My Name is Susan, But You Can Call Me Jaye

I had a late night tonight for a school day. We had an honor ceremony for scouts tonight and I just got home. This doesn't bode well for a very tired, not feeling well working person who vowed to write every single day on this blog. Knowing I'd be short on energy and mental acuity, I started planning my piece on the car ride home. Feeling grateful for a special person in my son's life, and inspired by a friend who is doing a 30 day tribute on her Facebook page, I was all set to go. But I had trouble loading my Facebook page on the way home (my husband was driving), and there were some posts I was trying to read and they would not load.

So when I came home on got on my computer, before opening up my blog I saw a comment one of my friends made. She had asked those of us in our writing group what our middle names are. She wanted them for a piece she was working on. I'm curious and look forward to seeing what that's all about. Anyway, I had responded earlier with my middle name, and she had since replied that she didn't know that. It got me thinking about my middle name. It's a bit unique and it has stories, mostly related to how I didn't like it as a kid because I thought it was a boy's name.  But there's one story, man it sounds like fiction but I swear it's true...

My middle name is Jaye, pronounced just like the letter. It looks pretty in writing, and my mom liked the sound of single-syllable middle names attached to multi-syllable first names. Her name is Donna Lee, and my sister's is Jennifer Sue. Mine, Laurie Jaye. Sounds a little like we grew up in the south, but no sir. Born in New York, and raised there for most of our childhood, we are true South Floridians. That is, we are transplanted from the north, and can hardly be considered southern girls.  But Laurie Jaye it is. Once I got over that unique meant weird when you're a kid, I grew to like it. My cousins delightfully called me by both names, but friends just called me Laurie, and my parents sometimes called me LJ. One of my high school friends picked that up at some point too, and still endearingly calls me LJ. She's the only one besides family who does.

But I had one friend in high school who was always a bit outlandish. Okay, I'm being nice. Susan was one of those friends who you loved but other people couldn't understand why. She was eccentric and dramatic, and most definitely marched to the beat of her own drum. Sometimes it was difficult to determine if the drama was real or if she created it all. I remember she campaigned all over school senior year encouraging everyone to vote her most humorous. She was successful. A girl who had no school involvement, put little effort toward school, had somehow convinced the whole student body to vote for her for recognition.  She had a brother, one year younger but in the same grade, and they were best buds one minute and hating each other's guts the next. I guess that's not that strange.

When I went off to college I lost touch with Susan. She stayed local to work and I left to live on campus. My best friend remained in contact with Susan all that time. Over a break or during summer, I found out from her that Susan was no longer going by her given name. She had created a new persona, and everyone was now calling her Jaye. Wait, what? Yup, my friend had unofficially changed her name to my middle name. She just decided she liked it and wanted to be known by Jaye. Let me clarify. This was no fleeting whim. She had people in her life who only knew her by this name. At work, she was Jaye. Guys she was dating knew her as Jaye. Calling her Susan in a crowd of her current social circle would have had everyone looking around wondering who you were talking about. Last I heard she was still using it, but I'm not sure.

How freakin' weird is that?

And the Rain Came

Today I was reminded of the David Shannon book, The Rain Came Down. All weekend I waited for the rain and today it finally came.

There was a time I didn't like rain much. I suppose I associated it with grey and gloominess. When you're a kid it means you can't play outside. But as I have gotten older, I really enjoy a good dousing. Here are some of the reasons why...

1. When my son was a baby, he napped so well when it rained. During the summer, I was often able to time his afternoon nap just right so when the afternoon storm rolled in he would sleep a little longer. The house would get cool and dark, and he would snuggle in tight for a good dose of z's.

2. My cousin once referred to it as "baby-making weather." That of course translates to get in bed with your partner weather. As lifeguards in college, my husband and I often enjoyed afternoon interludes when a lightning storm had us shutting down the pool early.

3. As I've grown to appreciate all the beauty of natural Florida, I've learned how important and nourishing the summer rain pattern is. So much of the wildlife, plant and animal, is dependent on these daily showers for sustenance. The rich, luscious greens of summertime are characteristic of a healthy rainy season.

4. Rain makes my husband happy. He's a water manager, and when the rain fills his lakes, managing water is a much more manageable job! He has radar apps and reports constantly buzzing and beeping on his phone, and he tracks weather every day. When the water table is low, he's rain dancing away.

5.  There's no laser light show better than a nighttime lightning storm. It can get scary sometimes, but it can be spectacular. For the record, I enjoy them from the comfort of my home, watching out the window. I'm not one of those storm chasers.

6. There are lots of good songs about rain. Among them are Fool in the Rain by Led Zepplin, It's Raining Again by Supertramp,  Purple Rain by Prince,  Rainy Days and Mondays by the Carpenters, Rain by Madonna, Here Comes the Rain Again by the Eurythmics. There's a silly country song from a few years ago by Luke Bryan, Rain is a Good Thing. And Luke, I agree.

The Rain is Coming

There is a stickiness in my eyes
a thickness in the air I breathe
the rain is coming

Dark clouds spread across the sky
turning blue to stormy grey
The sun tucks behind them
retiring early for the eve

The trees sway restlessly
birds flutter and caw
the rain is coming

On the porch
I peer out at the preserve
inhaling deeply, listening carefully
Waiting for the rain.

Waiting for the Rain

Today I got started on my outdoor observation deck. Okay, so it's not really a deck. More of a screened in patio. Since we're renting our home, we gave up on purchasing a patio set. We shopped them quite a bit, and boy the nice ones sure are expensive. The patio isn't that big, and we don't know how long we plan to live here. So last week, when Target had some decent chairs on sale for $18 bucks, I thought perfect! We picked up two with a round cafe table to go with it. All for under $100. Now if it doesn't last long, and nowadays not much does, we won't feel horribly ripped off.

Today I bought an outdoor rug and a couple of accessories. Then I gathered up a plant and a few other things I already had. I swept off the pavers, pulled a few weeds from the cracks, and laid the rug down. They sky grew a bit grey and the trees were swaying, so I set everything up and sat, waiting for the rain. It never came. But tomorrow I'll put some finishing touches up in the morning, and hopefully there will be some inspiration: birds, rain, scuttle but in the preserve. 

It'll be a perfect Sunday morning.

Here is a before photo. I'll share after when I've finished up tomorrow.

Places and Spaces

This weekend is going to be all about spaces. My plan is to take places in my home and turn them into spaces for the practices I love. First, we finally got some furniture and a few things for the patio. Yes, I know it's rarely going to dip below the 90 degree mark from now until sometime in September (if we're lucky). But that's ok, because as the sun rises over the preserve behind our house, the little observation spot I'm planning to create for thinking and reading and writing and sipping my morning coffee, will be comfortable. When summer eventually turns to fall, the observation deck will be even more spectacular. And sunsets, they're beautiful around here, and now I'll have the perfect spot to enjoy them.

Next, I'm going to take an underutilized room in our home and turn into a yoga and pilates area. The room currently has the doggie crate that hasn't been broken down since Lacey left us. She spent a lot of time in that room. But we had the carpets cleaned, and we are committed to breaking down the crate this weekend and storing it in the garage. We can honor her by bringing life, mindfulness, and relaxation to the room. I'm going to print a photo of her and frame it, and it will sit on the shelf in the room.  There will be yoga mats, a screen for using pilates videos, a music source for meditative music, and candles to create atmosphere.

I'm excited for this weekend.  I'm taking steps to prioritize the things that are important to me.

#tbt

I'm not a regular participant in the #tbt fad. There is no reason at all. Generally, it just doesn't cross my mind until I see others' posts at the end of the day, and by then I'm usually too tired and too lazy to dig around for a photo. Every now and then I come across a great one and it happens to be a Thursday, so I indulge.

Today, I'm indulging- with a different kind of throwback...

Every now and then while browsing online,  I see a great quick recipe idea that's hardly even a recipe. I think to myself, why didn't I think of that? And then I fail to remember the simple take two or three ingredients, do this or that to them, and poof! On a walk through the grocery section of Target last weekend, I actually remembered. I usually shop groceries at Target when I need other Target items and I don't want another trip out to the store. But the cool thing is they often has some unique products I don't see in other places. This time I saw a line of products made from small farm ingredients. I was intrigued as I scanned the small section of shelf space. Rather than being shelved with like products (pasta sauce in the sauce aisle, salad dressing in the dressing aisle, etc.), this whole line of products was shelved together.

Here is the one that caught my attention:

I thought of my mom and how much she loves blueberry pie! And then, somehow I actually remembered one of the quick recipes. With this product it would be a two ingredient "recipe." I got home and rolled out some refrigerated pie crust, cut out circles using a mid-sized bowl as a cookie cutter. Put two teaspoons of blueberry filling, and folded over the circle into a half moon. I sealed the edges with a fork and poked two slits with a sharp knife, in each one. (Okay, I lied. There are three more ingredients, but most people already have them in their houses.) I lightly beat an egg with a tablespoon of milk and brushed each of the half moons. Finally I sprinkled a bit of raw sugar over each one, and baked them for 15 minutes.

Voila! My #tbt was making blueberry hand pies, and they were much better than the old school hostess hand pies or the ones they used to have at McDonald's. And the filling was spectacular!

School Choice

Take a charismatic leader, put him in a magnet school in a high crime, largely minority neighborhood and what do you get? It's a loaded question. This is the scenario at Dunbar High School in Fort Myers. This is where my son goes to school. Every day he drives his own truck into school, meets up with his group of buddies and attends classes in the Academy of Technology Excellence (ATE) at Dunbar.

Some people who live in our area would call us nuts. They wonder how we could allow our son to attend school in such a troubled neighborhood. If I'm to be honest, it crossed my mind as we attended the open house in the spring of his 8th grade year. Dunbar came with a reputation, and of course the community which surrounds it. We didn't know much about the school at that time. In fact our son is the one who asked if we could go check it out. One of his middle school teachers was the brother of an Assistant Principal there at the time. So off we went. Our son was excited about school for the first time in almost three years- there was no way we were going to pass on a chance to see the school.

As a parent and a teacher, I had lots of questions. Our son walked around and checked things out and my husband and I sauntered through, "reading" the people. We talked to several of them; the ATE coordinator, a couple of teachers. My teacher mind was made up. Many of the teachers had been there since the school opened, others since they started teaching. Almost everyone we spoke to had been there for years. They all said they couldn't imagine working anywhere else. They were passionate and proud about working at Dunbar High.

My teacher mind was made up. But my teacher mind had to convince my protective mom mind that my son would be safe going to school in this neighborhood. Make no mistake, my concern was only about violence and crime, not about the skin color of the kids or teachers. So I worked the room again, asking some of the employees about the rumors- some of which were rumors and some of which were true. Crime statistics are public record, and though they can be used to inflate the truth, they can also be indicators of what's really happening. Teachers all insisted they felt safe, and they thought the students felt safe. One of the younger male teachers even told me, "I bring my kids and my family out to the ballgames all the time. I've never felt unsafe." I considered it case closed. My kid wanted to go to Dunbar, the programs and teachers seemed fantastic, and I heard what I needed to hear.

Just about every aspect of my son's experience has been terrific. He loves his teachers, he has a great group of friends in the tech program, he swims for the school team and has a great relationship with his coaches. He's earned gobs of computer industry certifications. He also likes and respects his Principal. These are not gimmes for my son. He's not impressed by or afraid of titles. He is intuitive and reads character, and he likes and respects what he sees in Mr. Burnside, his Principal.

Here's the part I don't like. Every couple of months we get a recorded phone call. Sometimes before we hear the news and sometimes after. School was on lockdown because of a shooter in the neighborhood. A student was arrested for bringing a firearm to school. Two students were disciplined for eating marijuana brownies in the cafeteria. These are not the kinds of calls you want from your kid's school. Before he got his drivers license, our son missed the bus home one day. Come to find out, the reason was someone made an anonymous phone call to the school that a kid named Jacob had a gun. They pulled every kid named Jacob out of class, and the SRO questioned and searched them. Needless to say it wasn't my Jacob, but seriously? Due to the search he missed the bus home and we had to go get him. We could hardly believe the story he told us when we got there.

My husband says things like, "It seems like they're at least proactive and on top of things." And I think about the state of the world today and remind myself this kind of thing happens at high schools everywhere. I check in with my son regularly to make sure he feels safe, and he has never indicated otherwise.  So I do this. I think about all the great things that are going on at the school. I look at all my son has accomplished there and how much he likes the ATE at Dunbar. And I trust the professional educators and law enforcement officers who monitor and secure the school on a daily basis. I'm not gonna lie, I struggle sometimes. But I still think we're making the right decision. I'm proud to be a Tiger Parent.

Sometimes You Just Gotta...

It is a very challenging time of year
trying to teach when summer is near

Testing is over and the kids are just done
they are busy daydreaming of beachside fun

Apathy sets in and the kids just don't care
they'd rather draw or braid their hair

Or play with make-up or hang out and talk
to take a nap or go for a walk

It is a very challenging time of year
trying to teach when summer is near

Teachers are tired and trying to hold on
still showing up each morning at dawn

Refusing to give up the precious last days
teaching and re-teaching in so many ways

Getting creative and digging deep
keeping the all night socialites from falling asleep

It is a very challenging time of year
trying to teach when summer is near

Paperwork and grades, lessons and meetings
two minute bathroom breaks and ten minute feedings.

And there's no end in sight for few of our best
they're working year-round unlike the rest

Their efforts are futile for much of the day
All the students want to do is play

And who could blame them we feel the same way
So I decided to surprise the teachers today

Instead of our regular faculty meeting
I decided we'd do some drinking and eating

The bus pulled away and we said our goodbyes
piled in our cars and went for a ride

We arrived at the Ale House and I called the meeting to order...
and we did.

Because some days you just gotta.

This is my team, not today but in January at the All About Girls Summit. Man they work REALLY hard!

Welcome

Step on me or over me,
through the threshold and the door
wipe your feet of the dirt and muck

stomp, drag, stomp again

let go of all that is stuck up and under
scrape the crap you've dragged along
clinging to your soles

lay it on me
leave it all here
I am your doormat

welcome.

Rockin' Love Song

Long, poofed out hair, eyeliner, and skin tight pants (of spandex, leather, denim, whatever), it’s not hard to understand the 80's metal hair band boys getting in touch with their feminine sides. When the sappy and ever-so-spectacular power ballad was born, there was no cause for shock. The hairband love song, complete with whiny lyrics and high pitched dragged-out guitar solos, was no stretch of the imagination. The videos were equipped with blue lights in dark rooms, and close-ups of the crooning faces. With long-strapped guitars hanging right over their junk, playing a guitar solo was just an extension of playing something else. Power ballads were really just tools to lure in the sex kittens, and those girls and women who wish they were, in order to sell records (yes, I said records). Seriously ladies, who among us never stood in a concert venue or in front of MTV longingly singing back to the sexy front man, feeling as though he was singing right to you? Guilty.

Image retrieved from eBay.com

The 80's are long gone now, and music has changed quite a bit since then. There’s a different kind of rock ballad out there. It’s not even a thing. It's really just love song lyrics to a really good hard rock song. I haven’t truly loved a rock band in twenty or so years. I grew up listening to classic rock, and will always love the bands of the 60’s and 70’s. Led Zeppelin is probably my favorite. But I was an unabashed hairband chick in the 80's and early 90's. For me it wasn’t the made-up faces and giant hair-sprayed coifs of bands like Poison and Motley Crue. It was just really hard rock and equally long hair. I loved the heavy metal guitar and I was smitten for the head banging, swinging long hair of the performances. I adjusted with the alternative rock bands of the 90's and took a liking to Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, and a few others. But since then, it’s been a few songs here and there, and outliers like Los Lonely Boys who can’t be classified or labeled really, beyond calling them rock. I struggle to find anyone this side of the millennium when I’m asked what my favorite band is.

I admit, my taste in music has softened a little over the years. When I want hard rock, I revert to my old favorites like Tesla and some of the others. More recently I have sought after the singer-songwriter genre, some country. But not too long ago, my husband introduced me to a band he thought I’d like. He forced me to give it a try, and I’m glad I did. Black Stone Cherry has a combination I like: really good guitar, a deep-voiced singer- who can sing, and some solid songs. Which brings me back to the rockin’ love song topic. When my husband had the song Please Come In on his iPod during a lengthy drive somewhere, I felt like I had heard it before. It wasn’t like it sounded unoriginal or ripped off from someone else. It wasn’t that kind of familiar. I just instantly liked it and felt like I knew it. There’s nothing lyrically exceptional about it, and it’s actually a pretty simple song.

Here’s why I think I like it so much. In contrast to the power ballad of the 80's when the bands’ looks were gender bending and the songs were high pitched and love songy (yes, I made that word up), Please Come In is different. It’s just some solid rock, with a masculine-sounding singer, singing about lost love, and asking for honesty. They easily could change all the lyrics to something everyday and the song would still stand as a rock tune. Similarly, they could put the lyrics to a whiny power ballad melody and it might stand up to that genre. There’s something sexy about the matter-of-fact way the singer wants the real deal, no pretending. The music is solid and not sappy. And coincidentally, if you know me it won’t surprise you that I love the optimism of the line There’s a new day out there where the sun will always shine. So he sings of angels and love and not wanting to be hurt again, and there’s not a single high pitch note, or a long dragged out whine. There’s nothing particularly sexy about the singer or any of the guys in the band, and that’s ok. The music stands up. At least I think so.

Opportunity

When opportunity knocks, open the door. 

You've heard that one before, right? But what if opportunity never comes knocking? Waiting around for someone else to present opportunities could be futile. We need to get out there and find our own opportunities. Hell forget find, often we have to create our own opportunities.

Interlude: This is where you start to get pumped. I mean your fist is in the air, you're nodding your head, and you're about to shout "Yeah!" You might even feel like jumping off the couch and onto your feet to get going. But where? 

How do we create opportunity? That's the sixty-four million dollar question. There are endless articles and books, websites and blogs about creating your own luck. Just to clarify, to me opportunity and luck are not synonymous. I'm not talking about a windfall or something magical that just drops in your lap. There probably is a certain degree of being in the right place at the right time, but one has to have an idea where to go in the first place.  So again, how do we create opportunity?

The obvious answer is to become an entrepreneur, go into business for yourself. That's what my dad would like me to do. It sounds very attractive, and under certain circumstances I would definitely be enticed.  Two of my friends recently did this and they are reaping all the benefits. They are great at what they do, and they've learned to be flexible and go where and how they're needed. I am beyond excited for them! But given the same opportunity, I would have to turn it down because of certain limitations due to financial responsibility. Or would I?

Maybe I just need to make my choices differently. I often wonder what the perfect opportunity would be. What would encourage me and push me out of my comfort zone to take a leap? Notice, I didn't say leap of faith. I don't think this has anything to do with faith. I can't expect if I make a reckless decision, that believing in G-d will fix it all. I need my faith for strength, but not for blind decision-making.  So how do I break out of the proverbial box? (Oy, I hate the expression outside the box.) And where do I look for these opportunities? My writing friends keep telling me to listen to the universe, because the messages are there. I can't tell if I'm concentrating too hard, or not enough.

Interlude: <looks up at the sky, shaking hands in the air> Where are my messages?! 

All I know is this...

Something in me is changing. It has been for quite some time. I've let go of certain things, like how much money I'm making or what I'm "supposed to be" doing. I've let go of all the material things I once thought I wanted. I dream of very few things. I dream mostly of driving in my open jeep (which I don't yet have), down the beach to my home-office (also don't yet have) overlooking the waves. I dream of writing and creating in any form. I dream of an opportunity to create the balance of cognitive, fulfilling work with time to feed my soul and be with my family. I know it's out there. I just have to find a way to create it! Soon. Very soon.

Man, I sure do wish I could write from here everyday. 

The Power to Be, the Power to See

The theme of the 2nd Annual Women's Writing retreat last weekend was The Power to Be, the Power to See. We focused a lot on the images we see, in nature and our surroundings, and in our own lives. It was a truly inspirational, and utterly relaxing weekend. I dedicate this poem to my writing sisters.

The Power to Be, the Power to See
Laurie J. Kemp

Solitary and in silent meditation
preparing with a cognitive massage
and then I commune with my sisters
pensive and contemplative
we reflect, we write, we relate we share

the power to be

There is beauty in the collective spirit
the unabashed honesty and unconditional acceptance
storytelling of common experience
and outlying uniquenesses
joys, tears, laughter and fears

the power to be.

The beauty and promise of the rising sun
shines golden reflections on the quiet bay
and the midnight sky brightens to blue
over beach dwelling birds and gulf creatures
majestic trees and brackish estuaries

the power to see

The vulnerability of women revealing their true selves
allowing the words to pour onto pages and the freedom
to let go of what could have been and what once was
leaving the unlived, welcoming what might be,
the reflection of ourselves in each other

the power to see.

5 Prepositions

Across the sky nature paints a sunset water color in shades of oranges, pinks, and blues

Across the world my mom presses her hand to the wailing wall in the holy land of Jerusalem

Across the street the lamplight in the window creates a silhouette of my neighbor reading

Across the room my entire world is incarnated into two men, one in the image of the other

Beneath the starry nighttime sky I feel small and insignificant 

Beneath the shade of an expansive tree I breathe in the gift of oxygen

Beneath my clothes there is a body, imperfect and insecure

Outside looking in I see a woman who has it together 

Outside in nature

     at the beach 

     in the woods

     at the preserve 

          I feel at peace

I Swear It's Not Just My Resume

I had an epiphany today. Actually, I can hardly call it an epiphany. There was nothing sudden about it. It was a thought that's been sneaking up on me more and more in different way lately, and today it just solidified. Into a concrete block that hit me over the head.

I am a teacher and I love to teach.

This isn't really news to anyone. I think I even have a post on this blog a couple of months ago entitled I Love Teaching. The concrete block to the head though, was a reminder of this. My master's degree is in Special Education. My specialist and doctorate degrees are in curriculum and instruction. Nowhere in there do you see the words Educational Leadership. It's not because I don't have leadership qualities, and it certainly doesn't mean I am not good at what I do (one of my teachers oozed compliments all over me today about how good I am at what I do- made me feel really great). But being a school administrator was never in my plans. I wanted to develop curriculum and work on program evaluation and improvement. I was never looking to run a school.

So here's what happened...

I started my traditional teaching career in my mid-twenties. I didn't become a teacher right out of college. I worked in community education and professional development at a domestic violence center while I worked on my master's degree. I learned quite a bit about social services, the nonprofit word, and community engagement. I provided professional development in the form of CEUs for hospital staff, law enforcement, and other professionals who need yearly domestic violence awareness training. At the same time, I wrote literature for the center and developed the training programs and manuals for new hires and volunteers. If you know nonprofit, you know everyone wears multiple hats. While it can be exhausting, it allows people to learn new skills and grow out of their comfort zones. I also helped with group grant writing sessions.

This job involved professional development (a form of teaching) and program development (a form of curriculum writing).

Though it was tough to leave, after I got my master's degree we moved to another city. Obviously, I had to leave the domestic violence center and I took some time off to be with my new born son. But by the time my son was a year old, I was ready to put my master's degree to work. I spent almost a year in public school as a resource teacher, and then I found myself working in a specialized private school for kids with learning disabilities. Small staff, specialized school, overachiever, I quickly became a lead teacher and eventually an Assistant Director. Looking back, the best part of that was I still taught and just provided support to the Director. I got an assistant teacher that year so I could be free to step out as needed to work with the Director on projects, discipline, and anything else a full administrative staff would do at a bigger school. I also became responsible for selecting all subject area textbooks, and worked on a project with regional personnel to revise the academic standards being used by the company's schools throughout the country.

This job involved training teachers (a form of teaching) and classroom teaching (teaching), and evaluating and writing standards (a form of program evaluation and curriculum development).

After a couple of years, I was offered a position as Director at another location. There had been some difficulty with the previous director who was a well educated, highly professional and kind man, who had never taught in the very specialized program prior to being hired as a leader there. He decided to retire, and they brought me in. I had grown up as a teacher in the program and knew it like the back of my hand. I had already been part of the new teacher training staff each year, and there I went.

This job was short-lived, but it was mostly working with teachers to teach them how to develop individual plans for students (a form of curriculum development) and train them on the specialized methods used in the program (another form of teaching and professional development).

From there I went to yet another school within the same company. And this is where the pattern starts to become more obvious. The principal was being fired.  I knew this before she even did. Apparently she really didn't know what she was doing. I came in and things were a mess! Students weren't scheduled properly, teachers were doing their own thing (not in a good way), and there was no instructional leader. Come to find out the previous principal's only experience was in pre-school, and this was a PK-8 school with a full service program for kids with learning disabilities just like the one at my previous school.  I was 30 years old and running a private school. And I was doing a good job! After a year and a half, I had built a really strong team and cleaned up the previous principal's mess. I felt my job was pretty much done, and some other factors pulled me away.

This job experience was largely about examining what was happening and what had gone wrong (a form of program evaluation) and working with the faculty to build their capacity (a form of teaching and professional development). Of course I started to take on facility management here as well. I managed staff in all areas, not just the teaching faculty. 

Next I went to a residential wilderness program for adjudicated boys. I wouldn't exactly call the educational program a mess, but it was a bit messy. I was hired by the person I was replacing because he was promoted. I became the education coordinator (pretty much like a principal or AP) and he became the camp director. Prior to him having my job, he was biology teacher who was really a biology major who took a test and became a teacher. A great guy with super pure intentions, but not an educator by trade. He purposely hired me to replace him because I had the knowledge base he didn't have.  There were things that needed cleaning up, and I spent a year doing it. First, there was a disjointed faculty with lots of passive aggression between them. I worked hard to change the culture and build a cohesive team who learned to appreciate each other, work together, and communicate. We lifted the level of education up much higher than where it had been when I got there. I also became a stronger voice for the education staff on the leadership team.

This job was was again, building capacity through teacher training (a form of teaching), building school culture, and teaching. I lived my example and walked the walk. Because of the remote location, I spent most of my tenure there understaffed. I taught right along side the teachers almost daily. I hung up bulletin boards with them, talked to them about their practice. Helped them improve (professional development). I helped them see themselves as professionals, and it showed in their teaching.

At this time, I took a break from administration and went back to the classroom. I wanted to be on the same schedule as my son so I could spend more time with him. Additionally, within the following year is when I decided to return to graduate school to study curriculum and instruction. I didn't want to be a school administrator... hmmm.

I taught in the classroom for the next 8 years.

Fast forward this long story to about two years ago. It had been a year since I finished my doctorate, and as my principal at the time said, "You don't get a doctorate to teach 4th grade forever." It was time to move on but I really wasn't sure where. All I knew was I didn't want to go into the district admin pool. That's what everyone expected me to do, but it wasn't at all what I wanted. Funny how things turn out. I'm not really a public school administrator, but I am the Academic Manager at another alternative private school. This one for at-promise girls. Forgive me co-workers who I know will read this, for publicly announcing that I came into a shit storm. Not the organization itself. It's wonderful and it always has been. Still is. But the academic program at the school was a train wreck when I came on.  I won't get into details about what it was, I'll just say I've spent the last two years fixing it up. Now entering year three, I think we're getting to a place of stability and we can focus on a year of excellence. And truth be told, that's exciting.

Here's the point you've been patiently waiting for (Thank you if you've read this far without quitting and exclaiming TLDR). The realization is I am a fixer. Apparently, I'm pretty good at what I do. I can quickly identify what's happening and determine which parts are good and worth keeping and which parts need to be thrown out or reworked. I have a very high standard and personal code of ethics, and I guess that drives me to build a culture around those ideals. Everywhere I've gone, I find my first task is building positive culture among the staff- both within the faculty and between the faculty and other staff. I know I expect the quality of education to be very high, so all the decisions I make and the ideas I have are built on that foundation. But here's the clincher, I don't want to be a fixer anymore. I'm tired of cleaning up everyone's messes. I want to create. I want to develop. I want to teach. I'm not sure how or where, and it doesn't mean I'm going to quit my job. I just need to find a way to feed my soul. It's amazing how you can be really good at something but not want to do it. That teacher I was talking to earlier said headquarters should hire me to go around and fix all their schools when they need fixing. Parts of that sound intriguing. But again, I majored in curriculum and instruction because that's what I want to do. I didn't major in educational leadership because I don't want to be a principal.

Now this is a true epiphany... maybe they need to change the name of the program and certification to educational administration. That's what they are really focusing on. I consider myself to be an instructional leader, from the teaching and learning perspective. No matter where you put me in what capacity, I think I'll always be an educational leader. But once I move on from this job, my admin days are over. Now it's time to work on this...

Healing and Helping

My son has found a way to give his time to a worthy cause while healing from one of the most difficult times in his life. Two weeks after losing our family pet, his dog, he is volunteering his time at the Humane Society. Make no bones about it (wow, that really was an unintended pun), he is not in need of anymore volunteer hours. He's been a Boy Scout since he was in 4th grade, and a Cub Scout before then. He has no shortage of volunteer experience.

No one asked him to do this. He has a couple of friends who were looking into it, and he had been talking about it before Lacey died. Jacob was pretty devastated having to say goodbye to her, but he has focused his love of dogs into caring for homeless pets and spending time at the Humane Society. He's taken an orientation class and a dog walking class, and now he can spend time at the shelter playing with the dogs, walking them, and helping out where and when he's needed. It's the perfect way to give back to the organization that introduced us to Lacey, and to honor her memory. At the same time, he gets to heal in a healthy and meaningful way.  She's smiling down on him.

Now I just have to keep him from bringing them all home!

Stop Waiting

Have you ever heard someone say they want to change the world? Or maybe you've heard someone say about another person, She's going to change the world someday! John Mayer and his friends are apparently waiting for the world to do the changing on its own. Similar things are said about the state of our country, or our school system. We need a big change. Or Change is on the way. Change is this abstract and broad term, but what do we mean when we make these statements? Is it really possible to change the world?

Gandhi, in all his peaceful brilliance challenged each of us... Be the change you wish to see in the world. I gotta say, I'm down with Gandhi. If everyone worked a little harder on making positive changes in themselves, no one would have to change the world. Let's face it, the world is enormous. No one person can change the world. We can work together to try and create change, and we can make small scale changes in aspects of life and the world that are in our control. But what we are saying when we say we'd like to change the world, is we would like to change the behavior of the people in the world. We want people to respect humanity and preserve culture. We would like people to be kind to animals and conserve our resources. We want people to become stewards of the planet and positive contributors in our communities. We want many things to change. Maybe you want none of these and a whole host of other things.

I know it is important to stand up for what you believe in, and to have a voice and be heard. However, I think these days too many people are worried about changing everyone else. They want people to think the way they do, they want people to believe what they believe, and they want you (collective you) to change.  My question to those people, is what about you? Instead of worrying so much about changing everyone and everything else, look in the mirror and then inside and ask, Is there anything I could change? 

And as for John Mayer and his friends who are misunderstood and waiting on the world to change*, get off your assess and live the words of Gandhi. Be the change you wish to see in the world, and stop waiting around for everyone to change it for you.  It starts at the individual and spreads. That's the only way the world is going to change- if people start making changes in themselves and sharing them with others. So if Gandhi was at your doorstep asking you to be the change you wish to see in the world, what would you wish to see and how will you be that change?




*I happen to love the song Waiting on the World to Change by John Mayer. However, it always bothered me when the lyrics made it sound like these lazy, sheltered kids were unsatisfied with the state of the world (which is ok) but waiting for everyone around them to change the world to make them happy (not ok). F that. Even Michael Jackson knew it started with The Man in the Mirror.

New Beginning

I attended a wonderful writing retreat this weekend, and had an opportunity to work on some poetry. Yesterday, I posted one of the poems I wrote on the retreat. Today, I spent some time processing the experience and felt inspired by one of the photos I took, to write another poem. I first posted it on a collaborative blog I write with my writing group, TrailBrazen. I decided to share here too. Enjoy.

New Beginning
by Laurie J. Kemp

Glorious is the sun rising over a new day,
out of the swirling clouds like a genie from a bottle.
Her golden glow casts metallic iridescence
over the dark surface of the deep blue waters.
She lifts gradually, higher into the great wide open
basking in her own reflection,
shadowing the clouds slowly melting them away.
Up from the horizon she takes her throne in the heavens
and the expanse of her golden light clears
the azure, vibrant and bright.
And we rise with the sun
her warmth, her glow, her power
and her promise of a new beginning.

But the Beach*

I would like to write a poem about the beach like it's just any other place.
But it seems impossible, unjustifiable.
Whatever I look at, whatever I hear or feel seems blissful.
Cloudy swirls in the slowly drifting brackish estuary,
flanking the aquabatics of the jumping silver fish creating his own rippling three ring spotlight.
As for the shoreline, forget it.
Broken pieces of pearlescent shells bejeweling the Gulf Coast sand,
hosting an organized scatter of ruddy turnstones pecking for a late morning snack.
A slick dome shaped shell, freckled in fine point black specks and tiny little fissures.
I tried to walk away, but of course the Gulf.
The innumerable hues of greens and blues in a perfect water color blend drew me in further.
My feet gently sunk into the silky wet sand as the salty water washed and cleansed me, setting my feet in deeper.
The foam where the water meets the sand, bathing the coast in champagne -like bubbles in celebration of all its glory.
So I tried to shut my eyes, but of course the beach.
I could hear the pushing and pulling of the tide and the gush of the flowing sea.
I heard the sound of the coastal breezes whirring around my ears and through my hair and the trees.
They seem to sing to me in prayer, giving me a message, a meaning, or saying nothing at all.
So special is the beach, who knows maybe it is sacred.
So special is the beach, who knows, maybe the sky above it is sacred too.
And the silver fish, and the mollusks and the ruddy turnstones,
and the sand and the sea, and me.
We are one and the same.
Sacred yet ordinary.

*This poem was written following a series of writing exercises at the 2nd Annual Women's Writing Retreat at Lover's Key. I used Mary Oliver's poem This World.

Love IS All Around Me

There is nothing in this world I love more than my family. I'll tell you what though, the beach and a women's writing retreat... lot's of lovin' going on here. The energy is high, the camaraderie is unmatched, and the writing so far has gone from tearjerking to pee-in-your-pants hilarious! And we're just one meal and two writing exercises in. The 2nd Annual Women's Writing Retreat is a celebration of a love of and for writing.  Don't be 'a writer.' Be writing. -William Faulkner

Gulf breezes and cocktails while dining seaside.
Introducing and reacquainting, laughing and storytelling,
we are starting the narrative of a writing weekend.
The perfect locale, a small resort, a quiet beach.
Women gather for communal writing,
for friendship and sisterhood, for sharing and trust,
for crying and for laughing.
The words will drip onto the pages
and the table and the floor.
And we will sit in them and roll in them
and toss them up in delight like autumn leaves.
We will scrub ourselves with them,
shampoo them through our hair and into our scalps.
Rub them into our skin and replenish our bodies and souls.
And we will play with them and nurture them
cradle them and protect them.
Words are sacred and writing is prayer.

Getting Ready to Retreat

I could write about several things today. But mostly I'm just happy. All of the state testing is finally finished at school! Though I did many of them, I did not have to administer every session myself this year which was great- thanks to my great teaching staff. I'm relieved it's all over. Now I can breathe again and start working on some of my other responsibilities at work. I'm making some [not so healthy but very comforting] homemade shells and cheese for dinner. And I've been organizing and preparing all evening for the Annual Women's Writing Retreat at Lover's Key Resort this weekend. I'm proud of myself for starting this with my writing group last year, just on a whim. I really wanted to get away and have some downtime to write. A few of my writing buddies agreed, and the retreat was born. I got started earlier this year, and got a lot of help from Helen, one of my group mates. We've planning the agenda for a couple of months, and now I'm getting the final details together. We even got a shirt made this year! All in all, we will have somewhere between 10-15 women and I am quite excited for the 2nd Annual Women's Writing Retreat. A weekend of writing, nature, camaraderie, and a beautiful beach condo. I. am. ready!

Write what you want and it will always matter for ages!

So why not create a writing vacation? Writing Retreat here we come!

Ready to be drenched and soaked, all weekend!

Ready to exercise my qualifications!