Harvesting

Sunday again. Those blues set in, and my oh my is it hard to fend them off. Sunday, that day which used to be filled with rest, community, and gratitude. Now, it's all beautiful until church is over, and then the afternoon runs our house through the hamster wheel as we try desperately to catch up on grading, laundry, grocery shopping, and planning for the week ahead.

I always find myself stir crazy, holed up in the corner of my bedroom as I print, cut, organize, and fashion homeworks, quizzes, and so many powerpoints. I end up making a pot of tea and sitting Indian-style on the back porch, dry leaves beneath my stretch pants. I've been watching the cypress trees turn golden and now red. Little by little our backyard jungle is falling away, exposing Sunflower Road. We are blessed by a fleet of cardinals, who dart to and fro, flashing their beautiful scarlet coats. A few blue jays often turn up, as well. And the squirrels provide ample entertainment as they leap through the branches and scurry about like monkeys, reminding me of their territory by dropping the occasional nut onto the deck near my spot. The magnolia leaves cover every inch of the yard, if that is what one would call the green chaos behind our house. Every time I climb out from my bedroom corner by the printer and take a moment to center in the outdoors, I am reminded of the ample beauty that surrounds me.

I am blessed to have such incredible young women living out this vision of educational equity alongside me. I am blessed to have unconditional love pouring forth from the midwest, however far away it may feel at times. And, I am blessed to work with these young people whom I am beginning to love.

I felt peace in my classroom for the first time this week. On Friday, after the children bolted to their buses, I closed my door, turned on some music, and carefully performed my routine end-of-day tasks. Instead of blazing through the work and bolting myself, I gently cleaned my whiteboards, swept my floor, aligned the desks, filed papers, and organized my desk before heading to the Gin Mill for "pig pudding" with my roommates and coworkers.

The cotton was harvested about two weeks ago. The chill in the air and the loose cotton dotting the roads reminds me that time is passing. I'm doing it. I'm teaching for america, and that now signifies something so unfathomably different from when I got here that I would need another post, another Sunday, to get into it. For now, I'll close by extending hearty thanks to all for your love and support. See you at Thanksgiving!