storm

you rose this morning
red eyed
and
remembering the tears
I caused you.

pillow streaked lightly
with dark lightning,
like dried riverbeds,
runs wildly
along the banks 
of where your head
rested.

last night 
there was a storm.

and it moved
from high to low pressure
into your dreams –
and never cooled,
completely.

the dredged bottom
of displaced
words and
feelings
were left lying
on the floor.

what 
fell out of
our clouds
still remains
too deep
to purge.

nothing 
is picked up
yet.

I stood,
at the door –
seeing the winds
move through you, 
crashing over you,
and then
leaving you
in the morning
looking for precious 
pieces from before
the storm.

for now
the search
will reveal little.
and apart
from breakage
and sharp things,
there is no whole
to hold.

a very good day

My day is split between two portfolios.

In the morning I work with an ASD community class. In the afternoon, I support a grade 12 learning strategies class.

This broad context constantly reminds me of the beautiful and incredible complexity that comes with working in Special Education.

I have ups and downs, like most teachers.

I’m stressed. I’m anxious. I worry. I teach. I repeat.

Today I was reminded of the good stuff, the pulse quickening, heart softening, mind expanding good stuff that sometimes gets pushed out of view.

The gravity in my day is heavy. Too heavy. I question the physics. Most times though, I accept the day as it seems … a grind.

Today was a very good day.

When attendance is low, I have fretted about lost learning time and bemoaned the challenge of re-calibrating my long range plans. Today, instead, we the few sat and talked, and invited other hall wanderers into our space. We talked about post secondary hopes, and the trouble with dating outside of our culture, and what our plans were for the holidays. It was intimate. It was safe. It opened up ideas. It opened up people.

When I am disconnected from my students, I usually up my social game with exuberant hellos in the hallways or meeting and greeting at the front door of the school. Sometimes it works, sometimes not so much. Today I dressed up. I thought about how to communicate happiness and joy without the obligation or confrontation. And I wore my outfit from my house, through my commute, to a Walmart stop, into the school, and for the rest of the day. The students noticed. They smiled. They high fived. They connected with me.

When it feels like I am still a stranger in my new school, I’ll hide out in my office. I answer emails that aren’t a priority and plan lessons that may or may not get used. Today, I wandered the halls between periods, knocked on office space doors, and ate lunch with colleagues. I said yes to dancing on stage for students. I laughed. I smiled. I felt safe. I opened up.

In the future, I will return to this post.

It’s a great reminder of a very good day.