the day that hell froze over

yep, that's the 12th MAN on my BROTHER's shirt!! whoop.

my brother could not be more of an obnoxious texas longhorn fan. the boy wore burnt orange his entire childhood. it is difficult for me to find a photo of the two of us from age 2 to 20 without him putting his "horns" up in the picture.


when i transferred to A&M he gave me all kinds of grief. still does. worse than my father, who actually attended and graduated from ut-austin. (this decrease in animosity on my dad's part may have something to do with the difference of public and private school tuition.)


that punk brother of mine used to leave me voice messages while i was at A&M...
"hey jib bo betsy lou this is farmer ted. just calling to see how them cows were and if you gots your overalls on today or not. give them chickens my love." just hilarious.


and then, the day came when he wore maroon. when i graduated? nope. when he came to visit in washington? nope. no, only when an aggie win would help TCU get a bid to the national championship did my midget put on the maroon and white.


whatever, the reason, it didn't matter. he may be six feet tall and obnoxious, but he's still my brother. i love him...and he loves the aggies. GIG EM!!!

life is...

dear world wide web,

have we met?

it has been so long since we have last spoken that sometimes it is as if i do not know you.

but this is what i do know: life - is a beautiful mess. life is one big chance. life is constant change. life is a risk. life is leap of faith. life is faith.

life is love. life is lonely. life is laughter, hurt, pain, confusion, miraculous.

life is... well, i know a lot about life. but there is a LOT that i don't know about life. for me, life is a rollercoaster of emotions and events, highs and lows, heartbreaks and joys beyond compare.

somedays i long for a life sitting on a wooden dock,with barefeet, overlooking a quiet lake, somewhere a few miles outside of a quiet town, full of quiet - but not boring - people. far away from glossy magazines, health care debates, shiny cars, and bright lights. but most days, i am at peace with my life, fully satisifed knowing that a higher power has brought me to this, and will get me through, this life.

life of late is full of antibacterial soap, potty accidents, chattering children, and alphabet songs. when i'm not at work, i am one step behind in work emails and half-marathon training. my life is full of long distance friendships, occasional dinner dates, church gatherings, runs through the park, and the occasional weekday visit with my mom and the dog.

i don't want to get started on the break-up of jon and kate of the famous tv show "jon and kate plus eight," but lately the tagline for their show has been bouncing around my head. they talk of their 8 children, (and by no means am i comparing my small, selfish life to theirs - they are far busier, without question) but they talk of their 8 children and then pictures of those children flash on the screen and jon & kate's voices say: "it may be a crazy life, but this is our life."

and i wonder: how much do we actively take charge of the life we have been given? granted, as Christians, we would be more correct to say "this is a crazy life. but this is God's life" because we are dedicating our lives to Christ... even still - how often do we boldly claim to love, to be responsible for, to be thankful for, our lives?

that dock near the lake on a sunny day sounds really great sometimes. but for now, i acknowledge my life is a mess running in three thousand directions. but it is the life God has given me, and it is such a life!

thank you for sharing it with me, world wide web & friends. i hope to be back to visit more often.

love,
courtney

and i'm back...

The sun was shining and the sky a vibrant bright blue when I opened the door of our elementary school. I propped it open and nineteen three year old children tottered out after me – most of them with their hands behind their back and a “bubble” in their mouth, our procedure for walking in line. I watched them skurry past me, bound for the swings, slides, and other fun obstacles on our playground, and I realized: these are my babies. After thirteen weeks with these kids, leaving them before the end of the year would be as painful as chopping off my left arm. Their imaginations, sense of adventure, and genuine love for everyone around them. Their smiles, laughter, and “monster” faces. The sound of their voices as we review letters and numbers. It would be too much to do anything but finish the year with these rowdy, rambunctious little people.

“Miss Robinson, I’m going to catch you!” Milian shouted on the playground, his legs in a position that made him look like a tiny track star on the starting block. It was at that moment that I realized… You have already caught me. Milian, you and the thirty six others, have caught me. Sometimes it feels wonderful, like when seven of them are hugging me at once and telling me they love my shoes, my nose, my hair…anything. Sometimes it feels as if I have been caught, in a net, and I’m thrashing to get out – days when things are tense between myself and my co-teacher, when I’m putting on gloves and wiping up urine in the bathroom, when I’m trying to reason with a toddler who really just wants to hit other kids and scream in my face but I can’t send him home so I’ve just got to deal with it.

Either way, I joined TFA at the end of the day to love on kids, regardless of what they achieve academically. So, here we are, doing just that. It doesn’t ultimately matter if my kids are behind academically at the end of the year – they can and probably will catch up in PreK4, which is a full day program at our school. But, what matters, is if they learned routines. If together we sparked a lifelong love of school and learning. What matters at the end of the day is if they know they matter – if not to their families, than to me. To each other. To the world.

“Maestra!!!! I’m going to catch you.”

Well, my lovebug, it turns out you already have.

a whirlwind weekend

I awoke Friday morning with a feeling of excitement comparable to the giddiness one feels on Christmas morning. Things at school are going better, I was facing a three day weekend, AND caitlin hodges was arriving that evening from washington. This is the tale of the chaotic, rambunctious, hilarious 36 hours I spent with hodges and a girl called shumway.

7:08 p.m. Caitlin alerts us via text her plane is delayed due to bad weather in Houston

7:09 p.m. Caitlin alerts me that the honorable Sheila Jackson Lee is on her same flight

11:24 p.m. Jennifer Shumway (fellow Kappa from Texas A&M, also BFFs with Caitlin) picks me up in her fancy jetta and we jet off to the airport to retrieve jet-setter Hodges.

11:48 p.m. arrive airport. attempt to avoid airport traffic directors as they force us to move our vehicle.

12:04 p.m. no news from caitlin. we head for the nearest gas station for a bathroom break, caffiene, and sugar.

12:08 p.m. Gas station attendant complains to us about bossy grumpy men that she feels "need to go get laid already." We awkwardly exit gas station avoiding eye contact with said gas station attendant.

12:24 p.m. Caitlin has arrived! Jennifer and I stand outside car to give her a hug as soon as she exits baggage claim.

12:26 p.m. We can't wait any longer. Leave car, enter terminal, hug Caitlin excitedly, return within 60 seconds.

12:27 p.m. Return to car to find police officer sitting in Shumway's car with his hand on the gear shift. "no no no!" shumway starts yelling. he starts yelling, looking back and forth between the two of us, caitlin standing off to the side as if she has no part in this. "You can NOT leave your car unattended! I've been watching the two of you and I watched you just walk away from your car. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING??" We both quickly stammered something about we were just going inside to find our friend and it took all of about 60 seconds. "WHAT?? it took BOTH of you IDIOTS to go get the other idiot?? How stupid! You can NOT leave your car here!!" At the end of his rant he slowly got out of shumway's car, we shoved the bags in and drove off in about 3.5 seconds. What a jerk! We couldn't believe how rude he was. You, sir, are a police officer and you are supposed to protect us, not berate us, regardless of if we are (or are not) idiots.

When I told my mom this story, I told her that after it happened shumway and i were so confused, "like what was he going to do, drive off in the car? Why did he have the right to SIT IN HER CAR???"

And my mom asked: "Well, he couldn't have driven off. Who had the keys?"

Um, the car had the keys. The car? Yea, we left the car running. Yea, we might be idiots. But we were just SO excited to see our friend, and we already very sleepy, that we weren't thinking clearly. Which is why we missed our exit and ended up in the Woodlands as well as had to go the restroom in a Ford dealership parking lot at 2:15 in the morning.

Finally we made it to the Hodge's house in Bryan. After four hours of sleep I woke up, went for a jog around the country club in Bryan, purchased scratch-off lottery tickets (caitlin's idea, who else?) and diet cokes, went to a tent sale to get much-needed aggie gear for caitlin's boyfrrrrrriend, and tailgated for hours in the freezing cold weather with mud on our boots. It was a perfect weekend and I'm leaving out some great details. like the fact that i saw mary alice warner AND lauren johnson. some of my absolute favorites.

But I have this to say in closing: thank goodness for sororities. I know they have their reputations and their pitfalls, but really, I have met some of my most wonderful, loving, generous, kind-hearted friends through a sorority. (And certainly through other things, too.)College sometimes feels like yesterday, and it sometimes feels like years and years ago. But the friendships? They still make you laugh til your face hurts, they still bring you warmth and fuzzy feelings, and they still forgive you for spilling margaritas on the floorboards of their car. Oops.

What a wonderful weekend. Gig em, Aggies!

don't miss modern family

Are you tired of hearing me ramble about the struggles of my life and details of education reform? Well... good news. I'm here to tell you about Modern Family, my new favorite TV show.

I started watching it late Saturday night because I don't have a TV in my room and i needed a distraction while attempting to organize my closet/desk. i'd already watched each new episode of the office three times this season so i needed something new...

enter Modern Family. I don't care what your age or gender is, you'll love this show. Hilarious. I definitely recommend it. Find it on abc.com.

In other news, I have dinner with Mike Feinburg tomorrow night and a small group of first-year TFA KIPP teachers. I sort of feel like a young struggling actor going to have dinner with Julia Roberts or Robert Duvall. I mean, I read a book about this man this summer. I've heard him speak to large crowded ballrooms from a table in the back on mulitiple occasions. And now- there's 10 of us going to dinner. Ah! Please excuse me while I go figure out what I'm going to wear tomorrow. Oops...I mean while I go read some education news articles to help me sound intelligent.

magnolia-fy

i know this girl, she's pretty sweet, we'll call her caitlin hodges. (no need to protect her identity here.)

my inbox frequently appreciates her quirkiness, humor, and overall fabulousness. a few months back she emails me about magnolias - she was setting up her new blog, reminiscing about the days we used the word "magnolia" to describe an attractive person of the opposite sex, etc.

i pondered for a while and later replied with a new favorite word of mine - magnolia-fy: the art of introducing southern charm to a world desperately in need of it.

yea, i made that up. if beyonce can get the word bootlicious in the dictionary, i think webster should definitely introduce my word in his next edition.

anyways...the separation anxiety has been getting to me. finally, finally, finally, one of my favorites is returning to the state of texas. on top of that, we'll be tailgating and enjoying life in aggieland next weekend. the countdown to college station has begun.

in the meantime, check out her blog. you won't regret it. http://magnoliaaffair.blogspot.com/

news we should all read

i read a book by a guy named dana milbank this spring. he's a sketch report with the washington post and is as non-partisan as they come. he attacks both sides, constantly, and continually leaves people in the White House and Capitol Hill steaming regardless of your party affiliation.

here's a pretty brief article about Helen Thomas, 89-year-old reporter who still covers the daily press briefing of the president and has been doing so since the days of JFK. she's a tough cookie and gave robert gibbs (press secretary) a run for his money on Oct. 1st.

milbank says that the white house has not taken a decisive, firm stand on any issue other than Chicago for the host city of 2016 olympics. he makes a good point... don't miss it. see below.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/10/01/AR2009100104303_2.html?hpid=artslot

you can't play. you're an adult now.

our class gained a new student six weeks into school. he is very inquisitive, asks a lot of questions, still seems to be soaking up his surroundings at KIPP even though he's been here nearly two weeks.

i'm used to the daily barrage of questions. i try to just answer them as quickly and honestly as possible and move on.

well, today was glorious. nice weather, nice classroom environment, etc. we're on the playground, i'm running around chasing students pretending to be a dragon. (they love it, i promise, you should see the delight on their faces as they run shrieking and giggling from me.)

so, i grabbed the new-ish student and said: "i got you!"

he looks at me, seeming perturbed. "miss roberson...long pause...WHAT are you doing?"

"well, ___ ," I asked him..."what do you mean, what am i doing?"

"WHAT are you doing?"

"I'm playing!!!" Duh.

"Miss Roberson, how can you DO that?? You're an ADULT now."

Hahaha. "Adults can play, too you know!" I told him as I grabbed and hissed at another student who was running past us.

"What? No they can't."

Obviously I sat him down and explained you can have fun at any age and that having fun is really important and yada yada yada. He seemed unconvinced, so I just scuttled off yelling and shrieking "I'm going to get youuuuuuuuuu!" at the other children, children who either don't think I'm an adult (highly likely) or they don't have a problem with adults having fun.

100 MILLION DOLLARS

The co-founder of Gap, Inc. died today at age 81 after a long fight with cancer. I had no idea who created Gap until I joined Teach for America and read the book about KIPP - "Work Hard, Be Nice."

Gap's success and its founders generosity are a large reason that I have a job today. Don Fisher & his wife have given, to date, ONE HUNDRED MILLION dollars to KIPP and Teach for America. How much is 100 million dollars? i have no idea, can't wrap my mind around a number like that. But its even weirder for me to imagine myself giving that kind of money away. I don't care how much money you have, giving away a chunk like $100 million is the definition of generosity. Thanks, Mr & Mrs Fisher!

Read more here.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB125408495328144473.html?mod=WSJ_hpp_sections_business

And, just for the record, anytime I read about Gap in the news or make a purchase at one of their stores, I can't help but think of the infamous Alison Paige Jarvis. Love that girl.

1963-2008

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Romans 8:38-39

neither death nor life will seperate us from the love of God. What a promise. And yet, our hearts still ache...I am thankful for the power of memory and the hope we have in Christ.

love you, homie.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KLGVKfiFTQ&feature=related

i want my mommy

so we have a new friend in our afternoon class. today was her first day - she's just turned four last week, is on the chubby side, and super cute. i met her yesterday, she was all smiles and happiness to be at school. then today, her mom stayed for about fifteen minutes and then left. well, my new friend tried to run out after her mom. i picked her up - oh, strained a muscle or two - and we sat in a chair for a few minutes.

"I want to go home," she said. Over and over and over. I tried to pat her back, soothe her hair, show her my watch and tell her we didn't have that long. "I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home." Oh, girlfriend, so do I. Trust me, so do I. But we're here and we're going to make the most of it.

So for the rest of our time before we went to lunch, I chased my other friend in the class who requires alot of attention while my team-teacher taught the circle time lesson. The student grabbed some tape off the teacher desk and wrapped himself in it while I attempted to ignore him. Then he yelled and kicked until I helped him get it off himself. He tried to bite me - not to hurt, only because he wants attention. But he calmed down and we made it to the cafeteria for lunch soon after.

My new first-day friend was on my lap, refusing to eat. "I want my mommy," she said through tears while gasping for oxygen. Take a deep breath, I would say. "I want my mommy," she would say through a thick Hispanic accent.

Well, ladybug, I want my mommy, too. Literally. I want my mommy to come and whisk me away sometimes and I want to cry, too. But we carry on, with our heads high.

I began to worry about my friend. It had been an hour and she hadn't calmed down. None of my usual tactics were working. So, we went back to the room with my other friend, the one who likes to tape himself around the midsection or take off his shoes and fling them at my head.

So me, the crier, and the sprinter were in the classroom, building towers and castles with blocks just the three of us while the rest were in the cafe. The sprinter talking, the crier crying, me building. The crier all of sudden sprints, literally, sprinting, toward our door which I had propped open. I was frozen in fear. How could I leave the sprinter in the room alone to chase the crier? Could I carry him and still run quickly enough to grab her? I could not carry both of them. My biceps can only take so much. I am not, in fact, Michelle Obama. She continued to run a few more feet away from me. Oh shit, oh shit, I thought as she lunged for the door. (Sorry but sometimes bad words fly around in my head at these moments.)

The crier stopped. She wasn't running for the door afterall. She was reaching in the shopping bag that her mom had dropped off, full of her school supplies. It sat right next to the door. She carried it over to us - this girl is strong! - and plopped down next to me. "Oh, crier, what are you doing with that big bag silly girl?" I asked with a smile.

She reached in and grabbed a packet of play-doh. She was suddenly rambling in spanish, talking 90-to-nothing and thinking I was fluent or something. "Oh crier, lo siento, but I don't speak Spanish very well. Just a little."

She kept on with the Spanish. "English?" I prompted.

She looked at me with her huge brown eyes. "Oh, English." She said quietly. "My daddy bought me this playdoh! My daddy bought me this playdoh." More spanish, very fast.

Oh! Jackpot! A connection. "Crier, we have play doh in our class. Can you make me something with playdoh?" I whipped out some already opened hot pink playdoh.

"Sure," she said. "I'll make you a ball." Um, wow?

It was the strangest, awesomest thing in the world. I don't know what triggered her moment of joy in the classroom, why it occurred to her to get playdoh, but she didn't cry another tear all day. Sure, she was sad at times and asked for her mommy, but I do that everyday too. She participated with the class for the rest of the day - i didn't see her much because i was with the sprinter, but at dismissal I was standing outside with another group when she and her mom walked up to me. I didn't see them but I suddenly felt a body hugging my knees tightly. I looked down and there were her dark brown eyes smiling up at me.

"Oh, crier, I love hugs. Thank you. Did you tell mommy you had a great day at school today? Will you see me tomorrow?"

She hugged tighter and nodded her head, smiling at me as if we were best friends. That, right there, is what makes all of the madness seem worth it.

Hope you had a blessed hump day!

countdown to the capitol

It's exactly one month until I will be back within the borders of D.C. - back in the presence of some of the greatest people in the world. (you know who you are - joe& jill biden, i'm not talking to you. but i appreciate your readership.) i'll be back to a city of freedom, excitement, leaves that change colors, and scarves. oh scarves. The metro and the monuments are marvelous, but really... I just can't wait to spend time with a handful of people there. Love you much.

One month. As hard as this life is, as much as I throw myself full of tears on my bed or into the arms of my mom sometimes, begging God to reveal some wisdom as to why I'm in this position right now, shoved between a rock and a hard place. (more like a boulder and a concrete wall.) Much as I pray constantly to make it through the next day with an ounce of joy... all of it seems less daunting thinking about the plane ride and the people. I literally breathe easier thinking about a three day weekend sure to be filled with laughter and ridiculousness and goodness.

This was in the church bulletin on Sunday. Wonderful.

"The purpose of Christianity is not to avoid difficulty, but to produce a character adequate to meet it when it comes. It does not make life easy; rather it tries to make us great enough for life." -James Christensen

my middle name is awkward

courtney awkward robinson. that name is a lot more appropriate than ann.

but seriously, if you know me well enough to read this, you know me well enough to know i can be very awkward. (sometimes intentionally, i'll admit.)

i don't accept compliments well. ha. that's the understatement of the month.

you like my shoes? oh thanks. quick change of subject. my principal told me i looked nice the other day and i completely lost my train of thought. took me an extra thirty seconds to remember why i was in her office. what? oh, no, my hair looks horrible today. i mean thanks. run away.

last week towards the beginning of my afternoon class we were playing with blocks at different tables in our classroom. i was kneeling to be eye-level with a small group. "miss roberson?" one of our students asked.

"yes, olivia?" (name changed)

"you're beautiful."

i hadn't been looking at her when i said "yes, olivia" because i was picking up blocks from under the table. i picked my head up and found her eyes on mine. i thought for sure i was losing my mind and she'd really probably asked me the color of the block she was holding or something.

"what, olivia?" i asked quietly.

"you're beautiful, miss roberson."

i smiled and literally blinked back a tear. "oh, olivia." i crossed to her side of the table and gave her a quick hug. "i think you're beautiful, too."

three year olds. their honesty is admirable. how am i, at twenty three, unable to express my gratitude, love, or admiration for those around me? when was the last time i looked someone in the eye and truly told them how i'd felt?

i later thought about what a gift olivia has. the ability, without shame or nervousness, to express her feelings. over building blocks! during an everyday activity, she completely made my day. what a gift. we should all take a page out of olivia's book.

i think you're beautiful! love, courtney a. rob

love is a battlefield

there's an 80s song that's been in some more recent movies that goes like this:
"We are young! heartache to heartache we stand...
Love is a battlefield!"

It's a silly song, but it does make me want to put on some blue eyeshadow and rock out whenever i hear it. And its chorus has been reverberating through my mind the past few weeks.

They ask you on the first day of summer teach for america training to write down on an index card the answer to this question: "In one word, why are you here? Why did you join Teach for America?" My answer?

Love.

They ask you, on the first day of summer TFA training: "In one word, what do you have to give? What will get you through the challenges of teach for america?" My answer?

Love.

Any reservations I've had about teaching three year olds, I've known one thing: any three year old, especially in the socio-economic situation that almost every student at KIPP faces, needs a lot of love. And I have a lot of love to give for those sweet kiddos. Their smiles, the things they say, their view of the world around them... you can't help but love them. I find myself thinking about them as I fall asleep at night. I think about them on my drive home. I think about them and love on them a lot...But that love is not always easy.

A child peed me on the second day of school. I have armored myself with gloves and clorox countless times to clean up pee on the floor of the bathroom, scrub our carpet where someone squatted to "go". I completely lost my voice ten days ago - literally opened my mouth and nothing came out. It sounded like cats were dying in there. And it still comes and goes. I have to explain myself on the phone to people - "sorry, no, this really is courtney, not a man..."

I have ringworm. RINGWORM! Itchy red patch on my arm that itches likes the dickens and is just, well, disgusting. I have been kicked in the shins, scratched, pushed, and two ochildren who tend to be on the angry side have even gone so far as to spit in my face. Intentionally, you ask? Yes.

I knew it was going to be a difficult year. No one said teaching was easy. But all of this at the one-month mark? Really? I had no idea.

If they say that good teaching is simply loving on children...well, this love is a battlefield.

the arrogance of christianity

The sermon this morning at church was about whether or not Jesus is the only way to Heaven, to God, to salvation. The pastor spoke about how that is perceived as a very, very arrogant claim - that Christians basically say "We know the right way to God - its Jesus - and all the other ways fall short. Any other way is wrong." He's right - we sound arrogant. But at the same time, he talked about Christianity being the most humble of all religions - over and over the Bible tells us, alone we can do nothing. Alone we will never get to Heaven. We need Christ. We are insufficient. (He talked about other religions like Hindu and Islam saying that you have to self-help to know God. You have to go to this class, or do this ritual, or etc...)

Anyways, the pastor told a great metaphor/story that really rang true to me. I'm going to share it with the world wide web.

Four men came upon a burning building at the same time (a businessman, a knight in shining armor, a runner, and a firefighter.) They stood watching the building burn when they noticed a small child in a second-story window. They had no ladders or way of getting to the child without rushing into the building, so they began discussing who would go into the building.

"I should go," said the businessman. "I have on this three piece suit that has served me well in corporate America, in boardrooms, I've done great things in this suit. I can go in and this fire won't get me in this suit."

"No, I should go," said the knight in shining armor. "I have this protection all over my body and the fire won't harm me. I can get to the child; this armor has served me well in battle, it will serve me now."

"No, no," said the runner. "I will go. I'm a fast runner, and I'm only wearing these really short nylon shorts. I can sprint in there, get the child, and get out quickly. I'll go."

"No, no, no," said the fireman. "You can't go. I must go. First of all, businessman, your suit is wool. You will be set ablaze within seconds and never reach the child. Knight in shining armor, you are wearing metal. You will be scorched inside your metal suit. It will not protect you in this situation. And runner, you only have on nylon short shorts. You will burn up as well. You will not be fast enough to out run the fire.

I will be able to go in and save this child. I have this suit that is made for fire. It is made to keep me safe. I know how to fight fire and I will know the best way to get to the child. None of you can go. I will go."

The question is this: is that fireman arrogant? Or is he simply knowledgeable, trained for this situation, equipped to survive? No, the fireman is simply speaking the truth. And that is Jesus - not arrogant, but simply speaking the truth. He is the only way to God.

"I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but through me." John 14:6

"my heart is a desert, that is run dry"

I think I'm going to make it through this, and I'm so thankful for the people who've been supportive in the last few weeks.

But right now, I am trying to keep my head above water. Life feels like a movie scene, with passengers in an airplane gasping for air. I am desperately waiting for the captain to tell us that the oxygen masks will be dropping from the ceiling very soon. I am clinging to my faith that the one who led me here, will lead me out of here.

This song below was on my playlist as I ran around the Rice University loop yesterday; it's words are perfect.


"As I sit here and think
About all that You've done
About how You gave me Your one and only Son
And I'm trying to fathom
All that You are, but so far, Lord
You're so beyond me

I fall down in reverence
And I fall down in fear
And I'm asking You, Lord, won't You please draw near
Won't You open my eyes
So that I can see
The way that You are
working in me

All I need is Your love
To come and fill this heart of mine
My heart is a desert that has gone dry
And I need Your love to carry me by..."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0PzZZY0ByQ&feature=fvw

please get your hands out of the toilet

you may have noticed that my whole "31 days of blogging" campaign has disappeared. I've still been writing for my own sake but not everyday and somethings just really not worthy of anyone reading. besides, ten days in a row of your inbox getting a message from marvelous light? that was nine days too many.

but i'm back, to share a laugh or two with you. yesterday, our nightmare of an afternoon class was going semi-okay, with some students able to play in our imagination station, some at other centers, having a pretty good time and using gross motor skills and all of that. well, then sweet caroline (name changed to protect the tiny) comes up to me. (background: she's super cute, very articulate, and developmentally ahead of a an average three year old. and she can't say the "n" in robinson.)

ms robison, ms robison, i have to go the baffroom!! she was dancing in front of me. okay, caroline, i told her, let's hurry and open the door. (we have a small bathroom in the back of our room, every class does, and in a class of nineteen three year olds the bathroom is rarely empty. more on that later.)

sometimes the door to our bathroom sticks, so i went to help her. "i can't get my bottoms off!!" she said as she hopped around in her hot pink slip-on keds, visibly trying not to go. "Okay, caroline, we'll get it together."

I bend down and mess with the buttons on her skort. Then I figure out the buttons are pretend. I move to the side zipper. It is sooooo stuck. She's dancing around, I gotta go I gotta go, I'm pulling at the zipper, thinking we should just rip the thing, and then... splat. Liquid hits the floor. Caroline's face as she looked up at me and peed on the bathroom floor was horrifying - she was so sad and upset that she couldn't hold it any longer. Even I wanted to cry. I smiled, kind of laughed, and tugged the skirt down. She sat on the potty and continued to go while I laughed, standing in the puddle. "Caroline, I'm not laughing at you, and I'm so sorry we couldn't get your skirt off fast enough. Its just kind of funny. But these accidents happen all the time and we'll get you cleaned up!" So I leave the bathroom, cracking up, and poke my head around the corner to tell my partner teacher why I'm missing in action. I get Kara's extra clothes and tell her we need to go to the nurses office. She's still so sad.

"Miss Robison, Miss Robison, I need help. My shoes are stuck." Oh, right, your shoes are soaked in urine. Right. So I start to pull them off as she leans on me and ... I dump the shoe out over the toilet. Correct. There was so much liquid in the shoe that I had to dump it. It was as if our ship was sinking and we had to bail out water.

I wondered, as I knelt there in the bathroom with my three year old friend emptying the pee out of her shoes, is my ship sinking? What in the world kind of life am I leading??

So to update you on the little dude who peed in my pants for me (see previous posting) - he's making progress. Doesn't cry as much. Hasn't peed in his pants in three days. But his ears? They don't seem to work. The kid does not listen to save his life. I'm embarrassed to say that two teachers is not enough in a classroom full of nineteen students, at least nine of whom are native Spanish speakers... and that we can't see everything or be everywhere at one time.

So yesterday, we're getting ready to go home, and my friend Vincent (name changed to protect the tiny) came up to me. "Teacher, teacher...long spanish sentence." Vincent, you know I don't speak much es spanol. How can I help you? Show me...

Vincent pulls me very quickly to el bano. "Vincent, you can go potty by yourself, is that what you need? You need help with your - " I stopped. I had opened the door to our bathroom and seen what is was that concerned Vincent so much.

Our friend was in the toilet, up to his elbows, shirt and hair damp, face wet... he was splashing in the toilet as if it was a baby pool. I'm not sure I even said anything for a full ten seconds, but stood with my mouth open and eyes wide in shock. Then I laughed. Then I became furious. Then I found myself saying...

"Excuse me. That is not a good choice. This is not okay. Please, right now, get your hands OUT of the toilet. Out of the toilet!!!!!"

Can I interest anyone in some hand sanitizer??? Kills 99% of germs, so they say.

i think i just peed in my pants!

When I got the call during the last week of June that I would be interviewing for a Pre-K 3 position, I thought of how much I love little kids and was excited. I also thought... three year olds? Guess I'll be dealing with some potty accidents throughout the year, but nothing huge.

48 hours into this full-time teaching gig and, well, I've already peed my pants. Sort of.

So, all the PreK3 classrooms at KIPP have two full-time, co-teachers to handle the nineteen or twenty kids and keep control of such a large classroom. We take turns who "leads" the lessons or circle time and who "supports" - handles the behavior issues, pulls out kids who need special attention, etc. Well, today was the first day that parents were leaving their kids, they had the option to stay but they could leave if they wanted. One student, we'll call him Jack, was experiencing particularly bad separation anxiety. He was screaming at the top of his lungs for his mom, shrieking, wiping snot on my hands and his. I was able to calm him down and get him to join the rest of the group by holding him or then having him sit in my lap during table activities instead of in the chair by himself.

Then we moved to the carpet to sing 5 Monkeys Swinging in A Tree - oh how my life has changed drastically from the press office at USDA just one year ago - and he lost it. Shaking, hyperventilating, that sort of thing. So I took him to the back of the classroom because Jack told me earlier he really likes books. We got a book, he settled down and leaned back against me as his tried to catch his breath.

I was reading about brown bears and what they see, or something of the like, when all of a sudden - a warm sensation in my lap. In an instant, I thought-What is going on here? Am I peeing in my pants?

No, no, it wasn't me. It was the kiddo in my lap. I don't think he even realized. I lifted him up quickly but he had already done so much damage that my soaked skirt was leaking and my legs were wet.

Yep, someone else's urine was literally, actually running down my legs. Hilarious. I seriously am still laughing out loud about it, because, who would have thought? Not me.

The best part I think was that Jack ran and ran from me, and once he was in the bathroom, both of us both soaked and uncomfortable, he stripped off his clothes and refused to put any back on. Awesome.

Anyways, long story short, we called his mom to come back early and I did get his clothes on before she came. His hysterics ended and I now know to bring extra clothes to work, but... I just can't wait to see how it goes tomorrow.

Seriously, someone else peed my pants for me today. All in the name of significant academic gains, baby!!

Finish the Race

I keep a note in my bible from a sermon I heard at Grace Bible Church in Aggieland - I don't remember the details of the sermon but I have written on a notecard the synopsis of an inspiring true story from the 1968 Summer Olympics.

A runner from Tanzania became very injured during the marathon in Mexico City, and he his leg was gushing blood for miles - he even developed a very visible limp. But the runner pressed on - and he crossed that finish line an hour and a half after the finisher, to the sound of hundreds of thousands of people cheering for him.

After the race, the Olympian was asked during an interview how he had found the strength to finish the 26.2 miles.

"You don't understand," said the runner. "My country did not send me 5,000 miles to start a race. They sent me to finish it."

http://speedendurance.com/2007/07/15/how-to-finish-a-marathon-1968-olympics-in-mexico-city/

I know I'm in need of that mentality when I start to give up - specifically when I start to give up hope while doing something that I know God has clearly brought me to for a reason. The Lord hasn't left us on Earth to start His work - he has us here to finish the task he has set out for each of us. Even if that task is as simple as walking in love everyday... or as difficult as running a marathon with a bloody leg.

"Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." Phil 3:13-14

First Day of School!

Exhausted, thrilled, blessed, hopeful, overwhelmed... its a roller coaster of emotions around here, people. But I knew after the first hour of school today that PreK 3 is an awesome place to be.


Let me back up - I'm teaching PreK 3 at KIPP SHINE prep academy. Check out the website for KIPP if you feel the need to know more, but basically its a pretty intense, awesome charter school in south Houston. KIPP was started by Teach for America alumni within an elementary school in HISD in 1994. The founders are deeply committed to proving that any child, regardless of their parents' income or the color of their skin, can achieve the same academic success as the kids in wealthy, more affluent neighborhoods and consistently strong schools.


http://www.kipphouston.org/kipp/KIPP_SHINE_Prep_EN.asp?SnID=157433161


I've been hesitant about this PreK3 assignment - I loved teaching fourth grade this summer and I someday hope to teach high school, so three year olds? I told myself, at least three year olds at KIPP are very academically focused - we don't do worksheets, we set very high standards for our students, and use a lot of kindergarten curriculum throughout the year. So kindergarten, sure, I can do that.

But today, within an hour of spending time talking to the kids and showing them around our classroom, I knew that PreK3 was going to be a blast this year. Sure, challenging, especially since at least six of our kids don't speak English, but I learned today... those faces, those smiles, those hugs - I'm not going to have much trouble getting up to go to work in the morning.

And since all I wanted to do was collapse on our alphabet carpet at 4:15 this afternoon, I know that I'm not going to have any trouble falling asleep each night either.

"he may be short, but he is sure is scrappy"

i'm not sure who started saying it, possibly jim thornton (aka NASA.) but if you know my dad, you know two things: he's short. and he's fiesty. insert scrappy to replace fiesty for alliteration affects and you have the phrase "he may be short, but he sure is scrappy." my brother and i have been chanting it perodically since, oh, age eight.

well, shorty climbed through some shrubbery and clung to an inclined concrete wall to write me a message about the first day of school!! yay dad! how hilarious. how awesome!

our apartment is on the top floor of our apt building, and overlooks downtown. there's also a lovely bayou that is a) ugly but b) at least you're looking at trees and some sort of water instead of a warehouse. here's a view from last night...

and here's the sign. my dad took giant sidewalk chalk on friday and wrote "Go TFA. 1st day!" and then he wrote each of the three roommates college's and our initials. totally made my day!

my new obsession: julia child

I spent the last two hours watching a movie about a young woman who blogs just for the sake of writing - of adding a little bit of purpose in her life. She comes off as silly and selfish at first when she tells people of her endeavor to blog (about cooking) for 365 days in a row.

Does that sound a little familiar? Why, yes, I think I know someone equally as weird...

She has not a single reader when the journey begins. Sometimes I think that blogging is so silly, and it is, and other times I think it is such a gift. Which it is. The thing Julie had to watch out for was becoming too self-important- but she stuck to her goal because she wanted to finish something she set out to do, no matter how trivial it might seem. Julie is a movie character, yes, but that character is based off a real, live, 30-something woman who lives in NYC. She & I are similar in a lot of ways - except for a few things: she got a book deal from her blog, she has a hot husband who adores her, she lives in queens, she enjoys cooking a lot of random things from scratch.


In case you haven't figured it out yet...I saw the movie Julie&Julia tonight. It was, in a word, splendid. The french accents, Meryl Streep, Stanley Tucci, the costume and set design...one of my new favorites. It is a sure-to-be classic. Run out and see this instant!


The thing that struck me most about the movie was the love stories woven throughout it. I knew going in that Julia Child's husband adored her, but you learn so much more about their relationship throughout the movie, as well as the character Julie and her husband. Both women are extremely blessed in that their husbands want them to seek their passions - and their husbands are wildly passionate about their wives. Both are rare finds, in the 1940s and the 2010s. It is a heartwarming story to be certain. I could listen to Meryl Streep laugh and be kooky like Julia Child for hours. (Which I did, because the movie is a little on the lengthy side.)

I won't be copying her recipes anytime soon, but I will be taking a page out of Mrs. Childs' book on how to have complete zest for life.

ferris wheels

I have a lot a lot to do to prepare for my classroom, first day of school starts Monday, but I've committed to this blogging something everyday and I can't quit this early.

So, in case you're girly or you like weddings or ferriswheels, here's a link I stole from someone else's blog about a wedding with a ferris wheel.

http://www.jamiehammondphotography.com/blog/?p=1278l

“Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up."

James Baldwin

Good Job, Mr. Hillary

Well, I caught up on some CNN today while putting together a few things from IKEA for my classroom. The homecoming of the American journalists who have been in captivity in North Korea since March was being discussed/recapped... In all seriousness, Bill Clinton appears to have done a great job in what the White House and State Dept are repeatedly referring to as a "strictly humanitarian mission." (Seriously, Robert Gibbs and Barack and Hillary both referred to it as a "humanitarian mission" over twenty times in interviews today.)

I'm so glad the women are home, and I'm proud of Bill Clinton going over there, and I'm proud to say I'm an American. But I also like jokes. Apparently, so does CNN anchor Campbell Brown. She showed the clip of Jimmy Fallon's monologue tonight. It went as follows:

Aired Tuesday night on “Late Night With Jimmy Fallon” on NBC:
"Hey, congratulations to former President Bill Clinton. He traveled to North Korea today, met with Kim Jong-Il and won the release of those two female journalists. It was great for Obama to use Clinton that way. I think I know how he got him to go over there.

You know, he’s probably like, “Bill, I need you to go to North Korea for me.”
“I can’t do it. I’m completely booked. I have numerous obligations.”
“I want you to visit a woman’s prison.”
“What time’s my flight?”

"i run to you"

(stained glass in San Chapelle Cathedral, Paris)

Three days into this whole thirty one days of blogging thing and I'm out of energy and stories worthy of your time. Instead, I leave you with a song I have on repeat right now, in the event you haven't heard it. Or heard it enough. Happy day!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rs38lKxmtI4&feature=fvw

I run from hate

I run from prejudice

I run from pessimists

But I run too lateI run my life

Or is it running me

Run from my past

I run too fast

Or too slow it seems

When lies become the truth

That's when I run to you

[Chorus]

This world keeps spinning faster

Into a new disaster so I run to you

I run to you baby

And when it all starts coming undone

Baby you're the only one

I run to, I run to you

We run on...

-Lady Antebellum

(saw them live in april '09. thanks to stephanie h.)

wonders of life

I often forget about the power of prayer. Not that God answers all prayers in the way we wish Him too, but just how powerful it is to go to God with conversation. I often remind myself that conversation is just as much listening as it is talking. Sorry, God, I know you've got an earful from me.

Saturday night in Houston was a wonder. I walked down the streets of my new houston neighborhood, the historic heights, with an entourage of friends at my side: new friends from teach for america, friends from A&M, friends from 7th grade, friends from random spots of life. How wonderfully they all mixed together. I had a plastic cup of fruity wine in my hand as bands rocked out in the streets and shops and restaurants threw open their doors for late night shopping and dining.

As the evening progressed we migrated with some dudes who went to that small school in Austin for some two-stepping. I will never pass up the chance to twirl on a dancefloor, even if I did leave my boots at home.

I found myself wide awake at three a.m., home at my parents house (my house) to care for the heathen dogs. A thought struck me: I could still be in D.C. I could have moved to Denver, Charlotte, backwoods Mississippi, but I am here. And I am slowly learning that wherever I am, as comfortable as it may be at times, God will bring me challenges. And wherever I may go, lonely as it may be in the future, God will bring me friends, and joy. As we continue to seek Him, He will continually, not daily or always, but continually, shower us with the joy of knowing Him, and knowing the joys of life.

“Open your eyes to the beauty around you, open your mind to the wonders of life, open your heart to those who love you, and always be true to yourself.” – Donna Davis

"You reveal the path of life to me, in Your Presence is abundant joy, in your right hand eternal pleasures." Psalm 16:11


I will close with a plug for White Linen Nights in the Heights. It's where we were Saturday night and it was so cool. So un-Houston. I'll be sure to be there next year!
http://www.whitelinennightheights.com/

That Internship With The Cows Came in Pretty Handy

I once spent a week as a writing intern for the Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo. What does that mean? That I was excused from classes for five days (letter from the Dean, thank you very much) sitting in various small arenas observing heifer shows. No, I’m not kidding. Laugh it up, people.

I often asked myself what the heck I had gotten into: cows, manure, FFA kids, belt buckles, cattle prods, purple and green colored hay. I wrote articles on these shows at the end of each day, after hours of observing teenagers poke and prod their prized cow through the arena. They shoved their hind parts, they lifted their legs and poked underneath them, they talked sternly into the ears of their animal and it actually worked.

I knew that the writing was a good experience for me, I love love love the Rodeo. But really, what was the point of all the cattle? Sitting and watching all that maneuvering of the animals throughout the arena?

I realized yesterday that I was meant to do the heifer internship so that I would be equipped with the skills needed to bathe our family dogs.

I had to sweet talk and practically sit on my brother’s “masculine” dog named after a character in the “masculine” movie Lonesome Dove so that he would not run from the “vicious” water hose. Very masculine. Gus sprinted away from me and I had to chase him in circles after I had soaped him up . He was very against the “rinse” cycle of his bath, apparently. To his credit, he was very obedient as I toweled him off, all eighty-seven pounds of him, and sent him inside to roll all over our wood floors.

Then came the precious angel we call Tres. Eighty pound golden retriever not quite a year old, smelling of fish and other rotten things. In desperate need of a bath. (I bought Suave Green Apple family size just for him. That anti-flea shampoo just is not strong enough to knock back his scent.)

Anyways, he ran outside happily with me, we threw the ball and played soccer a little bit, then I got out the water hose and … BAM. He bolted to the backdoor as if I had just got out a shot gun and placed a target on his back. I called him over in a gentle voice, stern voice, mean voice, charming voice. None of it worked. I went and grabbed him by the collar and pulled. He did not budge.

I, similar to a young FFA-er showing cattle, lifted his front paws and tried to physically make him walk. I picked him up. But I was not strong enough to pick him up and walk at the same time, so I put him down. I begged nicely for him to follow me to the hose. I threatened to remove his back legs if he didn’t follow me to the hose. I squirted him from a distant with the hose. Mean, yes, but I was on my last nerve. This dog will swim for days in lakes and rivers. What is wrong with a little water hose?

Finally, I thought back to those cattle arena days. The sweet and innocent teenage girls could pull their eight hundred pound calves around the show area. I could pull this dog! So I grabbed behind his hears, sat back into a backwards lunge position, and used all my strength to slowly coax/drag him over to the hose, where I promptly threw one leg over his back so he couldn’t budge.

Then I sang to him and assured him he would be the handsomest dog in the neighborhood when we were done with the suddsing. He didn’t seem to mind too badly, and he already smelled much better. Then I rinsed. Then he bolted. For the mud puddle that had formed while the hose ran as I hauled him across the yard as if he were my prized FFA exhibit. He got all four of his giant bear paws covered in mud, so we rinsed again.

Successfully I prodded Tres to the backdoor and congratulated myself on several things. One, not having the neighbors call the cops because they could hear me yelling “you are being ridiculous! Stop that. Get over here!!” repeatedly at what they may have thought was a human and not two dogs. And… I had won. The cow, oops- golden retriever, had not bested me!

I certainly have new respect for those FFA kids. Moving a beast-dog isn’t easy; I’m sure a full grown cow is more difficult. But then again, if they dry their cow off with towels after a bath, I’m pretty sure they don’t have to worry about the cow chewing, shredding, or growling at the towel.
I guess it was worth it. When Gus and Tres were licking my face and pawing my arms and feet this morning, attempting to wake me from my slumber at 7:00 a.m., they didn’t smell like fish or old milk or worse. They smelled faintly of apples, their hair glistened in the light, and they were, as I promised, the best looking dogs on the block.

31 Days of Blogging (and a big thanks to the Barings!)

I'm already twelve hours late with this announcement, but I would like to introduce 31 days of blogging. I've been wanting to give this a try for almost a year, since I saw someone else's blog when they made a vow to post a thought, story, or tidbit on their blog each day for an entire month.

It's not that I have anything brilliant to say, I just really enjoy writing, and this next month will probably be the busiest of my life. ever. And Teach for America is all about goals - goals that are ambitious and feasible. So, I think the goal of writing something short and sweet each day is both ambitious and feasible (and will help with the personal "Big Goal" of remembering to write out thoughts.)

So let's pretend its August 1st and this is the first of 31 days of blogging. I'd like to start by saying: THANK YOU to the BARING FAMILY. Good ole JBA to the rescue! Her parentals noticed that my letter to the editors of the chronicle was actually printed!! If not for them, I literally never would have known it ran. (I wasn't checking the paper daily because my grandfather says that he reads the Chronicle cover to cover everyday, so I thought for sure he would come across it. Apparently he's slacking off.)

Anyways, I'm thrilled the Chronicle actually printed something pro-Bush, even if only a handful of people read the editorial page. I wanted the editors, if no one else, to acknowledge their reporter was in the wrong, so, mission accomplished. I'm seriously so thankful the Barings saw that otherwise I would have died thinking the Chronicle was a bunch of bias libs and that I'd never be famous. Now I know both are untrue. Ha. Haha.

http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/editorial/outlook/6547447.html

Shop for Education Reform

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http://www.gapinc.com/giveandget/teachforamerica/

take that, liberal media elite

to quote sarah palin... take that, you liberal media elite.

i should be sleeping but instead am writing over-due responses to the editors of the Houston Chronicle regarding inaccurate articles they recently printed about TFA. They have pulled the article from their website or I am completely computer illiterate, or both, but basically to sum up the article for you, on June 24 they ran a story highlighting the strengths of programs like Teach for America and the Peace Corps, and how several factors contributed to the giant increase of applicants for both programs. (40% and 15-18%, respectively, during the past school year.)

Well, they mentioned the economy but they also focused on my generation's dedication to service. The author rambled on about how Obama's new programs created this surge of interest in TFA, Peace Corps, and the like. Really? I applied in August and was accepted TWO MONTHS before Obama took the oath of office. His presidency had not begun before TFA had completed HALF of their admissions process for the 2009 year. Does this reporter own a calendar? did they simply not do their research?

I politely would like to call bullshit, oh Houston Chronicle staff. Obama has merely expanded programs that were put in place by dear Dubya. I can honestly say that I would be just as hot and bothered if the article had credited a new Republican president (say, John McCain) as the reason for all these qualified college graduates turning away from law school, med school, Wall Street, or Ernst & Young, and turning to teaching or serving abroad. Incorrect.

Can the media not give Bush any credit for the things he did well? How hard would it have been for the author to include ONE SENTENCCE regarding the former President's FreedomCorps initiative? Still not convinced?
http://georgewbush-whitehouse.archives.gov/infocus/bushrecord/factsheets/needs.html

I do not mean to rant on forever, but I find it infuriating that our mainstream reporters believe it is okay to present biases and opinions in places other than the "Opinion" section of our country's largest newspapers. Present all of the facts, or present none at all.

If you haven't already closed out of this blog, (and I wouldn't blame you if you had) please see my letter to the editors below. It had to be 250 words or less, which of course was a huge struggle for me.

As always, thanks for reading. Cheers to freedom of the press. -crob

To the Chronicle Editorial Team:

I am writing in response to Jennifer Latson’s June 26 article regarding the rise in Peace Corps and Teach for America applicants. Latson credited the Obama Administration as the primary motivation for the surge in applications to service organizations, and I feel such inaccurate statements cannot pass by without correction.

This reporter clearly did not do all of the necessary research nor chose not to report all of the facts. The Obama Administration began after Teach for America had completed half of their recruiting for their 2009 incoming group of teachers. How then can Latson credit Obama alone for the 40% rise in Teach for America applicants?

As a White House intern during spring 2008, I received a letter from then-President Bush that sits framed on my desk, and deeply influenced my decision to apply for Teach for America. One sentence from that letter sums up why I sought a job striving to make great changes in our world; the President encouraged us to “continue your efforts to become an active and involved citizen, and to demonstrate integrity and compassion.”

I do not mean to deny Obama’s emphasis on the importance of service, but your reporter should have acknowledged that he is simply continuing and expanding the efforts of previous presidents.

I hope that the Chronicle reporters will remove blatant bias from factual articles in the future, lest they join the mass of other media outlets that have fallen under the Obama spell.

"vacation, all i ever wanted, vacation had to get way"

ah, a week of vacation after teach for america institute. just what the doctor ordered. i slept, i read books for fun and not assignment, i laid in the sun, i swam in rivers.

but actually i learned a lot during vacation. sure, none of it had to do with lesson plans or education reform, but still, i learned some things... see below.

i learned i should not be left alone at gas stations with nothing to do but take pictures of myself, the car interior, innocent passers-by.

renza = fun

sunsets are never over-rated.

i learned i still love swinging, even at age 23. and i don't care that people might point and laugh as your dress blows in the wind.

i learned my dad looks terrible in swimcaps and triathlon shorts. also, that if you're over 50, you have to wear special colored caps because you're at a higher risk for drowning. haha sucka.

FINISH! my dad & brother are cool. never knew that before.

amy really likes the midget. why else would you touch someone that sweaty and disgusting? ew. you couldn't pay me to hug that kid at the finish line.

my brother likes to wear leotards and stuff. and he's tall. that's my dad. doing the backstroke and praying to god (literally) that he doesn't drown. way to go dad!! (see those two hands flailing out of the water? that's him.)

i'll be returning soon with some teacher stories from earlier this summer. favorite quote of the summer? probably:

"miss robinson, i like your kicks.... you think i could have em??"

what is time?

life is a haze. i have no concept of time. 6:30 at night feels like midnight. then my second wind comes and 9:05 at night feels like 5:00 p.m. I am wide awake in full conversation by 6:30 a.m. everyday. 10:45 a.m. feels like 2:30 in the afternoon.

friday morning, for our final school day pizza party, i googled pizza huts and dominos. then i proceeded to dial numbers to check prices, as the phone rang i thought...oh, its 7:47 in the morning. no one is going to answer the phone at pizza hut at 7:47 in the morning.

it was a whirlwind five weeks, to say the least. i could have not slept at all and still not done everything I needed to get done. but i learned to prioritize what absolutely had to be finished, and that getting five or so hours was vital to not falling asleep at the front of the classroom.

have you ever been snorkeling? I feel like I just came up from a five week snorkeling trip, where I had my eyes very focused on the task at hand, and now that I've come up for air there is more oxygen getting to my brain. I can see the rest of the real world around me now.I am so glad to be re-entering the real world.

pursuing happiness

I found this quote while I was researching facts about America for my fourth-graders last week, preparing a lesson on why we celebrate the fourth of july. ("Because we like fireworks" is not a legit reason.)

John Adams wrote to his beloved wife Abigail: "The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more."

Every July 4th seems better than the last to me. It is one of my most favorite holidays, favorite days of the year. One reason I enjoy it so much is because, compared to other holidays, it is so low-key, low pressure. No long list of gifts to buy. Don't have to find someone to kiss when the clock strikes midnight. No mothers (especially mine) running around the kitchen cooking and vacuuming and setting the table. Last year I was in Washington, the four years before that at Camp, in the hill country with sweet friends, fireworks, and watermelon - what else do you need?

This year, back in the hill country after Charles Roitsch's wedding, I was reminded more than ever of the sanctity of life. We do not live forever. I miss you, Homie.

Yet I am more appreciative of the time we are given: what if I had been born within borders of a country that said i wasn't free? That killed me for being a Christian? That dictated my rights as woman, making me inferior to a man? That told me who to marry? What job I could have? How many children?

I become more thankful and more prideful of my status as an American as each July Fourth rolls around. It occured to me that if I get the change to live to be 90 years old, my heart will literally explode on Independce Day, no room left for any more love or pride for my country. (I will/would turn 90 in year 2076. Wow.)

But an exploding heart would make a pretty cool firework, and a pretty fitting tribute to our great nation. Can I get an "ewwwww??"

Hope you had a wonderful fourth, wherever you were. And I hope your heart had a mini-explosion of pride that you... are...an... AMERICAN. You have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Whoop.

for the next 24 hours, i'm older than you, midg

oh, my brother. what a guy. starting june 30 and for the following sixteen days, we are the same age. are we twins? no. are we related? unfortunately. when people ask me if i know him, i usually claim him as a first cousin. he's hilarious. he's irrational. he's great at accents and making most situations awkward. if i ever run for prez, i'll probably ask him to be my vice. he can't say worse things than joe biden... oh, wait... yes he could.

happy 22nd!! love ya midget!

he thinks he's really cool...
he constantly amazes me with his wisdom and maturity...

he says that i am the weird one....

in a former life he was john wayne....
he pays pretty girls like this one to hang out with him...

his friends are awesome - he probably pays them, too...

he constantly tells me he thinks i'm cool and wants to be just like me when he grows up....
he has not always been quite as dashingly handsome as he is these days... but he has always believed it...

can we call you miss spaz??

where shall we begin??

a) i have survived what is reputedly the hardest week of institute - week 3. i averaged 4.5 hours per sleep each night and hours and hours of working.

b) youtube. its such a great study break. take 3-4 minutes, laugh til your face hurts so much it might fall off, rejoin your collaborative members and back to business for another hour or so.

c) fourth graders. there's nothing quite like 'em. the things that come out of their mouths...the behavior they think they can get away with...the bold hopes most of them have for their futures...all of it is pretty breathtaking. AND yours truly got a note saying i was one student's first favorite teacher - i teach with a group of 3 other girls and they had equally nice notes saying they were the second favorite teacher, or third favorite, and so on.

d) michael jackson is dead. this is terrible. one of my students as i walked into class after doing my morning duty: "miss robinson, miss robinson!!!" yes, --- insert name here, i asked. "did you hear that michael jackson DIED??? i am so sad." odd how much the entire school appeared devastated, since most of them were born after the turn of the millennium in 2000. but we jammed out to his songs before the 8 a.m. bell and one of our students did the thriller dance so well she may have taught michael himself. RIP king of pop! -love wainwright elementary.

e) miss robinson. i have discovered the love/hate relationship i have with my name. first of all, at USDA i was just "courtney." everyone used first names. rarely a reporter called me miss robinson, until i corrected them. so hearing it makes me feel both old and respectable, authoritative and old-maidish, cool and antiquated. i think, honestly, i grew up expecting my last name to have changed by now, and though i have nothing against my name, i would prefer to me called, oh, i don't know, mrs.jim halpert. or something like ms.mccool or dr. mccaughney.... but anyways...

f) i miss my friends. i have such little time for phone conversations or random emails or just knowing how people are doing. my life is bus rides at sunrise, teaching and professional sessions all day, busrides, dinner, usually work while dinner, group meetings, lesson planning, usually an hour or two of more professional sessions, sometimes a run and slushie break, a shower, and bed...with five-ish hours before the alarm goes off again. the people i'm surrounded by are hilarious and keep my energy high, as does our mission statement and the staggering statistics thrown our way, but, seriously, a nap sounds really good.

g) its flamin hot down here. heat wave over the entire month of june??? i thank the good lord daily that my job is not outside for hours on end. god bless the construction workers, gardeners, mail delivery people, and whoever else swelters all day.

h) i have a job placement! but this is enough typing for now. details coming soon!

"can we call you miss spaz?" boys asked me on the first day while i was on lunch duty.
i smiled. "only if you can define the word spaz."
they giggled. "clumsy. funny. silly. goofy. funny." they came up with a pretty good answer.
"well, fine, you can call me that. but only in a respectful, we wish we were as spaztic as you miss robinson, kind of way."
"whatever you say, miss spaz."

apparently fourth graders are more insightful than i gave them credit for. happy monday!!! love!

mad, beautiful carousel

Life is spinning faster than I ever thought imaginable. My head is filled with thoughts of diversity, lesson planning, curriculum development, executing lessons effectively, collaborating properly, management and professional development, investment strategies and plans, shocking statistics. Life is a carousel – full of bright lights, pretty colors, excitement – and yet you can’t help but feel a little lost, a little sick at your stomach.


Each time the carousel makes a full rotation it seems to speed up just a bit more. As I tightly grip any steady objects I can find, the view continually changes. It passes beautiful outdoor scenes, dinner at sunset with good conversations and new found friends. It takes me past highways and freeways and falling down buildings. I love the silence and comfort I feel as I ride with the other passengers past the Houston skyline just as the sun, that bright orange ball, rises every day. No matter how fast or crazy the ride, I know each day…that sun is coming up. That sun lives to shine again, and I must also.


I haven’t seen them much, or returned many of phone calls, but the ones I love are here, in the background. Positive words, voices of affirmation, friends who check in and family who comforts.Their smiling faces as I try not to get thrown off this carousel keep my fingers from slipping off my grip.


This carousel I happily climbed on is stuck in the heat. In the wee hours of morning, in the darkness of night, all through the day – the heat presses in on us. It is unusually warm here, no rain, no relief. I wonder if this heat wave isn’t coincidence. It seems to represent the heat in my heart – the warmth is good, true. But intense heat, a burning of sadness, hope, and realization, can’t be good forever. I long for the days of naps and rain and simplicity. I long for rest.


But maybe there isn’t time for rest. These riders that I’m with, fellow souls clinging to and searching for sanity together a few weeks more – we are all on this ride to bring that rest to others. Our carousel wants fairness and equality for everyone. Our carousel knows that in the land of the free, some are not free. They are bound by the chains of their education – they cannot break free because it is a repeating cycle. They try hard. They bring energy and smiles every day. They are smart. But the system passes them to fourth grade before they have mastered simple addition.


They are bound by the chains of their education, and we are riding this mad, beautiful carousel so that we can break their chains. Though I feel on the brink of a meltdown sometimes, I have never felt quite so fulfilled, joyful, or blessed as I have in the last fifteen days. I think a little meltdown might do everyone some good. I find myself tilting my head to the sky, grabbing hold of a pole and dangerously hanging over the edge of the carousel as it spins round and round. Laughter fills the cracks of the brokenness. I have embraced the ride. That mad, beautiful, bright ride of the carousel – I am loving it.

Our Nation's Greatest Injustice

They're calling education inequality the civil right's movement of my generation. I think that's probably a bit of a stretch yet it also rings very true. Just as life in America was pretty absurd prior to the work of MLK,Jr and everyone else, white or black, that worked relentlessly to have rights based not on skin color, there are a lot of people being called crazy for their efforts to have great education available regardless of race or class.

I was driving down the freeway in Houston after happy hour with a group of fellow TFAers from our summer school site. I coudn't stop smiling. I have met a ton of great, fun, smart people this week. I have learned a lot about management, marketing, diversity, and myself. I have gone running as the sunset over downtown several times this week. What I am doing with my time is going to (fingers crossed) drastically impact a few children's lives. I'm not as tan, I don't see a million stars each night, and we don't play in a lake all day, but in a lot of ways, it is safe to say I love being a part of Teach for America as much as Camp Longhorn.

Let me say this: if it were not for an established, prestegious program like TFA, I wouldn't be involved in this. I might be working for a non profit or somewhere in politics where changing the current situation of education would be a focus, but that would be it. The praise and the high fives shouldn't be going to me or my fellow TFA members. Wendy Kopp (who spoke to us last week, the camera flashes going off around me made it feel like a major celeb was speaking. and in the world of education, Wendy Kopp is a major celebrity. google her.) Anyways, Wendy Kopp, the two dudes in Houston who founded the KIPP charter schools instead of making millions in business, the list is a lot longer... I find myself in awe of them. Because they are awesome.

So I thought I'd share some facts because typing things out myself really helps me memorize things. I used to retype notes in college all the time. And when I say all the time, I mean, whenever the mood hit me and I remembered I should study while in school.

About 50 percent of students in low-income communities will not graduate from high school by the time they’re 18 years old.

By the time they're in fourth grade, children growing up in low-income communities are already three grade levels behind their peers in high-income communities.

Of the 13 million children growing up in poverty, only 1 in 10 will graduate from college.

42 million adults in the United States can’t read well enough to read a simple story to a child.

The link between literacy and being a contributing member of society is so strong that some states use third grade reading statistics as a factor projecting future prison construction.

I.E. – The state of Mississippi bases their prison construction on the number of 3rd graders boys who are not reading on grade level.

Hence the term, close the achievement gap. We are going to bridge the gap between the academic success of high-income children with low-income children. Why should the zip code where you are born dictate the quality of your education, and therefore how far you go in life?