I don’t throw clothes away, no matter how tattered and worn they’ve become. I have a t-shirt from 1998, a lovely orange one that was always big on me, but I love it, because it’s like a nightshirt at times. The bright orange that it used to be has faded to more of a burnt … Continue reading The Fate of Clothing
Dear Journal,
Tomorrow is the start of summer school for this year, and even though I’ve taught it for three years in a row this year is going to be its own particular challenge. For starters there are only two teachers for 8th grade instead of the traditional four, and instead of having all major subject areas represented there will only be two — math and English. Since I teach English that’s good for me because it means I still have a summer job, but I have a bad feeling most of the kids who need summer school aren’t going to be there because they failed English. At least, that’s been my experience the past three years. But I’m going to be all about literacy, so even if they didn’t fail English, everyone has something to learn about being more literate.
Even more than that, though, is that fact that I’m the only returner from the 8th grade crew we had last year, and my new partner just got hired three days ago, so we have a lot of work to do to get those units going, and to find the connections between math and English that are oh-so-hard, but we need to do it because it will make our lives easier being able to team teach on occasion throughout the summer. Oh, and the kids aren’t being bused to school so it will be up to the parents to make sure they get to school on time, something that scares me because the school isn’t right in the center of town. It’s a bit of a haul to get there, and school starts at 8 every morning. I wonder how many we will consistently have there.
I wish I could wear dress shorts just one day. I do own a pair of dress shorts, and I heard somewhere lately that they’re in style for summer weddings, so why not for summer school? I wore them once when I was taking a summer writing course at university, and I paired them with a lovely polka dot bow tie. Someone took a photo, I’m sure, but I can’t seem to find anyone who admits to having seen it. But I know I looked good. Continue reading “Dear Journal: School Ties”
Both men were sweating profusely, those two titans of the sport, one ranked #1 in the world, the other widely believed to be the greatest of his generation, and they were playing a game with which the rest of us were not familiar. The one was a classic baseline player, the best at returning serve, while the other possessed the best serve the game had ever seen, so their heavyweight battles were full of punches and counterpunches, body blows that came in quick and fast with a dizzying array of shotmaking ability.
It was late night during Australian summer, in early 2000, and the roof was open to the late evening sky, ushering in a slight breeze that still did nothing to cool off the players. Sampras blinked first, losing one service game in the first set that proved to be the difference as Agassi won it 6-4. The second set was a mirror image of the first, however, with Sampras getting the set’s only break to win it 6-3. Agassi had a prime chance to win the third set with a couple of chances on Sampras’ serve but they were not to be, as Sampras took the lead with a dominating tiebreak win.
In the fourth set of that epic match in the making, Sampras looked fresher but could not capitalize, as it went to another tiebreak, this time with Agassi coming out victorious. Then the time had come for a decisive fifth set that seemed destined to be just as dynamic as any set they had previously played. But the Sampras who came out for that fifth set looked tired as he sluggishly thumped around the court. It didn’t look like he had any gas left in the tank while Agassi looked fresh and fit, even 2 1/2 hours into the match. Agassi looked like the man who ran up and down hills just outside of his native Las Vegas to train. He steamrolled Sampras in that final set and raised his hands in victory. Continue reading “Agassi vs. Sampras”
I drove through Poland at a steady pace, keeping it at 35 mph because the police were out in full force today, no doubt trying to catch partiers reveling in the streets before the madness of fireworks that will come later. But they paid me no mind because I drove in a straight line and … Continue reading The View From the Bridge
“The delicious singing of the mother — or of the young wife at work — or of the girl sewing or washing — Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else.” –I Hear America Singing; Walt Whitman I like taking pictures, but I know I’m not a photographer. I’m a huge fan of … Continue reading The Painter With His Pots
Dear Journal, Why haven’t I learned yet just to keep my mouth shut? Maybe that’s the real reason I’ve lost so many friends over the years. They just got tired of listening to me, probably. I mean, I’ve never entertained ideas that I was a quiet person who didn’t speak unless spoken to. That’s not … Continue reading Dear Journal: Shutting Up
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Exploring life, love, lifting, and (almost) literally everything else, frequently aided by laughter and libations
Just a small town girl who writes about Christian stuff.
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Natalie. Writer. Photographer. Etc.
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