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My friend sent me this on Facebook. TRRRRRUUUUUTH.

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I’m not worried about Brexit

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Live camera footage from Brexit HQ

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On Paper

He failed my class. It really wasn’t even a close call. I couldn’t do the 2-point mercy bump. 

It wasn’t for a lack of trying on either of our parts. Yeah, he could have put more effort into homework, but “home” isn’t easy for him in a year of personal transition. He could have studied to improve his quiz and test scores. But in class, he tried his hardest. Always had his hand raised. Not the best reader, but always the first to volunteer. If I needed a favor or an errand, he’d be there before I got the request out of my mouth. 

He had his off days too. He could be a nudge. We’d go out into the hall and have a little chat, and he’d admit he was off. I said, “One step at a time,” mimicking a book we read in class that he loved. And he’d go back in and hold it together.

When we received teacher thank you’s, he wrote to me. “Thank you for believing in me when no one else did.” I sat at my desk, with tears in my eyes because I didn’t think he’d write to me and I certainly didn’t think he’d write that.

So when I sat down to give my “thank you’s” in the form of awards, I had to repay the debt. I couldn’t congratulate him on his grades, so I gave him a well-deserved participation award. His face lit up when I said his name. My teammate said when he returned from the stage, he sat there staring at the paper with a smile. When I returned, he pointed at me and I pointed back. And then I had to turn around and pull it together. It was the only award he received and he carried it like a trophy.

I requested him for summer school. I know it doesn’t look like we made strides, but we did and I want to send him to 8th grade with that momentum.

On paper, this was a failure. On paper, he dropped my passing rate and lost me a point in APPR. On paper, his reading scores dropped. On paper, I didn’t do my best for him. On paper, this whole year was a waste for both of us. 

And this is the problem with education today. You can’t measure fruitless diligence and dedication. You can’t prove someone is doing their best when their best isn’t hitting expectations set for other kids. You cannot give points for pulling it together on a bad day. You cannot assess heart. These are all impossible things to quantify. 

It wasn’t a failure. It was a success in every way but one.

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when someone asks how i control my students

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Best Relationship: Talk like bestfriends, play like children, argue like husband and wife, protect each other like brother and sister.

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Home Isn’t Always a Place: You’re my home. Your strong arms are my walls. Your heartbeat is the music playing in the kitchen. Your bright eyes are the sun shining through the curtains. Your skin against mine is the gentle caress of the sheets on a bed. Your voice is the calming idea of safety that comes with a home. Your reassuring words are the locks on the door. Your grin is the slant of that crooked painting hanging up. Your smooth fingers are the wooden floors. Your kisses cause the same warmth the fireplace leaves on my face. Your scent is the baking we do together. Your shoulders are the powerful roof holding this place up. Your fingers entwined with mine are the carpet gently gripping my toes. Your glances at me are the electricity that flows through the light on the ceiling. Your sturdy legs are the ones of the dresser, still holding up even after you’re filled with my silliness. Your whispers are the wind dancing on the windows. Your wisdom is all the books laying around and stacked in endless bookshelves. Your dreams are the important knickknacks, always kept in few. Your snuggles are the feel of my favourite blanket. Your soft lips are the petals of the flowers I keep in vases. When I’m with you, I’m home.

Morge (The Horror of Being Real)// Home Isn’t Always a Place (via roadtrips-and-wanderlust)

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Sorry, wrong number

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“You know you are in love when her tender touch puts your mind at ease. When your lips touch, it sends your heart screaming. Love is when hours pass by like minutes because time together never seems to be enough. And you’ll never get tired of looking into her eyes, like you could love her forever. But hold on, that’s not all to love. Love is when your heart has become a gaping wound and it becomes that much harder to breathe, yet you still see the best in the same person who broke it. It is feeling the same love coursing through your veins even when the person is not around to put your life into place. It is staring straight at flaws and thinking that the person is beautiful nonetheless. Love is not only because of, but also despite of. You realise that your heart does not only has the sole purpose of pumping blood into your veins but it is also there to make sure that you feel alive, that you always feel alive.

boyztotheyard Avery Gan (via wnq-writers)

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@squidiez

Aww ♥

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The truth of this though.... last year I was 20 and my oldest student was 19!

Being a 21 year old teacher is very strange.

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obviously

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Christmas came a bit early (Source: http://ift.tt/1QMHUwm)

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Teachers,