Category Archives: General

Change

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Just over a year ago, I wrote and posted a poem that greatly affected my career and relationship with my boss. At least 8 people I thought were my friends sent it to her the following morning.

Did I think that so many people would see it and send it to her? No. Did I enjoy the immediate backlash from posting it? Obviously not. I hate conflict, and boy did it create conflict. Ultimately though, do I regret posting it? Absolutely not. I find that writing is how I can be most vulnerable and how I can share my truest feeling about subjects that are affecting me.

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Found Words II

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Tired
Be the best everyday –
mold minds and inspire,
try to light a fire
in the minds of students
lacking the desire to learn
or try.

Why?

I’ve tried it all –
it’s like trying to captain a ship
but all the crewmates panic
because there’s no cellphone service
on the ocean. I can’t do it all.
I’m tired. Slowly, we sink together.

TRIED = TIRED

March 2023,

an anagram poem inspired by anagram poetry in Long Way Down by Jason Reynolds

Sharing poems I find in old journals or my Google drive

carousel [a poem]

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safe.
the one ride i know i’ll survive –
no bumps, turns, flips, drops,
no sudden stops.
one speed,
round and round
again and again
and then, the end.
get off or stay on, 
ride one more time because it’s

safe.
why take a risk,
a chance you might break
down and lose it all?
fall and fall
until there’s nowhere to go
all because you left your comfort zone.
all alone
future unknown.
you wanted an escape,
left behind what was

safe.
round and round,
again and again –
all fine until that moment when
the monotony of it all sets in.
you’ve lost your happiness from within.

Found Words I

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I knew enough about hangovers to stop me from opening the second bottle. See, the days were already rough, the heat like roasting in an oven. To add one more problem would be like cutting the grass when it’s already dead. But what else would take away the pain of what I’d lost that day? My dog of six years, the ultimate snuggler, my blanket on the coldest nights, now across the rainbow bridge. What else could help me ignore the empty spot on my bed? In my heart?

8/8/2023

sharing the found words in my various journals over the years

NaNoWriMo with Mrs. Always Wright | The Conclusion

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Every year I have blogged NaNoWriMo with my students, I have posted the conclusion SO LATE into December. I’m sure you can imagine the struggle of teaching in December: the end of the semester means all the late work, semester exams/project, and obviously the behaviors that come with being so close to a long break. I love many of my students but to say I needed this break is an understatement.

Not only that, but I was finishing my own grad school work to close out the semester. Humble brag that I’m 36% through my program (Masters in Curriculum & Instruction) and still carrying that 4.0! Honestly feels so much easier than undergrad; just have to make the time to do the work.

ANYWAY. All that to say, it’s late, but here is the final tally for my students in their NaNoWriMo endeavors.

We started off with some very excited goals. It kind of took me back to middle school band and our practice logs where the entire flute section claimed we somehow made time to practice for 20 hours/week. Students who hated writing were setting goals like 10,000 in the month, and as the time went on, realized they were a bit overzealous. But that was okay – I wanted them to dream big, and adjust their expectations as needed. That’s apart of the learning process!

In the end, the final total word count goal for both classes (55 students) was 101,467. I set my own personal goal that they’d get to 50,000 together.

We will all be having a big celebration in January! The final word count was

62,936 / 101,467 or 62%!

The top student in each class period wrote 6,102 and 10,011 words respectively. The first a work of fiction, the second a completely independently written guide to Super Smash Bros. (I told him to start selling it!).

To celebrate, I have printed winners and participant certificates (in color!), and will be giving a treat to all writers, a goody bag to all winners, and a trophy to the top word counts in each period. I’m so excited by what they all accomplished with only a little bit of class time dedicated to it each day.

I’ll likely be having them use this project to practice revising and editing throughout the remainder of the school year, and be sure that they remember the success they all had in just thirty days.

on our side [but are you really] (a poem)

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It’s a teacher problem
It’s an adult problem
It’s a student problem

Last I checked, a problem is a problem
and problems need solutions.
Not blame,
not shame,
not to pass the buck to someone else
or pass on it in a few days anyways

because a problem without an answer
stays a problem
until you’re willing to listen,
create a vision,
make an actual decision.

but let’s be honest –
even if we told you,
the vicious circle will continue
because here we are now
being yelled at for our thoughts
but – oops, I forgot
you’re on our side, right?

ripped away -a poem-

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ripped from your fingers
when you’d finally gotten the grasp,
snatched from your hands
that’s it – that’s a wrap.
you got one chance,
you should’ve tried harder –
oh, you felt your life was falling apart? Er —-

too bad, no second chances.
the decision’s been made,
your input be damned.
it’s all a game that’s being played
where we forget that our players
can be human too.
they struggle with emotions,
some more than others do.

we give it our all,
but is it ever enough?
or do we keep ripping opportunities
when the going gets rough?

you think you know me
better than I do –
but how do I prove you wrong when
after all I’ve been through,
everything I’ve tried
isn’t good enough for you.

You ripped this from my fingers,
stomped on it with your shoe.
Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

Rest in Heaven, Grandpa: a eulogy

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Bob

In memory of my grandfather, Robert “Bob” —-. I’m Danielle, his first grandchild out of six (almost seven). While he was obviously a great husband to my grandma Cathy, a great father to Steve, Pam and Andrew, a great brother to Ralph and Jack, and a great dog father to Gucci, I can say with all certainty that he was always destined to be called “Grandpa” to all of us grandkids, myself, Taylor, Kaitlyn, LeeAnn, Joseph, Jaxon, and Wyatt on the way. 

In general, the one thing we will all remember my grandpa for was how he never ran out of words. That man could TALK. For how much he did talk, he clearly should have become a preacher. He would’ve made a darn good one, too. Talk about “love your job and never work a day in your life.” He loved church and he loved talking. No one was safe from a conversation with him if you were blessed to be in the vicinity. I was going to say ‘room’ but his gift of gab was not restricted to four walls. When Steve, Pam and Andrew were younger, Grandpa would take them fishing every year. He would fish some, and he’d also make new friends on the pier. But how could you not talk to him? So kind, so friendly, so positive. I remember any time we went out to eat he would talk the server’s ear off. Let’s also not forget the casino bus month after month – banished to the back of the bus so he could talk to everyone else and not distract the bus driver with his nonstop questions. Plus he’d almost always be one of the last ones on the bus at the quick stops because he’d be catching up with everyone in the store and wouldn’t get his snacks or food until most were already back on the bus. I can only imagine how many people there are in this world whose days he brightened when they needed it most with his genuine, kind conversations. How many people he met in all his years of truck driving for Albertsons and AAFES who were held hostage to his endless questions, but would almost always walk away feeling some kind of appreciation for being noticed. As much as sometimes his questioning felt like too much, I always remembered that he wouldn’t ask if he didn’t care, and immediately I just felt loved.

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Turn the Page

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Well, here we are. I am officially done with every part of the 2020-2021 school year. At the end of last summer, I had every doubt that I could make it through this school year in general without a full on mental breakdown. Every day challenged me in a new way, and forced me to look at my own life, thoughts, behavior, personal expectations, self-doubt. I learned who’s really on my team, and who wears two faces better than I thought they did. Most importantly, I learned that I can make it through anything.

It’s crazy how your own mind can work against you, convincing you with every fiber of your being that you are not worth the love and appreciation other people have to give; that you are not great at what you do no matter how many people tell you otherwise; that everyone would be better off when you’re not around.

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In My Sleep

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I woke up this morning mad
because a God who answers prayers
didn’t answer mine.

I woke up this morning mad
because God gave me more breaths
than I wanted.

I woke up this morning mad
because God said not yet.

I’m not asking desperately to die,
and I’m not going to actually try
but everyday I ask God why
I can’t seem to feel him nearby.
I don’t know how much more I can cry.
I’m tired of looking up to the sky
waiting for a reply,
waiting for him to notify

me that it’s going to be okay someday
and these troubled times are just a pathway
to greatness that lies beyond what I can see,
but right now I just want to be free –
just not in a way that’s up to me.