10 Best Moments of My School Year So Far

I just needed a reminder of how amazing the job I get to do is today...


1. Getting a hug from a student during open house. He was so excited to be in my class again.

2. This conversation:

Student: Do I talk too much?
Me: You talk when you should be listening, but it's not bad to talk. Talking will help you in life. And I like you a lot even though you interrupt me.
Student: You like me?
Me: Of course.
Student: A teacher has never told me that before.

Since that conversation, that student has moved for apathy to dedicated work for me.

3. Watching a group of students dunk their noses in Vasoline and then in cotton balls in an attempt to move cotton balls across the room. This is hilarious. Highly recommended class builder.

4. Reciting every one of my 65 students' names as they walked through my door on the 3rd day of school.

5. Observing one of my most difficult students from last year immerse himself in a book for 10 minutes without even glancing up once.

6. A student offering to share his jacket when I was shivering one day.

7. A exceptionally self-conscious student's giant smile after I told her how well she did on a test.

8. Walking a student through the halls and talking her ear off even though she definitely wanted to me left alone. And then watching as my stupid chatter about nonsense eventually helped her fall from agitated to calm.

9. Hearing students shout out things they saw and felt while they were reading a story.

10. Sitting in a circle in a the library with my smallest class and sharing stories as we all laughed together.

When You Lose...

 This feeling sucks. This post-Husker loss slump can break your heart and suck the life right out of you. You can say "It's just a game" or "It wasn't all bad", but that doesn't stop the bleeding. 

Those wounds aren't something we need to hide away though. The only reason we have them is because we dove in with our hearts. Every single time the Husker football players take the field, I am filled with hope and joy and excitement. Sometimes those feelings are squashed, which hurts a lot, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't hope or get excited. A lot of people try that approach. We all know those fans that put up walls before the game even starts. They deflect hope and instead protect themselves by preparing to lose. 

Sure, they might not hurt quite as bad as optimistic fans like me do, but they also are missing something hugely important. That heart-racing feeling I get as I walk into the stadium can't be beat. And those feelings don't always get squashed. Instead, sometimes they multiply. Even today, there were moments where I was so excited I was jumping up and down. I couldn't stop smiling. I was so joyful and that joy reflected in every face around me. I was high-fiving strangers. It was contagious and it was amazing community experience.

This isn't an experience only found in sports or competitions. There are so many things to get excited about in the world. There is so much in our world to fall in love with. So much that makes us feel joy. It is so important that we don't avoid those things for fear of a broken heart. We will be let down over and over again. That is a fact. But avoiding experiences or lying about how much we care about something or someone won't make us hurt less. We have to take a chance at losing in order to take a chance winning the best things in life.

The Boy in the Red Hoodie

I was driving along 27th Street yesterday and spotted a group of teenage boys walking in a pack on the sidewalk. I would have driven right by without a second thought, but a certain red hoodie caught my eye. A red hoodie I had seen every single day last school year by one of my students. I knew it was him and I actually hit my brakes, trying to slow down and catch a glimpse.  Who was he with? Where they headed? Were they getting into trouble?

I sound like a total stalker, right? Or at the very least, an overprotective mother. But honestly, I never run into my former students in Lincoln. Ever. It's one of the worst parts of teaching. I build relationships with students for a year or sometimes two. I hear their struggles. I know what they love. I read with them and laugh with them. And then I never see them again.

It doesn't help that I have insomnia so I slept my nights pondering the most asinine things. Is Livon still playing basketball? And is anyone coming to support him if he is? Is Brooklyn making friends in high school? Does Maday still write in a journal every day? I bet she has a boyfriend. I hope he's good to her. Is Leo's mom still sick? I hope he's able to keep up with school after taking care of his siblings. Does Angel still get in trouble for wearing his hood up? And do his teachers laugh as much at his jokes as I did?

I can't keep track of all the students I teach. They aren't all wearing red hoodies on major streets. And the number I have taught is always growing. Most of the kids won't remember me either. In the years I do have them, though, I want to make sure they know I care. Every day we come in as teachers and plan a lesson and give feedback and ask questions and call them by their names, we are showing we care a lot. I will keep working to make the moments count.

How I Want You to See Me

When I was a kid, I used to get really angry. Really, really angry. I'd lash out, usually at my siblings, and I'd physically shake...and I couldn't figure out why. As I got older, I also started to withdraw a lot. I'd be at a basketball game or family birthday party or at lunch in my high school and suddenly feel a strong pull to disconnect or leave completely. People would ask me what had happened and I really couldn't explain it at all, but it felt awful. Over the past year or two, I've come to understand myself a little bit better and looking back I think those reactions were reactions to instances of shame or vulnerability. Someone said or did something that made me feel bad about myself, even if they didn't know it, and I had that natural "fight or flight" instinct.

I've basically devoured every text and video by Brené Brown and am currently listening to her audio lessons, because her work is a big part of my self-realization efforts. The more aware I am of what she calls "shame triggers", the better equipped I am to counteract them. I think, "I'm not actually angry. I just don't like when people think of me that way" or "I'm pulling away and putting up a wall. Stop Roxie. Lean into this moment. Let that person see you. You don't have to hide." And, yes. I am actually having conversations with myself. My internal monologue never shuts up. 😄

In the latest book I read by Brown (but actually one of her earlier books), I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn't), she presents a simple exercise to help identify your own triggers, which I found incredibly interesting. You start with the sentence stem "I want to be perceived as..." and list five ways you want to be seen. Then, you do the opposite starting with "I don't want to be perceived as..." One of the most surprising things about this was how easy it was for me personally. It was also surprising when I realized how important these things were to me. Brown gave many examples and everyone is so different. Some focus on intelligence or being a good mother or being healthy or physical appearance. Everyone has different pieces that make up the way they want to be seen and the things they desperately want to avoid. I have shared my answers below.

I want to be perceived as caring, strong, hard-working, open-minded, and positive.

I don't want to be perceived pushy, judgemental, selfish, bossy, or cynical. 

These things explain so much. It explains why I say "yes" to everything even when I don't really have time. I have to show I'm hard-working. But I work hard enough without having to always prove it.

It explains why I get really angry when my sister rolls her eyes when I tell her to do something. I suddenly realize I was pushy/bossy and hate that image of myself. But I can fix it without anger.

It explains why I dislike others doing things for me. I don't feel strong. But letting others be strong doesn't make me weak.

It explains why I suddenly withdraw from an interaction when I see someone zone out when I'm talking. I've realized that I'm being selfish and talking all about myself. But I have the right to talk about myself sometimes. I am enough.

Lessons Learned

I learned a lot of things this summer when I traveled to Italy. I learned so much about history and art and religion. I learned about a different culture and communicated with new words and gestures. I navigated new cities and tasted new foods. I participated in Italian superstitions and witnessed the most amazing architecture. It was one of the very best experiences of my life.

But one lesson I learned was unexpected. I've been trying to describe it in my own words for weeks, but have failed, so I think the best way to illustrate this lesson is through something a fellow traveler said. One girl in my tour group was asked if she was glad she went on this trip without her boyfriend of if she missed him. Her response was something like this:

"I am so glad I did this on my own. It makes me feel confident in myself as an individual. I'm so glad I was able to enjoy the things that make me happy without constantly worrying if he was happy. But...I still wish he was here. It's not that I need him. It's just that when I'm seeing and experiencing such amazing things, I want to turn to someone I love and share it."

I may not have a boyfriend, but I had a similar feeling all the time in Italy. People say that trips like these help you "find yourself", but what I found out about myself is regardless of how independent I am, I like to share. When a tour guide made a joke, I wanted to turn and see someone else laughing. As I stood in awe in front of the Statue of David, I instantly wanted to share the moment with people close to me. I wanted to say, "You should try this" to someone at my table each time I ate something fabulous. In fact, despite my antisocial tendencies, I did reach out to many people in my group. Even with strangers, swimming together in Monterosso and dancing together in Florence and watching soccer together in a pub in Rome made up some of the most beautiful, memorable moments of the trip.

I think life is about human connections and shared experiences. My best days at work are those where I make a connection with a student. And my best personal days are when I laugh with someone or listen to a story.  So, as this new school year gets started, I plan to share myself and my experiences as much as possible. Like my friend on the tour said, it's not that I need someone. I am confident in myself. It's just that when I'm happy, why not share that happiness? When I'm sad or upset, why hold that all by myself? We aren't meant to live in isolation. We are meant to share.

Leaking Love

I keep searching for hands.
Hands to hold me.
Not a hand to hold my hand
or a hand to hold my head up.
Not hands locked around my waist.
But hands to carry the messy innards
of me.

Some say anger boils over,
but the stuff overflowing in me is
a sweeter syrup.
It's hope and love and trust
mixed with a spoon of vulnerability.
It pumps through my veins
and the thumps of my heart
whisper to me, asking me
to give it away.

When I find hands I trust,
that feel strong and soft,
I pour myself into them
without a thought.
Many hands have held my love
and many palms still do.
But many hands have opened up their fingers
and let me slip through.

Most hands hold me tight at first.
I keep them warm and sweet.
But then I give too much and they slowly
let me leak.
I try to catch the falling drops.
I tuck them into my folds.
But you can only self-love so much
before a drop gets through
and hits the pavement with a
splat.

Knowing Others. Knowing Yourself.

Middle-schoolers know everything.

Didn't you know?

They know the release date for the newest pair of Jordan's

And every word recited by Lil Uzi Vert.

They know that Mrs. ____ hates them.

And that reading class will always be boring. 

They know Steph Curry is a god

And that they will be famous like him one day.

As they are trying so hard to know everything,

making assumptions and spitting out unquestionable facts

as quick as the shot of a gun,

I am quick with a counterattack

of all the things I don't know.

"I don't know what you do after school.

I don't know your greatest fears.

I don't know what makes you laugh

or who you trust to hold your secrets.

I don't know you."

"But you want to know something?

You may not be able to choose your teachers,

or your chores, or your classes, or even your family,

but you can choose who you share your life with.

I'm here to listen if you want.

You don't have to tell me anything about yourself.

I don't need to know." 

.........................................................................

As I grow older, more people "know" me.

Didn't I know? 

They know I'm loyal

and will always show up.

They know I'm forgetful

and shouldn't be trusted.

They know I'm shy.

I just need to "open up."

They know I'm loud.

And tap me to remind me to quiet down.

As they are trying so hard to remind me of who I am,

giving me advice and assuring me of their camaraderie

grasping at this rope between us,

I am starting to understand

that even I don't yet really know myself.

I don't know who I want to be when I "grow up."

I don't know how to be less stressed.

I don't know what will bring me the most joy.

I don't know how to find balance.

I'm still figuring it out.

But you want to know something?

I may not be the best teacher or friend, or daughter.

I may not say the right things.

I may say way too much.

But I am lucky enough to have people that will listen.

And I still, have that power to choose

to whom I hand the keys to my life.