Unearthed journals from “Is it June Yet?” When I find these entries in my teacher journals, I give myself grace for surviving twenty-five years in the trenches and feel gratitude for every student who taught me perseverance. Since it’s almost midnight, and I have to roll out of bed in…

The monkey is not screeching in it’s cage. — A public service announcement from the woman who told the first English class she’d ever taught that their next assignment was to read, The Tale of Two Titties. The above offered as evidence that I have a long history of humiliating typos/spelling errors (as in a True/False test on The…

The door isn’t locked — Only Emily Dickinson’s poem How happy is the little Stone could have me wondering if the rocks in my garden might be happier than I am on any given day. How happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone, And doesn’t care about Careers And Exigencies never fears — Whose…

And I can’t wait to run away again. Maybe longer. — Wanderlust? Are you kidding? With five children? At one point in my life, all I lusted for was to go to the bathroom alone and drink a cup of coffee while it was still hot. The kids, at the time, were mostly wonder lusting to determine their next point of…

Appreciating the brave students determined to wrestle a vocabulary word or sentence into legitimacy — “Many legendary football players have been induced into the Hall of Fame.” While searching for yet another important item that I placed somewhere “safe,” I discovered one of my teacher journals buried in a stack of books on my office floor. Flipping through the pages written ten years ago, I…

Especially if my children find them first — Some days, I’m terrified that I will be left drooling in a hospital bed, conscious enough to know my kids are lined up to bop me on the head in retribution for the words that they may feel that I’ve hit them with for decades. I’ve been writing journals for…

this might put you over the edge. — When I taught English (on a good day) to high school juniors, I always wished I could let them conjugate the verb “to fuck.” That would have held their attention…at least for awhile until I explained “conjugating verbs” isn’t anything like having sex in prison. But, since we couldn’t afford…

With apologies to Emily — I’m Depressed! Do you know me? Are you Depressed too? Then there’s two of us! Let’s shout it out! People may judge us, you know! How lucky to have anti-depressants and therapists, But when we’re not public We confirm the stigma. Several days ago, Jason Provencio of Bouncin’ and Behavin’…

Not unless it tells us where Jimmy Hoffa is buried and that Elvis is alive — First, my disclaimer…any other day I would rather eat raw liver than express my political views. But I find myself growing more and more apprehensive about the world we’re leaving for my grandchildren. So, we can agree to disagree on things that make me wish we had colonies on the…