And then. . .

Dear Seniors, Goodbye's have never been my strong suit. Usually, I only have students for a semester, so it's a weird, odd feeling to say goodbye and good luck to a group of students I spent most of my Saturday's with and met a year ago this summer. I wasn't sure what to do to celebrate the end. Cupcakes and snacks seemed cliche (and we only have 30 mins for our last class), so I thought about what I would want to know if I could go back and give advice to baby-face-me. Then, I remembered this song that came out when I graduated, and I remember thinking it was so profound! I looked it up as I'm writing this, and it is still pretty profound except now that I'm older I think, "Oh, yeah, that is totally true!" Each of you have twenty different people telling you what to do right now. I don't want to be twenty-one. This moment is probably going to be one of the biggest, scariest moments of your life, up until now. Note, I said up until now.  For...

This week I sat down to watch Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck. In fact, we kept HBO especially to watch the documentary. (As I write this I can hear my sister mocking me.) I sat down and knew it would be sad, that I wouldn't like some parts, but I was still excited to watch and didn't realize that I'd forgotten just what 1994 had been like. I was 13 years old when Kurt Cobain's body was found. He disappeared on April 5, 1994 and was found on April 8th, my birthday.That day, I sat in my living room on a multi-colored bean bag (it was the 90's after all) and watched MTV nonstop. Even though no new information would be released, I stared endlessly at the screen replaying parts of the Unplugged show. Kurt Loder interrupted with "Breaking News" that was really just a loop of things I already knew. I heard Courtney Love's grief filled boogery voice crying as she read Kurt's suicide letter and felt as if I was a part of the crowd shown on the TV, even if I...

"Isn't it pretty to think so?" She threaded her fingers into his hair. It was dark and smelled musky like it needed to be washed soon. She rested her nose on the top of his head. "Pretty to think what?" he asked. "To think that this," she gestured with a shrug "will not last." He pulled away from her,"But I wanted  it to last." He looked at her, eyes wide and clear. "This is the worst day of my life. Why do you think it's pretty?" He pulled back even further the lines of his face etched deeply between his brows. "I just thought--I mean it's pretty to think there will never be another moment like this again. Even if it's horrible, it's pretty to think you can never lose him again. The way you feel will never happen again." She looked at him and reached out again, but this time he pulled away and pressed his back firmly against the worn brown couch. "I can't believe--I m...

Dear Ita, I finished your book this week. I don't want to add to it anymore. I think you don't want me to add to it anymore either because as I wrote "Sabor a Mi" came on twice and so did "Por Un Amor". "Por Un Amor" came on just as I was finishing, so I'll take the hint. I think we're both tired. Also, I think you don't want me to share anymore of your life. I want you to know that I needed to share those things though, to show how much you still loved even after everything you'd lost. Sometimes when I think of us, it's in stages. When I was little you and Mom were my whole world. Later as teen, I owned the asshole genes from our family like a proud scrape on my new Vans. I was annoying, and standoffish, and well an asshole. I'm sorry for all the times I was a jerk and/or rude. As an adult, I was always working. I remember you would always make me refried cheesy beans at the drop of hat. How did you always have beans ...

Recently, I was asked for the title of the post that featured my favorite books, and I realized I didn't have one. So, this week's post is going to list some of my favorite books in no particular order, but I will separate them by genre and why and...nevermind. Without further ado books that have made an impact on me.  Favorite Book as a Pre-Teen A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle Why? Because it's amazing. It has a sprinkling of everything the mind needs at that age (or at any age). I loved Meg and her family. I loved that she was a smart/brave girl in a world before Katniss. Favorite Recent YA Read   The Smell of Old Lady Perfume by  Claudia Guadalupe Martinez It's a version of a slice of home. Although I couldn't relate to all of it, I know someone who knows someone who's experienced some of those situations. I also like supporting local authors. If you sprinkle El Paso in your book you're good in mine.  Favorite YA Anthology The Curi...

"At any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great." The old woman looked down at the small brown constellations sprinkled on her hands. "But weren't you lonely?" the kid asked. She smiled, small, but it stayed in her eyes and lit them brighter than the flicker of fluorescent lights overhead. "How can you be lonely if you are a part of something bigger than yourself? Everything I've given has been for something better, greater. My acts will live longer than I ever will." This time she stayed quiet and the kid down at his hands, the skin taut and smooth. In the background he heard the garbled voice over the intercom, "Next stop Meridian Plaza". "I'm not sure what you mean, or even if I understand, but--" He looked back at her hands and reached, cradled them in his. The skin was warm. She looked up surprised. He searched the small creases lining her face, some deep and shadowed, ot...

This morning I saw a video titled "If We Treated Teachers Like Football Stars," of course I watched it and laughed. "If only" were my thoughts. Later at school I was talking with a friend and he asked, "You really want to teach, don't you?" and I nodded. Yes, I really do want to teach. Never ever ever ever did I think I'd want to be a teacher. I left my last life because it didn't have any meaning. I felt as if I wasn't doing anything important. Now, although some days are rough, I do feel as if I'm making a difference. Now, I can go on and talk about why I'm being selfless and improving students lives, but that would be a lie. Not a complete lie, but a little white one. I don't help all students. That's not because I don't want it, it's because they don't want it. They sit there the whole semester with a bored and or smelling shit face, and I can't do anything about it. Instead of griping with other facult...