Writing

…sometimes I write in books.   My own and those of others.  Sometimes I write notes to my future self because I know that what I remember today, I will forget in just a moment. All of the plans that I’ve made will be revised and demolished – reconstructed or forgotten – and the revisions will mean that I inevitably leave out some of the good parts in order to make room for the whims of a moment or my all too logical thinking self who forgets to make room for sentiment. 

    
This year I feel more confident in my stance.  Grounded in the reality of having a beautifully crazy family who fights and loves with equal stubbornness. A reality in which I can officially call myself a teacher because I hold a degree and a job and a classroom to prove these things.  A reality in which I’m comfortable answering questions and even more comfortable asking them and not knowing the answers. 

Halfway through a year or teaching – 3 months away from finishing my masters degree.  Still trying to figure out who I am and how that plays into all these things.  

Musings for a moment.  
Merry Christmas friends. 

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