Reset Button and then Reset Again. Then one more time.

Oh balls...it has been one heck of a wild ride since leaving my job weeks ago. And just when I thought I had it all figured out, I have had to hit the reset button not once, not twice, but three times until I could finally get it right. It is no accident that in the last few weeks I have learned that I've been running 100 mph for so long that now everyone seems snail paced.I have also learned how to check my ego, how to value my worth, and that the grass is not always greener. But through it all, I am strong and I am finding my groove again.

I am thankful that I have met some amazing people along the way in the recent journey. Genuinely good people that I wish nothing but good on. This is more about learning that since leaving the teaching profession, my heart has not been settled. As I was so heavily involved with my kids as a teacher and coach, I have yearned (without realizing), that I find such joy in helping people. It is in my nature to serve and support. I have a need to be needed. The dichotomy comes in my creative brain that thrives in chaos. It has created such a challenge professionally as I find that one is sacrificed for the other. In a perfect and hopeful world, both will find equal place.

What I have learned in recent weeks is that the man I do life with is incredibly patient, kind, supportive and all things good for me. As I tend to find myself on the roller coaster time and time again, he stands by while I loop around one too many times without an I told you so on his breath (though I think he keeps those thoughts quietly in his back pocket). Bless him for enduring. And for his bouts of humor.

I have also learned that I'm impatient and often in the worst ways. I knew this about myself but have had to finally admit it begrudgingly. It does cause for a few eye rolls.

I am learning that doing life with intention is not easy. Life is messy. Sometimes life sucks, but life is also beautiful. There is a lot of hurt in the midst, but I have hope in the healing. Life can be chaos, but there is calm before and after the storms. I color in chaos.

In putting down roots again, there is vulnerability. True commitment stays, even when things get ugly. You can't run or hide when things get tough or uncomfortable. I want to be in it for the long haul. I want moments of joy to be etched in my memory bank as a well of resource when there are moments of drought.

For the most part, I am back in my own skin. My body is still somewhat tired (especially after starting Pure Barre, but I'll save that for a future post) but my soul is reenergized. Travel has done my heart well. I've spent time in Idaho with some of my favies and also took a long overdue vacation with an open ended agenda. It was an incredible coastal trip with my favorite companion. Lots of outdoor adventures, food indulges, and some great wine with amazing weather in the quaintest cabin made for moments to treasure along with the rocks and shells we brought home.

All to say, I'm indulging in my art again, getting healthy, cooking a lot (and actually well!), and enjoying the company I keep. Like the year I moved 8 times, and the year I went through meeting a ton of new people in my relationship transition, this Year of Adventure has led to significant professional change(s). But like the other changes, I'm finding myself in an even better place than I would imagine as it is opening the future for good.

So I will keep on dreaming. I will take the risks. And live just on the outskirts of my comfort zone. I will breathe deeply. I will look for joy, even in the desert moments. I encourage you to do the same. Trust me. It's where you find the treasure.

Rest Required.

So I am now in the cancer recovery zone from my surgery and barrage of doctor appointments. With an unexpected turn of being put on disability, I have been forced to rest from Dr. K for a few weeks. With skyrocketing blood pressure and the reopening of two incisions, I am now taking in the doctor's orders and find myself now at home most days, watching Netflix and writing, but also pouring my energies into resurrecting my need to create, draw, and paint. Alas, the birth of Paper Velveteen.

On a few attempts, I have tried to pursue my dreams to be an illustrator and children's author, but it always seemed as though life got in the way. Though that dream has evolved some, I am allowing my brush to do work once again. My new space has also been inspiring to do so along with the undivided time to devote. My work desk sits under two windows which gives so much natural light. As well, I find myself having dreams of new ideas, which is welcomed after weeks of restless sleep due to incisions, stress, and other such worries. (Still feels strange though not being in the office each day.)


It feels good to be back in my creative element. To listen to the still, small voice telling me that I can do this. That I can create something from nothing. That dreams come true with some ingenuity and hard work. And they aren't to be ignored.

So with that being said, I am in need of prayer as there are still some changes that need to be made. Some healing that is still underway. And a small dream starting to ignite into something quite undefined at this point.

Looking forward to this next chapter once again. After all, isn't this to be the year of adventure?!

p.s. If you are not yet following, give @papervelveteen some love. And please, tell your friends! There is more to come!

{The epic logo of Paper Velveteen was designed by the one and only @hat_daddy. Thanks, homie.}

Theme Park For Sale.

Since my accident a few weeks ago, it feels as though the theme park has been busier than ever. The carousel of chaos continues to spin. The roller coaster dips are getting more intense. And the nausea from it all is in full effect. Thankfully most of the physical wounds have healed from the accident, but there are wounds of the heart that are now surfacing.

After what I consider to be a moment of cheating death yet again after the car accident, I had the come to Jesus moment when I could quickly look at my priorities and figure out what truly mattered. Similar to life after cancer, but this was more of a flash bang. What matters most is people. Loving them. Enjoying them. And treasuring them. Because time on this earth is short and you don't always get to cheat death. Sometimes heaven calls those we love home and it just seems too soon.

We don't always get enough time to love. A former student of mine went to be with Jesus this last week after a motorcycle accident. In his early 20's, he was called home. I remember vividly his mannerisms. He drove me crazy in the classroom. But students like him were my favorite. They made my job as a teacher challenging and entertaining. I used to call his name out constantly in class. And in an instant, he is now gone. His parents made the brave decision to keep him on life support until his organs could be donated. What an incredibly selfless moment that must have been. Heaven got an angel that will surely keep heaven on its toes. What a gift.

Another dear friend was called home in the last few days which has also caused the tears to flow. She was one of the dearest, most loving women that was always caring and smiling, despite the pain she quietly carried. I can't thank her enough for entrusting me with her deepest secrets, but also allowing me to share in mine. To be completely honest, she walked with me in some of my darkest valleys. My calm in the storm. There were nights she would stay on the phone with me until all hours of the morning until my heart was calm enough to sleep. In a moment, she too is gone. I know her sadness all to well as I have been there. The pain she carried was too heavy to bear. I get it. I don't want to believe it, but I sadly understand. She died to what I believe was a broken heart. I wish I had known her pain had grown so incredibly deep. She hid her hurts from others so well with her love and her smile, but I can't help but wonder how I could've talked and listened to her this time until the pain had subsided. Her two boys were her entire life and love. And they are left to pick up the pieces. My prayer is that truth is understood and that those boys know how much she lived and loved for them. I could only hope that someday I could be half the mother she was with such love and devotion.

Heaven now has two incredible angels that were called home too what I think from earthly eyes, was too soon.

It makes me wonder why He took them home, yet I continue to get extra lives. It is becoming more evident that there is a calling on my life that I just don't yet understand and a job to do that perhaps I am not yet aware. But that doesn't mean the earthly pain goes away with losses like these. It is apparent that my life as a teacher is not a finished career as many of the students and families are still very much part of my story. I cry out wondering when the spinning will stop. I often pray to God asking Him when will the good parts will happen. Just when I think I have it all figured out, there is another dip in the ride. The pain gets exhausting. The carousel continues to go around and around.


I do, however, see God answering prayers. In my own situations, God provided a "new" car to me after I was so discouraged thinking I would be hoofing it. And you know, the car He provided is perfect for me. Money was provided in ways I could not have imagined. I had good advice from some dear people that guided me to this decision as I was struggling to figure out what Ellen wanted instead of listening to all of the other voices. And not only does my new ride exceed my checklist with features I didn't think I could afford, it was exactly $1 under the budget I set for myself. Answered prayer.

The relationship roller coaster has been my ride of choice over the last decade. And though the ride has had different names and faces, I somehow find myself in the same peaks and dips that result in pain. Obviously relationships are going to have their highs and lows, but I find myself in a state of nausea and white knuckles all too often. I wonder if I am the common denominator to it, or if this is just part of my story. Perhaps it is a combination of both. And someday I will tell my story and be able to say that it was all worth it.

My heart continues to ache. My eyes are swollen from the tears that have been shed. And it is supposed to be my birthday weekend. It is apparent that my birthday will look much different than I anticipated. I will make the most of it. I will look for reasons to celebrate. I will look to love those around me. At this point, it will be friendships, tattoos and wine as part of the festivities. But most important, I will love. I will seek ways to find joy.

I also know, that beyond my birthday, I have a theme park for sale. As much as I love excitement, thrill, and adventure, I am not sure I can continue to endure the roller coaster rides. I prefer something that looks more like the swings, even if they are the ones that go around in circles as it lifts you higher so you can dangle your feet.

"Be still and know that I am God." --Psalm 46:10

And for those that are on the roller coaster, I want to share a song by a band called Gungor, "Beautiful Things." It plays on repeat for me.

EGBOK.

Black.

The dreaded commercialism filled holiday has come and gone yet again. I absolutely hate the day. In fact, I wear black each year as a tribute to our dear friend, Julie Irene Nichol (a.k.a. Penny). Rest in peace, friend. She hated the holiday and boycotted it each year, so it was only fitting to wear black once again in her memory. But also this year, being single for the first time in years, it was all the more reason. Not as a scorned woman, but as a woman empowered. Screw you, capitalist holiday that creates crowded restaurants, overpriced goods, and pressure to need someone. Nope. Not having it. Instead, I spent the day doing things for myself. I went shopping. Ate a delicious meal. Got a pedicure. Met up with a friend. Had a few glasses of wine. And stayed up way too late texting Good Suit. It was exactly the way I wanted to spend the day.

In fact, days like that seem few and far between right now. I have been running on empty with all that my schedule has been packed with these days. I had Jane for 10 days. I have been working weekends doing merchandising and other projects. I moved finally. Again. (And HALLELUJAH!). And I have been trying to catch up with friends and maintain some semblance of a social life. I love the busy-ness of it all, but it is not so good for the time I need to myself. To think. Draw. Paint. Read. Sleep. Reflect. Pray. So as we have entered the season of Lent, I have decided that rather than give up my indulgences or vices like wine, shopping, eating out, sweets, coffee, etc., I am taking back. I am going to start saying no. It is unfortunate, but I have taken a few valuable pages from the book of the boss man. He has empowered me and reminded me to do so. In fact, in recent conversations, he has also shed light on other aspects of my life. Amazing how he is not only an amazing creature as a boss, but speaks such wisdom and demonstrates such care for me as a human. He is one of my Top 10 favorite men I will know in this life.

Recent conversation with boss man led me to finally surrender my "key." Months ago, I took a key during a series at church about the "Key to..." I had been holding on to the key until I could forgive. Trust me, I was white knuckle fisted around this situation of hurt. I had been struggling to forgive someone for years and that also ultimately led to a struggle to forgive myself. And after talking with boss man, he said that the last 12 years of my life, pain and all, have led me to this place where the pieces have all fit. He said that all he sees in me is joy. And rather than hold on to the hurt, I should be thanking that person for freeing me to be where I am now. Ding. Ding. Ding. I have let it go (Go ahead, sing the Frozen version). But truly, I have been able to let the walls down and realize that it is all part of the journey. I am done hurting. I am done harboring. I genuinely miss you. Wish the best for you. And hope our paths cross from time to time. But I am riding the Tsunami of Awesome instead. So thank you. And, for what it is worth, I forgive you. But more importantly, I forgive me.

I am enjoying this new chapter with the Daughter Girl. Suit. Jitana. Deeder. Lita Pita. Inked Writer. Hot Nutz. Gusband Bestest. Spirit Animal. Listen Linda. The Mister. Ronny Tornado. And all of the other people that make my life so colorful.

So, Valentine's Day, you are dumb. You will always be a holiday to wear black. Again, Let's Be Rad. 2015.

Christmas Letter. 2014.

Dear Friends...

Of course, I'd like to send out Christmas cards, but life is chaotic once again in preparations for my move (yes, I know...again) to a place I hope to call home for more than a minute. 

As I sit down to write this letter, I'm typing it from my phone as I wait to for Jane to finish dance class. (I'll explain later) Life is moving at a completely different pace than it was 12 months ago. But to be truthful, this is peace in chaos, which is unexpected. And I'm more than enjoying this chapter and all it is bringing. Reflecting on this year, it's been a lifetime of events in a mere 350 some odd days. 

I started the year in a relationship and with what I thought was a steady career.  Soon into the year, I was laid off from teaching, so plans to make the relationship more permanent seemed like an attainable reality. The decision to move to him seemed to make sense. I sold half of my furniture, clothes, and much of my other worldly possessions and moved once summer hit. I moved south with great dreams. And I also moved with a plan. Jory (my Bestest) became my business partner and Studio Black Sheep was born. I must say with truth that Jory has been a highlight of my year. The memories we've made in this adventure have been engrained in my brain for a lifetime and the proof lives on in Instagram and on Facebook. I mean, how can we forget that one time in Gustine?! 

And though the move to San Diego was sadly short lived as I love it there, it was a major springboard for change. With the sudden and quite unexpected move back to the LA area, I nannied (for like, a minute) for a few families before landing an amazing job at The LAB. The position, though hard to define, is incredible and tailor made for my personality, but more importantly, the people I've met have made the biggest impact in my life in such a short period of time. My boss and his wife feel like we've known each other for years. He continues to validate me as a person which NEVER happened with my previous working situation. The humor in our office is nothing short of a reality show in the making. And through this working at the office, I've also met the dad of one incredible girl. 

Jane. As I seem to have J's in spades, she's of course, the youngest in my collection, but nonetheless seems to make up for it with her larger than life personality. You know, it's interesting how our lives cross paths with people that are kindred spirits. The kind of people you meet and know you'll be connected for life. And as I have days I miss parts of my life with middle schoolers, I have her to tutor and mentor. She's my people. We understand each other. I get to spend these chunks of time with her. As we work on homework in between her dance classes, we are getting to spend time hanging out too. I see her learn, grow, be silly or serious and to be in conversation. I also get entertained as she is, after all, a thirteen year old. She fills my heart. It isn't something I can label, or even explain in a phrase or even a sentence, but I am thankful for what this is.  

This year has included the births of friendships. The deaths of relationships. A whole heck of a lot of time in a baseball stadium. Countless road trips. Living with gracious people in between chaotic life stages. Lots of #YAAAAASSSSS. Too many cardboard boxes. Idaho. Learning to conquer my anxiety and depression demons. Coffee in excess. A life changing Step Study. My collection of J's. A new car (with the gracious help of my dad and Katty Kat...ahh, Gustine). Making San Fran/Sac town my home away from home. Navigating my way back into church. And of course, Stella (Truly my only constant in this year other than the theme of change. Hard to believe she turned 9 this year!). 

Welcome to Tustin.

And so, as I get ready to embark on this next address move, I'm looking forward to the change. To have a roommate again (Boy, that is an ironic journey of worlds colliding). And to start the year in a better place, literally and figuratively. And to remember, it's not about my identity in others. It's about the identity of me. 

My friends, I pray that as we can get caught up in the holiday craziness, we don't lose sight of the blessings and faithfulness. I count my blessings a little more carefully as it was a frightful adventure of a year. My motto this year was to THRIVE. I finally know a heck of a lot more of what that looks like, which brings such a deep rooted freedom. Next year's motto is just starting to unfold itself. At this point, for 2015, I want to love. To shine. To hope. And to be free in me. 

With love,

.ellen&stella.

What's My Address Again?

The new place is still under construction.

So as I know things have changed so fast for me this year that before I finish typing this sentence I will probably have another new address. Oh wait...that's right...I am moving. Yet again. In 6 weeks. It'll be Move Number 7 or 8 in the last 12 months. Oy vei. This move I will actually order address labels for and make sure my driver's license matches only so that it seems like I am settled this time for more than a minute. On that note, I have also decided to go back to the roommate life as I was given an offer too good to refuse. I think that it will be a healthy situation and perhaps will provide an for an interesting story someday. It will be nice to have someone there too. I am (we are) upgrading to a very nice new top-floor apartment in a beautiful area that will allow me to spend a lot of time outdoors in Peter's Canyon (as well as other local parks and beaches) so I can run again in good areas and my homegirl, Stella, will get to enjoy life in the dog park at our home. I am looking forward to the change (and to finally unpack--though cardboard brown is so the new black).

Trailer chic.

And though I have moved from La Habra to Cerritos to San Diego to Whittier to La Habra to stints in San Francisco to a vacation in Idaho to Santa Ana to Tustin, I have at least settled in to THE most amazing job. I hate to even call it a job as I don't feel like it is even work. I literally get to be in an environment surrounded by all things Ellen. Creative. Retail. Design. Food. Drink. People. And lots of movement and action. It is really everything in my wheel house. I had no idea such a thing existed. And though I miss the coaching and kids (and some people) of my past life, I could not love this job any more than I do. I work for a creative duo that are at the top of the game. And best part, I have a boss that is a creative genius, respectful, thoughtful, and funny. I had no idea how much my soul and spirit had been damaged in recent years by some in authority of my past professional career. But that has all seemed like ancient history as I work for people that encourage and build. Not a day goes by that I am not laughing and leaving the day feeling valued. It is a dream. Because in turn, I work that much harder and get to thrive in this place. What a novel concept.

People are asking me all the time what it is that I do. And to be honest, I am not sure how to put it in words. I manage an office of creatives. I facilitate the personal and professional schedules of my boss. I buy for the retail spaces. I get to shop and source furniture and accessories for our new ventures. I plan fun events. I get to be creative. I am part of many projects. I work with all kinds of people from city officials, to creatives, to restauranteurs and some major players in the development world. It is kind of crazy. Even more awesome is that I get to have a pulse on trends and pushing the design envelope as I learn from those I work with each day. I get to try all kinds of food and drink from the restaurants. I have met great people that are quickly becoming great friends. I wear whatever I want to work. My hair can be whatever color. And I get to be me. No judging. It is freeing. The bonus (besides these amazing people): we have a trailer and a shipping container in our office. Bet you can't say that about your work space!

Bunny.

Beyond life at The LAB, I have spent a good deal of time making these fly-by-night trips to San Fran. Thankfully my Pops and Katty Kat are there, but I also get to see my "Bestest." (That means he is better than a bestie.) We have been spending these moments together that feel like a blip on the radar, but honestly, we pack every minute. We are still this powerhouse known as Studio Black Sheep making events happen and gettin' it done.  It is amazing how someone can fill your life with so much love and laughter and joy and confidence all at once. And you can spend countless minutes together singing Katy Perry at the of your lungs and purring at each other without being annoyed. It is the best. And to be truthful, it is Jory that I can almost singlehandedly say has been a force in getting me back on my game. He is an amazing human. The kind that plants the deepest and most honest friendship one can ever ask for.

There is a handful of folk that I can say that about these days. They are the ones that know me best and have never left my side. I get to spend holidays with those families. Celebrate birthdays. Go shopping for creatures needed for a 5 year old birthday party or to even just clean out the garage (for days in a row). Or just show up at their house for Sundays together to do whatever the day may call for. It is the kind of stuff that takes my breath away when I feel the sadness for the yesteryears. I have these people that fill the empty spaces. They are more than friends. The "friend" word doesn't do justice. They've become family. And though they definitely don't replace the significant people of the past, they help to bring in new memories and help me to build again. Just this time as a better version of myself.

In a nutshell, I am back. I am alive. I am me again. It has been a decade or so, but watch out. The sleeping lions are wide awake. It was my 2014 resolution to THRIVE. And though this has taken on a completely different look than what I had imagined back on January 1, this is shaping up to be a chapter I couldn't have written better myself. And that, my friends, is how we know that we are NOT the authors of our own story. We simply play a role in a grander picture. Thank God for that.

And so, the ampersand chapter continues...&

Creating Within.

In this transition of life, I am just barely tapping in to my creative side. Some people know my artistic roots, but not everyone knows how much my art is part of me. In the past, it was a way to communicate. It allowed me to escape. To dream. To create. And to be honest, in recent years, I can see how I stuffed my creativity to live the status quo. The dreams were just that too. Status quo and definitely on hold. I don't know if it can be attributed to the circumstances of life or the people with which I chose to have in my intimate circles. Somehow, I still let remnants of that crap still linger. Grrrr.

Anyhow, as I venture in this new chapter and in this year to thrive, I know that the creative stirring needs attention. I long to put pen to paper, brush to canvas, cloth to machine, party to planning. And to channel my energy into the avenues of making this a profession to become a possibility, which will turn the crud into creativity.

In having tea with a friend the other day, it became apparent through my confessions to her that I may have a fear of actually succeeding with anything creative, but with that also comes the accompanied anxiety of some forms of potential rejection. I don't think that it is really the rejection that scares me, but more of navigating through an unknown, though that seems to be such a strong reoccurring theme for me in this stage. For so long, I had chosen what was safe, expected, and what seemed the most convenient. I am beyond exhausted with that kind of living, but this fog isn't any more clear to me. Sometimes I feel like a zombie walking and we all know my gravitation towards zombies and monsters (not all of which are healthy).

All this to say, I suppose I journal these things in my blog to keep me accountable. To remind me that I need to use this time as a springboard to more creativity. And I am also promising to continue to step out of the mundane. The things that haunt my nights and storm my days will soon be defeated. I will not let the things of the past define what will be my future. There are things that I know are better left behind. Time to dream. To hope. To dust off the sewing machine and get all of my art supplies out. The visions are reviving. Characters are being born. Stories are being written. I am surrounded by those that celebrate with me and give me moments and space to think and design. There are those that believe so strongly in me that it gives me the strength and courage to do this. Some even provide the outlets. And so let the creating begin.

Home.

Often in the last year or two, I've been struck with the sleepless nights. Anxiety and worry fill my every thought rather than dreams of puppies and unicorns. Recent nights are no different. Perhaps now, the nights feel worse, even with my toolbox of self help skills, a great support group, and CR. I spend the wee hours of the night awake. In the sleepless nights, I scroll through countless Pinterest images, play my Simpsons game on my iPhone to exhaustion, then after I've stalked the Facebook and Instagram posts of the day, I'm left stirring.

These days my thoughts wander to a feeling of home. I left my childhood home at age 18 (and it was sold in the last few years after the divorce of my parents). Since then I've had 13 roommates and 10 addresses in the last 17 years. And to date, in a sense, I feel homeless. My life is in boxes and a 130 square foot storage unit. I no longer have a DVR filled with my trashy TV to watch, or a fridge filled with my own expired leftovers and jars of who knows what. I don't have family photos hanging on the walls or my piles of nonsense to sort. Most of my furniture has been sold off. And I sleep on air mattresses and couches. Sure, much of this could be filed under first world problems, but ultimately there is a deeply rooted longing for "home." The plans I had were quickly stripped and rerouted. 

In reality, I could take this in a spiritual direction as we all should long for our eternal home. But I'm on earth. And Lord willing, I've got some good years left on this planet. So until I'm at those pearly gates, I long to walk in the door of my own place and collapse. I would like to cook a good meal. I'd like to be surrounded by faces of those I love. I want Stella to feel settled. I'd like to kick my feet up on the couch and talk endlessly to a friend with a glass of wine. And though I want these things, I can see that these last few years (as the wheels fell off so to speak), I've slowly been stripped of my every comfort and identity. I no longer have a job. I am not identified by a relationship of years. My address is TBD. No wonder I stay awake wondering what to do. Where do I matter. Who needs me. Am I even needed. What is my worth. Am I making the right decisions. Do I apply for this job or that. Will this feel normal. How do I move on.

My sister said it well in that this is my chance to be creative. To discover more of me. That I'm not identified by the place I work. The career I had. Or the people I dated. Easier said than done, but the seed has been planted. 

I wish I could say that I was totally satisfied. That all of this is one great big happy adventure. Instead, I question God. I yell at Him wondering when enough is enough. And just when I think I've cried every possible tear and I'm left feeling so empty and defeated, I get a Facebook post of encouragement from an old friend speaking to me of God's grace and favor. And then I get a card in the mail of bunnies and rainbows. Not that it fixed every problem, but it did remind me that at the end of my rope, I find the faithful friends that will pull a hamstring trying to do the splits in the air for my support. I don't have to live at the end.

This plan isn't my own. And though pieces of it are far better than I can imagine, there is a sadness wishing for what was. And my nagging and longing for the sense of home. 

HardKore Rap (That's hardkore...with a K).

As I have 12.5 days left of my teaching career (not that I am counting), I am looking back on some major highlights (I will ignore the lowlights) of my career as a teacher. In all honesty, those that are teachers may understand that teaching is like starring in your own reality show. It is not that we are the stars, but we get to have this recurring role in a constant comedy act/drama/telenovela of entertainment in which we actually get paid. Certainly not the pay of A-list celebrities, but more like the pay of an "extra" that you have to search real hard to see in the shot.

In my last 14 years...

I have been told that my hair looks real nice, "like a Laker girl." (I will take that as most of those women have great hair.)

I may or may not have removed all of the chair and stools from a classroom and saran wrapped them together. Outside. In a pile. With a colleague that will remain nameless.

Did you know that "Jesus and his resurrection was boss?" (You do now, and you also know that resurrection is a vocab word.)

Dutchland is NOT where Dutch people are from. Certain students thought that was the case. Dutch people are from Holland (the Netherlands), but according to my former History student, those people are Hollish. And when I jokingly told the story to my colleagues and said some smart remark about her History teacher, I realized that yes, I was in fact said teacher.

Maturity: to not laugh at a stupid word like sex. (Yes, I did get that definition on a vocab quiz.)

Awkward moments abound. Come on, this is middle school. How can there not be a plethora of those?! I wish I could tell those stories too, but I am working on boundaries.

I have gone through stock in purple pens.

I have had my room littered with hundred of copies of the scientific drawings of the male and female sex organs. Copies of which I still find in my files to this day...years later.

There was once a wonderful persuasive essay written about why I should change a student's seat. The essay was quite effective as she did have a new view the next day in class.

I have learned how to do the Harlem shake. (There is a YouTube video to prove it. Ask my volleyball team.)

There have been wacky days, color days, dress up days. I have been Dorothy from Wizard of Oz, a daughter from Sound of Music, Rosie the Rivoter. I have dressed in duct tape. Had a skateboarder jump over me. I have shared my cancer journey in chapel.

I have been a Crusader my entire teaching career as it was the mascot of both schools.

Kids have molded and shaped me as a person. It is amazing that as I am supposed to be their teacher, yet it is I that gets to learn.

I have graded thousands of essays. Judged many speech meets. Had hundreds of parent conferences. Sent too many emails. Been yelled at. Loved. Appreciated. And blessed.

Worked for 6 principals (Mr. Peters, you are the reason I taught. You truly are a hero of mine). Served under 5 superintendents. Had many secretaries (All of which I adore and seem to keep the school in one piece--what a gift each of those women are to the staffs they have served!).

I have listened to many accents (including those of Duck Dynasty, robot sounds, teacher impressions--I guess I wave my hands a lot when I teach) as I witnessed many kids act out their vocab homework every Wednesday. French Fry Debates have packed on a few extra calories each year as it is key that I test the product (I still have my favorite fries--Fronks). The Grendel trial has been exciting.  Some natural born lawyers in those classes of mine.

Volleyball games, practices, and teams have been a chance for me to know students in a completely different element. We have been able to win championships and sportsmanships. We have seen a few seasons that we were just excited to be .500. Coaching has been incredible.

It has been a wonderful experience to know these kids. To be in relationship with them as teacher and coach. Mentor and friend. To see them succeed, graduate high school, finish college, get married and even start families. A few of my former students are even now on their third kid. (Amazing how that happens as I am 24 years old, according to my students...God love them.)

And this week, as we wrap up a track season (of great success), my Boys' Volleyball team plays for a championship (Come on, boys!) and we have our 14th and final French Fry Debate, I am reminded by my student (Bling, Bling Big Ed as he has asked me to call him), school is serious business. I am proud of each student. Proud of their work. Efforts. Joy. And perseverance into this journey as they become the person God has created each of them to be. School is hardkore with a "k." Call it skool, if you will. And when things get tough, it is so much better to break out in rap. Being a student can bring out the thug life, in your school uniform, of course.