Maybe it’s that we are down to fifty-five days. Maybe it’s that standardized-testing season is right around the corner. Maybe it’s that we are starting a new project. Maybe it’s that I completely flubbed the lesson fourth period yesterday. Maybe it’s that I am putting too much pressure on myself by applying to the Humanities Washington Speakers Bureau. Maybe it’s that the “innovate weight” presses constantly. Maybe it’s that I am two chapters from finishing the haunting, beautiful book A Monster Calls. Maybe it’s that I have created this superhero persona when I am just a human who wears Superman shirts to hide his fear. Maybe. Maybe more. Probably more.

But, maybe it is the book. Maybe my own monsters call. Or maybe, more aptly, I am calling them. Conor O’Malley called the Monster.

You are the one who called me, Conor O’Malley, it said, looking at him seriously. You are the one with answers to these questions.

 

And while my own struggles are in no way comparable to Conor’s, (I am not ready for that truth), the book has seeped into my spirit, and I have called my own monsters forth, my own self forth.

Have I done enough with the time?

Have I done the right things with the time?

Are my kids learning?

Should I prep the kids for the SBA?

Will I sellout if I do?

What if my kids don’t pass?

What if my kids do pass?

Are my kids learning?

Is this new project too ambitious?

Am I kidding myself that kids can find their voices?

How do I give them freedom and direction?

Are my kids learning?

Am I expecting too much from my “regular” kids fourth period?

Am I supporting my regular kids fourth period?

How can I fix yesterday’s flub during fourth period?

Are my kids learning?

Should I be applying to Humanities WA Speakers Bureau?

Is it a vanity project?

Do I have anything to say?

Are my kids learning?

Am I an innovator?

Am I an “eduquack.”

Do I even know what better is?

Are my kids learning?

Am I ready for my Mom’s death?

How will I face that Monster?

Are my kids learning?

Why haven’t I been wearing Superman shirts lately.

Am I a fraud?

What am I afraid of?

Are my kids learning?

Are my kids learning. That’s my monster. He visits me every night, but unlike Conor’s, who always visited at 12:07, my monster cannot tell time. He does not care about time. He cares only for cracks, cracks to creep into, where he strangles certainty, taunts truth, and haunts hope. My cracks call. He answers. He always answers. But he never speaks. He makes me tell the tale. The tales are not easy. But I try to tell them anyway. This morning I have more cracks than I can manage. And I am afraid. But soon the sun will rise, and the cracks will close, and I will be among my kids, forgetting for a time that which haunts, and I will be made bold as I face another day and be okay–until the sun sets and I speak my stories into the dark yet again. For he will call. He always does.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

...begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…analyze a speech for ethos, pathos, and logos.

…begin answering the question, “How will I get my audience’s attention?”

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all. Thank you for letting me tell my tale this morning. It helped.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.