Blog

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Baby, You’re a Star

At the end of each quarter at the high school, many students’ schedules undergo shifts. Maybe they switch to taking the required Health course, or maybe external pushes and pulls result in the order of their classes getting switched around. Sometimes, those pushes and pulls cause a student to be...

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Day in the Life 2

A Day in the Life: I Am a Hat Rack

Four years ago, a new semester started in my online classes, and I got scared. In one of my sections of research writing, a section that was very lively from the first day and never ceased to have excellent energy, there was this one student, and she made me nervous....

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ThwappyBurpday 3

I Didn’t Eat the Booger

It’s my birthday. I’m 49 today. I’m also in the midst of recovering from shoulder surgery, in a semi-diminished state that has left me feeling grateful for many things on this day of taking stock. Example #1: Last week, Byron and I were standing in the bathroom, with him waiting...

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In a Funk

“How can it smell so bad? We just showered you yesterday!” As I stand in the kitchen sniffing my fingertips, Byron is incredulous. Bruno Mars is still backstage polishing his loafers, yet there is some serious funk going on. I press my fingertips to my nose, and it is a...

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Fork 2

White Knuckles

Clatterplunk. Every night we hear it above our heads: the rolling of the office chair as it’s pushed away from the desk, the thump of a plate being grabbed off the wooden desk, and the predictable punctuation of clatterplunk as a fork hits the floor. These sounds tell us something: the fifteen-year-old is on the move....

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Memory Box 1

Warm Fuzzies

When I was in 4th grade, my class went through a careful, deliberate, rigidly enforced process of loving each other. Such was the climate in the mid-1970s, an era when feeling groovy was a cultural mandate. At some point during 4th grade, our teacher, Mrs. Ring, talked to us about the...

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Memory Box 3

Wherein My English Teacher Rightly Hangs Me Out to Dry

During sophomore year of high school, my English teacher was named Mrs. Rice. We can’t accuse Mrs. Rice of being overly fond of the redhead in the second row. As I review the work I did in her class, it is apparent that Mrs. Rice was a seasoned teacher. I wasn’t...

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Memory Box 1

Dear God, I Love You

One of my first friendships was with a neighbor girl, Susan. When we were two years old, our mothers decided we should be friends. So we were. As we were coming up, we loved each other hard, yet we had terrible battles. A kid who was innately a people-pleaser, averse to...

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