My friend Amy...

... blogs. And when I say she blogs, I mean she blogs like a madwoman. A crazy, hoarding, fifteen cat owning madwoman. And I love her. I am the sort who, last week when my computer broke and I had to get a new one, said to my computer genius (and pretty much everything else genius) sister, "I just need to be able to insert a chart into word, write tests for my students, and watch hulu". Classic. I once worked in IT at college, but I'm pretty sure they only kept me around because I color coded things and filed with great glee. Needless to say, I am envious of Amy's blogging. Not envious because I have nothing to say, or because I am incapable of speaking well, but because I lack the motivation to figure that out.

I do a lot of things in my life. I am a strong, independent woman. I work at a charter school, 8-5, and yet I still (try) to find the time for a social life, and someday, I will find time for a lovely significant other. But I learn by doing, and unless one of these times I take Amy and force her to sit down next to me and my newly purchased software and show me what she does, I fear you, my readers (do I even have any readers anymore?) will be seriously neglected.

Not that you aren't already neglected. Have I told you how much I love what I do? Have I told you how my students make me laugh and giggle, and how their joy at learning makes me glad to be alive and how their sadness makes me cry and their anger makes me angry? Have I told you how I want to smooth away their worries and bury their fears and dry their tears? Have I told you that sometimes I wonder if I will ever be able to have my own children, because I feel their pain so intensely, and they have never been a PART of me, even though they have become a part of me? Have I told you about the nights spent sharpening pencils and grading papers and coaching them through their homework over the phone? Have I told you I can not think of anything else I could do that would make me feel as WHOLE?

We aren't perfect. We don't have everything. We don't know everything. I strive each day to make my classroom a sanctuary-- to talk about the big issues, be sure no one is being called gay, to give second, third, fourth chances, to laugh and talk with them, to love them with all the capacity of my being. I work on the weekends, work in the evening, work throughout the day, work in the shower, work in my sleep, and I can not tell you enough that I would be empty without it. And if you are neglected, it is because I am busy shaping minds and holding hands, bandaging knees and drying tears, teaching fractions and singing silly songs about putting names on papers, teaching lessons and making charts, sharpening pencils and calling parents, and I trust you will forgive me.

I am neglecting you for the future of my world. Your world. Our world. If I were Amy, my blog would sing. As it is, I hope it speaks clearly.