mother.  I learned what it REALLY means to be strong, to speak up, to question, and to fight.  I also learned that while we like to fancy ourselves as in control of our own destiny, we truly are not.  Everything happens for a reason.

I had a physical today.  I scheduled it months ago and forgot about it, but when I got the reminder call and the date OCTOBER 18th glared at me from my calendar, I was glad it was the first opening they had.  Birthdays are always the hardest for me.  

I often think about what my daughter would be like if she were here today, and how she would choose to celebrate.  I knew a heart family that got a transplant, and every year on his "transplant day" they would get heart shaped doughnuts and give them away to whomever he felt like giving them to.  People he knew and loved, and random strangers.  I always thought it was a great tradition.  I guess I was thinking about Briona and doughnuts... so I decided to bring my friends at my "old" school treats today.

I wasn't planning on seeing any children, but they saw me.  One of my kids from last year saw me in the hallway.   She hugged my leg, and just kept staring as her eyes welled up with tears, and then she hugged me and asked me to walk her to her locker.  When she could finally speak, she asked me, "Where did you go?  I miss you every day."  I'm not sure how you explain to a six year old the politics that were involved with the merger of Ypsilanti Public Schools and Willow Run Community Schools, nor do I think I would even want to tarnish her still rosy eyed view of the world, so I just explained that I work in another building now because "that is where my boss wanted me".  I figured that is as close to the truth as I could get!  She held my hand as we walked to her locker upstairs, and as I walked through the familiar hallways tears welled up in my own eyes.  Children from my former classes seemed to pop out of every doorway and hugged me enthusiastically, and joyfully all while asking, "Mrs. Boyer?!  Why aren't you in your classroom?  I keep looking for you!"   I even got invited to a wedding!  (Congratulations Joi's mommy!!)  Another student burst into tears upon seeing me, and as I hugged her like our lives depended on it, I knew that today I brought Perry doughnuts for a reason.  I needed some hugs, and there were some of my former students and colleagues that needed them as well.  

A parent who observed these going ons stopped me in the hallway and wondered how on Earth I could ever have been told maybe.  As part of my moving on, I try not to be bitter, and could answer earnestly that I believe it was not my inability to reach children, it was simply politics, and I was caught in the crossfire.  As the union president for a semester I did and said what I believed had to be done at the time, and as a result paid the price.  Everything happens for a reason.

That being said, while I miss my friends and the students at Perry, I have found a new home.  I am very happy to be in my new district, in my new classroom, with my amazing students.  As I tend to do, I have befriended a few wayward souls, and find joy in watching my students learn, dream, encourage one another, and laugh.  I have found students who need me, just as much as I need them.  My new school, while qualifying as "high poverty" is in a currently fiscally healthy district.   It's been eye opening and at times awe inspiring to realize the differences, and mourn the inequities.  While the drive is a drag, it gives me alone time to think, process and plan.  At times I have a bit of survivor's guilt as I look into the eyes, and listen to the stories of my former colleagues. 

I miss you all, but I am happy to have moved on.  I am in a good place, and there are no more tears. 

Sometimes I swear I can hear Briona whispering the same thing.  

God is good.  All the time.

William's Post

I was at a friend's house recently dropping of some Scentsy.  (Want to have a party?)

She has the sweetest little family ever, and is the June Cleaver of the twenty-first century, which is made all the more remarkable by the fact that three of her four children have been diagnosed with Autism.  You can read more about her life here at her blog http://acorn-beyondconvention.blogspot.com.  She's amazing.... and thin... but I like her anyway.  Now SHE could have a reality show and be educational and entertaining... plus she said I could guest star once in awhile.  =)

I have had the HONOR of being her oldest two children's teacher, and she is not only a former parent, but a friend.  Her youngest son William was at my school last year.  He's adorable, smart, and feisty.  Not to mention, not all that verbal (yet).   I was really looking forward to having him in my class this year.

So like I said, I was at her house delivering her husband's "purple wax" (let me know if YOU need some wax)  and William was quite happy to see me.  He invited me to play outside, and ride a bike, all while smiling at me, and making GREAT eye contact!  I complimented him on his using words and he told me "use words to play outside".  We high fived.

I had been having one of those low days that comes with job searching and waiting on phone calls (I refuse to go into further detail lest this post get very bleak...) William was my breath of fresh air.  I know he is not likely to read this, (he probably could if he wanted to) and he may not understand all the emotions tied up in his actions, but he gave me hope again.

I just want to thank him.  Here, and now, for inspiring me.

William, as I was getting ready to leave you had toys in your hand, and we were outside.  I was near my car on the sidewalk.  You put your toys on the porch and looked at me, and hesitated.  Your mommy asked if you were going to go with me, and you simply said "no", but you kept looking at me.  In that moment, I knelt down, and asked if you'd like to give me a hug.  You came running towards me and gave me the best sideways hug I have ever had.  Complete with a back pat.  You made my heart skip a beat, and my mind start racing, and a smile appeared that had been missing for a long time.

That simple act of trust forced my hand into doing something that I have wanted to do for awhile, but always found an excuse not to.  I am going to go back to school and get my Masters in Special Education with an Autism Endorsement.  I will have my work cut out for me, and I don't think I will be able to start until January because of my financial aid needing, but I will be back in school because of a hug from you.  Thank you William.  You are A-W-E-S-O-M-E.

God is good.  All the time.

Because I read my last two posts and wanted to jump off a cliff.....

Times have been admittedly tough, but last night I read my blog again and then I couldn't sleep.  It was too depressing.  My situation is depressing, and I will admit that I am struggling with things right now, but I don't want to be known as the female blog equivalent of Lurch. 

^^^^THIS IS NOT ME^^^^

 My spirit is a little wounded, but I still in there, and I am not going anywhere.  I am just hiding in a deep dark cave in my head.  I'll be back.  I promise.  

Here are some things I was thinking about last night while I couldn't sleep after reading my depressing blog... and I was thinking of things people keep saying to me... and how sometimes those things are just weird.  

1.  I was wishing I would win the lottery, and imagining all the GOOD things I would do when I thought, why do people say "If wishes were fishes?"  or do I have that saying wrong?  What good would wishes being fishes be?  That seems rather unfulfilling, and kind of gross.  What is the REST of the saying?    It reminded me of the All State commerical where the guy says, "That's All State's Stand."  For THE LONGEST TIME I thought the guy was saying "That's All State, Stan" as in a guy named Stan.... it didn't really phase me, until one night I asked my husband, "Why do they call everyone Stan in these commercials?  That doesn't make me want to buy insurance..."  Brian looked at me with a strange look then told me that they guy was saying "That's All State's Stand"  not "Stan"  then he laughed at me.... quite a bit, and now every time we see an All State commercial he calls me "Stan".  He is hilarious.... (not really)   

2.  A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.  To this I say keep your bird in the bushes PLEASE.  I am terrified of birds.  They have very beady bird eyes and I am certain that they are just waiting for the opportunity to peck MY eyes out, or poop on my car... or me!  The cause of my fear may have been premature exposure to Albert Hitchcock's The Birds, or common sense... but I do not like birds.  Even a little.  

3.  'Well, it could be worse."  This is always very uplifting thing to hear.   You are right.  It could be worse, but that doesn't really make it any better.  I suppose on top of us both being laid off we could be struck with the bubonic plague, or a freak storm could suck us up in a tornado and we would have to carve our way out of a shark with a chainsaw... that WOULD be worse... but knowing that we could just add those things to our situation doesn't make it any better.  

4. "Did you apply for that job in ________________"  Yes.  Yes I did.  I am thoroughly aware that NOT applying for jobs will make it exponentially more difficult to get a new one.  I have applied, thank you for keeping me on my toes.  

5.  I wish I could be a minion. Okay, nobody says,  "Hey have you considered being a minion?"  (Well besides my friend Danielle and she lives far away.)  It's just something I have been thinking about, and it was getting really late.   Minions are always happy, and six kids ago I could totally rock a french maid outfit,  They are always so friendly, and yellow, and have the ability to just laugh off even the worst situations!  Even when they are evil they are such a nice shade of purple....  

I would be an adorable minion, then I realized that they are all named Doug and Steve and Kevin, and thought maybe girls were not allowed to BE minions... which would be totally unfair, but you know what they say, "Life's not fair.  Deal with it."

So, while I don't know about that job, I'll keep applying.  Even thought I can't be a minion, I will keep telling myself that it could be worse, try to get a bird in my hand (eww), and keep a positive outlook.  Something better is sure to come along soon.  Right Stan?

God is good.  All the time.  

Living the American Nightmare

There are times in life when you just have to sit back and wonder if perhaps in a former life that you don't recall you did something UTTERLY horrible and Karma is coming back to bite you in the a**.   A month ago I was in Hawaii.  On a FREE trip!  Best. Trip. Ever!  I am starting to think maybe I accidentally touched a sea turtle.  

Karma is nipping at my heels, and it's not the good kind either.   I can't help but wonder if some poor turtle is at the turtle oncologist waiting to find out about his flipper cancer from my sunscreen.  (Sorry turtle!)  Either that, or it's just another bump in my crazy life.

However,  this is NOT a feel sorry for myself post (good grief, I'd lose my 13 followers!) it's actually a post about all the GREAT things I am sure are in store, and a way to count my blessings.

I came back from my Scentsy Family Reunion in Indianapolis to find out the my awesome, strong, brave and hardworking husband has also been laid off.  To put it nicely, that leave us up a very stinky creek without a paddle.  We have a house payment, two car payments, a ginormous student loan payment, a slew of credit card bills, and five kids to feed... all on our unemployment.  Being a middle class on a good day type of family we were getting by.  I guess technically it was a version of the American Dream.  We had what we needed, and a little extra thanks to credit cards, and payment plans.    Now we are getting a little scared.  A friend of mine said, nobody knows WHAT to say, because we are living everybody's worst fear, it's the "American Nightmare" and it's true.  We are scared to death, and hoping and praying that good things happen in time enough to make it all work out.  I guess this total lack of security has inspired me to write about all the things I DO have, as counting my blessings is free, and that's about all I can afford right now.

Here is my list of awesome things that I am thankful for, in no particular order.

1.)  My awesome husband.  He may be grumpy at times, and he may swear a lot, and he might not be at every single event that my kids are involved in, but he loves us.  Beyond a shadow of a doubt I know that he is my soul mate, and would do anything he could to keep us all safe.  I am so grateful for his friendship, his ability to see me as sexy (he might need glasses) and his unwavering commitment to me and our family.

2) Speaking of my family I am blessed to have some of the most awesome kids around.  From my sweet, quiet hard working farm boy Noah, to my rock star pitcher Ricky, to my social butterfly Matthew, to my shy animal lover Clara, to my baby diva Ruby.  I am so lucky that they are all quite content in life.  Sure they ask for things, and sure they want things, and to go places, but with a simple "We don't have the money right now" they let it go.  No pouting, no tantrums, no complaining about how their parents are awful and mean, or that everybody else has (insert coveted item here).  They have taken the change with no questions, just trusting that we will continue to take care of them, and love them just like we always have.  While at times they make me want to pull my hair out and hide in a dark cave, they are also the loves of my life.  We will continue working to make sure that they get a little further ahead in life than we have been able to.  Or at least get there a little easier.  To be able to parent such a smart, funny, loud, giggling, polite, and entertaining group of humans is a blessing.  They also are totally content with noodles with butter on them and cereal to eat... yay for Ramen noodles.

3)  Then there are my friends to be thankful for.  From the Scentsy sister who managed to get my resume to the superintendent of my DREAM DISTRICT, to my Wingman, my super friend, to my baseball family, my soul sister, my girls who make me laugh, let me cry, dance, or make up words to songs and love me just the same.  Old friends and new, my life is so much better because of all of you.  Thank you for supporting me, for loving my family, for offering me your basement to live in, or your pool to swim in, cheering on MY kids at sporting events, sewing on a baseball patch, helping me remember what I was trying to say, and praying for me.  Thank you for trusting me with your secrets, for letting me love you, and for encouraging me when I need it.  You are amazing, and my life is so RICH despite everything going on right now because of all of you.  If good friends could be measured in wealth I would surely be on Forbes' Top Ten Richest Women list every year.  

Please don't be offended if your picture isn't listed.  You all know who you are.  <3 p="">

4) I am also thankful for the opportunity to be a Scentsy Consultant.  I know it sounds kind of corny, but to be able to be a part of something that is run by some of the most GENEROUS and GENUINE people I have ever met is nothing short of amazing.  Being a part of the Scentsy Family has given me a spark to hold on to.  The teacher market is ROUGH right now, I've applied for umpteen jobs already and even with fifteen years experience have only gotten "thanks for applying" emails.  It's frustrating, and discouraging, especially when I know that (I even took a test that said so)  I am a good teacher.  So having the opportunity to earn school clothes money, and hopefully some Christmas money, and maybe even another free vacation next summer fills me with hope.  Who knows, one of these days I might be on stage talking about when MY husband got laid off and I just decided to jump in with both feet and make things happen, and how with hard work and dedication we finally managed to buy our dream farm house and have a donkey in the back yard.  (Have I mentioned that we are a family that is easily amused?)  Thank you Scentsy for the opportunity to turn things around.  Look for me on stage next year.  ;)

So while I am in yet another discouraging situation I find that because of my many blessings, I am able to meet the day with a smile, carry on, fan the flames of hope, and look for the signs that better things are coming.  While our life could be looked at as a nightmare by some, I can't imagine it being any better.  Unless of course I won the lotto, that would be better, and of course my offer of class trips to Disney World, and mommy make overs on a tropical island are ON like Donkey Kong.  

To quote one of my my idols..."The stakes are high, the water's rough...this love is ours"  Thank you for loving me.  I am truly blessed beyond measure.

God is good.  All the time.  

So Much to Say...

This school year has kept me jumping.  Through hoops, through flames, through trials and tribulations that I never had imagined would come to pass, and now it's coming to an end.

Normally at this time of year I am excited to see the end of the school year in sight, but this year every day that ticks off the calendar marks a "last event" for me, and it's earth shattering, poignant, and heart breaking all at the same time.

My school district has merged with another, and I have found myself on the "maybe" list for being rehired.  While I had mentally prepared myself for the fall out of being union president, I wasn't prepared emotionally.  Even a little bit.  I am pretty sure my heart, and quite possibly my spirit is irreparably broken.

I had been warned that the being laid off process is similar to the stages of grief, and in fact I have found that if is not just LIKE grief... it IS grief.

It comes in waves, breath taking, suffocating, tear inducing weights on my being.  I've lost weight (usually a good thing), I can't sleep, or concentrate.  I find myself constantly doubting myself.  My abilities to teach, to inspire, to lead.  I find myself sitting in my car every morning sometimes fighting tears, and sometimes letting them flow freely while silently willing myself to enter the building where I imagined myself retiring in order to finish out this school year.  My doctor offered to put me on stress induced medical leave.  I declined, because in that district, in that building, in room 4 are twenty five children who depend on me.  I encourage my students to be brave, to take risks, and to keep trying even when things are hard.  What kind of teacher would I be if I abandoned them with only a couple weeks of the school year left?  I can't do it.   Leader sets the pace, at least that is what they told me back when I waited tables...a skill I hope is like riding a bicycle, as I may need it very soon.

I compose myself, enter the school and wait for my students to meet me at our "waiting spot".  I am greeted with hugs, and notes, and pictures, from my own students, and wayward souls that have figured out I have a soft spot for any child that needs someone to love them.  None of them know that I will not be back in the fall.  I have families registering for kindergarten next year stop by my room to tell me that they have requested my class, and I am forced to explain (while trying desperately not to cry) that I don't know if I will have a job in the district next year, while a voice in my head pipes up "Now they are going to wonder WHY you are not highly qualified enough to have a job."  I fight back the demons, paste a smile back on my face, and carry on.

As we count the days of school, and I remind the students that it seems like not long ago we were counting UP to the 100th day of school party, my heart wrenches as I realize I may not have a 100th day of school party next year.  There won't be a "Mean Mrs. Thompson" counting challenge, or caterpillars to watch, or Alpha Friends to introduce while singing and dancing.  I marvel over the progress my students have made this year, and worry about those that are struggling.  I set up meetings with parents who's children are off their academic schedule, and find myself explaining again, that I do not know if I will have a job in the district, much less at Perry, so no, I can not have their child in my class next fall.  I paste on a smile and tell them that I am sure everything will work out, when that voice in my head pipes up again, "Now they probably think it's YOUR fault their child isn't at grade level...you aren't good enough."

I look at my cape, hanging on my desk, a reminder that I am a superhero in my classroom, or at least that is what it's supposed to do.  Right now it just taunts me.  My maybe letter is Kriptonite, rendering me powerless, confused, and weak.

I am gearing up to pack up my room.  Room 4, that I love with an intensity that in indescribable.  My room.  My happy place, where Alpha Friend dances were born, where children learned colors, numbers, counting, reading, and writing.  Where children laughed, cried, and learned to follow the rules, take chances, and trust.  I think I will be giving a lot of stuff away...

I listen to those who tell me, "Everything will work out," and I think, "Well that is easy for you to say, you HAVE a job!"   I listen, I pray, I hope... but I am not sure what it is that I am praying or hoping for...  I think I have to listen a little harder.

We will complete our journey in room 4, together.   I will give more hugs, more high fives, more smiles, more warning looks, move clips, enjoy the laughter, tape up crayon pictures, and kindergarten spelling love note, settle disagreements, confide that I once peed my pants in kindergarten too, sing, dance, finish assessing, write heartfelt comments on report cards, and file CA-60 paperwork,  Perhaps these moments will be a little more sweet because they mark the ending of a journey.  I'll try very hard not to cry, but I do that a lot lately.  If I do find myself in tears, I will wipe them away and tell my class that I am crying because I am so proud of how AWESOME they are.  (I've had to use that one a few times, and they totally believe it)  I will do all these things because my amazing, sweet, talented, funny, creative students, a class full of many colored crayons, is depending on me.  In their eyes, I am good enough, and I guess when it comes right down to it, that is really all that matters.

A friend posted on my Facebook wall that sometimes when things fall apart, it's so that better things can come together.  I am not sure what is better than room 4, but I sure hope it makes itself apparent soon.

God is good.  All the time.