teach.run.pray.

Alcoholism. Domestic abuse. Jail. Racism. Murder. Single parenting. Poverty. Infidelity. Being a child left alone to speak with cops because the adults fled to the woods. Deadly car accident. Felon. Drug addiction. Borderline personality disorder/bipolar. Divorce. Threats. Bank robbery. Death of a father, brother, sister, step-father, friends, ex-boyfriend, grandparents. All of those words describe life problems. Life problems I've witnessed. I've lived. Those words are only a portion of what my mom has conquered and lived through. Those words are only a handful of problems my immediate family has faced. The list gets WAY longer when I add in problems extended family, like my cousins, have faced. My own life experiences are enough for an Emmy winning drama, but when you add my extended family, boy oh boy, you've got years and years of dramatic material. People always say every family has that "one." Well, our families have had those "few." I'm su

It's week four of the new school year. Long, long hours have been spent in the school building planning lessons, preparing materials, organizing, mentoring, and everything in between. However, I'm not complaining.  Last year, I was complaining a tremendous amount...all year long. My main complaint was about the number of students on my caseload and the nearly impossible schedule. But, I'm not complaining about that this year, because I was allowed a much-needed change. I'll leave those complaints to the new resource teachers. I didn't realize just how much my job, as a resource teacher, was impacting my health and well being until these last few weeks. I have more energy going into work each day than I've ever had. I enjoy every second of my job. It's a breath of fresh air. So, I'm not complaining. The first Friday of September fifth graders had their first house meeting. All of our fifth graders were randomly selected and added to one of six houses.

Growing up, my mom took my brother and me to church pretty much every Sunday, and we prayed at church. My brother and I prayed before dinner when staying at my Mammie's house and at our great Granny's house. Our mom and extended family talked to us about prayer and how important it was. But, for some reason, there wasn't tons of prayer going on as a family in my house. I think it mostly had to do with my dad. He didn't like church or anything that went with it. Plus, he was an alcoholic, so he didn't think about praying as much as he thought about drinking. I remember my mom praying with us when we'd hear his drunken steps coming through the door in the middle of the night, but we didn't pray before dinner. Praying together as a family just wasn't something we did much. As I got older, I thought of prayer as something I was supposed to do as a Christian, but other than the praying I did as a child in church, or in my bedroom with my mom when we were sc