The Budding Optimist

  I went to Dogtown with my friends yesterday because I was afraid to cancel the personal day I had requested a week ago. It seemed unkind to the substitute teacher who may have been counting on that paycheck. It wasn't her fault I had crashed since then and did not feel like celebrating anything. Also, I could not be alone.  I am not a big drinker on the best of days and usually end up throwing unreciprocated shade that no one else appreciates. Me: Why did you just tell our Uber driver that you loved her? You do not love her. Natalie: I do love her. She drives a Tesla. Me: That does not mean you love her. Cara: WE RODE IN A TESLA, BITCHES!!! Me: You're pretty far gone, aren't you? Use "iterations" in a sentence. Cara: The other day, there were so many iterations in my sentence. Me: That is a terrible sentence. You are an English teacher. Most of the time, I wish I could have a video camera so I could record everything and memorize the best lines to recount to the

  For the last 15 years, I've been trying to teach high school English. For the last 15 years, I've failed and remained in 8th grade. I've been passed over for 7 positions in my own district alone. I've been teaching a scripted curriculum that requires zero thought or skill from the teacher. I'm bored to tears, and I've been repeatedly snubbed by the head of my department, in a way that is both humiliating and deeply troubling. This year, I decided,  no more . I changed my passwords to "ThisIsMyLastYear!" Beginning in September, I created charts of any district in the area where I could reasonably go without taking an even bigger pay cut than I did last time around. Then I circled the only one that was feasible to me: Pattonville. It's the #1 most diverse district in Missouri. It's 13 minutes from my house. They posted 3 high school openings this spring. I know two of the principals in the district (although not at the school).  And -- importan

  The Yoga Diaries - A journey during which I transform from a caterpillar into a slightly-less-neurotic caterpillar This weekend, I participated in the first dozen or so hours of yoga teacher training (YTT) along with 11 other beautiful souls. This left me feeling the muscle pain of a 90-year-old woman. I would take an Epsom salt bath except that my bathtub is broken. On this first weekend, the instructors -- whom we will lovingly refer to as Jade and Yoga Elsa (not to be confused with Therapy Elsa or Store Elsa) -- assigned us reading on  ahimsa . This is the yogic concept of non-violence. I think this concept stuck with me the most because I am right now feeling extremely violent. After learning distressing news from my family, my face immediately "exploded" again, so it turns out I am not cured of angioedema after all. On the way to my doctor - the one who pumps me full of steroids whenever I get so stressed that my face explodes -- a rock flew through the sunroof of my c