"The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof"

It snowed last night.
I was standing in my kitchen, washing what seemed like a mountain of dishes, and all of a sudden little white flakes started slowly drifting toward my window. I enthusiastically called for Tito and we ran outside.
I was standing outside, barefoot and freezing wondering what was so special about snow? There is certainly something about it. What, I have no idea.
I came inside, lit a fire (I have yet to figure out how to turn on my heat), put on a second pair of socks, another pair of sweatpants (over my flannel pajamas), put Tito in his sweater and we curled up in bed. I was so thankful to be warm, in a bed, under a bunch of covers, snuggled up with my dog. I took a deep breath, and started to think about my kids. Where are they? Are they warm? Who are they snuggling with? Have they eaten? Do they have a fire lit?

I have been teaching for a whopping four months. It feels like years. All I know is that in those four short months, I have created unmovable bonds with my students. They are my family, and I can confidently say, they have let me into their world... and I am honored. We mutually serve a purpose in each other's lives. We are excited to share things with one another... the typical, "Hey, Ms. Hall. Guess what!?!" After which follows anything from the most exciting news to something terribly devastating. Either way, my room is a place to share....for all of us.

Our newest addition to the classroom is an "Inspiration Wall". Day after day my students bring me pictures, cards, poems, song lyrics, and any other creation they pour themselves into.... "Ms. Hall. LOOK!" I was hanging them on my cabinets, folding them up and putting them in my wallet... some would be tucked safely in my desk, others displayed per an excited student's request. Eventually, the collection became so large and inspiring I pitched the idea of an "Inspiration Wall" to my kids. They walk in the room and can see each other's work. Most student's want their names removed, but you can see them glow when another student acknowledges their work. They are so impressed with each other! I am simply beside myself. My kids have really made my classroom theirs... and it is amazing. They compliment, encourage, and challenge each other. There is a healthy amount of peer pressure to do the right thing, or "HUSH, Ms. Hall is trying to talk!"

We are a family. We laugh, fight, cry, make mistakes, give each other a hard time, but we are in this together, nonetheless.
One of the most common questions I receive is, "Ms. Hall... why do you care so much?"I have yet to figure out how best to answer it. Most of the time I tell them simply that "I just do". I love them... that's it.
I keep it simple.

Around my rough patch in October I found myself starting to over-think just how close I should be getting to my kids. I wondered about boundaries, maintaining an appropriate relationship, not being too much of a friend, etc. As important as all of those things are, a lot of it simply isn't me. I am not going to sit there and overanalyze the feelings I have for my students and whether or not I should keep from them how much I care about them. Fact is, I don't really think much about it anymore. I tell my kids I love them, and they excitedly say, "We love you too, Ms. Hall". Nothing is weird, over-thought, or strained. It is just true, and honest.
For the longest time I couldn't get the resounding, "Your students don't need you to be their friend" out of my head. I know that, and I get it. But why does it have to be one or the other? Teacher or friend? What about a teacher who is foremost a teacher, but is also someone that a student can confidently say cares about them like a friend or family member would?
Maybe such a relationship isn't possible in every classroom situation,  or with every group of kids, but it is working here and now... and it is glorious.
I am incredibly grateful for the way my students have let me into their world and how interested they are in being part of mine :) They say "ain't".... I say "do not".... they listen to the most hardcore rap I have ever heard, while I blast Irish folk music...
Through our differences, we have grown a tremendous mutual respect. One founded on love and trust. They are not the biggest fans of reading, but they'll do it for me, because they know I am not the biggest fan of the "Dougie" but I am willing to try it for them. :) It is give and take. I will not ask of my students something I am not willing to do in return for them, and they know it.

In school tomorrow I am sure my students and I will excitedly share with each other how we felt when we saw the snow fall. We will chat about the weekend, exchange hugs, then get down to business.... because after all, we have work to do.

Journal prompt for Monday: What is a true family?

Can't wait to read those responses!

"Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength."

Clearly it has been a while since I've managed to find the peace, (or time) to update this blog. I have thought about writing plenty of times, but even spending a half an hour typing pulls at my heart. I wonder, "Should I be lesson planning? What could this time be better spent on?"
Here is what I have decided...

My kids need me. I need my kids. They need me at my best. Not tired. Not weak. Not mentally drained. Not overwhelmed or unenthusiastic. They need me to be disciplined, and strong enough to know when to put the lesson plans away and get some sleep. They need me to take care of myself, like I beg them to do! They need me to take my own advice.

Nothing demonstrated that better than last week.

Last Monday, I met my proverbial "wall". It was enormous, overwhelming, and unforgiving. Not only did I hit it...it hit me, flattened me. In the middle of my fifth period class, I turned to write on the board, took a deep breath, and had the most clear, painful, distinct thought... "I don't want to do this anymore." No sooner had I allowed myself to have the thought than I was immediately overwhelmed with a paralyzing sense of guilt. How could I? How could I think that? Not me. No way. I don't really mean it.

I did.

I drove home after school, doing everything I could to hold back my tears. After my four minute commute, I pulled up to my house, flung my car door open and walked as fast as I could towards my front door. Desperately fumbling with my keys, dropping (and breaking) my coffee mug, I finally managed to open the door and get inside. Immediately, in a dramatic fit of exhaustion and vulnerability, both of my arms fell to my sides and I stood watching as everything spilled out of my bags onto the floor. I pulled my obnoxiously bright, "oh-so-teacher-like" cardigan over my head, flung my shoes off and watched them fly across my living room, while simultaneously pulling the bobby-pins out of my hair. I took my earrings out, unclipped my watch, and threw them all on the table. Slowly, eyes painfully wide open, I walked like a zombie straight back to my room. As I slowly lowered myself onto my bed, the thought came back..." I don't want to do this anymore."

I lost it.

I was overwhelmed with guilt, questions, horrible "what-ifs", and this awful questioning of my ability as a teacher. Worse, I questioned my PURPOSE. Am I supposed to be somewhere else? Why am I here? What am I doing? Can I do this?

I completely lost sight. Of everything.

I made some phone calls and cried my eyes out. I held nothing back. Every insecurity, every challenge, every frustration came pouring out. For the first time in seven weeks, I allowed myself to be honest, and show my fear of failing with my students.

After close to four hours of pouring, it stopped. I found myself repeating the same things over and over again, running out of things to cry about, complain about, worry about, and fear. The process was done.

Okay, Case. You hit a wall. You cried. You put it all on the table. Now what? You are here for at least the next two years. These kids are yours, and they need you. What are you going to do now? You have school tomorrow! What lesson are you teaching? How do you move on from here?

I can't pinpoint it, and to be honest, I have no idea what happened or what came over me. I grabbed my keys, got in my car and drove to the store. I bought a bunch of poster board, new markers, pencils, and stickers. I came home, pushed everything off of my dining room table and started CREATING. After about three hours, I sat staring at the most ridiculously meticulous tracker, one for every period, complete with foil star stickers, and colorful class assignment labels. Over and over again in my head I heard myself telling my students "I am NOT going to let you fail. I WILL NOT give up on you." I had told my kids that so many times, in a variety of contexts and circumstances. Some students I went as far as squaring up with them, grabbing their shoulders, and forcing them to look me in the eyes so they could physically see my blatant refusal to accept anything less than their best!

The truth is, as stubborn as I am, and as genuine as my promise is to not let any of them fail, I have to admit that that horrible thought I had was just as genuine. I guess I could feel ashamed, or embarrassed...and if I am being completely honest... I feel both. That said, I am also proud. I kind of feel like I made it through some sort of initiation. I always thought that I could do this... be a good teacher... but in an inexplicably odd way, now I know for sure. I can do this. I wanted to quit, walk away, go back to "normal", live close to my family, go see my friends, but I didn't.

I made an active choice and chose my kids. From day one I have said in every way that I would choose my kids over anything, but in this instance, I actually chose. I chose them, and I will continue to choose them every day.
I have never felt more convicted or inspired.

I went to school the next day and was greeted with smiling faces and hugs from all of my kids, like I get every morning. Monday was bad, but it was also gone. And done.

"Ms. Hall..."
"Ms. Hall..."   "Ms. Hall(y)"...

"Yo, Ms. Hall..."      " Ms. H...."     "Ma'am..."

"Can you put on the music?"

Me: "Yeah, guys. I'll put on the music....write!"

...and the day started. Like it always does. A new day. A new chance to teach, learn, grow, inspire, and be inspired.
I was there, and so were they. Together, in our overly bright and amazingly decorated classroom, literally surrounded by their hopes, dreams, heros, motivations, and big goals. Ready to keep growing.

I guess it is kind of like trimming back branches on a tree. Or breaking a bone. They grow back thicker, more beautiful... and even stronger than before.



*Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the prayers and encouragement. You have no idea what it means to me...and my students.*

"My life is like a jail without bars..."

A jail without bars...

I can honestly say that I do not have "favorites". My deepest and most genuine wish for EVERY single one of my students is for them to achieve whatever goal(s) they have set for themselves. I will do whatever possible and necessary to help them "make it" to exactly where they want to go, and they know it. That being said, I am a firm believer that your heart "picks" people. I have several students that my heart has picked.
Heart picking... how do I describe that?
Have you ever felt an incredible connection with a person? One completely centered around your hope for their well-being? I don't really know how to explain it, however, I have several students that I know I will spend the rest of my life wondering about, hoping for, and praying about.

Picked.

One of those students is a young man who is repeating 8th grade...as a 15 year old. He has the opportunity to be re-evaluated and bumped up to high school in December, but for now, he is with me.

I watch every morning as he steadily and sheepishly slides through my door. He greets me with the same respectful but silent head nod. Some days I get a soft, "Mornin' Ma'am", or "Hey, Ms. Hall". I welcome him in with my overly enthusiastic, hyped-up-on-coffee, running-on-three-hours-sleep, "GOOD MORNING!"

Without fail, he cracks a smile. Every morning.

This young man has become a sort-of anchor for my 5th period class. I look to him to check the temperature of my other students. He has naturally placed (with a bit of friendly teacher prompting) himself in a leadership role, particularly impressive for a young man who knows that everyone else knows he has been held back. Most students who repeat grades are humiliated at the mention of their situation, and it is dihabilitating in the classroom. This student is enjoying the opposite experience. He has handled the entire situation with undeniable maturity, actively displaying his incredible resilience.
I could not have been more proud of him. Little did I know that I certainly could...

Our first class assignment was an "About Me" project. The students started with a "Memory Map", which they created to help them brainstorm the five most influential events/people that have made them who they are today. From there, we translated three of the biggest events into body paragraphs, added an introduction and conclusion, enjoyed (what was for many students, a first-time experience) peer-editing, and then turned in final copies of the "About Me" papers.

I cannot begin to describe what reading those papers did to my heart, my mind, my emotions. There was not a single part of me that went unchanged. I cried reading them. Some made me laugh, others left me with no words at all. Most were written grammatically on a second to third grade level, but the underlying themes of the papers were unlike any that even a typical ADULT would be able to write about!

I encouraged my kids to come up with a metaphor that was unique to their lives. I gave the overused example of a puzzle, with the pieces being events in their lives and the puzzle being their life as a whole. It took some pushing, but once they got it, it was incredible. My young anchor called me over and read me his first paragraph. He explained how he did not have much of a childhood and was exposed to everything from drugs to murder at a very young age. I actively fought back tears, knelt down beside his desk, and explained  how that is like walking into a kindergarten classroom without color! It makes no sense, and it isn't right! He paused, lowered his head, and gave me his silent nod. I left him to his work, and five minutes later his hand went up. I walked across the room, traced his first line with my finger and read, "my life is like a jail without bars..."

It was at that moment... from the mind of a 15 old boy, stuck in 8th grade, faced with things that most people will never (and should never) have to face...that a brand new fire was lit inside of me. I started practically running around the room trying to pull out of other students the same kind of emotion, thought, and creativity. Just like is always true, when you raise the bar, the kids go with it. Mine were no different.

"Ms. Hall! What about this? My life is like a family photo!"

"My life is like a bouquet of flowers..."

"My life is like a death sentence with no justice..."

"My life is like a chemistry experiment that is about to explode..."

"My life is like an unchained, untamed pit bull who has no collar..."

I looked around the room as my kids excitedly shared their lives with one another. The discussion was so genuine, so passionate, so eye-opening..not only for me, but for my kids, too! The impact was especially noticeable in my boys.
The girls seem to talk about many of the struggles they face, and are thus able to get it off their chests.
My boys don't. They hold it all in.
Reading one another's papers and hearing that someone else had to hold their baby sister while their dad punched their mom in the face "like she was a man", or that another student experienced and watched the death of their best friend at the hands of another gang, or lost a parent to death, jail or choice, created a feeling in that ordinary classroom that was anything but ordinary.

I feel like I am doing a horrible job describing the feeling, the moment. Honestly, maybe that is how it is meant to be. Perhaps it is one of the few feelings that is only able to be experienced.  My student's eyes actually looked different. Their posture changed. I would have done and given anything to protect that moment. I scrapped my lesson plan, we circled up the desks, and we kept talking!

A change happened that day... a real one. It might not have been objectively measurable, but I attest with my whole heart to the learning that took place.

It was an experience that happened thanks to the heart and the mind of a boy who was not even "supposed" to be there.

Perhaps the most selfish feeling I have ever had as a teacher, or person in general, is how grateful I am that he is in my class.

What a lesson. We worry so much about where we are going, while simultaneously forgetting to focus on, and appreciate, where we are. Whatever place you find yourself in in life...you have the opportunity to affect incredible change. You are there, and no where but there, for a REASON. You serve an incredible and immeasurable PURPOSE.

If you doubt that for a single second, there is a place called Warrenton, a school named Warren County Middle, a classroom labeled #414, an excitable 5th period class, and a single student who could show you in a one sentence, exactly what it means to serve a purpose.

“I am here for a purpose and that purpose is to grow into a mountain, not to shrink to a grain of sand. Henceforth will I apply ALL my efforts to become the highest mountain of all and I will strain my potential until it cries for mercy.”
                              - Og Mandino

Keep growing, Tremonte. Keep growing.

“Every accomplishment starts with the decision to try.”

I probably should be sleeping, but like most nights, I can't turn my brain off. One guess as to what I am thinking about? Yep, my kiddos.

I was unpacking boxes, stumbling on pictures, letters, drawings, and naturally feeling incredibly nostalgic. After a few hours of work (and a few tears) I made it to the kitchen, where several more boxes loomed on the counter. Staring. As if they knew me to be a crazy person...one who thinks its a good idea to unpack everything all in one night. They knew. I couldn't give in. I stared back at the boxes, wondering... "should I really? Once I start on these I won't be able to stop." Just as I was about to pop the first one open, I looked up at my bulletin board and saw a stack of letters, held together by a purple, flowery clip. I immediately stepped away from the boxes and grabbed the letters. As I unclipped the stack of tiny, white envelopes, I put my back against the kitchen wall and slid myself down onto the cold tile. I took the first letter from the top of the stack, unfolded the overly folded notebook paper, and started to read...


Dear Anfernee,


          My motiyation was to keep trying. When I grow up I want to run a buisness company or have a job at a business. If it doesnt work out, I want to be a scientist. I always wanted to get straight A's even do I have A's and B's. I hope I get the money to go to college. I also hope I get my degree.


                                                                Sincerly,
                                                                       Anfernee



My heart burned. I folded the notebook paper back just the way I had found it and slid it back in the envelope. I put the letter down and reached for the next one...    
   
                                                                                                            (Zarion in front of the 100% wall)



Dear La Zarion,


         My big goal is to make all A's. My motiyaytion is to pass every grade in the world. The reason why is because I want to make my mom proud.


                                                               Yours Turly,
                                                                        Zarion 







 The boxes waiting on the counter didn't matter anymore.



    



(Taneja with her 100% paper)

Dear Tanjea,


          I want to go to college and graduate high school because I want to have a success in life. I am motivated by my mother and father. I felt successful with I got a 100% on my test.


                                                             My Love Taneja 4 ever





I managed to crack a smile, thinking of Taneja holding her green marker, signing " My love Taneja 4 ever." My eyes watered, my heart was still burning, and I had a still smile on my face. I leaned my head against the wall and stared at the ceiling fan, spinning and blowing hair across my face. Without looking, I reached down and grabbed the next letter. Arkem.





Dear Arkem,


        I was successful when I score good on my test, and if I got a question wrong Ms. Hall would help me so when I get them right or she would explain it to me so I could understand. I feel good when I go to the board. I don't feel shame cause if I miss one Ms. Hall would explain it to me so when I go to college I could remember the answer so that I can pass so I could play for the NBA to be a pro.


                                                           Sincerly: Arkem




After reading several more letters I realized that for the first time in days I was living in the present. I was on my kitchen floor, reading letters I had my students write to themselves on the last day of school. I was simply present. Not stressed, not worried. I paused, reached down, and grabbed the last letter. Daryl.




Dear DJ,                                                                                              


         I am 11 years old goin to the 6th grade I am tryin to grow up to be a man but I have to finnish school first but my big goal is to make all As for the 6 grade and to finish high school I am goin to college and stay there for about 5 years so I can go to the nba that what I am really goin for. My mom wants me to go to the NBA and that is what I want to do any way, but also college.




                                                              Daryl



On the last day of summer school, I had my students write themselves letters describing what motivates them in school, what their big goal is for next year, and/or a time they felt successful in summer school. We practiced addressing envelopes (went through probably 50 in the process!) and then they all wrote themselves letters. I have the letters and will be adding in a little note of my own and then mailing them to each student in the middle of the school year.

These short letters are a glimpse into the hearts and minds of my students. Owning a business, being a scientist, wanting to graduate and go to college... out of the 19 letters that I collected, 17 wrote something about graduating high school and going to college. Completely unprompted. The 2 that didn't write about college talked about wanting to have successful lives and happy families.

My kids (like any other students) have huge dreams. I can't help but think about all the obstacles they are going to face (and already are facing)...that will stand between them and realizing those dreams. Will they have the support, the resources, the drive and motivation to break through, walk over, go around, or crawl under those obstacles? How many times will they get up after being knocked down? How much can an 11-year-old take? Let me tell you one thing... their resilience is nothing short of inspiring. Every one of my students has a story, and they are remarkable. I draw strength from them literally every single day. I guess that is the point of this entry. In honor of my students.

I start teacher workdays tomorrow, and my new students come in next Wednesday for the first day of school. Lots of people ask if I am worried or nervous, especially because this particular class of 8th graders are supposed to be REAL "trouble makers"...whatever that means.

My answer is mixed. I am waiting in anticipation and incredibly excited, but I am not nervous. Mostly because I think of my summer school students. "Mi Haa. Can you call my dad and tell him what we learned today and how good I did?"...."Mi Haa. I wanna go to college, Ma'am. Ain't nothin bout this place I like. I just wanna go to college." ....my kids dreams are too big, too real, too urgent.... I don't have time to be nervous. I don't have time to worry about how every little thing is going to go on my first day. We have work to do. Plain and simple. My kids need 100% of me...my effort, my heart, my mind. I don't want any of myself to be consumed by nerves. For a while there, that was definitely wishful thinking. But, after reading my kids' letters, the nerves disappeared. I am doing this for them.

I think it is pretty obvious that I made an incredible bond with the students I had this summer. The marks they left on my heart will be there forever. Next Wednesday I will start all over again with a fresh group of 8th graders. 90-100 total. All of them have dreams, all of them face their own challenges and have chosen different ways to handle the things that come their way. Every one of those students needs someone to care about them. Someone to show them that they matter. Someone to value their ideas and who they are as growing adults. Someone to relate to even the smallest things, while simultaneously offering a greater perspective.

I guess my biggest hope is that I can be all of those things for all of my students. Sure, it is lofty. Probably naive, optimistic, and overly idealistic too. Fits that overgeneralized description of a first year teacher. You could probably say and think the same thing about our big goal... a 100% pass rate of our end of grade exam (EOG). 100%. I will not stand in front of my class and set a goal lower than 100%. You walk into a room and say "our big goal this year is going to be for 80% of you to pass the EOG in reading and writing"....what about the other 20%??? And how many kids think in their head that they are the other 20%. Not in my class.

Our goal is 100%. Even if we fall short, my kids will go through the entire year feeling and working as a part of that 100%. They will never get the chance to think about falling in that percentage of students who don't pass. They deserve 100%.

I will proudly accept the label of the naive, over-zealous, optimistic, idealistic first year teacher. I smile because my Delta students made me that way, and my Warren students are going to keep me that way.

100%. Simple.

I am not scared to fail, and I want my students to experience that same freedom... hence our class theme....

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”


Prayers for courage....something my students already have.

A little town called Warrenton

I am overwhelmed with gratitude. 

I attempt to figure out why, and can't really pinpoint it, but I know it has something to do with where I am. Twenty days ago I had no idea I would be living in a little town called Warrenton. Warrenton, North Carolina is a tight-knit community that boasts a population of 811 strong!  In all honesty, I feel like I have stepped onto the scene of a movie. The history here is so rich, so old, and readily felt. 

Downtown is one street... cleverly named "Main Street". Main St. is lined with small shops that sell anything from old antiques, to flowers and school uniforms. There are brick sidewalks, window boxes, and handmade signs! Churches have been built on most every corner, and there are a total of three restaurants one can choose from (one even has wireless internet!). The large, brick courthouse marks the center of "downtown" and stands proudly, surrounded by a beautifully landscaped lawn.

Warrenton is quaint in every form of the word. The houses are old, and most have large front porches furnished with wooden rocking chairs.  White picket signs are staked outside of houses registered as "historic sites" and are literally everywhere! Houses stand that were built as far back as the 1790s. I can only imagine the memories held inside those walls.

When I drove to Warrenton for the first time, my car was packed literally from front to back, floor to ceiling. Tito was pacing around the back seat and definitely done with the long drive. We started in the mountains of West Virginia, made it through several cities, and finally onto two-lane roads, surrounded by fields as far as the eye could see. All of a sudden there was a little sign on the side of the road that said "Welcome to Warrenton." That saying would prove to be quite a popular theme over the next few days.

I made it to my house (which I had committed to over the phone, sight-unseen) :)...and my heart jumped. Big red porch, large yard, and ROCKING CHAIRS!!! Tito jumped out and "marked his territory" :)

My landlord showed me around, and as he was leaving, said proudly, "Welcome to Warrenton. We are so happy you are here."
He left and I started moving things in. About ten minutes later, two of my neighbors came outside and said "Welcome to Warrenton!!!"Their exclamation was followed by a thirty minute conversation about how in the world I got here! Naturally I explained that I was a new teacher at Warrenton Middle School! The typical response here is an enthusiastic, "Well, Honey, Bless you!" followed by a flood of other questions! My neighbors followed suit.

Reader's Digest Version: A typical "Welcome to Warrenton" conversation starts with a great big smile, a full-armed wave, and a swift and simultaneous walk toward you (with no bother to look both ways when jogging across the street). Quick introductions, handshakes and/or hugs, are followed by the famous "How'd you get here?" question. I respond with anything that involves the word "teacher" or "teaching" and eyes light up! Many people will tell you about their kids, nieces, nephews, or grandchildren who go to Warren County Schools and ask you if you have them in your class :) I explain, "I don't have my roster yet, but I would be honored to have them!"  Many people then explain how they have lived in Warrenton, "all my life" and graduated from Warren County High School in (insert year)!

Everyone has something different to share about the area. Some tell me stories about the history of Warrenton, others offer suggestions for everything from grocery stores to churches. More tell me about their families and attempt to give me directions to ALL of their relatives houses! :) I have been offered food, sheets, brownies, "protection" (my personal favorite), someone to watch my house, babysit Tito, drive me to church, water the plants on my porch, mow my lawn...the works!! Since the minute I stepped out of my car in Warrenton I have been completely overwhelmed by the hospitality here. It just fills your heart, and literally makes you a better person!

I go on runs around the neighborhood and literally feel compelled (in the best way!) to wave to every single car that passes! A few times I will beat them to it, but every single person waves back (most wave first- kindly reminding me to get on it! I am in the south now!). For all of you reading this who are back in California... get this started please!!! Wave to everyone you see or pass! :) Or at least try! Talk to people in the grocery store, or in line picking up coffee... take the time to stop. People are so happy down here, and you can tell they feel connected! Granted, I am in a town with a population of just over 800, but clearly I don't know everyone.... yet :)

On my third day I came home from a day tour of Warren County, only to find a huge quiche, a loaf of homemade bread, a famous "ridgeway cantaloupe", and a map of North Carolina sitting on my porch. What!?!?! I took them inside, unwrapped them and could not believe how phenomenal everything was. I checked my phone and had a message from my landlord's wife who politely gave me directions for what to do with the quiche.... I followed every one. She ended her message with "Welcome to Warrenton".

I have lived here for just over a week, and I already have dozens of stories about the people here who have made me feel so "at home." The new teachers and the police officers have made quite a bond, eating dinner together regularly at Warrenton's downtown pizza place! The first time we ate there our dessert was leftover birthday cake from a little boys birthday party! His mom insisted and continued to hand out pieces to everyone in the restaurant. I think that pretty much speaks for itself.

The people here are so kind, so loving, and even more welcoming... in a way I could have never imagined. They genuinely want you to not only love their home, but to make it your own.
The thing that makes me the most happy, is that people know why I am here. They know I am here for the kids in this county. To give them every opportunity, and every shot at reaching their goals. People here value education so much and they are unbelievably thankful for others who value it in the same way!

For those of you who have had the cynical thought that I am just saying all this so people will come visit me.... you are correct (in one sense)! I certainly am telling you this to make (or maybe a better word is "encourage") you to come visit... but the best part is that it is all true!! I think everyone should experience feeling so welcomed in a place like this. It is truly amazing.

“Each day offers us the gift of being a special occasion if we can simply learn that as well as giving, it is blessed to receive with grace and a grateful heart." - Sarah Ban Breathnach

A litte bit of history: 

Warrenton, North Carolina was developed by Mr. William Christmas on July 22, 1779. Warrenton is in Warren County, which was named after Dr. Joseph Warren, who was killed at the Battle of Bunker Hill. Warren County's main source of income was tobacco, and more revenue was found in cotton. 

http://www.warrenton-nc.com/history.shtml will take you to more information!!

The Courthouse: Downtown Warrenton, N.C.

The Hardware Cafe

Come visit and see for yourself. My house is always open! Must love dogs ;)

"Nothing is greater than this day" -Goethe

Blogging... the entire concept is a little weird for me... but I will give it a shot if it allows people a chance to catch a glimpse of...this.

I struggle to find anything to talk about except for my students. They are so strong, inspirational, inquisitive, vibrant. They rise to any occasion... literally ANY! I wake up thinking about them every morning and go to bed praying for them every night. They are my purpose. Simple as that.

This summer I taught twenty three 6th graders reading and math, in a 4 week summer school, in the good-ole Mississippi Delta. Carver Elementary tested the lowest of all elementary schools in the Delta, which as a region, tests the lowest in the state of Mississippi. As a state, Mississippi notoriously ranks lowest among any in the country. All but two of my students were in summer school for remediation. My students ranged in age from 11 to 13, some reading at a 6th grade level, others struggling with testing books meant for 2nd graders. Some could do long division, others broke off their erasers as they battled the simplest addition problems.

I went home and cried after my first day. Not because it was bad, but because it was great. Great because it was shocking, real, challenging. I had met my match. God had placed me. Put me here, at this school, for these kids. All of the work I had done throughout my entire schooling career...all the papers, tests, projects... were for this. To share the knowledge I had been gifted. The struggles I had been through, that made me resilient...persistent... fearless ... hopeful ... showed their immense value.

Education is a gift, one EVERY single child ABSOLUTELY DESERVES to receive. I looked at my students, and could not understand why they hadn't been given their gift. Why don't they have their own textbooks? Why aren't there enough desks? My kids want to doctors, business owners, moms, dads, providers, graduates... just like the kids sitting in private schools across town. WHY aren't they being given the same chance to realize their dreams, whatever they may be?
If you know anything about me, you know I can get pretty fired up and a bit intense... especially about things that impact the people around me and those I care about. Grow that by making those people ones that I love... and my STUDENTS at that. Needless to say, the fighting spirit birthed in my so long ago found itself right at home in my tiny, cinderblock classroom.

My kids laughed, danced, fought, cried, played... and begged to learn. On the first day of school we cheered... "What time is it?"... "GAME TIME"... followed by the most insanely amazing "power clap" ever. Power clap: rub your hands together really really fast to create a ton of friction... on the count of three make one loud "CLAP". 1...2....3.....CLAP! With those 23 power claps, it started....my journey began. Like a gun firing before a race. The only thing is, you start running, but you have no idea where the finish line is. No one told me there wasn't one, but then again, I always knew that.

That cheer, that clap, the residual laughter as my students giggled at their tingling hands... was the gun fire that told me to start running.

I am off and running, my students next to me (and several out in front leading the way). I am running a race without a finish line, next to 8,200 other corps members who have their students all around them. We feed off of each other, and we are all running for our kids. Why? Because someone needs to get them started. We start the race... teach our students the best strategies, most inspirational sayings, how to set big goals, to BELIEVE in themselves and their abilities...even when their muscles hurt...until they are running on their own... sprinting down their own path, towards their own finish line...whatever they dream that to be.

I am here for them...because it has so clearly been put on my heart as my purpose. I am so thankful for the gifts I have been given that allow me to be here, doing what I am doing. I am so thankful for the people who support me, love me, believe in me. I am especially thankful for the the people who ran along side me, and headed me towards my own finish line.

Off and running, ready to roll. New shoes, comfy clothes, sleeves rolled up, hair in a ponytail, and a spirit that CANNOT be shaken.