Sunday, March 2, 2014

Slice of Life - Day 2

            As much as I try not to, I begin to feel myself tense up by this time on Sunday.  In a couple of hours, I’ll pack my lunch and lay out my clothes for tomorrow.  I’ll be in bed by 10:00 and fall asleep hoping that the coming week will go without incident.
            It hasn’t always been this way.  We’ve had moments in the past.  After all, we are a middle school so hormonally driven drama moments are common.  However, this year, our moments are driven by certain staff members…professionals who should know better.  A once peppy staff has been reduced to a group of droopy-shouldered individuals. 
            The worst part of this is that we don’t know what to do to fix things.  Do we step outside of our “family” and ask for help?  Even adults don’t want to be known as snitches especially now that we’ve lost tenure. 
            On the other hand, we have to consider that we have three months of school left and many are already at their breaking point.  When spring fever hits the kids, everyone needs to be on top of their game. 
Tired, stressed adults + restless pre-teens/new teens = potential disaster

       Dare I make myself the sacrificial lamb and call foul on what’s going on in the building?  Somebody needs to stand up for us.

Saturday, March 1, 2014

Slice of Life - Day 1

When Oprah still had a daytime talk show, I would tell my friends that one day I was going to be the author of one of her Book Club selections. 
As far back as I can remember, I’ve loved reading and writing. 
In the beginning (back in my middle school days), I mainly wrote poems.  Then I started journaling and eventually I moved on to short stories and essays.  Writing was an outlet that got me through a lot of hard, lonely days.  Writing helped me figure out who I am.
I used to write constantly.  Some of the time it may have only been a paragraph or two that were just ramblings but they were mine.  I put pen to paper and made those ramblings happen. 
When I’m really focused, I can turn out some pretty decent pieces of work.  But, when I’m tired and stressed, it’s hard to be focused.    This has been a hard school year and I’ve let work impact other aspects of my life including my writing.
Recently, I’ve finally come to the realization that I can’t let work define me.  There are other parts of my life that are important and need to be nurtured.
I want to write.  Stressed or not, I need to pick up one of my many pens everyday and write.  What I write may not make it to the New York Times Best Sellers list but I’m still going to write it.
I have a voice and it needs to be heard...even if only one person hears it.
I’m putting down the excuses and picking up my pen.