I have a dream!

My inspiration for this slice was a combination of the recent celebration of Martin Luther King Jr's life, and a young man in my classroom. Just like the great King Jr, I also have a dream. I have a dream that our students with disabilities will one day be accepted as an equal in each and every classroom. That our more fortunate students will see beyond the wheel chairs, braces, and out bursts. That genuine friendships will flourish between the most unlikely of peers. I have a dream, yes I have a dream where our SPED students make their way down the hallway without the stares, snickers, and pointer fingers directed their way. I dream of a school where every student feels special and loved all of the time. I have a dream, but awaken to the cruel reality that I have a dream that may never come to be. How can we expect our students to be accepting of something they do not understand. How can we expect them to be accepting of these individuals when they witness adults not being accepting. Then I realize, I have a dream, I have a dream that each and every teacher will model these behaviors. That teachers will explain, and introduce these disabilities to educate our students. I have a dream!

Getting back on track:

 After taking a three week break for the holidays, and the long weekend due to M.L.K Day it has been hard to get back into the groove of school. I can relate to students returning to the classroom after summer vacation. My creative mind, actually my mind is general is moving at the speed of a tortoise. Luckily today was the first day back in the classroom, and motivation came in the form of a very energetic second grade classroom. Lucky Me!

Hate and pain a deadly combination that has been the ruin of many individuals unknowingly falling into the jaws of such a deep, black, inescapable tomb. For so long I found myself a victim of such imprisonment. When my brother took his own life just two years ago, I thought I would never again see the light of the world as I once had. Hate and pain. I hated him for leaving me, for leaving us, for not calling, for not telling us what was wrong. I felt guilty for hating him because he was gone. I hated myself for hating him, for not being there, for not calling, for not being there. Pain, why did I not see the pain he must have been feeling in order to do such a thing.  The pain only a big sister can feel of knowing he would never see his twentieth year, he would never be able to enjoy the pleasures of being young and reckless, and the pain of knowing people would never get to witness or experience the beautiful soul that was my baby brother.

                The light of the world has begun to shine through in unexpected shades of friendship, loyalties, space, and love. Bright yellows and deep blood reds are the shades of friendships undeserved for some time but never failing to provide a shoulder when the occasion arose. Florescent starlight always prepared to whisper good fortune in the name of sister. Black as night, but as beautiful as a steed racing through the wild such is ones space in a time of need. The explosion of a thousand fireworks at once, illuminating the night sky with hope, happiness, joy, and affection. Without the radiance of some very important people that deep, black, inescapable tomb would have swallowed my humanity. For them I am thankful. For him the heart aches for the simple words, “I love you sis.”