To Know Our Dreams

Nearly every day, I ask my students, "what do you want to be when you grow up, where do you want to go, what do you want to accomplish?" I expect them to know and I expect them to answer and then I expect them to work hard in order to achieve that dream. I'm certain my teachers asked me the same thing when I was little and gave me the same expectations...

Anymore though, no one asks me that question, I rarely ask myself that question. It is as if when I turned 22 and accepted my first real job, I sacrificed my dreams and it became taboo to think of anything beyond my current position.

Please don't mistake, I do love teaching. Particularly, I love watching my students evolve, I love learning their stories. In part, however, I feel as if I am still a student myself and if so, I must be asking myself, "what is your dream, what do you need to do to get there?" At times, though, I find myself sacrificing security for passion, comfort for adventure.

I also think that "adults" are afraid to put words to their dreams. I am afraid. I know more now than I did the first time I was asked, "what is your dream." I know how unlikely my desired path is, I know how tainted the world and job market can be...simply, I know my time is much shorter now than it was when I was twelve years old...my time is shorter and my responsibility is greater. Too, as I've grown, I've learned that failing...rejection is quite possibly the hardest thing for my soul to heal from, not impossible but quite difficult. I don't put words to my dreams because if I don't achieve them, no one will know that I've failed...only me.

Though, if something never has words, it will never be realized.

My dream, then, is to be a writer. My dream is to live in a city that a car is a burden and bicycle is the preferred method of transport. I want to buy herbs and fresh fruit and vegetables from the outdoor market. I want to shop at trendy thrift stores and wear my hair in a messy pony tail every day. I want to run marathons on Sunday mornings and eat french toast and strawberries afterwards. I want to video chat with my parents and I want to be my nephew's favorite aunt to visit.

More than anything, I want to learn people's stories and write them all down..then, I want people to read them because people and their stories are invaluable.

It is written, it is yet to be realized...

It Was Akward At First

I am in Texas, I am a Teacher, I have new friends, I have new coworkers, I have a new home, and for the longest time, I've felt as if I were in a box. I woke up every day, attempting to suffocate my soul because I wasn't sure how all this "newness" would handle my old soul.

Of course, in my suffocation attempts, I became very unhappy, or rather, I became unpassionate, which is a terrible thing to happen to someone whose fuel is simply, passion. I felt as if I let my purpose slip between my fingers. I watched my words turn into those on slide. I watched my writing become some sort of script. I let my life become a template whose design lacks any sort of me, any sort of free.

My usually silly self became disgustingly serious. My soul could always been seen in my eyes, but my smile lacked any sort of genuineness . Tonight, though, my soul cried so loudly, "please, let me out of this box, please....live."

It was then that I danced. I shut the door to my room, I found my favorite songs and I danced. it was awkward at first because I had for so long lacked life, lacked the moves that made me. But, after 11 seconds, I was dancing and I was free. I moved as if no one was watching and even when my cheap computer couldn't keep up with the music stream, I danced. Soon, I was looking at myself in the shadows and thanking the good Universe that I hadn't left entirely. I was, for the first time in a long time, so happy to see myself move, so in control of every single motion while not taking the freedom out of any single motion.

Everything around me is new, but my soul is the same, and my god, my soul loves to dance.

"Worry is only in the past or the future, right now, in this moment, there is only peace, perfect peace."

I'm in constant transition. In the past five years, I've lived in six cities, attended 4 Universities, kissed plenty of frogs, said good bye a surreal amount of times, experienced countless new things, met and re-met some of the most amazing people, realized the importance of humanity, recognized the inherent love my closest friends and family constantly support me with, and I've learned. I've learned about myself and I've learned about others. I've loved, but I've never lost.

In days, I will be trekking south to explore a part of our country that I have merely just passed through until now. For the first time in my life, I'm making a physical transition with another person, someone who has recently become my most promising adventurer. By June 8th, I will be in my new home, the Rio Grande Valley of Texas. I have so much to look forward to: my students, the adventures that I have yet to take, the lessons awaiting me, the mysteries that have already been written, mysteries that I can not even imagine. Reflecting on the last 5 years of my life, I have much to be thankful for too and I have many to credit for the mysteries that have already unfolded in front of me as well as the lessons they brought with them. The past, however, is marked, at times, with hurt. The future, too, is laden with unknown anxieties.

It is because the past has passed and the future is unknown that I find perfect peace in this very moment. It is only this moment that there is no worry. It is this moment that I am abundantly provided for. In this moment, I am surrounded by love, I am healthy, I am alive, and I am living. I am not simply breathing in and out mindlessly, I am aware of the thousands of particles entering me as I inhale, these particles sustain this moment. It is only in this moment that I can do anything, for no other moment is mine, only this one.

The moments past have crafted this story, they have utilized the multitudes to take authorship of the story that has become my life. The moments past have taught me lessons and have taken me places. But it is in this moment, I am alive and only this moment. The moments to come promise adventure and dance, but it is only this moment that I know and this moment is peace. This moment doesn't begin or end, this moment is a dance, this moment is a song.

It is this moment, I give my soul to the Universe, for the deepest satisfaction comes from being One with the Universe, dancing to the orchestral tunes of this Powerful Moment.

Love Cannot Be Created Nor Destroyed

"The job of being human is so hard, but it's the only one left to do--even though we keep telling ourselves otherwise..."

Love is by far the most baffling essence I've ever experienced as a human; the capacity to love is endless and it's frightening to know that I haven't even tiptoed out of the wadding pool, it's frightening to think that one of my 6 year old students is more resourceful with love than most adults are, it's devastating to think of the amount of love we waste.

The other day, EG and I were walking in the street and a stranger cheerily let us know we were "the sweetest darlings he'd ever seen." We thanked him, smiled, and continued to walk; this is the embodiment of love, the love that is all around us, the love that cannot be created nor destroyed, the love that is far too often wasted. This man didn't want anything from us, he didn't need our smiles and gratitude; instead, he refused waste love.

One of my students has an inherent ability to fill a room with joy. He's the most intriguing little guy I've ever met; although he struggles to read, he speaks the language of the Universe better than anyone I've ever known. When we finish reading, he chooses stickers based on what his friends' favorite colors are so they can join the sticker he has deemed as himself on his folder. When he grabs my hand, as we walk from the elevator to my office, I feel his heart beating the blood of the Universe, pulsating pure love. I'm constantly awed by this kid; he graciously shares smiles and cheer, regardless of his status as an "at risk youth."

I'm certain that the job of being human is only about learning to love


I've learned that love is not rooted in dependence or need, but instead in a desire to be connected with those around us and those around them who are around us. Love does not seek recognition, love is satisfied with never being known. Love gives, love satisfies, love learns the stories of us and spreads them, love is abundant, love is the smile of a child and the hand of a stranger, love is genuine...It's not difficult to love, really, it's energy and we've all mastered energy consumption.

I see love most dominantly in eyes; every one's eyes, even when they're sad, are inviting and an invitation is all love needs. In hands, I feel Love's warmth; it's never too hot and it always sends chills up the spine of my soul.
The Universe is writing the language of love, the Universe is painting the pictures of us; upon the greatest reflection of we, we will realize this abounding love....

To love is to live and to live is the only thing left to do

Are Faleing Educashion: The Oppression Of Low Standards

"Well, they did a good job...for them."

Recently, I took part in a second grade publishing party. Present at this party were 23 eager seven year olds, a frantic teacher, an oversized (in so many ways) principal, guests and friends of the second graders, and myself. The teacher, PW, constantly called out contradicting directions, beckoning her students to "find a guest," but also to "remain seated." She frequently attacked her students inability to read her mind and decide which direction to follow at any given moment. The principal offered no support, but instead shuffled her condemning eyes around the room and would occasionally give a falsely endearing look to a child and beckon them to her to share their book. I received the entire scene, I absorbed the ensuing chaos like a sponge, and as my insides boiled I cried, silently, to the Good Lord to please save these children.

I was gifted with many students' stories; they read me their half finished books on bullying, told me tales of their dogs, and showed me their poorly spelled dedication and author biography pages. Their stories, although great beginnings did not meet any standard that should be set for a second grader. Not a single story matched those students' best effort. These students, although eager and bright, are victims of low standards, standards that oppress them. I do not blame these students for thinking an incomplete story filled with misspelled words and misplaced periods is deserving of promotion to third grade. In fact, these students are simply meeting the standard placed above them, they are doing the best they can do, according to their faleing teacher and her faleing boss.

Instead of assuming these students are capable of second grade quality work, those who have been entrusted with their education have succumb to the myth that because these students are poor, because they may only have one parent at home, because they don't eat dinner every night, they do not have the ability to achieve. This myth has become our security blanket as we simply promote children through school, neglecting to really teach them anything.

It may take unconventional methods and extreme dedication to draw from these students what they are capable of, but Good Lord, they are capable of the highest standard. They are capable of achieving, and they are worthy of every ounce of our energy for every minute they are in our schools. We've made excuses, excuses have failed them, we've failed them.

Dear God, save these children.

Our Ripples Are Far Reaching

"May the Grace of God be with you always in your heart, may you know the truth inside you from the start, may you find the strength to know you are a part of something beautiful..."

All the people of this world rise to the same source and spend nights lit by the same light. All of humanity shares the sun..shares the moon. Our world is not vast, those who cry across the Great Seas are near, they are something beautiful.

Every single word spoken, every action taken stretches to the farthest corners of our home, the Earth of us all. Camaradery between humanity is not an option, it's necessary. Our Home requires balance and we are responsible for the equilibrium.

Our community is so much more than our family, our work, our neighbors, or even our city. In the eyes of the Universe, we are no more than a tiny ball, this world's entirety is our community. Tidal waves of ignorance, tornadoes of judgement, and earthquakes of hate ruin our community, they taint our lifeblood, causing the Carrier to stumble, and we fall tragically.

I hear drums and violins, guitars and flutes, I hear loud voices and quiet hums...I hear humanity's song and it is the most beautiful noise I've ever known. I beg of us all to please sing along. When we all sing, we will know the deep satisfaction sourced from the Universe.

Let us live, let us love, let us be, and Good Lord, let us dance.

Division Through Definition, A Sad Truth

Do we know why we fight anymore?

One of the first questions I'm generally asked when meeting someone is, "what are you?" I used to feel lost because I couldn't answer one ethnicity or really one of anything, I'm a mutt, in all terms of the word. There's a little bit of many ethnicity's in me and a lot of qualities that make it impossible for me to claim myself as any one thing. Now, I'm grateful for that quality because I've learned that definition causes division and division causes hate.

I know who I am as far as passions, desires, beliefs...but when it comes to what I was born with, the things out of my control, I do not know. And not knowing makes it easier for me to want to be part of all, the greater us. I do not waver in opinion and I am not a follower by any means, but I am not defined by skin color, religion, ethnicity, height or weight...

We can't control the family we are born into, the country or state we call home, but we are in control of who we are now. When we define ourselves on the "givens" we get caught up in what those who have come before us were caught up in, the fights, the wrongdoings, but if we stop for a minute to just think, we'll probably realize that the things that bothered those before us don't bother us, or at least they shouldn't. If Romeo would have hated Juliet because of a family feud, we may still be searching for the romantic story.

Human beings should be looked at solely as humans, beautiful people that can pour into us and that we can give to as well. There is beauty in simply being, we can cut our own paths, embracing all those along the way. The first time I see someone, they are fresh, regardless of what they look like, or what religion they claim, what country they came from, what language they speak. They have a fresh life to give, a fresh perspective to listen to, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

Peace comes when differences are embraced, not defined. Compassion comes when humanity realizes its need for each other. Coexistence comes when we learn to value every single being.

In Their Faces, I See God

Recently, one of my friends, on facebook, posted an infuriating status:
"Just reading up on the Earthquake in Haiti, How many thousands of people killed... you have to wonder how many people went home to be with Jesus, and you're heart has to be agonizing for the thousands... thousands that didn't. We need to step up!"

This combination of ignorance and judgement breed an evil powerful enough to destroy mankind. The same evil that enables people to fly a plane into towers, to burn people at the stake, violently murder people, throw children off bridges; this evil, this evil, will be the end of us, all of us. We don't need to step up in preeching the Gospel, we need to step up in being the Love of God.

In the faces of His people, I see God. I see the purity of God in my students, the desire of God in my most passionate friends, the servitude of God in the hands of those in Haiti. I see God in the eyes of everyone, the conversations of all. I do not see God in judgemental facebook status', I do not see God in the Sunday morning crowd of mega churches, dressed in designer clothes and adorned in diamonds.

In a time so devastating, in a country that has experienced only small bouts of hope, it is not our duty to judge the eternity of those past. Those who have gone, and those who are still, are part of the greater us.

No one is in need of your ignorant judgement, we are in need of your genuine love. We are powerless in judging others. For evil to cease, we need to learn the stories of those who dance on this earth, embrace the differences that make us beautiful, and begin to fix ourselves.

My heart is agonizing for the ignorant, and the devastation rooted in their judgement.

"Those who don't feel this Love...those who don't want this change...let them sleep"

Dear Rumi, your words are more powerful than any pen that has come since you, thank you for teaching me...

On my way home today, I stopped at the gas station to get milk. A group of young boens (boy/ men) were in front of me. When a cashier freed, they offered me their spot in line. I neglected, knowing it was rightfully their turn; the cashier rang up their order, they left, and I placed my milk on the counter. The cashier informed me that the group of boens in front of me had paid for my milk, and I was free to go. This act reminded me of a kindness so pure, and so needed; a kindness rooted in a love rarely seen.

Love isn't something only to be comprehended by hippies or potheads; I am neither of those, and I feel as if I've learned love in a way that is unsettling and intensely moving. I don't speak of love as seen in romantic relationships, I speak of love that is necessary among us. The heroes of this world... Jesus, Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King Jr...did not speak of division, wars, money, power; no, they advocated for communion; the kind embodied only after we learn to love.

I will not attempt to define this love because I believe we each have a string that plucks uniquely, but I will encourage you to find your pick and play your own guitar. To be heartbroken for the evils and injustices in this world is to know love, to do something about it is to give life to love, to breathe passionately in and out, the stories of our communities (both locally and globally) is to make love. It is not our duty to gain, consume, or achieve tangible greatness; it is our duty to love.

Lately, I've learned to embrace gray. Gray is culturally seen as wishy-wash, indecisive, and undefined. However, I see gray as all, a color that contains some of each us, a color made when we mingle, and a color pulsating in the lifeblood of every creature when we intertwine.
We must stop promoting one, and start seeking what is us all; to love is to know and to know is to be free.

Are Faleing Educashion: Help, We've Lost Our Integrity

I feel as a blog-writer, even though not seriously, it's my responsibility to bring in outside opinions and also respond to my readers (even if the pool of them is small).

After my first phase of "Are Faleing Educashion" someone responded that failing schools are a result of poor leadership (aka, they have a principal who loves their 100,000 salary, but not their responsibilities). I don't disagree with this statement; I feel anything that is poorly led lacks the ambition to produce successful results. However, the "blame game" is what perpetuates all problems, especially that in education.

Teachers are blaming para-educators for taking their students out of the classroom for one-on-one time, paras are blaming the teachers for not being flexible or having conducive-to-learning structure in their classroom, principals are blaming vice principals for not providing secure discipline among the students...and on..and on...and on.. The blame game is never ending, and it solves nothing.

Good God, Help us, we've lost our integrity. It has gone to the wolves, and we are allowing students to fail because we are too complacent to hold ourselves accountable.

As an adult, why should I perform only under close monitoring of a supervisor? We are all given job descriptions, contracts (more than likely), and missions; it is our responsibility to ensure that we do our part, on an individual level, to contribute to the greater mission. It is when we hold ourselves accountable that the mountainous achievement gap will start to erode.

My part is small, your part is small, even the greatest leader's part is small, but when we all simultaneously do our parts, things change, and change is good; more importantly, change is needed.

It's not a leader that needs to be found, it's the integrity of the people that needs to be re-established.

"el primero paso es el mas dificil..."

"the first step is the hardest..."

This age-old wisdom has proven challenging to believe in my own life. The first step for me has always been the easiest. Graduating high school early, driving to Oklahoma, and starting school before all my peers...was easy. It was easy for me to transfer to Moorhead, easier to hop a plane and move to New Jersey. It was simple for me leave New Jersey for Atlanta with a little under 400 dollars to my name, and it was easy for me to return to the Midwest when I decided the south wasn't for me.

Yes, the first step has always been easy, maybe because I neglect to worry about things like finances and a place to live, I forget that making friends, initially, can be difficult. The following steps, they are difficult, but they have proven the most rewarding. I feel like the universe is constantly working to teach me a lesson, not to discipline me, but to ensure that I'm continually taking in the world around me for all it's worth. The steps that come after the first one have been lessons taught by the universe.

I'm mid-air right now, finishing college and getting ready to move, yet again, to a foreign place. This has been my longest transition time to date, and I've been able to consider all the steps that will follow me getting in my trusty Saturn and trekking South to the Rio Grande Valley. Again, though, even thinking about these steps does not make the first one seem any more difficult.

I've always been given enough, even when I've had 5 dollars to my name, I've still had clothes and food, most importantly, I've always had people to live in communion with. Does fear of not being provided for, fear of not having friends stop people from doing what might unlock their inner, perfect, happiness? Trust the universe, folks, it wants to work for us.

I'm not sure there's any excuse not to be happy; we are in control of what is us. Listen to music of your heartstrings and let it lead you. To be unstable in life, at times, is to learn strength. Comfort might be my greatest enemy, for when I'm comfortable I forget what it's like to work, I forget the value of people, and I get lost in the shuffle of keeping up with what is not me.

My life is balanced and I'm unwavering in my pursuit for knowledge and my fuel of my passion, but I'm not comfortable.

Are Faleing Educashion

I'm well aware that the title of this post is grammatically incorrect, as well as flooded with misspellings. However, there's purpose to this madness. This is the first in what I'm assuming will be a perpetual series of issues we face in our schools, and on the home front.

In our school system, we accept misspelled, grammatically inaccurate work on basis of "not to offend anyone." Yes, instead of offending you, we'll limit your potential, we'll tell you mediocracy is the best you can achieve, and we'll perpetuate a cycle of unsuccessfulness. Also, we'll promote you even though you're not ready for the next grade because we want you to stay with your friends who may or may not be equally as unprepared. Then, when it time for you to apply for a job, or apply for college, we will make excuses as to why you didn't get the position. Then, we will tell you "you've been dealt a bad hand," and we'll shrug our shoulders.

Really, we are all capable of achieving, we are all capable, period. We are not all born into a great family unit, we are not given parents who are passionate about literacy, we are not all able to go to ivy league schools, and we are not all given the resources we need to prove our capability. This, is what must change. Kids in lower income schools are frequently looked at as "dumb" because they score less than their higher income peers on government-sanctioned test. However, the quality of education in the two groups is terribly different. Low-income schools are, at times, rat infested, home to cockroaches, poorly insulated, poorly funded, and poorly staffed. More must be done to ensure that children, whose reality is a day in these schools, are given an equal education.
In the school I work at, I've daily been appalled by what I hear...

Yesterday, a girl told me she wasn't at school the previous day because she had to watch her baby brother and nephew...the girl is in second grade.

A teacher told another teacher, "I've been told to just have fun this week...play games." (This teacher was here at the beginning of the year, left her class (for "medical" reasons) at the hands of multiple substitute teachers (one who told the class, "I'm leaving, you have made me not want to be a teacher, and I need to go back to college). Then, the school brought in a godsend who provided quality teaching and structure to the students. After two months of stability, the initial teacher came back to spend her first week "playing games." God, help those kids.

A "literacy coach" spelt the word "lost" l-o-s-e.

When inquiring about why native Spanish speakers aren't instructed in English until third grade (a pivotal year considering they need to take government mandated (nationally ranking) tests, given only in English), I've been told "that's just the way it is."

I've wathced a "higher" in the school walk past a group of wrestling kids only saying, "settle down" while laughing, and then continuing on her way.

When substitutes can't be found, classes are spilt into other teacher's classrooms. This means, someone in an upper elementary grade may be placed in a kindergarten classroom for an entire day. One day in a child's education is huge, every single day is important. Or a student who has no knowledge of Spanish is placed in a Spanish classrorom; not to be immersed in the language, but instead, to be an outsider in an unusal class, but "it's only for a day, so it won't matter." Please, people, these days, these hours, these minutes, these seconds matter.

I've seen teachers stock-pile leftover food from a family night instead of offering it to the students' families...in a school of families who, for the most part, are considered below the poverty level.

I've watched a new student wandering helplessly, outside a school assembly, trying to find his class to eat breakfast, and teacher's walking by in ignorance. Then, when I offered to sit with him in the hall while he ate, other's walked by as if neither of us existed. The principal turned her nose up; no one inquired instead they ignored. Is no one alarmed that this student is teacherless...lost? Finally, I aligned him with his class, his teacher waved her arms violently in the air as if to say, "what did you do with my student, why did you take him away from me?" Well, lady, you forgot him and this little man is worthy of remembering. Why have we lost vision of the students?

I once heard a teacher spilt her class up by "girls who wore hijabs and girls who didn't." Sick.

I've also heard my coworker (a fully-veiled Muslim) be called, "hey you, with that thing on your face." Yes, you mean so little to us that we don't even care to know your name. Disgusting.

I see appalling things daily in this school, it's sickening, heartbreaking, thought-provoking, and change-needing. I'm certain I'm not the only one that sees these things, and I'm certain that I'm not in the only school that allows this to happen unnoticed. I believe above all else, this is our nation's greatest tragedy.

In a country where houses sell for millions of dollars, families own multiple cars and take many exotic vacations, and people are wearing underwear that cost more than I'm worth, I have to wonder why aren't we "sharing the wealth." How can we allow the education of our youth, the education of our peers, and the betterment of our society to fall at the cost of luxury. You fear your house will be robbed one day? Sponsor a child, mentor him/her, ensure a positive environment, give your time; by doing this, you'll lessen the chance of your house getting robbed by one. Spread the news, encourage your friends and family to do the same, and you lessen it even more. We are not here to collect things; if we were, we'd be able to take them with us to the afterlife. We are here to invest in each other, we are here to give our time, we are here to learn the stories of those who will guide us, and we are here to build a community of support and a union of peace. Do we see in all our youth what we desire for our community? If not, we must be the change.

My elementary school's motto was "knowledge is power." Knowledge is so much more than power, knowledge is peace, understanding, love, tolerance...

"...keep me away from the wisdom that does not cry..."

"...the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children." -Kahil Gibran.

I loathe inequality and injustice. Right now, I serve with an AmeriCorps program in an Urbanish school located in a relatively small city. I have been told, "abuse cases don't phase us anymore," "Um, I don't know where that student is, he's been in the bathroom for like twenty minutes..." I'm in the heart of injustice, and I daily, I see "highers" make themselves comfortable at the cost of a child's education. I've learned how selfish people are capable of being; how have we allowed teacher's contracts and salary raises to triumph over the quality of education we are providing a handful of deserving youth? We have a problem in this country; it's educational inequity. This is not a problem that is in the distant mountains or the mega cities; instead, it's here, it's there, it's everywhere. This is not the fault of teachers, school districts, the government; this is the fault of us, as a whole, as a society. And we are responsible.

Currently, my position at the school I serve is small; I tutor 15 resilient little kids in reading. These kids have become my life and my sole reason for returning to work everyday. They tell me heart-breaking stories while still wearing a smile. I'm grateful for my position and my students; I've learned so much in the 6 months I've had with them. I've learned that my "problems" are so petty in the grand scheme of things. I've learned that being uncomfortable is an amazing way to live life because it prevents complacency, my greatest fear. I've learned that literacy will build bonds and promote peace, if only we let it. Not to mention, I'm learning practical teaching pieces for my next adventure...

In June, I will move to The Rio Grande Valley in Texas as a Teach For America Corps Member. I will be providing youth with quality education, and my students will succeed. For now, I prepare, I learn, and I promote literacy on a local level.

I'm not here to change the world, but I will never stop pursuing my passion; knowledge is power, literacy is deserved by all. I know and I responsible, I am able and I will.