Speling Mistaques

No errors were staged in the writing of this article.

 
Without a doubt,

I can't spell.

Nor can I proof

my own work.

Dyslexia and computer screens 

show me what I want to see,

not what truly exists.

When I was younger this made me a captive,

terrified of communicating in written words.

Whenever I had to write I had gut wrenching anxiety,

because I knew my heartfelt words would not be read, only judged.

 Thankfully, though, people mocked me.

They ridiculed me and they berated me.

They did it endlessly, tirelessly, bitterly
until I just didn't care anymore.

One day, their judgment set me free.
I realized that, 

even if I spelled everything perfectly,it wouldn't really matter.
The people that were the hardest on me
weren't trying to help,
they weren't going to hear my voice,
they just wanted to be right.

That was when I realized
I didn't want to be perfect.
I wanted to be flawed.
I wanted to be mistaken.
I wanted to be happy.

Now that I teach English I remember this battle,
and although I hold my students
to an exceptionally high standard in class,
when they open up their hearts
I put away my red pen.
For me,
there are no errors
when the heart is on the line.
It's only their thoughts that counts.


 

Cute Ghouls and Monsters Galore

Candy and games translate into any language.

My Little Monsters Just Love Halloween.

Even the "grown up" ones can't resist the fun.

Of course the little boys can't get enough of being Monsters.

The girls are especially scary, but they are darn cute.

Warning: candle light classrooms might leading to napping.

Vampire Coin Toss is A Class Favorite

It'za Pizza Pie

The fix'ns for Toaster Pizza.

 Cooking classes are days of delight, horror, fear, joy and anticipation.

Every month they ask the day before, 

"Teacher, is it delicious?"

Each month I answer, 

"No, it's awful.  That's why we are making it."

They've never made anything quite like this.

It looked like a mother's love.

Le Chef

Get In My Belly

Before:  A Beautiful Wonder

Tonight my boss surprised me with dinner.

Can't even begin to tell you how delicious and appreciated it was.

It's these sort of gestures that make me happy to get up in the morning

and delighted to go to bed at night.

After my mother died when I was young(er),

there weren't many home cooked meals by anyone other then me for a very long time.

It soon became the thing that I missed most in my life.

 To this day there is nothing I find more encouraging 

then a dinner cooked without asking.

After:  Happy Fat Food Belly :)

Finishing Touches

The bedroom was depressing.

After two weeks of sleeping on the sofa 

something had to give.

Before

After

Of course, now I never want to leave the bedroom.

It's just delightful.

The poor sofa 

is all alone now.

Dig'n The New Digs

Waiting to learn what my apartment would be

was like waiting to find out if Santa

thought I had been naughty or nice.

Would I get coal or candy?

It seems I was a good girl this year.

Digital flat screen TV and digital cable.

New furniture to mix with my lost and found pieces.

A well planned and useful kitchen.

Another beautiful bed which I don't really use yet, my sofa is so nice.

Spacious area for doing things. 

Trading Spaces

Once again, I've been traded to a new team.

In the past few months,

the work load at my former school doubled.

It was exhausting.

Teacher's were ending up in the hospital weekly.

Being old and cranky,

I let my boss know things had to change.

Two weeks later she let me know I'd been traded to a new school.

My New Boss

 Now, one might think that I was being punished with this news,

but the truth is my last employer went out and found the perfect job for me.

She listened to what I needed

(something she couldn't provide)

and placed me perfectly.

My new landlord.

At my new school I'm the only native English teacher.

They love me.

I'm their investment.

They go out of their way to make me smile.

Shopping for my new home.

It's a whole new world,

where my boss and her sister

spend the night at my house,

communicating in broken English,

that they want me to be truly happy.

My welcome basket.

I'm extremely grateful for my new job.

Instead of 9.5 hours a day I work 5.

There are no more Saturdays,

no more late night meetings. 

Welcome home drinks

Now I have the time that I need

to write

to study

to live.

Late night party so I'm not lonely.

Second dinner, because I need to eat more after my giant welcome dinner.

Who knows if this job will stay so lovely,

who knows what troubles will come my way,

but for now I'm so happy to slow down

and feel the days as they happen around me.