Big eyes. Big smile. Wonder. Seeing the world and its endless possibilities for the first time.

There is nothing purer than a child’s innocence. Kids “get it.” They “get” what this life was supposed to be like — beautiful and fun. Last night in the locker room after my swim, I listened as two junior high school girls giggled about cute boys in a row of lockers nearby. Their lives seemed so simple, so free of worry.  “Don’t lose that, girls,” I whispered inside my head. “Don’t grow up.”

But grow up we all must. There’s no getting around it. And while this video attempts to criticize society for the conforming it forces us all to do, I can’t help but remember my time spent in elementary school classrooms. What is the line between squashing a child’s individuality and giving them the tools they need to succeed in life? What can we as adults and teachers do to better our society for our kids — and ourselves, too?

I won’t give it away, but I love the dad’s actions at the end. ;)

the stories of our lives

atoz_assessmentI attended a private school growing up, as I have said. Private school was a “safe” environment — at least it was for a goodie-goodie like me.

The elementary school I work at now is not private. There are three kindergarten classes, three first grade classrooms, three second grade classrooms. Third, fourth, and fifth graders attend an identical school down the street. More than 60 percent of our students are Hispanic. More than forty percent do not live with their parents.

Last week, *Marius was thrown out of school. He’d been a problem all year, had barricaded himself in the bathroom and was stuffing toilet paper into all of the toilets. He refused to come out, and, when he finally did, was chased down and taken to the office to wait for his grandmother. Marius has blond curls and blue eyes and baby chub. Marius is in kindergarten. Continue reading

oh, kids

410_1target_group_kids_apparel_photography_los_angeles_mike_henryLittle kids are so loving. I’m working in a first grade classroom right now. “Your hair is so soft!” “Will you tie my shoe for me?” *Big hug* “You’re so pretty!” “I like your glasses!”

(They are far kinder to me than I am to myself.)

Then today, on the playground, a student named Morgan, blubbering: “Miss Jess . . . No one wants to play with me. I don’t know why, but no one wants to play with me.” His blue eyes pooled with tears. Continue reading



Writing Camp, Summer 2014

My favorite professor in college used to tell a story. As a young man, he’d been in a jazz band and then the army. He’d traveled solo around the world, dreamed of being a pilot, gone to flight school. After receiving his pilot’s license, however, he couldn’t find work. Times were desperate; money, scarce. One day, in a moment of frustration, he cried out, “Lord, please . . . What do you want me to do?!” Continue reading