Gratitude Day 26 - Jace, Lisa, Kelsey, and Washington Park Chiropractic

I woke up yesterday to a pain in my neck.  Instead of gradually loosening up, it got worse after my shower and light laundry-folding activity.  I was supposed to head up to see family in Boulder for lunch, and I was in a ton of pain.  I called my good friends at Wash Park Chiropractic and they were chock full of people getting the pre-turkey-binge adjustments.  Kelsey said she'd call me if there was a cancellation.  I fully expected to spend the day in loads of pain, and five minutes later she called me back with an appointment at 11.  SCORE!

Jace is my normal chiropractor.  I'm never quite sure why they let someone so funny, youthful,and sarcastic be a doctor, but he has done a great job ever since my first adjustment at a pumpkin carving party a year ago.  No joke.  But Jace was full, so I got to see Dr. Lisa Goodman, the owner of the practice.  She knows me peripherally through my not-cousin, and has steady, calming hands and an incredibly pleasant bedside manner.

When I got on the table, she felt around my neck and shoulders for a bit.  Then she said she had good news and bad news.  The good news was that she could make it better.  The bad news is that it would hurt and wouldn't start to feel better until the next day.  Luckily I trusted her and gave her a go.

If you have never had a chiropractic adjustment before, it is the scariest shit ever (especially if you just rewatched the first Hunger Games movie where Cato breaks that poor kid's neck with a quick twist of his arms).  They grab you by the jaw, wiggle your head around to lull you into a false sense of security, and then yank your head so far to the left or right that it feels like it will fall off.  And the cracking noises that come out are just plain gross.

And then all of a sudden the blood flow is restored to your brain and you feel AMAZING.  A few more cracks to the back, and a rub down with some cooling gel had me feeling a bit better.

But this morning, well it's a Thanksgiving miracle.  The sharp pain from the "sleep trauma" yesterday is gone, replaced by a dull ache that is taken care of with advil and more of the cooling gel.  Imagine if I hadn't gone to see them yesterday.

Today I'm grateful for the good folks at Washington Park Chiropractic, for getting me all fixed up!

Gratitude Day 25 - Random Acts of Kindness

I had been driving around for two months with no blinkers.  Scary stuff.  I bought a $12 part from auto zone and they couldn't install it for me.  Another mechanic couldn't find where the piece went, so I had to go to the dealer.  Dealers typically equal tons of cash (and good coffee in the lobby).  Well, I pulled up and my man Alex said they couldn't get me in that day.  I said I was leaving town the next morning.  He said, ok come back and 3 and we'll try to squeeze you in.

So I came back at 3, and he said it would be an hour or two before someone could get to it.  Then he got a twinkle in his eye.

"You already have the part, right?"

"Yep."

"Alright.  Just because I'm curious."

He looked up a diagram of car guts, took the part, got down on the shop floor in his well-pressed dress pants, popped out the panel, and my blinkers were working in under five minutes.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Have a nice trip."

So today I'm grateful for Alex and his random act of free, efficient kindness.

Gratitude Day 24 - Real Mail

There is no better feeling than getting real mail.  Nothing. Like, back massages are great.  Sneezing, falling asleep after you cry?  Good stuff.  But when you're sorting through the mail you haven't checked because you live in a townhouse now and need a key and to walk outside to the mailbox, and there's bills, bills, bills, parking tickets, overdue taxes, and then THERE'S A LETTER WITH HANDWRITING ON IT!!

Lately, real mail usually comes in three forms.

Letters from Amanda: Though these have decreased in frequency over the years as Amanda has fallen in love and gotten married, I can always count on a few real letters a year from my best friend.  Amanda letters are special because they are more than just paper in an envelope.  Sometimes they are in the form of handmade stationary by her godson Isaac.  Other times she writes on weird stationary from San Francisco about which she is suffering buyer's remorse.  Once she turned a photograph of me jumping off the bow of our ship into a postcard.  Often she makes the envelopes from calendar pages.  Always, every time, they are sealed with a tiny heart.  This heart has come to symbolize our best friendship and is the last thing I see before I open envelopes with tales of my country mouse's most recent adventures.

Packages from Uncle Jim: Uncle Jim has really embraced the lion mascot of my new school, and he and aunt Gina find tiny stuffed lions at garage sales and send them my way.  It is so nice to know they are thinking of me and my kids, and I have quite a collection going.

Cards from Family and Friends: Birthdays, holidays, TNT donations, all wrapped in the shiny gloss of a papyrus greeting card.

Special Yearly Treat - Gwyn's Christmas Letter: G$, my roommate from Mississippi, has a traditional Christmas letter.  Usually it comes out in April -- in a glittery Christmas card.  It is always many chapters long and has tales of romance, car trouble, and gay stuff, both joyful and just gay.   And it is ALWAYS hilarious.

So today, I am grateful for the magic of real mail.  Always a surprise, it brings me the simplest, most old fashioned kind of joy.

Gratitude Day 23 - Team in Training

I know I mentioned this back on day 3 or 4, but it bears reiterating.  I am incredibly grateful for Team in Training.  They have raised millions of dollars for leukemia and lymphoma research, keeping Amanda's dad Toby, my student Raul, and thousands of others alive.  They have provided support to families and patients to make struggling through diagnosis and treatment bearable.  And they have inspired thousands of participants to help raise money and train for endurance events, all in the name of finding a cure for blood cancers.  So today I'm grateful for TNT, for getting my butt out of bed to do a good thing for my body, and a good thing for our world.

Gratitude Day 22 - STRIVE Prep - Excel

 In just three short months, 15 adults and 129 children have created a community of acceptance, love, support, academic excellence, and joy.  Here are some highlights from last week that exemplify why I love my job, and why I love my school.

My Student T: T was horrible on Friday.  She wouldn't listen.  She did what she wanted.  She threw a donut at another kid and couldn't understand why she was in trouble.  And yet I love her.  She is navigating a rough time in her life, exacerbated by all the nonsense that teenage hormones cause under the best circumstances.  She's fighting to survive the best way she knows how.  I love T because of her spirit.  She is brilliant, and when she figures out how to make the world work for her, there's going to be no stopping her.

Community Meeting: CM happens every Friday, and is our chance to celebrate the successes of the week and have a little bit of fun.  This week featured performances by the vocal and guitar classes, as well as a giant game of Thanksgiving Scattergories.  The creativity, enthusiasm, competitive spirit, and joy felt by all members of our community was palpable.

The 6 Word Memoir Meme: Ms. M's composition class spent a day working on word choice and succinctness with 6 Word memoirs.  Ms. M. shared RSFs memoirs, "Don't run away from the problem," and "Don't dig yourself in too deep."  That RSF was able to be vulnerable and self-aware was damn near a miracle itself.  What followed though, was a series of staff 6 Word Memoirs that had us all giggling into our inboxes.  V's mom saw a hickey on her neck in the office, which led to "THE F*CK IS ON YOUR NECK?!"  A teacher responded with "V's partner has missed the mark."  Most of the other contributions were inside jokes but the joy that abounded in this 15-minute e-mail chain of hilarity got us through the rest of a long week.

The Gratitude Project: Ms. M. also had students write about the person who had the biggest influence on their life.  Then, as a twist stolen from a SoulPancake project, Ms. M. allowed students to call the person they had written about.  Kids were nervous, so I called my mom and read her my note.  The kids were all "oohs" and "awwwws" and a mad flurry of hands went in the air.  Kids called moms and sisters and it was a big old gratitude sobfest.  Vulnerability and thankfulness at its finest.

There are more stories to recount, but each day I am thankful for our team, our wonderful staff, our hilarious students, and the amount of effort and perseverance they put into everything they do.  I'm so grateful that together we strive for college!

Gratitude Day 21 - Mrs. Roth and Young Adult Literature

Thursday night I went to the Hunger Games/Catching Fire double feature.  I walked out thinking that the gratitude for the day would be Katniss Everdeen because, come on.  What an amazing character, and what an amazing portrayal by Jennifer Lawrence.  Also, that dress.

However, I got behind on my blogging and as I sit down to reflect on what I was most grateful for at the end of last week, I keep going back to all the books I read in fifth grade.  Obviously, you can't be grateful for The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle if you're not grateful for Sharon Roth.

Coming out of fourth grade, life was rough for me.  The previous two years of schooling had been an awkard mix of nerdy excitement, adoration from teachers, and bullying from students.  I ended the year in a ball of anxiety and wanted to disappear from the classroom forever.  When I was placed in Mrs. Roth's class over the summer, my amazing mother sat down with my new teacher and told her simply to ignore me.  She explained to Mrs. Roth that the previous two years had been rough for me and that all I wanted was to be a normal kid.

Fifth grade was the best year of my childhood thanks to Mrs. Roth's expert teaching.  She built a classroom culture of acceptance and peace, and she encouraged all of us to love reading and writing not because we needed to get good at it, but because it was beautiful.

Every day in Mrs. Roth's class, she would read to us aloud.  After second grade, most teachers stop doing story time, and at first we thought this was strange. During reading time, we were allowed to relax, sit comfortably, and even doodle if that made us happy.  It was maybe 30 minutes of peaceful enjoyment, the pure purpose of which was to teach us that books are AMAZING.

I remember the heartbreak I felt for Georgie in The Lottery Rose, as he tried so hard to make sense of the horrible abuse he had suffered.  I began a life-long love affair with post-apocalyptic (?) fiction after hearing Mrs. Roth read about the few survivors of nuclear war in Z for Zachariah.  Though science fiction remains my least favorite genre, I loved Eva, a gripping tale of medical technology and the ethics of animal research.  But nothing, nothing, could compare to Charlotte Doyle.

From the first pages, our class became fully immersed in the high sea adventures of this teenage girl.  She was strong, independent, and morally sound.  The story included murder, sexism, racism, and cruelty.  But (spolier alert), Charlotte triumphed over all these things and held steadfast to her belief that justice should be served, even if it is a young girl who must enforce it.  Our whole class was obsessed with Charlotte Doyle.  We pretended the class was the crew, we made a round robin to overthrow the class (not out of disrespect for Mrs. Roth, but rather for the thrill of bringing fiction to life).  Jeremy and I talked about writing a screen play.

And Mrs. Roth was more than just the inspiration for my love of young adult fiction.  She taught us to pursue our own interests as a way of learning more.  She encouraged our growth into young men and women capable of critical thinking.  Mrs. Roth was there at the most awkward of times, the beginning of puberty, when Liz and I came to her with a new crush every day.  She called my tendency for quickly changing loves "the garcon du jour", and teased us gently, knowing that we were beginning to become our real selves.  She loved us each for what made us special, while at the same time understanding our need to fit in.  Plus she was downright funny.

My year with Mrs. Roth is a big part of why I became a teacher and stayed in education to become a principal.  My unspoken goal is to give as many students as possible the opportunity to interact with a teacher as excellent as Mrs. Roth.  So today, I'm grateful for Mrs. Roth and for the young adult literature she introduced me to.  I love reading and I found my life's meaning because Mrs. Roth showed me the way.

Gratitude Day 20 - Sister Sisters

I am blessed with three sisters.  Wait, what?  Girl please you've only got two sisters.  Ha ha!  That's what you think!  TWIST!!!

First, there's Kelly, pint-sized math teacher, salsa-dancer, and latte drinker extraordinaire.  We used to teach classes next door to each other at Maya Angelou, and I can truly say that every day Kelly made me a better teacher.  Maybe it was our competitive spirit, but we always pushed each other do do more for our kids than we had the day before.  Kelly has been a DC teacher of the year finalist, worked at the highest performing charter school in the country, and works harder for the toughest kids than anyone I know.  Plus, according to our student Rissa, "Your sister, she be tellin' the corniest jokes.  And she be THE ONLY ONE LAUGHING!!!"

Then we have Rebecca, or Rebes.  We used to spell her name Rebs until she learned about vowel-
consonant-e and told us we were spelling it wrong.  Yeah.  That's Rebes.  She struggled greatly in middle and high school, yet somehow grew up to be a brilliant, funny, kind, supportive, hilarious mother and friend.  I can always count on Rebes to keep it real with me, especially grouchy real when I beat her at poker.  And to see her with her son Aiden, well, it's the most beautiful thing.  She loves him so much, and respects him as a person, though he is not yet even two.  She is teaching him to be independent and funny.  Plus he says Nana (his name for our mom) whenever he sees a glass of red wine.  There's a lot of funny in the family.

A few years ago, just when I thought our family couldn't get better, we added Span.  What kind of name is Span, you ask?  A GREAT ONE.  Span, or Andrea, is our brother Thomas' person.  And she is one of my top 10 favorite people in the world.  She is hilarious, humble and crafty, and brings out the best in my brother.  In fact, she brings out the best in all of us.  I admire Span so much for the way she has faced challenge and tragedies in her life, and she makes me want to be a stronger person.  Plus, she made me the best bitstrip character possible.

So tonight, after a day full of g-chatting and text messaging, I'm so thankful for all of my sister sister sisters.  

Gratitude Day 19 - My Bed

When I was in college, I slept through pretty much every 8:30am class I had.  Thank God for Brooke Gintert's work ethic and note taking skills.  And Dr. North, well, that B- couldn't have been wrapped in a nicer bow when you gifted it to me.  I just loved sleeping.  Every year I would get a new blanket for my XL twin dorm room bed.  And selecting pillows was an art form.

I don't know when it happened, but I discovered at some point that there are different kinds of sheets.  I don't know if my mom was keeping this a secret from me or just didn't know about it, but the higher the thread count, the colder that feeling on the cold side of the pillow.  I don't understand how, but it's true.

Couple excellent sheets with a heavy down comforter and a decent mattress, and it's a wonder I ever get out of bed at all.  Today I'm thankful for groupon sheet deals, my 10-year-old holding pillow, and the best bed I've ever had.

Gratitude Day 18 - Self Dates

I must have been about 10 years old when I was sitting with my mom at a restaurant and saw someone having lunch or dinner alone.  I was even more sensitive then than I am now, and I was overcome with sadness for this person.  I said to mom, "I think whenever I see someone eating alone I should go over and sit with them."  She gently recommended against ever doing that and I couldn't understand why.  It was the most depressing thing I had ever seen.

And then I turned 28.  And oh my God, Self Dates are the best invention ever. Of course, you'd rather the girl that you're crushing on come with you.  Yeah, yeah, if you don't have anyone to go with, you might as well just eat cottage cheese and an apple standing at your kitchen counter.  Wouldn't it be better just to eat the rotisserie chicken right off the chicken while watching reruns of 30 Rock than to have people think you're pathetic and alone?  Maybe.

But what about this:

This guy.  Feet up.  No shoes.  Winner.

Go to your favorite restaurant, a block from your house, where the waitresses know you by name and have the correct beer on your table when they see you coming in.  Sit back in your booth, watch the football game, and have someone cook for you.  Don't talk to anyone, because you don't have to.  No small talk.  No awkward pauses.  No self-conscious ordering.  Maybe bring a book, or catch up on BuzzFeed and facebook while you wait for your food to come.  Eat as fast or as slow as you want.  Leave a nice tip.  Head home. DO NO DISHES.

There's a time and a place for everything.  And tonight, it was time for a Self Date.  And for that, I'm so thankful.

Gratitude Day 17 - Brandi and Melissa

Back when regular people could get up close.

So this is maybe more obvious than the fact that I love Amanda Hollander.  Y'all.  I love Brandi Carlile and Melissa Ferrick.  But that wasn't always the case...

I was never really into music when I was younger.  I got my first two CDs for my 10th birthday in 5th grade.  Jeremy Hobson bought me Kenny G's Forever in Love and Liz Chubbuck bought me the soundtrack to The Bodyguard.  I thought I was so modern and sophisticated because Jeremy and I finally stopped having sleepovers and listening to Oldies 92 all night long.  Musically, I had arrived.

Then middle school happened, and all the kids started listening to cool music.  They were the original hipsters!  Liz would go to shows up near Chicago and come back with concert t-shirts.  She just kept getting cooler and cooler!  Meanwhile, I wasn't even close to knowing about random bands.  I didn't even get what was so great about Nirvana.  And Smashing Pumpkins?  What were they so upset about?

The only hipster I ever loved.

I kind of coasted through the first few years of high school, nodding ambiguously when people were talking about bands.  Katy Love kept writing "Kurt Lives!" on everything, and I couldn't figure out why she was talking about our classmate Kurt.

But I went to summer camp before junior year and finally understood why people liked music so much!  It was as though I had finally glimpsed a sight of the magic that drove my friends' epic CD collections.  And the magic was The Indigo Girls.

Thus began my love affair with female singer-songwriters. Meeting Amanda helped broaden my musical taste to such disparate artists as Ani DiFranco, Dar Williams, and Patty Griffin.  I mean, talk about RANGE!   Gradually I stopped pretending like I had a varied musical taste, and just listened.

It's cool.  I know I'm a groupie.

Then one day I was visiting Amanda in Maine, and she put on some Brandi Carlile.  My life was changed forever that day.  That voice!  Sometimes she sounds like a cello, sometimes her country roots come out, and the result is always incredible.

A few months later I caught the gay, and went to a Melissa Ferrick concert at Pride.  Mind.  Blown.  Her stage presence and sheer level of inappropriateness and hilarity made me a believer in lesbian folk singers once and for all.

Besties.  Obvi.

I have been to 15 Brandi or Melissa shows since I learned about them both in 2008.  Each one is a gift, unlike the one before.  The only thing better would be seeing them together.  But I think there's an awkward "You stole my drummer" thing that they still need to work out.

No matter my mood, turning on Give up the Ghost or Goodbye Youth adjusts my emotional thermostat to a pleasant 72 degrees.  And if they heard me harmonizing in the living room, I'm pretty sure they would fight over who got to add me to their band.

So tonight I am thankful for Brandi Carlile and Melissa Ferrick.  The beauty of their music, the courage of their out-ness, and their sheer hotness make me happy to be alive.

Gratitude Day 16 - The Lesbifriends

I moved to Denver with a partner.  When that ended, I was left without a support system except for my not-cousin Jenny.  It's scary being in a new place and only knowing people from work, especially when those people routinely work 18-hour days and read education blogs on their downtime.

So when Heather, a friend of Jenny's invited me to a pumpkin carving party last October, I was hopeful that this would be the beginning of a great friendship with a wonderful person.  I got SO much more than I bargained for.

At the party I was greeted by a table full of pumpkin desserts, and as I made my way through the kitchen and into the back yard, I couldn't believe my eyes.  Lesbians!  Everywhere!  There were faux-hawk lesbians, and olympic soccer lesbians, and country-western lesbians.

About an hour in, this text message conversation ensued:

Kate: Pumpkin carving party full of lesbians.
Rebecca: Picture or it didn't happen.
Kate: *sends picture*
Rebecca:  Jesus.  Even that DOG looks like a lesbian.

(It was a picture of these three people, with a dog in one of their laps.  Sadly, the picture will never be seen again because I had to reset my phone.  But you get the idea.)

The end of the pumpkin party featured a marriage proposal carved into pumpkins.  I started the day knowing no one but Heather, and ended the evening being trusted to do the lettering and carving of said proposal.

And that was the beginning of a wonderful winter of friendship with 10-or-so of the best ladies I know.  We had family dinners, endless nights of dancing at Charlie's, white dolphin Christmas exchange, and like 3 non-stop days of eating Thanksgiving food.

Last night was Heather's birthday party.  Last year, all the lesbifriends took a limo to dinner and to the party.  This year, most of us arrived separately, with our own dates.  Last year, we spent every Friday and Saturday night together.  This year we see each other more often at major events.  And this doesn't make me sad.

What I learned last night is that even though friendships change and relationships grow and develop, we need to be forever grateful for those moments of genuine joy and friendship we feel.  So today I'm grateful for the original Lesbifriends, and all those who have been added to the mix.  I am truly blessed to know each of you.

Gratitude Day 15 - Friday at 5:30

Detention feels like it will never end.  And I'm the principal.  I couldn't take it any more, so I let them go at 5:25.  It was like the best celebration ever.  For all of us.  Friday nights have pretty much stopped being exciting for me because I usually want to come home and sleep.  So tonight I'm thankful for Friday at 5:30, my couch, and a nap.

Gratitude Day 14 - Elisha Roberts

Just about a year ago, I was at Second Friday, a monthly gathering for gay ladies who are, or who try to be, fancy.  I was there with a couple of friends, and there was a lady staring me down.  Nikki said, "Kate, that woman keeps looking at you."  "Yeah, and she's cute," added Heather.  So I looked back.  We both started at each other for about five minutes.  Sure, we were both super fine, but there was more to it.  We KNEW each other.  We just didn't know how.

After those awkward few minutes, she walked over to me as my friends tried to keep a straight face.  "Do I know you?" we both asked.  We spent five more minutes trying to figure out why we seemed so familiar to the other.  High school?  TFA?  Camp? (My friends still make fun of me for asking about camp.  They clearly never went to camp.)

Finally, we figured out that we had both attended Occidental College, were both in education, and were both mentored by the same fabulous professor.  The similarities stopped there, however.  I was a charter school principal in training.  She was a union representative public school teacher.  I did TFA. She definitely did not.  Her friends worked at North High.  My school was trying to move into an old wing of North High.  Then.  THEN.  She talked crap about Charlie's on facebook.

WHO WAS THIS LADY????

Well, this was Elisha Roberts.  Over the next several months, as I obnoxiously posted about how much I loved my job on facebook, and she posted less than stellar reviews of her life at MLK, we had a few conversations about education.  And then one day she popped the question.  "Are you hiring?"

I was skeptical at first.  We both were.  Could she reconcile her educational philosophy with the charter world?  Would she be able to wrap her brain around all STRIVE Prep had to offer?

But thank God she applied, and thank God she had such an outstanding reference.  I got an excuse to call my friend Mary who told me we wouldn't be best friends, and that we would be a really good match.

She couldn't have been more right.  Elisha is my work wife, my other half, my wing-woman, and just plain awesome at her job.  She is disciplinarian, detective, motivator, teacher coach, data magician, and incredibly positive influence on our students.  Listening to her drop some "Slaves died so you could go to school" science on Mariah B. the other day gave me goosebumps.  Plus she's funny as hell.

Elisha constantly catches things that I've let fall through the cracks.  Things I'm too overwhelmed to do, oh, like PLAN ANY EVENTS OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL DAY, she's on it.  Want to see a play?  Do a ropes course?  Have a dance?  Start recycling?  Elisha's your girl.

And she's so supportive.  If I've had a bad week, or a bad day, or a bad minute, she's the first one there telling me I'm doing a great job as a first-year principal, and that she's glad to be part of my team.  And she says it in such a way that I actually BELIEVE her!

I can't tell you how tired I would be without Elisha here.  What I can tell you is this school wouldn't be half the place it is without her.  So today, I'm grateful for Elisha Roberts.  She IS STRIVE Prep Excel, and we are so blessed to have her.

Gratitude Day 13 - Karen and Therapy

I struggle with depression.  There it is.  For everyone to see.  It has taken me four years to say those words.  In 2010, it got really bad.  Like, about as bad as these things can get.  And I was so fortunate that a few months before it got really bad, I made a stupid choice, which made Kelly think I needed therapy, which made me go to Karen.  Today I am a living, functioning member of society thanks to the support of a lot of people.  Especially Karen.

Karen is a lot of things: funny, brilliant, Dana Scully look-alike.  Because of these things, we connected immediately.  At times I thought she was my friend, my mother, my girlfriend, Dana Scully...  All of the transferences, I had them.  Every couple of weeks I would say to Karen, "I'm cured!" and pretend like I was done seeing her.  I think I made this comic 6-weeks in.  That's me...with the cape...cured...

She would ask me lots of good questions and make sure before I left that I knew that I was not, in fact, cured.  Then I'd come back the next Tuesday at 5:15.

Karen helped me learn that I am quite the catch.  And we had to dig through a big pile of packed down shit to find that version of me.

I can't quite remember who came up with it, probably Karen since she's so smart.  Anyway, we came up with the whole lily pad metaphor on which my life philosophy is based.

After three years of looking out her beautiful top floor Dupont Circle office window, I was a lot better.  And I was moving to Denver and I wasn't done with therapy yet.  So Karen did something difficult.  I mean, it was definitely difficult for me, and I like to *think* it wasn't super easy for her.  She cut me off.  Not before she helped me find Meredith, however.  And my work with Meredith out in Denver has been so different, and so valuable.

So today, I'm grateful to be alive, I'm grateful for Karen, and I'm grateful for therapy.  And I HOPE Karen is grateful for all those cookies.

Gratitude Day 12 - Health Care

Tonight I had a regular appointment with one of my health care providers.  He is the most thorough doctor type I have ever worked with.  He asked questions about EVERYTHING.  Then he assigned labs.  And I feel GREAT!  What kind of doctor checks out everything when you feel great?

I've been blessed to have excellent health care since I was in the womb, and I think I sometimes take for granted the quality and quantity I get because of my relationships and my excellent insurance.

So tonight I feel grateful that I have the resources I need to get and STAY healthy.

Gratitude Day 11 - The Unexpected

I'm a planner.  Big time.  I like to know what is happening, to the minute, at least a week ahead of time.  I didn't used to be this way.  I think it all started when I began teaching.  In education, nothing ever goes as planned.  I always plan a little bit longer than I need for everything.  That way I can fit in a crisis every couple hours.  It's my secret to being a principal AND getting 8 hours of sleep a night.

So you would think that as a planner, the unexpected would be my nemesis.  And while I've always thought it would be cool to actually have a nemesis, I can't claim this one.  Because, no matter how hard I try to avoid it, the unexpected often turns out to be just what I need.

Almost a year ago, what was supposed to be a first date turned out to be an introduction to the Cowboy Cha Cha, snowshoeing, and a church home (Unexpected hat trick #1!)

Two weeks ago, as a result of cultivating church friendships, what was supposed to be the first night of a sabbatical from the world of dating turned out to be an evening full of yard games, a gigantic cookie, and a week of butterflies (Unexpected hat trick #2!).

Today, what was supposed to be a quick walk around the lake with the pretty girl of yard games fame turned into lunch at my favorite restaurant, an important conversation about expectations, and a viewing of the first episode of Orange is the New Black (Unexpected hat trick #3!).

And here's the deal.  I have NO idea what to expect next from this series of events.  And I'm ok with that. Because sometimes, the unexpected is better than anything we could have planned.

Gratitude Day 10 - Jenny and Grace

This week was a rough one for me, for my missing then found student, and for my pastor Jenny.  Each of us felt like somehow we had missed the Grace train, that bad things were happening, and we were angry and sad.  Today at church, Jenny taught about Grace.  Grace, she said, is God.  You can't separate the two. Grace is everywhere -- in our past, in our present, and in our future.  And the most important thing I learned today is that God is operating on a time arc that we can't understand.  It is hard to see Grace in the moment, when bad things are happening to the best of people, and we lose sight of God's timeline.

As I listened to the sermon, I thought of all the ways, large and small, that Grace has touched me through my life.  This gratitude blog highlights many of them, and today I'm inspired to list the most compelling instances of Grace intruding lovingly into my life.

Grace is:

Aiden climbing his first playset and sliding down by himself;
the spirit of Coach John and Erica pushing me through your first triathlon;
the look on my face the first time I glimpsed the Grand Canyon, and the look on my dad's face as he watched;
wishing I could get a date with a cute girl at Charlie's, and getting a church home and a renewed commitment to faith instead;
my mom saying only, "And?" when I told her I am gay, affirming who I am, and who I've been all this time;
my student coming home hours after we post the flyers;
Amanda getting the ambulance to my house from hundreds of miles away;
and God's voice at the lily pad pond, telling me to go on.

Today I am thankful for Grace, and to Jenny for helping me find it every day.

Gratitude Day 9 - Country, Coco, and Charlie's

I definitely had a country music phase.  I moved to Mississippi after graduation in 2003, and met Sylvie.  I timidly stuck my toe into the country scene with a free Dixie Chicks concert provided by our new landlady.  We had such a blast at the concert, I thought there might be room in my heart for this genre.

Then Sylvie slipped me the double live Garth Brooks CD and my mind was blown.  His crystal clear voice with the completely controlled and expertly employed twang propelled me up and down the highways of the delta for two years.  And then there were more and more songs and artists.  Songs about heartache and making up and drinking beer.  Good stuff.

I left the delta in 2005 and my love of country music waned - Until last November when I discovered Charlie's.

I had just met a new group of ladies at Heather's pumpkin party, and that evening they decided they would continue the party at Charlie's to celebrate Poe and Shawnalea's engagement.  I walked in and couldn't believe my eyes.  It was a gay country bar!  I got a drink, pulled up a stool on the rail along the dance floor, and just watched.

The people watching was unlike anything I've experienced before or since.  There were two men, 60-years-old, untold stories of the pain of being gay and loving country music for the last 40 years, dancing together for hours.  There were drag queens in decidedly not rugged attire sipping cocktails in the corner.  And there were so many cute girls with snazzy gay haircuts I didn't know what to do.

And then...out of nowhere...the fiery intro of Garth Brooks' Callin' Baton Rouge came on.  I hadn't heard this song in probably eight years, and I was instantly filled with joy.  Heather, who grew up near Baton Rouge, grabbed my hand and took me out for my first real two step. And I never looked back.

I have met so many friends at Charlie's, worked up so many sweats as I get spun around the dance floor, and learned what it means to be part of a different type of community.  Everyone dances differently.  Malorie gets lost in the music and transcends her tiny frame to lead you around the floor.  Danielle makes you feel like a ballroom dancer.  And no one dances like Coco.  She taught me everything I know and encouraged me to dance with other strangers.

So this morning, after a glorious night spent dancing with a pretty lady, I'm grateful for Charlie's.  And I'm grateful to Coco, the Dance Machine, for helping me find my stomp.

Gratitude Day 8 - Aiden

There was a time I thought I had the best family in the world.  Here we are:

Then I found out we weren't as good as we thought we were.  I discovered this when Aiden arrived.  Here he is:

He makes us all better.  He likes the moon, cats, and bath time.  I mean, how could you not love someone with such impeccable taste.

Whenever we FaceTime, he says cat in sign language and makes a kitty cat sound.  He thinks I am a cat lady.  When he gets older, I will explain to him that you're not really a cat lady until you have 3 cats.

His laugh shoots joy right into the pit of my belly, filling up all the crevices in my body that have residual, gunky badness leftover from the day.

Thank you Aiden.  You are joy.

Gratitude Day 7 - Gene

Few people know exactly the right thing to say at the darkest moments.  Some people have a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing nearly all the time.  Gene Pinkard has a special gift: using his bitingly sarcastic sense of humor, he says things that seem absolutely ridiculous at the time, and moments or years later end up making sense of difficult circumstances.

When I was 25, I was a physics teacher at Maya Angelou under the best principal I had ever met. Here we are at Six Flags with my students learning about acceleration on roller coasters.  This was the day I really started to think about becoming a principal, and I grilled Gene about the process and what he loved about the job.

The next spring Gene was moving on after two years as my principal, and I was devastated.  He put together a transition team to lead the school the summer of his departure while they looked for a suitable replacement.  Knowing my passion for school leadership, I thought I would be an obvious part of the team.  Instead, Gene crushed my soul further by not asking me to take part.  I couldn't believe it.  How dare he not recognize my leadership abilities and passion for education!  I didn't talk to him for weeks.

Somehow he tricked me into riding with him to graduation, and he asked me why I was mad at him.  I started to cry (which he was used to), and explained that I felt short changed and my feelings were hurt by his decision.  To this he replied, "Well, that's why you're not on the team.  If you get bent out of shape by this, you're not ready for administration."

Ouch.

As principal (and principal in training) I have thought back so many times to that conversation as we wove through the streets of southeast DC.  I reflect proudly, amazed that some recent happening that would have sent the old Kate crying to her mother just bounced right off.  Gene's words five years ago helped me build thicker skin.  I'd be a pretty shitty principal without it.

In the last week alone, I have reached out to Gene twice to remind me that, unlike five years ago, I can really handle this.  In fact, the exact text message I sent on Monday said, "Tell me to quit crying and grow a pair."  His reply?  "Don't be a punk."

Then something scary happened in my community, and I called him again last night.  After relaying the details of the situation and the safety plan we had determined for our school, I wanted Gene to tell me I was overreacting and it was no big deal.  I wanted him to comfort me, to tell me I didn't know what scary was, being out in the peaceful foothills of Colorado -- that I had lost all my worked-in-a-detention-center credibility.  I wondered aloud why they let a young kid like me take on this much responsibility anyway.

And Gene totally blew it.

"Kate, it doesn't matter if you're 31 or 46.  Scary is scary."

Great.  Thanks a lot for the reassurance.

Yet here I sit, just 24 hours later, peaceful as I reflect on his words.  He wasn't telling me to panic.  He was saying my feelings were valid.  He wasn't saying this was a disaster.  He was saying I was right to take this seriously.  And he was saying it was going to be ok.

So today I'm grateful for Gene for saying the right wrong thing, every time.