Saturday, May 4, 2013

A Job Offer

As I've mentioned, I have to leave my job for this coming school year.  I've applied a bunch of places, and had my first interview two days ago at a high school for a ninth grade Spanish position.  I was not at all excited for the interview... I adore teaching middle school, I love the awkwardness of the age, and I just hate to admit that I'm really leaving my school.

The morning I had the interview I also had to go get emergency oral surgery and get all 4 wisdom teeth extracted, so I was just in a delightful mood, and really peachy with the principal and vice principal.  I am shocked they sent me an email inviting me to join their staff this evening.

When I walked into the building, it felt comfortable.  Too comfortable.  It felt exactly like where I went to high school.  If I wanted to teach an easy, suburban demographic, I wouldn't live fifteen hours from home.  I know that all students need good teachers, and I'm grappling with being selfish and what the Lord has for me in Memphis and what it's going to look like now that I'm not called to be at Hamilton anymore.  But this school seemed just too easy.  The position would be teaching ninth graders only, and all Spanish 1.

The school was full of upper-middle class kids, lots of privilege and not a lot of challenge.  I didn't move fifteen hours away from my friends and family to work with the high school I grew up going to.  I want to serve the kids who are under-served.  Who miss out on chances.  Who don't have a voice.  I want to advocate for those babies.  I want to love the kids who are missing chances because of their zip code.  While I'm in Memphis, I want to seek out the kids who deserve every opportunity to reach their highest potential, in my classroom, and help their achieve their biggest dreams.

Yes, this ninth grade Spanish job would have been great.  Really easy, a wonderful team to work for.  But it's not the place for me.  Not while I'm in Memphis.  That's not what I'm here for.

Monday, April 29, 2013


What.  A.  Weekend.

It started out just wonderful, we went to the Chris Young concert in Southaven on Friday night, where I got my fair food fix and we got to hear some good live country music, and all was good

Mr. R may have enjoyed himself more than the rest of us ;) 

Then Saturday for ONCE fiancĂ© didn't have to work at the stables (he volunteers at the state park 7-6 Saturday and Sunday, which is great for him, but leaves me lonesome all weekend.  but it was a little rainy, so no horses!).  We set out to look at furniture for our new apartment... and FINALLY got my...


I knew exactly what I wanted.  And it does not exist.  Two straight across, NOT channel set bands.  Prong settng, NO break for my solitaire engagement ring.  Since it didn't exist, we bought two bands and had them soldered together.  So.  Stinking.  Excited!

Ug... Then.  In the midst of running errands, we decided to stop by Walgreens and pick up my prescription for cough medicine.  I've had an irritating cough and my doctor sent me some cough meds.  We had just had lunch and figured I'd be fine to take it.  Within half an hour, I was LOOPY.  Laughing, SOBBING hysterically.  I got really upset in the makeup aisle that our grandmothers had both passed away and would never wear lipstick again...uh.  Wacky tobaccy much?  Then I was really absurdly happy that there was watermelon for sale.  I mean.  Homegirl needed to go home.  Then a few minutes later after my emotional rollercoaster, I started projectile vomiting.  Which did not stop until 2 am.  Thaaaanks codeine.  Never.  Again.  I'll just keep coughing.  

This was seriously the worst reaction I've ever had to medicine, and it was TERRIBLE.  . Ruined my weekend :(  

In other parts of my life....

The view from our new apartment in Mississippi!

Y'all.  This is the most addicting game ever.  Download.  NOW.  

Maid of Honor Speech

When I was little, my mom used to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then because she knew it was Dad’s and my favorite. I remember one night in particular she made breakfast for dinner after a long, hard day working at the hospital. That night, my mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned biscuits in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed. Yet all my dad did was reach for his biscuit, smile at my mom and ask us how our day was at school. I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly all over that burned biscuit. He ate every bite of that thing and never made a face or uttered a word about it. When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my mom apologize to my dad for burning the biscuits, and I'll never forget what he said: "Honey, I love burned biscuits every now and then. These are just right." When I went to say good night to my Dad, I asked him if he really liked his biscuits burned. He said to me, "Your Mom had a rough day at work and was exhausted when she came home today. Yet she still had a warm, home cooked meal on the table ready for us to eat by dinnertime. So do I like burned biscuits? Well today I love them. Besides, a burned biscuit never hurt anyone.” The older I get, the more I think about the appreciation and respect my Dad has for my mom. She’s his everything. My Dad is by no means the perfect husband, but he knows what it means to be a loyal, loving, and supportive companion. Life is full of imperfect things and imperfect people. I'm not the best at anything, and I forget birthdays, anniversaries, and other special events just like everyone else. But one thing I have learned over the years is that learning to accept other's faults, and choosing to celebrate each other's differences, is the key to creating a healthy, lasting relationship. Be it a husband-wife, parent-child, or friendship--understanding is the base of any relationship. So after you both take the plunge, tie the knot, and marry the man of your dreams in a few weeks, don't forget to say: "Pass me a biscuit babe, and yes the burned one will do just fine."

"Sometimes we get ahead of ourselves, but the important thing for you to remember is you'll never be alone in it again."

My best friend Chrissy sent this to me and our other best friend, Zoe today.  She has the honor (or pressure haha) of being maid of honor in both of our weddings in the next month.  She's the perfect person for the job, and we couldn't be more honored.