Ms. Taylor Says

Maybe I'm a weird teacher--that is totally possible.  But for me, I have 3 or 4 teacher selves.  There's "Beginning of the School Year" me, full of ideas and delusions about how much time these ideas will take to implement, there is "Middle of the School Year" me, optimistic that there is still plenty of time in the year to do all I dream of--but kind of in need of a nap, and then there is "End of School" me.  This last one comes to the surface as the sun starts to set later and later.  In the final weeks of school, as all of the "lasts" occur, the summer hovers over me like a helicopter parent on the first day of kindergarten, constantly reminding me of it's glorious and long-awaited arrival. Everywhere I turn, I am reminded of all the productive and artistic things I can, and will, do once summer starts: that pile of books on my nightstand and the emails announcing fresh fruit at the local orchard remind me how artsy and outdoorsy...

"Ms. Taylor hates Robin Thicke.  And Miley Cyrus."  These were the words my students busted out with when Matt Wertz (an awesome singer/songwriter who graciously visited our class last week) gave them a quizzical look after an off-handed comment about Thicke.  I didn't really deny it.  I don't hate them as people per se.  I more hate what I see their messages doing to my kids.   Between my classes, the writing center, and coaching, I talk to hundreds of kids every year, and the more time I spend with them, the more they become my kids--the cause of my worry, the audience for my unsolicited advice, the people I am cheering for as they decide what it means to be a good human--an adult.  And the longer I teach,  the more vocal I become about messages from pop culture that concern me. And when I see my students absorbing lies about their value or place in society, I begin to panic a bit.  I fear they are buying in to a dangerous understanding o...

This week of spring break has truly been a break.  And I love that spring break is always Holy Week.  It, most of the time, gives me a chance to move slower through Christ's last week.  On Tuesday a friend and I took her precious daughter over to one of our favorite pizza places.  As we chatted about the Supreme Court, I made faces at the baby, and we devoured delicious food, the baby chomped on some pita bread.  After we had finished eating, we were sitting around.  The baby girl is in the stage in which she grabs whatever is around.  She grabbed a paper napkin and did what all babies do--she tried to eat it.  As my friend and I laughed about it, my friend made a good point.  "It can't taste good.  You would think she would stop doing that."  I thought, "Yeah!  I know."  I then told my friend one of my favorite stories from picking strawberries last year.  A mom had brought her 18-month-old son to the berry...

While I often realize I am an adult, I still have moments when I think, "I'm not old enough for this."  One of those moments happened this summer when I found myself listening to a teenager explaining to me why my current vacuum cleaner was doomed.  I still don't feel old enough to have to do things like care about the way a vacuum functions, let alone buy a new vacuum cleaner.  I now know that is not true--because I am now the proud owner of a refurbished Orek.  It will supposedly last me for quite a while, and it does all kinds of fancy things that my old one didn't.  Being me, I, of course, started thinking about my other vacuum cleaners.  Yes, that's plural.  While I may not be grown-up enough to buy one, I have owned a few.  And the funny thing is they all came from my grandmother in one way or another.  And I think my sister's first vacuum came from her as well.  Nanny was an interesting woman.  She in no way fit in with the...

As I took a little walk to the local 7-eleven (don't judge...) tonight and felt the wind blow through my hair, I thought about this day last year.  Hurricane Irene was rolling through town.  A guy who seemed like a promising prospect came over to eat spaghetti and play memory.  It was one of those nights when everyone stays in.  Those nights that feel like something from days gone by.  School was about to start, and I was taking in my last days of freedom. I've always been one of those people who like to think about where I was this time last year, what has happened since then, and how things have changed.  The start of the school year functions kind of like New Year's for me.  I set goals, reflect, and daydream.  As I was walking tonight and thinking about another hurricane season, I couldn't help but be baffled by the year that has unfolded since I sat at the dining room table with my roomie and my new friend decorating sugar cookies.  As...

Yesterday, I was having an informative conversation with one of my runners.  It went something like this: Me:  Did you know that Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte have both said that swimmers pee in the pool.  I used to think that runners were rather uncivilized because they blow snot out their noses while they run, but I think peeing in the pool is worse. Runner: Well, pee has ammonia, so it's kind of like they are cleaning the pool. Me: Good call. Runner: Yeah, ancient people used urine to clean their clothes. Me: Man, I bet those people stunk--between the pee and the b.o. I think it is clear what I bring to the table as a coach. :)