I grew up in an old farmhouse which sat on a piece of land that would have been any child's dream world. Great expanses of grass gave way to woods filled with the possibility of grand adventures (although I wouldn't have gone in them after dark for love or money). Disbursed among the grass and trees were spots and spaces, hills and hidey-holes (like the inside of the huge Magnolia tree, where you could completely vanish from sight) that held a host of other play opportunities. Down near the woods, fat pine tree limbs overflowed with purple wisteria, and if you sprawled out on top of the soft needled bed, the view above you looked and felt like a vibrant, alien world. There were trees to climb, and wild flowers to pick (perfect for making faerie jewelry). But perhaps my favorite discovery, well, second only to evenings full of lightning bugs, was the delicate honeysuckle that grew by the fence near the entrance to the woods.

I remember the day Aunt Mattie showed me the magic of honeysuckle blossoms. I was six, scampering along by her side as she carried bits and scraps of food down to our compost pile. We could see the wild blossoms covering a spot of fence behind the pile. "Ever seen honeysuckle before?" she asked. I shook my head, no. She walked to a thick bit of foliage and plucked a blossom, lifting my hand to place it on my palm. I had no idea what she wanted me to do with it until she gently picked one for herself, plucked off the end of the flower and slowly pulled out the long, silky thin stamen. At the end was a perfect little drop of nectar, which she placed on her lips. I watched in fascination! "You try," she encouraged. I mimicked her actions, trying to be gentle with the flower, but it pulled completely apart. "That's okay," she assured me. "Happens all the time," she said as she plucked several more little flowers off the thicket and gave them to me. On my third attempt, I, too, got a taste of the sweet flavor on my tongue. It was divine!  I felt like a baby bee with a secret about something amazing that nobody else my age knew and I wanted to keep that for myself forever (which in six-year-old is not that long).

I spent many summers after that one always on the lookout for a patch of honeysuckle. I only shared its secrets with a very select few. As I got older, I moved on to more "sophisticated" summertime endeavors (...like mooning over boys, making out, and following the generally accepted "cool activities" of my peer group), the allure of pretty yellow flowers all but forgotten. Once the whole "adulting thing" took over, honeysuckle magic was completely abandoned to some part of my mind where we put away our childhood, shoving it inside a dusty synaptic box . What. A. Tragedy! I traded in drops of nectar and the majestic quest of finding them for what? Stress and grown-up responsibilities? I definitely traded down!

With summertime fast approaching, I listen to my eager students talking about the things they're going to do with their free time and my mind is back on honeysuckle. Just being around the short humans has helped me find that box I abandoned, fling off the lid and spill out every last bit of its contents! When was the last time I even saw a patch of honeysuckle? I can't recall. I do know for certain, however, that before my grandson is old enough to have me tell him the "honeysuckle secret", I will be living down some old dirt road where every summer, that beautiful flower grows in abundance! Then, when the time is right, I'll teach him what billions of little bees already know...flowers are delicious!

April is "Poetry Month" and also the "Month of the Military Child", two things very close to my heart. I've been talking about both of these themes with my students and for the last week, we've been reading a lot of fun poetry. From Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends collection, to Jack Prelutsky's It's Raining Pigs and Noodles, my days at work have been filled with silliness, as well as learning (two of my most favorite activities).

One of my favorite poems, "I Chased a Dragon Today", from the Pigs and Noodles collection was on tap this morning. The children and I practiced our best dragon voices, our scary glares, and tried to make facial expressions that showed the meaning of the word ominously. With my last two students of the day, when I got to the point in the poem where the dragon glares at the knight chasing him after said knight threatens to lop off his head, my students and I all put our faces close together. "Do it," I prompted. "Let's see those dragon glares." Two adorable faces squinted and squished up into their best attempt at scary mad. I joined them. Not even ten second passed before we were all in giggles. Heck, the group before them couldn't even fake a glare, giving way to nothing but hysterical laughter (...apparently I'm funny when I'm trying to look angry, who knew?!)!

This is why I'm studying math concepts I haven't seen in many years, worrying about a test I'm about to take so I can license in an area I never thought I would...because I step one foot into that building filled with short humans, and my entire demeanor changes, my world comes into focus. I remember all the things that are truly important. I remember to leave my stuffy ol' uptight self in the car. With the short humans all around me, I forget the absolutely irrelevant adult "clutter" I've allowed to build up like a massive dust bunny. I remember what innocent fun looks like, and let me tell ya, it's addictive!

My take-away from all of this? If you want to get right with the world (and in your head), spend time around children. Help them learn stuff and let them teach YOU stuff. Also, next week is Teacher Appreciation Week, so please show some lovin' to teachers who've been important to you and/or your child. It means SO much! And if you can't do that, be sure to hug a teacher you know. Wearing that "hat" all day is a HaRD job, and no other job on Earth would exist without them. On a sidebar, our world would be a bleak and horrible place, period, without the children.

Note: I shared the video below with my 3rd Grade group today as part of our lesson, mostly because it is a beautifully creative reminder of the magic found in books!

Right now...
my house is quiet, but my thoughts are noisy (...a common state of affairs in my brain). Spring birds sing, their twitters and tweets float through the open windows on a soft April breeze. I envy them their carefree notes.

Right now...
someone is praying for a miracle, while someone else knows their miracle won't come. They are grateful to have woken up on this random Tuesday, while fearful that the next day they won't be so fortunate.

Right now...
people watch a clock that moves too slow as the end of the work day comes upon them. Minds wander towards rush hour traffic they will fight, so they can spend a mindless evening doing...whatever they do...until the new morning dawns and they must face another day of drudgery.

Right now...
someone is taking their very last breath, while someone else screams their first, the rest of us caught up in whatever phase our breath-count may be.

Right now...
there are couples fighting, and couples making up...babies taking their first steps, and elderly folks painstakingly attempting steps of their own.

Right now...
billions of heartbeats softly thump, thump around a world that makes no sense, in a time where we should have conquered things such as poverty, war, hatred, and intolerance...except we haven't. The globe spins the same, and those cycles continue, as we destroy bits and pieces and big ol' chunks of what is truly beautiful.

Driving home from work in the afternoons is usually a meditative time for me. I process my mornings with the short humans and contemplate what I want to write about when I get home. At the moment, the top thing occupying my "spare" thoughts is this Praxis exam I'm taking on 4 May (...and actually there will be two test sessions, one for General Curriculum and the other, a Mathematics Exam). I'm dragging my feet. I'm not proud of it, but whenever I think about it, my mind goes to thoughts of, "This isn't a fair determination of whether or not I'll be a good Elementary Teacher" or "Why is it our Legislators enforce hoops for people to jump through that they, themselves, can't or won't do". These lines of thinking are counter-productive and a waste of time, but they come anyway.

Today, when all of these "excuses" started to creep in, I forced myself to look past them. What is the REAL issue? I listened to random tunes on the radio as I played that question over and over. When the answer finally came, it was surprising. The real issue is, this whole exam thing is going to be half full of things that generally don't come easy or naturally for me. I'm used to being an exceptional student, my skills and abilities completely competent and above reproach. That is not the case, however, for every subject. I don't like it. I want it to be easy. All of it! And when it's not, making excuses for myself as to why I'm not going to do it is much easier than just accepting the fact that it's going to be a challenge. Now I'm not afraid of life's challenges. I have, in fact, tackled many things over the years and stuck with them until I conquered whatever it was in my way. And sometimes, I take on things just because they ARE challenging.

I remember when I was starting out Junior High. My Aunt Mattie insisted I take an instrument so I could learn  how to read music. She believed this was a handy skill to have, and since she was my hero, I went happily along with it. As it was discussed, what instrument I would play, one of her sisters looked at the list of options and made a comment, "Well, she won't be taking violin. That's too difficult and she's not smart enough for that." My young mind immediately went, "Challenge accepted," and I declared that violin was the instrument I wished to take. This sparked a huge discussion, my grandmother agreeing that violin was an unwise choice, but I would not be moved. Over the summer, she reluctantly bought me a violin, and when school started, I took lessons from the teacher there as an elective. For two years I studied and practiced, dedicating myself to sufficient mastery of something I'd been told was beyond my reach. At the final concert of the school year my second year, I received a reward for my efforts, and considerable praise from my teacher. The third year, I quit, having fulfilled my own idea of what degree of mastery would be an acceptable "Up Yours" to my Aunt who believed I would fail. I still have the violin sitting in its case next to the piano (...the instrument my daughters both wanted to play, as we carried out Aunt Mattie's tradition) in my living room. It serves as a quiet reminder that nobody gets to decide what I can or can't do, ability wise, and that nothing is "too big or too difficult" for me if I really put my mind to it. And on a side note, this is not just a "me" thing, this truth is applicable to everyone!

So, play that violin...publish that book...tackle the whole world with the dogged determination it takes to make each and every dream you have come true.

I don't talk a lot on my writer's page about the "teacher hat" I wear. In fact, I often try to keep those two things distinctively separate in my life. I have written a few blogs about experiences I've had along this branch of my life, but for the most part, when I come to this venue, a different side of my personality comes to the surface. As I work towards being licensed in the state of North Carolina for Elementary Education, however, I have discovered just how much my teacher, student, writer, and mother personalities are connected. Perhaps the best way to describe them is that they are branches off a deep, thick, strong root.

While my youngest daughter privately tutored me in Math for preparations of my upcoming exams, frustration finally got the better of me and all of my hats merged into one big ol' diatribe about the myriad of reasons I wanted to give up. I could rationalize my arguments to my daughter (the mama voice), justify my position (the student voice), and just plain throw a tantrum when I was done with all of that (the rebellious child voice), but the bottom line is, when I want something, no matter how difficult the road to getting there might be, I don't QUIT. Ever. It doesn't matter how angry the process makes me, or how frustrated I become along the way, I keep going till I either find a way or make a way to reach the goal I wish to attain.

As a mother, my goal was to raise two little girls in a way where they always knew they were loved, cherished, and that someone believed in them, so that they could, in turn, grow up to be whatever they could dream. I sheltered them from dark things as best I could, and devoted my focus to their welfare and security. I wasn't sure that I was always saying or doing the "right thing" (or sometimes what that even meant), but I knew with their lives in my hands, failure wasn't an option. As a student, I knew that in high school I gave up on my own education, only to find new vigor and love of learning when I found my voice in college. I was afraid to be a writer. I was afraid of failure AND success. But after Mama Schaefer gave me a little push, I tucked that fear down deep where it would be quiet and took the leap. Finally, I thought my teaching days were over. Setbacks and some really horrendous experiences left a bitter, angry taste in my mouth and made me question whether or not I even had a right to be in a classroom. Then, when it seemed like that road was completely closed, a wonderful educator hacked out a new one for me from the overgrown brush and thorns. She took my hand and said, "Hey, let's go THIS way. What do ya think?" And off I went, happy to follow along with her and over the Moon for students I adore!

I have a bush beneath my deck that in wintertime looks as if it's completely dead and should be dug out of the soil. This time of year, however, the leaves are thick and violent green and at the tip of every branch is a big, fat purple flower that just about takes your breath away with its beauty. That bush...STRONG roots. Parts and pieces connected to it are in full, wild bloom.

If my teen years had a Soundtrack, you can bet Prince songs would top the list. I remember school dances with "Purple Rain" playing as the final song, a perfect choice if you were dancing in the arms of the right partner, and I must have played "The Beautiful Ones" a thousand times, listening to the ache of a man sing about a desire so strong the emotions of it rattled from him to me and back again through the speakers, resonating on some invisible purple thread that joined us in a powerful feeling. The first time I heard "Darlin' Nikki", I thought I was getting away with something super naughty just by listening to the lyrics, so I memorized them and I tucked that tune away for when I wanted to walk the "wild side". I wanted to be cool enough to drive a "Little Red Corvette" and brave enough to tap into me at my most primal level, so I could understand what happens "When Doves Cry".

I remember the first time I saw the movie Purple Rain his childhood of abuse and pain nearly ripped my teen heart to shreds. I think the end of that movie taught me for the FIRST time how true music and art, writing and creativity spring from a well of deep, vibrating emotions. Today the world mourns the loss of an exquisite musician, while I hold tight to memories his tunes bring back in crystal clarity. R.I.P. lovely man. The soul you gave life to through your music will live on, and on, and on...

I'm posting the video below of Prince's Super Bowl Halftime Show because I think it is a great tribute to a musician who will be sorely missed...He stood in that wild storm and played like a madman! It was amazing!

The clouds blew swiftly across the night sky, dancing with a moon so full of light that even when covered its beams escaped. My thoughts drifted along with the warm Spring breeze, back to a random conversation recently shared amid a room full of happy Blues-goers.

The song playing was a sad one, about heartache and loss, a classic Bluesy theme, I commented, "Love often has teeth." The woman nearby replied, "It does. And some things never heal completely." I agreed, swaying to the beat of a tune most know well, at least by way of life experience. One gentleman said, "Better to have never felt, than to suffer from the loss." Here I vehemently disagreed. "Even when it hurts, the experience is still better than the 'nothing'", I told him, as inside, I shuddered, vividly remembering how horrible complete nothingness felt."But how do you know what you're missing if you've never had it before?" he asked. "You can't ache for something you don't know."

"Haven't you ever felt that somewhere deep inside you something was missing? Some unnamed thing that you can't quite put your finger on? A void that longs to be filled, but with what, you're just not sure?" He paused, "Yes." And after the song was over, almost in afterthought he asked, "What is that void for you?" He didn't really want to know the answer, instead merely making idle topically relevant conversation, but that was okay. It was at that point I'd already begun to tune him out anyway, my own mind now hyper-focused on answering the question that was merely making small talk for him, but meant very much to me.

The moon brought me back into the now, alone on my deck in the late evening and away from the crowded Blues scene. Bits of stars fought to shine alongside Bella Luna's majestic light, surrounded by a sea of black in between. Black, like those little voids found, I think, in all of us...voids that sometimes feel as vast as that glorious night sky, and other times, merely a speck of black ink on a large piece of paper, all but forgotten from notice as other words, new words and chapters and volumes fill up the page.

"Don't worry 'bout a thing, cause every little thing is gonna be alright..." Bob Marley gently croons as I drive home from work. Easy for him to say. He's gone off to the great beyond and nobody's going to come looking for him in regards to his taxes EVER again! I wonder as I drive if he really meant those words, had the Faith to make them stick in his own life, or if they just sounded good to him slapped into the melody of his tune.

This theme of Faith has been cropping up over and over again in my life, and it's got me picking my brain. What does it mean to have Faith? Sure, I can quote the dictionary.com version of the definition, but how does that even translate into Amy'ness? And am I the only one who wonders about these ridiculous philosophical topics? I'm not even sure I understand how Faith is supposed to feel. Is it that near surety that everything works out in the end? And who, exactly, does it work out for? Because even I know that in any game (and Lord knows life often simulates one gigantic game), there are people who win and people who lose. Aunt Mattie used to say, "Honey, even when you lose, you win." I'd ask, "How?" Then she'd remind me that a win is one kind of reward, and a loss is another, i.e. a lesson.

As I stir all of this around in my noggin', my little one comes in and I ask her about it. She pointedly says, "Well, Intellect is what you KNOW to be true, have concrete evidence for, while Faith is what you believe to be true without any concretes, reasons, or proof." And like that, I can feel all of this "mess" in my mind come to some semblance of order. There are very few things I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt. I can't say if the sun will rise tomorrow, or the tides will continue to come and go, as tides do. I don't know if the Earth will suddenly stop spinning, or be invaded by aliens, or if the Zombie Apocalypse is coming. I can't control how others feel or behave, and even if I could, I wouldn't want that kind of responsibility. Many things, in fact most things in the Universe are completely beyond my control. I do, however, have Faith that I will face whatever is up ahead without being utterly crushed into oblivion by it. I believe this because, in forty-six years of life, I have faced some pretty horrifying and/or painful things and I'm still standing. I may have been knocked on my ass a time or two (or twelve), but even then, I always got up, sometimes with a strong hand that reached for mine and pulled me to my feet. Turns out I don't need to purchase any bits of Faith at all. I already have what I need.

Time is slowing slipping closer to the day when I say goodbye to the little baby girl who used to follow me around like a duckling, singing, "Waddle, waddle, quack, quack." At the beginning of May, when my youngest daughter leaves home this time, she won't be coming back as a child. Instead, she will be a confident woman who has put away the things of her childhood and is building year by year a fully adult life. But for the next couple of weeks...I get to sit with her on the sofa in the evenings, our heads together as we talk about the mundane and the fanciful. I get to watch her happy laughter as she embellishes in an old episode of "Match Game" (her favorite game show of all time, even though she wasn't even alive when any of the original episodes aired). I get to share cookies and goofy, childish antics with her, as she entertains me in ways that will make me ache once she leaves.

It was always coming, and technically my "child", my "children" have been 'grown-ish longer than I care to admit. I don't know how it happens so fast, although everyone I know from generations beyond my own have always assured me that it does. It's strange, really, how the older I get, the quicker time seems to speed up. I am also more and more potently aware of each and every precious moment that will last for barely a blink, but resonate for many years to come. So, on days when I skip posting a blog article, know this...I do so only because I have to catch those moments when I can.

Thank you for sticking with me! I hope you're all grabbing precious moments of your own!

I was born and raised in rural North Carolina near the base of the beautiful Blue Ridge Parkway. My mother's side of the family were mostly backroads country people, with deep religious roots, and what is now referred to today as "old-fashioned values". Many of my daddy's "people" were also as country as a castiron pan of cornbread. Often politics in North Carolina leaned towards the "Good ol' Boy" network and that is still very true today. And while my state and its people are far from perfect, have been party to plenty of things I certainly wouldn't be proud of,  the current backlash, travel bans, and people standing on soap boxes screaming about their refusal to step foot in our state unless the controversial House Bill 2 is repealed by our Governor absolutely infuriates me!

House Bill 2 mandates the following:

...Directs all public schools, government agencies and public college campuses to require that multiple-occupancy bathrooms and changing facilities, such as locker rooms, be designated for use only by people based on their "biological sex" stated on their birth certificate. Transgender people can use the bathrooms and changing facilities that correspond to their gender identity only if they get the biological sex on their birth certificate changed.
The bill also declares that state law overrides all local ordinances concerning wages, employment and public accommodations. So, the law bars local municipalities from creating their own rules prohibiting discrimination in public places based on sexual orientation and gender identity. (*from http://abcnews.go.com/US/reason-north-carolinas-anti-lgbt-law-spotlight-now/story?id=38306934)

Regardless of my own personal beliefs about House Bill 2, we are not the first, or only state to have politicians making poor decisions for the overall population! In fact, plenty of politicians in Washington D.C. have made decisions for our Nation that have created a mess that will take generations to undo (remember the illustrious "No Child Left Behind"????), while they held the American people hostage to their own personal agendas and re-election tactics (which makes their own "government ban" of travel to North Carolina beyond hypocritical). So, is banning or boycotting travel to North Carolina until the law is repealed really the way to "take a stand"? I certainly don't think so.

Companies that pull out of North Carolina because they find our legislation "politically incorrect" hurt our ECONOMY and ordinary people who had absolutely nothing to do with the law (...and I would challenge anyone to prove to me there's a single state in our U.S. of A. that doesn't have poor, ridiculous, or antiquated legislation on their books). Tourism is the backbone of much of our economy, especially in places like our mountains and the Outer Banks. Staying away due to a law others disagree with doesn't harm our Governor or law-makers.even a fraction, but it does potentially devastate honest, hard-working folks just trying to live a life, find a job, raise their kids, etc. The worst that will happen to our law-makers is that they may not be re-elected! The damage to average citizens in a crippled economy is potentially catastrophic.

I am all for taking a stand on the things we are passionate about, in fact doing so resonates with me on a visceral level. I am not, however, nor will I EVER be for making that stand be something that causes harm to many innocent by-standers. If your beliefs and actions connected to them cause massive collateral damage, it might be time to evaluate a better way of doing things to get your point across!