Relating to the Classroom

Hello, all,
I know it's been a while, heck I've gone and gotten engaged and married since my last post. Times certainly are a changing. :)

I have been silent. I have chosen to bite my tongue and not get involved or breathe life into this ridiculous campaign going on right now. But then I read a Facebook post by one of my friends and it persuaded me to say something...my two cents, and that's about how much they may be worth to you.

We don't really live in a world anymore where changing opinions and minds is respected as critically thinking or finding truth for yourself so I'm not on the band wagon to change anyone's mind. People look down on that, think it's a sign of wishy washy-ness, weakness and indecisiveness...we live in a very mixed up world. So I don't want to change your opinion or make you vote for Hilary Clinton. I do, however, want you to not vote for Donald Trump and here is why:

Picture me in my classroom, 18 five-year-olds, running around on the playground, having a good time...and one of them comes up to me crying...let's say her name is Michelle. Well, Michelle is crying because a little boy told her she was a fat, ugly pig and that he can say whatever he wants to her and she can't do anything about it. Now STOP for a second. (If you're like me and you hear her say these things, you feel all Mama Bear and want to get to the bottom of it, right?)

I walk up to the boy, let's call him Ronald, and repeat what Michelle has told me to him (while she's standing next to me). His only response, without any fear, pain, compassion or idea of getting in trouble is: "well, I said it; it's how boys talk. But if you knew what Timmy had said then you'd be more mad."

Now STOP again. How does this playground scenario sound? Typical of a five-year-old, right? The whole, well if Timmy jumped off a bridge, would you? comment is coming to mind.

This conversation, this line of thinking, these WORDS and lack of accountability would not fly in my classroom. In fact, if I was a mother, this behavior wouldn't fly in my home either. Ronald would get a talking to, a time out, a loss of privilege like recess that day and would have to apologize to Michelle.

With the recent recordings in mind, I need to speak out. This is NOT locker room talk...we do not live in the 1950's where this kind of talk is acceptable. My brother does not talk like this. My father does not talk like this. My husband does not talk like this. Multiple male friends have spoken to me, enraged because THEY do not talk like this and Trump and his supporters are bundling them into this 1950's male chauvinistic mindset. I know these statements to be true...they do not use their power in a way that intimidates, corners or humiliates women. IT IS UNACCEPTABLE.

Thinking you can put down others and get away with demeaning them is WRONG. It is plain WRONG. If I repeated this scenario to my students they wouldn't even hesitate to point out how despicable this all is. With this election, I'd be embarrassed to repeat anything Mr. Trump has said about women, the handicapped, minorities, veterans and those living in poverty. His words are despicable. His attitude and frame of mind is rotten and he is a poison to our society. The worse part is, is that his supporters defend this behavior. I am not anti-Republican by any means...I am definitely all about finding the right and best answer (which could come from any party or person) but sticking with a man who hates 85% of the country is WRONG. You are WRONG and Mr. Trump's entire campaign is WRONG. Any of my five-year-olds can see that.

Ch-Ch-Changes...Turn and Face the Strain

It's been three months since my last post. I went back and reread my January post and felt a sense of accomplishment (not like I've actually done anything in comparison but still, accomplishment). He comes home in 3 weeks. The anticipation can sometimes be a bit overwhelming. In a lull during my day or when someone asks me, I get this shock of excitement straight up my spine...he's coming back to me soon.

I can sit and dwell in my longing to see him and have him with me (which I feel like I did the first half of his deployment) but at some point, I decided to take control of it and grab a hold of this challenge, this new experience. Dwelling in it doesn't help anyone and certainly made our lives more miserable. So it goes without saying that his deployment has been difficult and challenging and down right awful at times. But his deployment has changed me in many good ways too. I have learned a lot about myself and feel that my love for him is that much stronger now.

I am proud of him for all he has done and is doing. I truly can see the sacrifices these men make and it's mind blowing to me that this is their life, our life together. But I feel like I have gained something from this deployment (besides a dependence on facebook messager).

I feel more confident in myself. I feel proud of the woman I am, the teacher I am, the girlfriend I am, the sister I am, the friend I am and the person I am. I feel like I have gained a sense of perspective and value. I am more of an advocate for myself and my students now and that makes me proud. Shaun has given me so much courage to have a voice and it's been really fulfilling to gain a handle on things I can control. Speaking up about children in my class or flaws at my school or even in my day to day conversations has been so satisfying. But also, finding things to fill my time that are productive instead of just passing the minutes by. I go to the gym, I have solitary prayer nights, I go to happy hours, organize activities for teachers to participate in, participate in a book group, cook for myself, try out new recipes, finish art projects, etc. I have a stronger sense of self now. In some strange way, his cheerleading from the sidelines has given me the chance to coordinate myself enough to mature in myself and grow into my skin.

 I'm excited to present this new part of me to him. I am excited about the confidence I feel. To be honest, I am just excited to have him home (to help propel this growth further). My heart feels like it literally is going to burst out of my chest. My eyes well up with tears whenever I think about it. I imagine the airport, me, anxiously looking through crowds as they exit the security gates, waiting (I've waited six months so you'd think 30 seconds would be so easy). Then, I imagine the rush of emotions I'll feel when I finally see him and the huge smile his mere presence will bring to my face.What will my first words to him be? Will I cry (of course I will)? Will I leap into his arms (so cliche)? What will he be wearing? What will he say to me? Will he talk about how crazy long my hair has gotten? Will he let me drive his car back to his place (hahaha)? And then I shake myself out of the daydream and realize, he's coming home soon, people, HE'S COMING HOME SO SO SOON! And I'll get to hold him tightly, as this more secure, self-loving woman he fell in love with a year ago and that is an accomplishment.

Ohhhhh We're Half-Way There

In a moment of immense vulnerability and on the cusp of PMS for sure, I am writing an emotion driven post tonight. We're reaching the 1/2 way point of Shaun's deployment. It's reassuring to think that more days will be behind us than in front of us. But I'd be lying if I said it's gotten "easier". I think that term is fluid. It never gets "easier". There are moments where I get wrapped up in work and his absence fades into the background; but it's still there.

Over winter break, I flew into Boise and as soon as I saw my mother, I began balling - in the airport, like a child. I think I had stored it all up for so long, and suppressed how sad and lonely I was feeling that when I finally saw comfort, I released it all. The next two weeks continued to fall into that same theme of sleeping a lot and being alone with myself to really process everything.

On Christmas Day, I opened my brother's gift to find that he had booked a flight to DC to visit me. He said, "let me know if those dates work, I just thought February might be a good time." I said thanks and that I was excited and then my brother continued talking to my parents about his planned visit. I tuned them out, thought deeply about some things and then finally let them in and said, "ya know, this is...(starting to cry)...actually a great time to come. (Pause to collect myself) Because I've been really anxious about what I was going to look forward to after Christmas and now I have it." I stumbled upon the last words as they came out. My family sat and looked at me with such compassion. I think it was the insight my parents had been seeking. The following week, my dad booked two plane tickets to visit me the same weekend as my brother in February.

Upon reflection, I wasn't just suppressing my difficulties from myself but from my family. On Christmas morning I saw how relieved my parents were to see me break down and have an honest conversation about my struggles. For some strange reason, I thought this deployment was mine alone and didn't really consider the support system I had waiting for me; just waiting for me to "use" them. Over my last few days in Boise, I realized how blessed I am to have a mother with an eagerness to help and a deep desire to love and comfort me in some of my saddest times. I am blessed to have my father's wisdom as he reminds me to strive for "progress, not perfection" while throwing in corny jokes along the way. I am blessed to have a brother who wants to visit me; who wants to physically be here for me; who researched and found (in his opinion) the best book about lives during deployment for wives. Equally as important, I am blessed to have a boyfriend who sends me an amazing Christmas gift - half way around the world - that left this always chatty woman, speechless. I am blessed.

Opening myself up and letting people step in to comfort or be there for me does not have to be a sign of weakness or a whirling out of control sensation. It opens a door. It can provide a pure opportunity to let others love me; show their love and help me realize that I am not alone in being sad. It's in that vulnerability where I realize how blessed I truly am. I am incredibly grateful for the gift of my family.  

Taking Care of Each Other

When I teach, I open myself up to a strict level of vulnerability. I allow myself to reveal personal facts to my students in small quantities as I see fit (so usually they don't know much about my personal life).

About three weeks ago, God sent me a challenging little friend with more struggles than any 4-year-old should ever have to have. She enrolled in my classroom 7 weeks into the school year (not ideal) and had just began living in foster care. From the start, we all noticed something a little different about my friend. Her inability to process information, feelings, etc. and her inability to control her emotions was startling. We would start reading a story and she'd flip out and throw her body on the carpet like a toddler. It was very apparent that she was and is spiraling out of control and didn't know how to process all the "adult" issues being thrown her way. Between her crying for her mom every day and the behavior reward of a hug when she was able to calm herself down (instead of fruit snacks or a toy as an incentive); it simply broke my heart.

Selfishly, I kept asking myself, "God, why did you have to plop her in my class? We have routines down, we have everything on lock down in my class...we're rule followers and everyone is on point. Why my class, Lord?"

Today I got a glimpse into why God blessed me with her.

During nap time, I heard her crying. Usually, we try to ignore crying during nap time because of the importance of self-soothing. Anyway, this time, I decided to call her over to me. I had her sit on my lap and I asked her, "what's up, friend? Why are you crying?" She replied, "I sad."

At this point, I could guess why she was sad, any idiot who knew anything about her could guess why she was sad. And normally, I avoid bringing up really sad or traumatic things with my students because I don't want to trigger a fit or hysterical emotional mess. But today I asked, "friend, is it because you miss mommy?" She quietly said, "yes." I looked at her and said, "it's OK to be sad sometimes. But you know what? That's why I'm here. I'm here to take care of you, to be your friend when you're sad and help you out." And as I looked at her, with her head on my shoulder, under my chin, I made a decision and I broke one of my cardinal rules...I allowed myself to let her into my personal life.

I said, "Friend, I miss a really good friend of mine and I cry a lot too. And sometimes I can't sleep because I'm so sad. Are you having a hard time sleeping?"

She nodded. I continued, "do you want to see a picture of my friend?"

She nodded again and I pulled out a silly picture of Shaun and I making goofy faces and she laughed. She asked, "friend's name?" I told her what his name was and that he was very far away and I wouldn't be able to see him in a very long time. My voiced dropped when the words left my mouth, it was as if (in that moment) I let myself accept the reality that he was gone; and without a beat, she perked up and said, "Ms. Katie, I help you. We take care of each other."

I held her tightly and felt love radiating back and forth between us as she hugged me back. We are here to help each other. We are here to get each other through sad days. God plopped her in my class for a very big, important, reason...He could have sent a co-worker, or a friend, or a boss of mine, but He chose to send a very troubled 4-year-old girl to remind me that we are here to take care of each other and no one is exempt from that.

"Love is when the other person's happiness is more important than your own." -H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

I haven't posted in a while, but today I feel very compelled to write about something I usually only use as a theme. Today I want to write about Love. The focal point of this post is love; gooey, dripping with PDA, showing kindness and compassion to one another, Love.

Last week, Shaun and I went on a trip to my beautiful home state of Washington. As we started to land into Seattle, the grey backdrop and scattered Evergreens made my heart skip a beat. No matter where I go or where I end up, western Washington will always give me goosebumps, western Washington will always be home.

Sarah and Lucas drove us up to Bellingham and we got to catch up, laugh, sing and joke around as if time and distance had never separated us. When getting to our cabin in Bellingham, I was greeted by a huge hug from Kelsey. I could feel her love radiating and transferring over to me. No matter where I go or where I end up, these people and their hugs will always make me tear up. Throughout our weekend together I was reminded of how much love we gave/give each other as friends. I was reminded of the years that these people were my family, my anchors through my personal twists and turns and I was thankful. It was such a great opportunity for Shaun to see and meet these amazing people.

At the wedding, I was reminded of how the two getting hitched had to work at their relationship. I remembered how patient and kind they had to be throughout their arguments, disagreements, stubbornness and grumpiness. They had to depend on their love to work through their twists and turns and had to truly work at their relationship. There are so many couples in my life that make relationships look easy, clean, uncomplicated and it was refreshing to be reminded that just because your relationship is messy, sometimes difficult and a little complicated, doesn't mean it isn't chalk full of love.

It made me think of my relationship with Shaun (this is where Shaun is thinking, "what are you about to say to the entire cyber world about our relationship?"). As a respect to our privacy, I will only say this; we had to fight and work for our relationship. At times we cried, we laughed, we sang, we were silent, we needed a moment alone, it was messy, it was difficult, it was complicated, but our love carried us through. And now, although we still have our grumpy times, I believe our relationship is stronger and deeper than it ever was. We look to each other's happiness before our own.

In two weeks, things will become more challenging and complicated. Shaun is getting deployed. My heart aches even writing those words. I find myself praying to God to 1) keep him safe and 2) show me how to be a strong support for him. I am struggling because I am thinking of how sad holidays will be and how lonely he might become and it casts a fog over me supporting him and being proud of him. So I am praying for the ability to better encourage and support him (please pray for us too).

At the end of our Seattle trip, we met up with my parents and brother. It was so amazing to see how quickly they all gelled together without force or awkwardness; it worked. My dad and brother pulled me aside and said, "it is so neat to see someone take care of you and even neater to see you so happy." Which, when I think about the core of our relationship, that's all I want: love, happiness and taking care of each other. It was such a gift to have us all together, especially considering where Shaun will be in two weeks, and an even greater gift to share my family's love with him.

I am so thankful for each of my friends and family members who made our trip not only memorable and full of happiness; but dripping with gooey, beautiful, emotional, PDA filled, love. Thank you for that gift and continue to pray for us throughout the coming weeks. I love you all.

The Best Adventures

Sometimes the best adventures are the ones that made you nervous, full of doubt and sick to your stomach at the beginning of them.

On July 4th, I headed to my gate at DCA, headed to JFK. About an hour later I found out my flight was delayed because JFK didn't have a place for our plane to land; meaning I had five minutes to get to my connection to Dublin. What is an adventure without a little unexpected panic and worry? In the end, I ran when we landed in New York and I was able to barely catch my flight. A little angel was with me or something because the next flight out wouldn't have been until 16 hours later. During my flight to Dublin, I couldn't sleep and my stomach was doing summersaults. I was a nervous wreck.

Despite that, my Europe trip was incredible. It was awe-striking, a learning experience and better than I could've imagined. Ireland was relaxing. The people were incredibly kind and loving. I felt like I was with "my people" there...in some strange way. I could see why the Conways and O'Keefes were such giving people...thank you Ireland. It was beautiful; the landscape itself was unbelievable. I kept telling me companions: "a place like this really exists!" It was amazing. Northern Ireland was a highlight because of all the recent history and how segregated it still is. I felt so moved there; moved to believe that people can make a difference and can stand up and be heard.

I left Ireland with a heavy heart; I could've stayed, exploring forever; but it was time for Italy. And Italy didn't disappoint. It was equally as beautiful, but in a different way. The ruins and history there was incredible. There were many highlights in Italy: Capri, Verona, Venice but by far, my "ah-ha" moment came in the Vatican. We walked through the museums and saw the artifacts, and then we entered the Cysteine Chapel. The artwork on the ceiling by Michelangelo and the thought of what goes on in that room over took me. Everywhere you turned it was overwhelming beauty.

Then we headed to St. Peter's Basilica and as I walked in, my breath was stolen from me. I would've loved a picture of my face; because I'm sure my jaw was hanging open the entire time. When I entered, to my right was the Pieta by Michelangelo. I began to cry as I thought of my mother. Staring into the face of Mary, holding her dead son, I saw motherhood. I felt motherhood. She wept for her son, not for the Savior of Man or the Son of God; but her baby boy. I wished my mom was there with me in that moment.

As I continued to look around the Basilica, I was overcome with more emotions. Traditionally, in Catholic churches you see a ton of Mary and Jesus statues. In addition to whatever saint their church is dedicated. In St. Peter's Basilica, there were eight foot tall stone statues everywhere of all the saints. These regular people, who sinned and messed up but did kind and selfless acts were being uplifted in a church that represents the "home base" of my religion. It wasn't some unreachable person who did miracles or amazing acts; but normal men and women...like me. In my moments in the Vatican, I was able to feel accepted by a religion that doesn't always accept people and I felt like despite my sins and mess ups; I belonged there and God loved me, just like he loved the sinful and sometimes stumbling saints.

My trip was insightful into me. There were times I wished my mom, my roommate, my sister, my boyfriend, my brother, my dad, my priest friend from home, etc. were there. But in the end, I am very happy I did it by myself. I proved something to myself and feel so accomplished and independent. I got to see everything I wanted to see and then some and discovered how strong I am and how strong God's love is for me. Maybe some of the best adventures begin with doubt, but end with change and growth.

Let the Countdown Begin

I'm off on my "Booze Cruise" adventure in four days. Although the term has been coined many times for my Europe tour, I definitely don't intend on drinking my way through Ireland and Italy (contrary to the staples of each country).


As my trip draws near, I am excited and nervous. I am living out my dream; a dream that is 14 years in the making. I am nervous but so proud that I am actually doing it. 14 years ago I made a promise to myself that I would go to Ireland before I died. As a 12-year-old, I remember telling my mom, "I am taking you to Ireland before we die." And although she isn't able to join me, my dream is mostly coming true. I am going to the motherland, Ireland, and getting to see EVERYTHING I have always dreamt of seeing. I am going to Dublin, Cork, Kilkenny, the Blarney Stone, the Cliffs of Moher, Gallway and Belfast, Northern Ireland. I will get to take beautiful pictures, meet locals and soak up as much of my heritage as I can; in the eight days I am there.


THEN, I'm not stopping there, I head to Rome, Italy for a night by myself until my next tour starts. I set off on a 12-day-long Italian adventure! From Rome, I head to Sorrento, Naples (yummy pizza) and Pompei/Mt. Vesuvius, Capri, Florence, Venice, Milan, La Spezia, Cinque Terre and back to Rome. Here is the whirl wind tour - Italy. I am so excited to take beautiful pictures and eat amazing Italian food. Many people have told me to buy blown glass or leather or other fine things but I just am not that kind of traveler. I would rather buy wine and magnets...ha.


I think I am most excited about traveling by myself and doing this on my own. I am 26 years old and have rarely traveled by myself. It's going to be an amazing test of my character and an incredible confidence booster. I cannot wait to trust my instincts, find holes in the wall eateries and explore on my own. The tours I have set up are pretty cohesive, but I can't wait to do some exploring on my own and some adventuring on my own (much to my parents and boyfriend's chagrin). I have packed: amazing walking shoes, skirts, a tummy wallet/band thing to store my passport and money, bubble wrap to pack the wine I purchase, my fancy camera that I just bought, Benadryl (we know how horses, dogs, pine nuts and nature reacts to my body), an international phone and a heart/head full of optimism and excitement!


I am headed off on a new adventure for three weeks! I return on July 24th and cannot wait to share my photos, my experiences and a glass of Italian wine with you all! Wish me luck and Che sarà sarà (whatever will be, will be)!