shouts of joy

Thus begins the search ... The middle, such an undefined locale. With no beginning and certainly no end. And in all reality, neither two exist. Just as a ship sets sail, the vision of it's departure remains a collection. For a goodbye, what a perplexing scramble of words; never quite tangible and never really gone. Yet, how lucky we are to have something that makes saying goodbye so painful. Changing what is left, without knowing what might become, then calling it good. So we continue searching, as was our first intentions. Love these faces.

My 6th graders are work quite diligently right now, which I'm very impressed with, on research papers on a possible future career they've so willingly chosen. The career research paper idea was generated from a conversation I had at the gym one morning with a former principal. That meeting in and of itself would produce quite a lengthy report. There's a lot on my mind right now as I watch them write quietly. They're good writers. They're deep thinkers, many of them. They're overflowing with revolutionary ideas. They have so much potential and I sit here in silence dreaming of what they will do one day that will make the world a super place. It's already week 9 of my student teaching. Sometimes, it seems like these 9 weeks have felt more like the slow defrosting of a wintery wonderland, but on bright days like today I don't mind the wintery wonderland and I'm not ready for the next season. This morning I felt inspired to show my kids this video. A

As an Elementary Education graduating senior I think a lot about why I've been called to education. Is there someTHING I'm suppose to teach? SomeONE I'm suppose to teach? SomeWHERE I'm suppose to teach? I get the question, "Would you prefer private or public?" Right now, I feel very strongly about talking to my students about Jesus. I love Him. I want my students to know Him. This blog, in particular, tugged at my heart strings today. Please read it if you have a chance:  In Which I Pray That My Children Will Change The World Today, I had a student write me a letter. He's often times had a difficult time communicating in words, so when I see him struggling I've asked him to write out what he's thinking or feeling, that way I can read it and do my best to understand what he needs. Today his letter went like this: Dear Cristina. Why do you hate me?  Yea I don't like you.  Youre suppose to be nice to your students. Sincerely, A. I&#

Letters, blocks, and colors whirl around in intense chaos with an anorexic chance of any order. My vision is distorted in a dark place as the clutter continues to swarm and buzz. The buzzing gets louder and the swarming much faster, until the small of my mind urges the rest of it to escape the dream that seems to indulge on my weak and fatigued state. I can't remember when this dream first began to take over my peaceful nights of sleep causing my heart to race, my forehead to perspire and severe anxiety to settle in and hunker down until morning. In this too familiar and exhausting mirage of numbers, letters, shapes and colors I exhaust myself more in a running attempt to solve this puzzle and make order of its zooming pieces. Re-occuring dreams have meaning, I hear, but this dream has crossed over from engulfing my peaceful night sleep to shading me from the days warm sunshine. I'm not convinced of its meaning, but I am certain of the fatigue of failing to reach the pieces