The (Soviet) Roller Coaster From Hell

Every once in a while you come across a photo which so perfectly captured a moment that you feel compelled to show it to anyone with eyeballs.  A photo which can't just be pulled up on a friend's phone in passing; it has earned the right to have its backstory told and scene set. Luckily for you, I have one such photo. 

I nearly died in Mongolia.  (Truthfully, given the lack of basic safety procedures in the country I most likely nearly died regularly in Mongolia.)  On one of our final days in country we spent eight hours at their national amusement park, which only had about five working rides.  It was a bit much.  The first ride we jumped on was the sole roller coaster in the park.  

A few key points to understand:

- on this roller coaster, one must buckle themselves in (and then pray)

- the teenager running the roller coaster was taking naps in between rides

- this roller coaster was built by the Soviets in the 80's or 90's and had had no obvious updates since then

- I am terrified of roller coasters in my own country

The ride went about as well as I had anticipated: complete hell.  

Still hopeful, pre-ride

 

It's about to get real

Teenaged controller taking a nap (behind Rita)

(Luke, my student, blacked out during the ride because of some Soviet design flaws - it sped up when an American roller coaster would have slowed down).  

It was so traumatic for me that I cried.  Deep, crippling sobs...in front the students.  And this picture caught it all, including the entertained reactions of everyone else.  Luke laughed so hard at me, he cried too.  

This picture made the whole harrowing experience worth it.  

The Best Museum In The Entire World. Period.

About two months ago I had the uniquely distinct pleasure of visiting the very best museum in the world. Period.  Turns out that my dad just found the pictures that I thought I had permanently deleted and been seriously beating myself up over which turned out to still be on the camera's hard drive the whole time and now I feel like an idiot but at least now I can finally blog about this ridiculously insane trip.  And with that, I give you...

The Intellectual Museum.  Ulanbaatar, Mongolia.

The Intellectual Museum is a three story converted apartment building which houses puzzles.  Like, a shit ton of puzzles.  We are fairly certain that our guide had exceptional English skills.  Only fairly certain because mostly she continuously pointed at things like a table or a doorway saying: "And THIS is a puzzle, and THIS is a puzzle, and THIS is a puzzle!"  You will be shocked to learn that the WHOLE BUILDING was a puzzle, according to our guide.  

Once we left the puzzle floor, we found the "games and other toys" floors.  That was when things got really crazy.

Before we get too involved here, let me explain that there are a few non-negotiable rules of the Intellectual Museum.  First, one must not wear shoes, one must wear booties at all times.  We don't know why. Second, one must never take any pictures of anything, at any time.  Third, you may never touch the puzzles for any reason (an astoundingly frustrating rule for a museum full of toys!).

  

I understand how rule #2 came into being: the Intellectual Museum is fucking insane and everyone will want to take pictures (the Mongolians claim that the no picture rule is to keep their puzzles secret  - from the notorious Mongolian puzzle spies, I assume).  Well, considering that I pretty much never plan to return to Mongolia, I decided to break rule #2 and brought all my students down with me.  We used each other to hide our cameras from our guide.  Oh, we took some pictures. 

"The Life has a full of Happiness if family is peaceful serene."

To this day, I am unsure of the requisites required of a piece in order to be displayed in the Intellectual Museum.  It appears that the museum will display any toy or game that was ever created.  There is no rhyme or reason to it.  There were everyday Barbie dolls on display (arms optional), a Little Mermaid pillow-book, pins, velcro games, stuffed animals - my God, were there stuffed animals.  Anything that can be purchased at Walmart or made in a sweatshop can make it behind glass at the Intellectual Museum.  

Luke, my student, to our guide: "Can you tell me what the theme of this display case is? I'm stumped by the dolls, dinosaurs, disposable cameras and the Michael Jackson masks." 

Guide: "Yes, it is showing some toys and also the evolution of film technology."

Our tour of the Intellectual Museum ended about as well as I could have dreamed.  Turns out a large, angry soviet woman had been watching us taking illegal pictures on their hidden cameras.  And then we were kicked out of the gift shop (the only place you get to touch the puzzles!) and asked to leave. 

I miss you, Intellectual Museum.  Never change. 

Moving On, Moving In

Time is on my mind.  The past, the future, the elusiveness of time.  Scott and I are moving in together this weekend, and boy am I on an emotional roller coaster.  I've consulted my best friends Britney and Taylor and even they don't know what to say to me right now.  What if it doesn't work out and I just donated all my furniture to Goodwill?  What if it does work out and these last five nights are the last time I will live alone...like, ever?  What if, God forbid, Scott disowns me once he sees all the TLC shows that I watch?

Moving in with someone is a big deal.  Some people will try to tell you that it's not, but they're lying.  For me, it's the end of an era.  I love living in Washington Park.  I've been in the same zip code my entire life (college excepted) and I'm comfortable here.  I know the traffic patterns, which dogs are friendly, and my PR time from my front door around the park and back.  I've seen the neighborhood evolve.  I've witnessed The Girl-Who-Screams-During-Sex enter into and end multiple (apparently very enjoyable) relationships.  Not least of all, this is where I learned to be self-sufficient. 

But honestly, my emotional roller coaster isn't really about leaving the neighborhood.  It's about change. 

Change was forced upon me - big time - yesterday in another arena.  I hadn't expected someone that I've vilified for the past 13 years - someone who stole something irreplaceable from me - to ask me for forgiveness.  I wasn't prepared.  Images of my past flash before my eyes, even now.  The years of pain, the struggle to find a new normal, to heal a deep cut.  Part of me resents that he asked for this and that I agreed.  Suddenly, a huge weight has been thrust upon me without any notice: it is all on me now to figure out how I move on.  I can't use my anger as a crutch anymore; I have to figure out what my future looks like without it, and it's overwhelming.  I wonder sometimes if our fear of the future is not that it is going to be different, but that it is going to be exactly the same. 

With all the stress and the fear connected to moving in with someone, it's easy to forget why you choose to do it in the first place.  For me, I chose this path for myself because if I do this, then I get to live with Scott.  And Scott is my world.  I get to live with someone who feeds me Pringles through the phone, who lets me practice opening peanut butter cups on his chest using only my toes, who has never made me feel like Bear is baggage, who sings to me when we're cooking, who reads the books I recommend to him, who supports me eating gluten free without any complaint, who climbed a tree on our third date, who has taken on running to do it together, who loves having dinner with our parents, who gets more excited about going to prom (in his dad's sports car) as chaperones than I do, who cheers me on when it takes me 45 minutes to get down a ski run (it was an unavoidable black diamond, btw), who forgives me for untucking the covers every night, who dances in a rainbow onesie - with my dog, who talks about the tough stuff willingly, who shows up for me - no matter what.

That guy is my future, and he makes all this uncomfortable change worth it. 

"I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire...I give it [this watch] to you not that you may remember time but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it."

- The Sound and the Fury

Bear, I Don't Think We're in Aurora Anymore...

I've survived two weeks in my new job!  I'm teaching high school geography and psychology at the Denver School of the Arts and let me tell you - it is nothing like my previous job teaching special education in Aurora.  Like, at all.  Although I do really miss West on most days, this seems like a pretty good spot too. 

The transition has been stressful and exhausting, but most of all it has been entertaining.  So, if you would like, here is a list of updates on my professional life:

 - We get a weather report during the morning announcements.  It's really helpful for planning out my weekly outfits. 

- Students arrive 5-10 minutes early to class and then ask permission to do anything and everything.  It's your passing period.  Just go to your locker.  That is the definition of a passing period. 

- I've been asked to take over the Mongolia Club.  I get a free trip to Mongolia this summer.  I am now passionate about Mongolia. 

- My computer will only print if it is physically touching the printer.  It's adorable.  And driving me insane.

- The main behavior distraction I have to deal with is too much classical music being performed in the hallways during class.  Excuse me, cellos, this isn't working.  Um, what?

- There is more racial and social economic diversity than I had expected - and I love it!  Diverse kids who love to learn? Yes, please!

-  I have 2.5 hours of plan everyday.  It is still not nearly enough time to get everything done. Also, I get bored.

- There are pretty much no female teachers who work here.  I don't know how it happened, but only young male teachers and old women teach here.  Mostly I feel lonely. Also, people think I'm super stylish. 

- My principal laughs deeply all the time.  He just finds his staff to be hilarious.  I never realized that my previous administrators never laughed. It completely changes the staff culture.  Plus, I'm naturally hilarious, so I fit right in. 

- As you are aware, paper is rationed.  One has to bring your own paper to the copier, make your copies, and carry back your unused paper.  I don't know. I just...I don't know.

- I have more male students who wear make-up than I would have anticipated. Usually better applied than mine. But it's really great to see the level of acceptance for all sexualities here. Also, costumes as clothing.

- Sometimes I have to grade 170 essays over the weekend.  Rookie mistake.

- We had an entire staff meeting yesterday about how to write top notch letters of recommendation.  I'd never sat through that professional development before. 

- There isn't much need for teacher-led lessons, which has been a difficult transition to make.  Classes are held as Socratic seminars and discussions.  I miss hearing myself speak.

- Students use my last name when referring to me.  And as someone who was just called "Miss" for 5 years, it is entertaining to hear the various pronunciations of my name. 

- Grades are now a really big deal.  I have had to clarify which nights I will be posting grades so that parents and students will stay calm.  On that note, I have had to grade this year (I miss you special ed!).

- People don't email.  I get about 3 emails per day.  I miss the days of all-school mass emails asking each other if anyone has seen your coffee mug.  Or my keys (let's be honest).

- Teachers come by constantly to check in on me.  Since there were a total of 3 new teachers hired this year, we stick out like a sore thumb.  Sometimes I hide so that no one can find me to talk about my feelings and needs. 

- I'm really, really exhausted but really, really happy.  I never knew teaching could be like this.  I never knew that I could be this teacher.  I'm so grateful that I leaped out of my comfort zone.    

I Need A Mule

I'm freaking out.  I'm having back to school nightmares, and difficulty falling asleep.  I'm stressed. And it isn't for any of the reasons you would probably predict. 

It isn't because students are coming back to school, because I don't get students for another 12 days (in what many are calling the longest teacher summer on record).

It isn't because I don't have an awesome class website that took way too long to make, because I do: http://emilybroyles.wix.com/geolitpsych.

It isn't because I haven't changed the website for my personal blog so that students can't google it, because I did. 

It isn't because I haven't planned out all of my first units for three different classes...ok, that's partially it. 

But the real reason I'm freaking out? PAPER!

I got the following email from my new assistant principal, and it was intense:

What? They ration out our paper?  What if I don't get enough?  What if I have too much and people get jealous of me?  How will I carry it?  What if I need more than just one hour? What if my room is on the second floor and I have to wait for the elevator? Is there a black market I should know about? Do veteran teachers get better paper?  Am I even considered a veteran teacher in this if I am new to the school? Where will I lock up my paper?  What if my students steal my paper?  Can I write a referral for paper theft?

These are just some of the questions I have in my head.  But what I really need is a paper mule.  And I might bring a drug mule too - just in case.  With this kind of dog eat dog office supplies world, I'll need all the back-up I can get.

On Change.

I've been circling this post for weeks now, unsure of how to capture my present in worthy words.

Change has never been my strong suit.  Personally, I very much enjoy eating pasta carbonara for 8 straight meals.  I still rock Britney Spears when I run.  And I've lived within 2 miles of Washington Park since 1985 (college excluded).  I'm a creature of habit and predictable risks, which is why right now I'm occasionally waking up to find my world upside down.

Today was my last day at Aurora West.  I turned in my badge and coveted universal key, packed up 5 years of Lifetouch school pictures and walked out alone.  It wasn't the way that I had envisioned leaving West, the last person in the building on the last day of summer school.  Perhaps it was some sort of metaphor...perhaps it would have been a more poetic moment if I hadn't of gotten locked out and had to run around and bang on windows until a janitor allowed me back in...or who knows, maybe that's part of the metaphor.

I remember my first days at West.  During my first staff meeting, the other 2nd floor teachers had planned to prank our principal.  Every time Mr. Krueger said the words "rigor" or "achievement gap", all of them took a sip of their coffee at the same time.  It was hilarious to watch him catch on, and to realize that this group of teachers would turn into great friends.  Everything I learned about teaching, I learned at West.  And for that, I can't be thankful enough.

But recently, West had started to feel suffocating.  I wasn't being challenged as an educator, and there wasn't any room to grow.  I realized that my dream job didn't even exist in Aurora Public Schools - and that realization made my decision very simple.  I needed to find a place to grow.

I don't know if it was fate, grace or luck that got me hired at the Denver School of the Arts.  This school is amazing.  My new colleagues have been incredibly helpful - even agreeing to plan with me over the summer - and my principal sees me as a fountain of potential.  In the words of my colleague: this is a school where teachers want to stay until they retire.  I've seen some glimpses of my future joy, and they are beautiful.

More good news!  I'm also moving today!  I just really like to put as many stressful transitions into one weekend as possible.  Don't worry, I'm not going far (see above about radius requirements from Wash Park) - just downstairs to an awesome courtyard apartment with a door straight onto the gardens.  I will always remember how my current apartment first taught me to live alone, and forced me to grow up in so many ways.  So I've sold what I could, packed what I couldn't, and tonight I'll step both feet into my future.

By far the biggest change that's happened to me over the past year is that I've fallen in love.  As most of you know, I've been a lone wolf for about 28 years now and was pretty good at it.  Friends - and my mother - have nudged me over the years to look harder and smarter for a man.  But I always knew that I had someone awesome coming, and that he was just running a little bit late.  And I was totally right.

I've found a man who thinks I'm super pretty and compliments my brain.  And when he laughs at my jokes, his whole body laughs.  He drives through rush hour on the highway to pick me up when I lose/accidentallythrowaway my car keys.  He walks my dog for me when I want to sleep in.  And when we fight he uses his words and stays calm.  Learning to be someone's partner requires an enormous amount of patience, hope and humility.  But it's worth, oh it's worth it.

Change might not be my thing, but you can't escape it.  And occasionally it brings you exactly what you've always wanted.

In summary: my life is awesome right now.  I sincerely hope yours is too.

*                *                *

I asked Bear Dog what he is thinking about all this change, and I thought his perspective was very profound:

IMG 2526 from Broy Em on Vimeo.

Of Soldiers and Stalkers

Last week, I wrapped up my 5th year of teaching.  I've spent all those years at the same school where I started my teaching career, and in the subject area that Teach for America tapped me to teach - special education.  

I knew right away when I got the job that something special was happening at Aurora West College Prep Academy.  I immediately became best friends with my co-teacher, Allison, who is still my partner in international crime.  I was surrounded by a phenomenal staff of people who wanted me to succeed.  But most of all, I fell in love with my students.  And not in a mug shot/prison sentence kind of way.  It's a unique relationship between a special education student and their case manager.  As a special education teacher, you become so intimately involved in their victory laps and the mountains standing in their way.  So I promised my crew of special education students from the class of 2014 that I would stay with them until they graduated.  And guess what, we did!

But, sadly, not all of them.  Ricardo, a sacrificial lamb, dropped out of school just two weeks after I posted our story on this forum.  I haven't seen him since.  I couldn't force him to fight.  I often think that I failed him.  Or maybe he failed himself, while I watched. 

In my professional opinion, some students come to school only to give their teachers headaches.  And Alan was the president of that club.  He was rude, he was loud, he was silly during silent reading, he ditched, he lied.  But, alas, he was completely lovable, loyal and, most importantly, he was my responsibility for the past 5 years.  And believe you me, he really messed up - he  had to recover so many credits through an online school that he didn't get to walk at graduation. 

During the final week of school, Alan asked me to come watch his presentation in another class.  So I did, and I will never, ever forget it.  The presentation was of an essay that he wrote looking back on his high school journey.  He teared up when he read it aloud to the class.  I tear up now. 

He's not a literary genius, and he won't pass the Writing SAT II - but I think he gets his point across just fine.  Here is his final essay (posted with permission).

Prompt: Looking back, what have you learned from high school? When I started high school, I was an annoying little BRAT. I would always give teachers a hard time. (make them white hairs come out :) ) in four years NOTHING has really changed. When I was on my way to 9th grade, I felt like the happiest little kid. I felt like a ‘big boy’. The friends I had, oh my, let me tell you they were crazy and bad just like me.  That’s probably why I’m the way I am today because all throughout high school I’ve acted like a little kid, like all my other friends. My teachers in high school were ALL mean!! But now I see the message they were trying to give me and why they were that way with me! I can’t be acting like a little kid throughout my life, it will get me no where. My teachers pushed me to my limits. Sometimes those limits were good because I really got my work done but sometimes I just couldn’t handle all the stress. I would talk back and always give my teachers a hard time because that was like my little break. But now I realize what they were trying to do. When I was on my way to 10th grade, still NOTHING had changed. Why? Because I wasn’t realizing what I was getting myself into for senior year. I kept slacking. I wouldn’t do my work during class and sometimes I would not even go to class. I was so bad that I wish I could go back and fix those moments because right now it is really hard. I might be sounding like a little bitch but all I’m saying right now is how my high school years were like. In 10th grade I kind of started stressing on what I would do after high school, I started making plans but those plans were just DREAMS. I know in reality I'm not gonna get anywhere and that’s the truth! And you know why I say this? Because I have been stalked throughout high school. yeah I’ve had a lot of help by this amazing teacher her name is Ms. Broyles, she has been my little stalker! let me tell you that having a stalker isn’t cool, but she has been there for me.  Every time I’m failing class she’s always gotten me back to my feet! she’s like my soldier she is always watching my back. I am proud to have her as my little stalker but all the help she has given me I haven’t taken advantage of it because like I’ve said I slacked all the time! Emily just wants to see me successful, every single teacher does. But I know ONE DAY she will be proud of me.  like one of my favorite people in the school said “remember the choices you make today, shape your world tomorrow.” Now as a senior it’s very hard! why because all the classes that I failed I’m making them up. I had the chance to make them up during summer school but I didn’t, I didn’t realize how much it was gonna affect me. Now that I’m in a big o rush to finish my online classes it is stressful! I’m doing 4 classes of English right now and I have 2 days to finish them. I am gonna finish them? YES, nothing in the world is impossible. I can’t let me class of 2014 down, my family, and my friends but the most important I have to do this for me! What I learned throughout high school is that you can’t be acting like a little kid anymore you're turning into a young adult. The advice I give to freshmen, sophomores, juniors is to do the work even if it’s boring do the work trust me, yeah you might think that you have it under control but trust me you don’t, that’s what I told myself and now I’m in the worse place. I have talked to myself asking why I can’t be smart or just to be a better student I promised myself things, but know it’s too late to make my promises real. If only I had the chance to go back and fix my behavior, I wouldn’t think about it twice!   I never wanted this, but I have to pay the price. I wasn’t the best student here at AWCPA, but I wish I was!

Alan finished his credits and graduated yesterday.  It was just the two of us there in the office to celebrate.  One stalker, one high school graduate.  

Yes, you've made me proud, Alan. 

I Made The [Kickball] Newsletter!

One would think that after 4 seasons of kickball that I would have developed some pretty advanced athletic skills.  Turns out that's not the case.  In fact, I suck.  I'm horrible.  And everyone tries to be nice about it because I never miss a game and my hair always looks good, but honestly - I suck.  

So you can imagine my surprise when I didn't suck.  Last Thursday,  I suddenly found myself staring at a red plastic ball floating in the air right in front of my face.  And then, I was shocked to discover that I grabbed that floating ball - in what many have referred to as making an out.  It was a wondrous experience, and one that the referee deemed "an epic catch". 

I would like to thank my coach, Caroline Kickball Younts, the 6 members of my family who were at last Thursday's kickball game in the cheering section with their champagne (no joke), and my entire team who reacted as if I'd just won $1,000,000.  I might have made the weekly kickball newsletter, but it's your support that encourages me to kick another day. 

Candle Nose Sniffing Outing Competition, And Stuff

Because sometimes you start a very silly competition when you're a teenager.  Such as blowing out candles with your nose.  And sometimes everyone gets really into it.

And sometimes you revisit that silly competition again 13 years later.

Spring, Sambuca, Skiing and Skee Ball

Let's be honest, I have a pretty well developed imagination.  And I dabble in high expectations.  Months ago I decided that Spring Break 2014 was going to be the best I'd ever had.  So, you can imagine my relief to find out that I was correct.  It was the best I've ever had. 

Spring Break 2014 consisted of many spectacular elements.  It revolved around an international ski holiday with Miss Joanna Claire Noble Lucas, her hubby Tom and my new muffin Scott.  You may remember Tom and Jo from our Vegas vacay last summer - or from my ambitious 72 hour sojourn to Northern Ireland for their wedding.  Either way, they're pretty memorable people - trust me.

And while we didn't get to perform our synchronized swimming routine, we did some other things:

-Attend John Kinghorn's birthday party and witness the darling family dynamic of shouting over each other. All at once. For hours

-Get served a meal by a t-rex

-Introduce British people to the prestigious sport of skee ball

-Grill some real American burgers

-Pick sides in a week long competition between 70 degree weather and heavy snow

-Spread the gospel of the deliciousness of Chipotle

-Ski some black runs, which were pretty much terrifying

-Mix hard alcohol and Scrabble for a wild time

-Close down the ski resort patio bar, then serenade each other with Robbie Williams for the entire drive home

-Experiment in snow shoeing through awesome snow.  Also, through mud

-Experiment in techniques for removing mud from snow shoes

-Debate the values of the Naked and Afraid survival show

-Eat corn bread with every meal

-Try to steal dogs at the Bark Bar, the best dog park bar ever

-Ski on an empty mountain in gorgeous sunshine and pristine snow

There weren't any bad days - hell, there weren't even any so-so days.  Looking back, I'm not distraught after having packed them off to the airport and waved goodbye.  I think I'm starting to realize that we have our whole lives to make snow angels together.  

Vigil Letter

The day before my 28th birthday a few months ago, I received a very unexpected gift: a letter that I'd written to myself on August 23, 2005.  My vigil letter. 

The letter, which was meant to be delivered to me on my 25th birthday in 2010, was inexplicably rescheduled to arrive in 2007, and finally landed on my doorstep in November 2013.  Once I read the letter I knew that fate had thrown this letter into the twilight zone for so many years because this was the year that I would really understand it. 

Before I entertain you with the workings of my 19 year old brain, allow me to explain how I went about even writing a letter to myself.  

When I was 15 I was selected to attend Camp Rising Sun.  Camp Rising Sun is an 8-week full scholarship international leadership program in New York.  Thirty different countries send one girl and one boy to represent their country, and around twenty U.S. states are permitted to send one representative as well.  It was the honor of my life to be selected on behalf of the state of Colorado, and through this community I have come to love some of the brightest and most passionate minds in our world today. 

Camp Rising Sun has been an incredible support for me as I teased out my international curiosities.  It gave me a scholarship for college, and even helped fund my 2008 thesis work in South Sudan.  But most importantly, it has provided limitless opportunities for me to find the best version of myself. 

Hence, the vigil letter experience.  During the final week of the camp, everyone goes out into the woods alone, builds a fire, and stays awake all night writing a letter to themselves.  The program keeps it and mails it to them later when they've become adults.  I got to do this twice, once as a camper, and once as a counselor.  The second letter was my newest birthday gift. 

Writing a letter to your future self is strange, but it cannot compare to the head trip that is reading a letter from yourself of the past.  As I read through it, I was completely overwhelmed with emotion.  How difficult it was to hear the 19 year old version of myself pouring her deepest pains and fears onto the page, only to realize that after nine years I am still battling so many of those same demons.  Had I made any progress?  Had I matured into who I had hoped I'd be?  Would the 19 year old Emily be proud of me today?

As I moved through page after page of young Emily complaining about boys and friends and boys and friends (young Emily was terribly verbose), I kept thinking, god I wished I'd made a bucket list for myself, I hope there's some list here for me to check off.  And sure thing, the final page of the letter was a list.  That's the convenient thing about writing to yourself, you know exactly how to please your reader.

The list (verbatim) looks something like this:

Top 11 Things I Want To Have Done Or Be Doing By Age 25 In No Particular Order         (after all, that was when I thought I'd be receiving this letter)  

1. Be with the person I intend on marrying

2. Speak at least one other language fluently

3. Have traveled to Asia or Africa or both

4. Have a plan for how I am going to repay my parents for everything they fund for me (college)

5. Have finished or be finishing graduate school

6. Be closer to my sister

7. Not exceed 135 pounds

8. Live for an unrestricted period of time in Colorado again.  If my parents aren't there, then wherever my family is

9. Figure out how to be happy with being right here, right now

10. Have an English Sheepdog or that other big hairy black dog from the movie "Must Love Dogs".  Such a cute dog, horrible movie though. 

11. Be healthy, and have a lifestyle where I am always healthy

Like I said, reading a letter from yourself of the past is a head trip.  For me, the overwhelming reaction to this list was shock.  Without any memory of making it, I had successfully completed almost every goal that I set for myself as a 19 year old (not so sure about the marriage one yet, my parents don't really want to be repaid, and Bear definitely is not a big fluffy dog).  

This list gave me a deep sense of confidence and peace.  I've accomplished other huge goals - and on time too.  Jeez, I've even accomplished goals that seemed too big to list.

I know now that I'm living a life that Emily at any age can be proud of.  And that, my friends, is the beauty of the vigil letter. 

Tracy Murphy and Me

I can still remember where I was on April 20, 1999 - the day that Columbine High School became international news.  I remember the school bus ride home during which no one spoke.  I remember how my mother met me at my bus stop and hugged me with an urgency that I hadn't seen before.  I was 14 at the time.  It was the only day of my student career when I was deeply, profoundly terrified to go to school. 

I am scared all the time now.

On Friday there was another Colorado school shooting at Arapahoe High School.  That is my mother's high school.  I grew up practicing a cheer that my mother taught me from when she was a junior cheerleader there.  A-R-A-P-A-H-O-E, A-R-A-P-A-H-O-E.  I used to make up motions to go along with the cheer as cleaned my room.  Now Arapahoe High School is making international news. 

The shooter of the Arapahoe High School tragedy entered the high school and immediately asked for a specific teacher, Tracy Murphy.  Reports show that Mr. Murphy had recently cut this young man from the speech and debate team, and now he had come to murder Mr. Murphy out of revenge. 

On Friday, just before 1pm, my school was placed on an "orange plus" lock-down.  This is the highest level of lock-down that I've ever experienced as a teacher or student.  An orange lock-down means that there is a threat in the neighborhood, but a red level lock-down means that there is a threat loose inside the school.  You can imagine my confusion to hear about an "orange plus" lock-down.  What does that even mean?  That's not on the chart.  

So there I was, locked down in a tiny room with my 5th period class.  According to lock-down procedures, no one was allowed in or out of the room - period.  I looked at my kids, realizing that this was not a drill and I was responsible for these students.  And I got really, really protective.  For all I knew, the Arapahoe shooter could be heading over to Aurora next.  

Like I said, I am scared all the time now. 

You see, I have quite a bit in common with Tracy Murphy.  I interact daily with students who are angry, frustrated and desperate.  I teach primarily boys, and a few of them butt heads with my rules consistently.  They yell and throw things and shout profanities at myself and other students.  Not to mention that I just cut ten students from the Talent Show last week.  I could have been Tracy Murphy; this could have been my school.  

I'd like to say, no, never, not at Aurora West.  Our kids are different.  Our community is peaceful.  Our security is tighter.  But is it really? Can we ever truly know? 

As soon as the lock-down began on Friday, my class immediately reacted.  But the kids weren't scared or concerned.  They were annoyed.  "Miss, will this be over before my soccer game?" "Miss, I suddenly have to go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW!" It was such a strange reality to witness: lock-downs and nearby school shootings don't shock kids anymore.  This is completely common place to them.  At one point another teacher [broke protocol] to come into my room to get something.  When I heard a random key in the lock, I jumped out of my chair and my heart raced - until a student turned to me and said "Don't worry Miss.  If it's the shooter, he will use a gun to get in.  Shooters don't use keys."

I'm not sure what the main take-away from Friday's tragedy is.  I can write you an essay on the importance of mental health services.  I can write you a novel on the need for common sense gun control (because apparently, all you need to get a gun in Colorado is to be having a bad day).  But today what I really needed to write about is how scared I was on Friday.  A fear born at Columbine when I was a child, and that has grown through the Deer Creek Middle School tragedy in Littleton, CO.  That was magnified by the Aurora theater shootings, just a few blocks from my school.  That growing up and living in Colorado has made shootings part of my normal life.  

I don't know everything about school security or mental health or gun control.  I don't know everything about the loss of innocence: mine, and my students'. 

But I do know that I can fit two students in my main closet.  And another four under the large teacher desks.  That leaves eight kids that I need to find hiding places for.  Let's hope I have some time to look around before our next lock-down.