Strategically, it’s a bad idea to silence the “emotional” and “illogical” rather than to let it rant. I personally want—no, need—to know what everything thinks, no matter what extreme side they’re on. (I sit in “the middle” so everyone is “extreme” to me.)
“Cancelling” those who you disagree with on Twitter, Facebook, etc. is a dangerous tactic; you’ve lost your insights on what the “opposition” is plotting next.
As a high school teacher, I can assure you that ejecting an angry student from class doesn’t always humble their behavior. Exclusion doesn’t always make them want to reform to become part of “the group.” Exclusion instead often makes them stronger in their oppositional behavior. They become even more “rebellious” to prove their point.
Ignoring those who think differently than you is akin to those in a war refusing intel about movements of their enemy. “Oh, they’re about to invade by crossing our river? Ooh, I don’t like that! That’s not what I want to hear!”
Ignorance leads to irrational decisions. Knowing the next moves of the opposition is crucial to winning your battle and then the war.
Unless you’re afraid their strategy is better than yours.
Unless you’re afraid your battle isn’t based on a wholly solid, noble premise. Even then, if the enemy is calling out your weaknesses, wouldn’t you want to know that? To turn them into strengths?
Unless the “emotional and illogical” are telling you a truth you don’t know how to counter, a truth that demonstrates the fallibility of your position.
And you’re desperate to create an alternative “truth” that gives you what you want, despite the heavy casualties that will undoubtedly follow.
“Silencing” and “canceling” only suggest that you’re afraid your opponents are right.
However . . .
Zion allows for all ideas of thought.Zion doesn’t force, or coerce, or censor. Zion allows for debate and discourse and even disagreement—civil disagreement. And still people can be of “one mind and one heart” without agreeing on every detail. (I look at my own family; I still love and work with them, even though some may be Star Wars geeks and others are devoted to The Lord of the Rings.)
It’s time to stop silencing other and start Building Zion. #buildzion
“You know why they ‘canceled’ Dr. Seuss? He cheated on his wife when she was dying of cancer!”
That outburst in the middle of my lecture made me pause in my explanation of why we won’t “cancel” authors in my high school literature class, but instead try to learn from their times and issues.
We’re next going to read Shakespeare’s “Taming of the Shrew,” and I was making a case that people who cry “Sexist!” about Shakespeare don’t understand his time period or his circumstances. In many ways, Shakespeare was progressive in his approach and treatment of women at his time (which could have been a reflection of a strong female queen in England).
I was explaining that nearly all of literature is a reflection of the history around it, so if we understand the history, we consequently understand—and further appreciate—the literature.
But first we had to get past Dr. Seuss, and this is what I plan to present to tomorrow’s class, now that I’ve had time to do a little research.
First, his publisher hasn’t ‘canceled’ all of Dr. Seuss, just six books which some perceive have negative racial undertones. Again, understanding the history of the time when the books were written (one as early as the 1930s) would clarify what was happening in the illustrations. What a marvelous learning opportunity we could have here, instead of an “erasing of history” which I fear is occurring. And when we erase, we forget, then commit the same mistakes all over again.
Second, Theodore Geisel wasn’t ‘canceled’ because of his behavior in the late 1960s. Frankly, no one cares about that (and an entire argument could be made about if they should or shouldn’t).
So what about his affair, which, after the death of his wife, turned into his second marriage? I don’t know—I’m not privy to those details, and it’s no one’s business, either.
But for argument’s sake, let’s consider: was he remorseful about his behavior? Back in the 1960s, we didn’t have support groups for grieving men, cancer victims, etc. People were often just left on their own to figure out how to cope, which meant, they didn’t very well. I personally know of a few situations where men found comfort in the arms of another woman when their wives were suffering. (And those “other women” weren’t entirely innocent themselves, so let’s not solely blame men here.) As a society, we’ve learned how to help those who are grieving and suffering, and in the past 50 years a whole system of supports has been put in place to help, and rightly so. People who are grieving have many more options now.
But what about Seuss? Did he regret his behavior, then or later? Did he go through some kind of repentance process? I don’t know, nor do I need to know.
Because I choose to “Think the Best Story.”
Some years ago author Orson Scott Card wrote an essay suggesting that every time we feel to judge harshly and condemn someone, that we “Think the Best Story” about them instead.
For example, the person who cut you off on the freeway really isn’t the inconsiderate, arrogant jerk you assume they are. Maybe they just received terrible news—they’ve lost a job, or someone has been in a serious accident and they’re rushing to the hospital, or they’ve been told their cancer has returned and is incurable. Maybe instead of a being a horrible person they’re merely distracted by disaster, and accidentally cut you off.
(I once cut off someone because I had a child projectile vomiting in the seat behind me as I drove, and it’s pretty hard to concentrate in a situation like that. I sure would have appreciated some compassion right about then.)
“Thinking the Best Story” acknowledges that we don’t have the whole situation, and instead of condemning, we instead try compassion. I think in 99.9% of potentially “offensive” situations, if we understood the point of view of the perpetrator, we’d rush to help them, not cancel them.
I think of the example of Robert Downey, Jr. and his support of Johnny Depp. When others have canceled Depp because of reports of spouse abuse (which reports are dubious, depending upon the source), Downey has come to his aid. Why? Because years ago, “Iron Man” was in and out of prisons and rehab with a drug addiction for about five years. But he wasn’t canceled then, he was helped. And one of those who helped him revive his career was Johnny Depp. Now, Downey is returning the favor, helping a friend who has been knocked down because he’s filled with compassion, not condemnation.
None of us should be seen or remembered for only our worst moments. To reduce Dr. Seuss to only as “that guy who cheated on his dying wife and drew a few ‘bad’ pictures” is unfair and inaccurate, ignoring the decades of good and even great things he did, wiping them all out for one year of stupidity. We’ve all had stupid moments that we pray others will forgive us for. If you haven’t had moments of stupidity, you will. Oh, you will. (I’ve had quite a few that I’ve tried to forget.)
What if we remembered Saul in the New Testament only as “that guy who persecuted and put to death the followers of Jesus Christ”? That would ‘cancel’ all the greatness he accomplished when he turned his life completely around and became Christianity’s greatest advocate of the first century. The reverse was so total that even his name was changed to Paul, and he was ultimately tried and put to death for his valiancy. To focus narrowly on his earlier mistakes is to misjudge him completely.
This “think the best story” attitude can be applied to just about everyone who is facing cancelation. Some historical and current public figures did commit mistakes. That’s called “being human.” Should they be defined by those mistakes, especially when looking at a full life in total of marvelous and excellent successes which quite often benefitted the entire country? Of course not.
Should your life be judged so narrowly? Of course not.
But to accuse Abraham Lincoln for not doing enough to help the Native Americans–after he freed the slaves and lost his life because of it–is disingenuous. And to cancel Mark Twain, again, for Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, again, because of the use of the N word, ignores that historically the N word didn’t have the connotations it has now, and worse, negates the fact the Slave Jim and Huck are the only respectable characters in the entire book.
Perhaps it’s because Jim and Huck are purposely rebelling against the constraints of their society–and prove themselves to be the most humane and honest people in the South–is precisely why the book under the “cancel” curse once more. After all, it’s the rebels who push against the pressure of culture who are actually right.
There are others who are being canceled because some purposely misread and misjudge their opinions or beliefs. Some people fear any ideas which contradict their own, and feel the only recourse is to destroy that which challenges.
I wrote some years ago about misjudging and taking offense, and still my favorite quote from Aristotle is, “It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.”
I worry that we, as a society as a whole, do not believe that anymore.
Still, I’ve noticed something about myself when I choose compassion over condemnation: I’m a happier person. I feel more empathy, more concern, more love for others—even those I don’t agree with—when I assume “the BEST story” about them.
I choose to still like Dr. Seuss’s books, I still watch Johnny Depp and Robert Downey Jr. movies, and I still “think the best stories” about people because doing so makes me a better person. I still choose to have faith in everyone else, too.
Zion allows for mistakes, for changes of hearts, for new understanding. Zion promotes growth.
The world, however, doesn’t tolerate your past, or your “old” heart, or your immature understanding. The world promotes “cancel culture.”
Zion believes in forgiveness and second chances, and third chances, and fiftieth chances. The world wants to banish you. One strike and you’re out. Erased even, if possible.
The problem with this harsh judgment is that not even the world can live up to its unrealistic judgments. So it changes the standards, again and again, to meet their behaviors, but not to accommodate those who suddenly find themselves judged by yet a new standard which didn’t exist a decade ago, or even a week ago.
I don’t think they’ve recently consulted Matthew 7:2.
“Leaving the world” means setting aside all of that which distracts us from focusing on God. For some that sounds dreary and dull (what, just reading scriptures and singing hymns?). They believe the world is exciting and vibrant.
But consider that maybe we have that reversed.
Focusing on the world is exhausting. The world is hounding you with so many unnecessary expectations and demands.
You may find yourself:
fixated with fashion or physical appearance;
preoccupied with the look of a house and yard;
needing to be seen as “successful,” especially on social media, in your business and personal life;
driven to possess the next best thing either in technology, or vehicles, or housing, or vacations;
consumed with a desire to be popular and recognized as part of the “right” group.
That’s exhausting. And it’s dreary and dull, trying to keep up with the world’s changing trends.
Keeping the world “happy” is as tedious as reasoning with a toddler having a tantrum. What they want changes frequently, and they’re never satisfied for long.
Now think about what your life would be like without that pressure to impress the world.
Really think about it: no demands, no expectations, no guilt or shame for not being “good enough yet,” and no fretting about what someone will think—
Doesn’t that make you feel like it’s the first day of summer vacation when you’re in high school? Remember that feeling? No more assignments, no more demands, no more busy work to earn a label of “success” or “failure.” (I realize that as a high school teacher I’m condemning myself here a little, but teachers probably rejoice at the end of the school year more than students do.)
Instead, you feel that release, that sudden joy and lightness of realizing you get to do what you feel you should. Explore, work, play, sleep—you can just enjoy the world.
That’s what God wants for us. Focusing on Him is summer vacation, while being obsessed with the world is the third week of a gray, cold February with no holidays in sight.
Ask Him what “summer vacation” and focusing on Him looks like for you. It will be different for everyone. For me, this month, it’s focusing on my family, writing new books, studying ideas I’ve always wanted to, and preparing for the future. Next month may be different. And I eagerly look forward to it.
Building Zion is all about finding your purpose and leaving the world behind. You won’t miss the world, and what’s more, the world will not miss you. (Because it doesn’t care about you and it never has.)
You don’t have to align with one political group or another. There is always another option.
We can leave it all. We can choose to separate ourselves from the world. It’s time to Build Zion.
For over forty years, every since I was a child and my father told me about Enoch and Zion, that it “fled” but would return–and that we could help build it here on earth again–I’ve been slightly obsessed with the idea. So much so that I wrote a nine-volume book series about it. (And am now working on a prequel series–I just can’t leave it alone.)
I think it’s finally time to leave the world and actively look for ways to build Zion, and I’m open to your suggestions and ideas on how to do so. First, I believe we need to pull ourselves out of these current conflicts, especially here in America:
Choose not be sucked in by any political party’s contention (and it is a choice to step away).
Stay objective and out of all fights. (Peace is gone, and we can’t “force” it back with violence.)
Turn off the news and unfollow all those who incite anger and who choose to be willfully ignorant, on all sides.
Choose instead to feel compassion for everyone, in every situation. (It’s much easier to do that when you’re not watching them say and behave in ungodly ways.)
Cultivate a charitable heart, so that we can be “one” with others. Pray to God to soften your heart towards everyone. (He will. He’s done it for me many, many times, because I’m a slow learner.)
18 And the Lord called his people aZion, because they were of bone heart and one mind, and dwelt in righteousness;
When I first drafted those words above, probably back in 2010 for what eventually became book 5, I really didn’t think we’d get to this position in our own world. At least not for another 30 or 40 years, and only once I was senile enough to not notice.
But ten short years later I’m reading daily about how people, groups, and movements are “canceled” because of their opinions.
Political commenters are calling for those on the sides “opposite” of them to be punished after this election.
Leaders are threateningly suggesting that those who vote against them will regret their decisions in the future.
Friends and family are attacking each other on public forums, calling each other “sheeple,” or “oppressors” and, in once case, reported a family member to the police on false charges in vengeance for a slight on social media.
We haven’t reached the level of laws against ideas yet, but considering how rapidly we’ve run into this state of chaotic accusations and offenses, I can’t imagine it’s too far off. I remember my parents telling me stories about having to be careful about what their families said in Nazi Germany, because they were never sure who was listening in and who would turn them in.
I never imagined we’d forget so much of that horrific history that we choose to repeat it, but here we are.
We’ve long ceased being a republic; we’re well on our way to a dictatorial leadership of some kind. And such leadership can exist safely only when its enemies have been silenced.
I’m slowly learning to stay out of these fights. No one’s opinions will change because we tell them they’re wrong, just as we won’t suddenly agree with those who accuse us of ignorance.
The only thing we can do right now is rise above the mudslinging, the anger, the fury. I keep thinking of Legolas in the first “Lord of the Rings” movie, walking on top of the snow drifts that his companions struggle to slog through. We have to stay above it, or it will drown us.
Because more and more, I’m feeling that a different future awaits those of us who try to remain kind, calm, and compassionate. More and more I’m not only hoping and praying, but also looking forward to a place that lets us live in peacefully even with those we may disagree with, without any threat or retribution.
It’s coming. We need to make sure our hearts are ready to receive it. If we will be one, we will be His, and safely with Him.
Choices, always choices here. This isn’t the world, you know. We’ll never tell you what to do, or what to think, or what to believe. We offer what we have and show you what we feel is true, but then we let you make your choice. Whatever you choose, whatever you choose.
~Safety Assured Leaving East of Medicetti, Book 5; Forest at the Edge
Several years ago we moved to a distant community we’d visited only once, and felt fortunate to find a couple willing to help us get settled. We took their advice about jobs, housing, schools, and the people, although at times what they claimed didn’t ring entirely true with my limited experience there.
Soon after we moved in, I began to realize that this couple perceived things very differently than we did, pointing out negatives which weren’t there and criticizing the sincere efforts of others they felt were “beneath them.” The picture they had been giving us about the community had been quite distorted.
Within weeks it became apparent that they had an agenda and were grooming us to support their efforts. As quickly as possible we severed ties with the couple and endeavored to learn the truth about our new home, which proved to be far better than we had been conditioned to believe.
Over the years I’ve ceased feeling embarrassed about being duped by this couple, and instead have grown grateful for the experience which taught me three important strategies for life:
Gather several points of view about a situation before making decisions.
Look for someone else’s agenda in what they proclaim to be the truth.
Don’t make hasty decisions but weigh them out before acting.
And I’m doing all of that more each day, with every news broadcast, every political stance, every health report—pretty much everything.
I get different viewpoints, even–and especially–from those “on the other side” politically. Don’t be afraid of the opposition; learn what they believe. Debate their positions in your head.
I look for agendas and what they ultimately hope to accomplish. The end result may be hard to discern, but their ultimate goal tell you all you need to know about how they will treat you and others in the future.
I don’t make hasty decisions, especially if someone is telling me exactly what I want to hear. That’s called bias confirmation, and in our zeal to be proven right, we may be unintentionally agreeing with something wrong.
Most importantly, it’s ok to take some time to form an opinion. On many issues, I still can’t make up my mind about who to trust, so I trust no one and remain floating in a pool of ambivalence until greater light and knowledge come to me.
And how do I get that greater light and knowledge? I pray and ask God about everything, and I mean everything, that I come across.
Quite often He gives me a clear answer in the form of peace in my mind about a matter, a calm reassurance that fills me with warmth.
I’ve learned to question everything, and not to simply take someone else’s word or testimony about an issue. I’m entitled to my own answers, and God wants to give them to me, and to you, if you want them.
Sometimes He doesn’t answer me immediately because either I’m not ready for it, or I have no way to discern the truth . . . yet.
But then later the answer comes, exactly when I’m ready to accept it and act upon it. It always comes. And it will for you, just as quickly as you’re ready to accept it and move on it. With answers comes responsibility. Where much is given, much is required.
But you don’t have to trust me about this–test Him for yourself. He’ll always tell you the truth and what to believe. Always.
Last October, 2019, our church had a General Conference where the prophet and apostles of God spoke.
But I felt I was half asleep. Not literally (although sometimes I did doze off) but spiritually. I was so overwhelmed with teaching and family demands to really take time to listen.
By around January 2020 I was even more overwhelmed, but felt a spiritual nagging: I needed to wake up.
I brought this concern to God: “Please,” I prayed as I studied the scriptures, “I feel I’m missing things. Tell me what to read and study, and send me resources to rouse me.”
I should have remembered that when you ask God to change you, He will do so in magnificent fashion. I forgot to brace myself.
Coming at me in the following weeks, from friends and acquaintances, was a flood of podcasts, book recommendations, speeches, church talks, and scriptural accounts that not only woke me up but nearly set me on spiritual fire.
Then came March—specifically Friday, March 13, when I said good-bye to my students for the last time and didn’t yet know it. The Spirit spoke to me that it would be the last time, but I brushed that aside as “unbelievable.”
None of us would believe anything that followed.
This was part of my “waking up,” and it has been brutal for all of us. (But it’s not all my fault, I promise.)
In some ways the past five months have been a huge blessing: all of the activities and events with school that I would have been responsible for I didn’t have to do. I had more time for my family, for study, and to look deeply at the world and see what was looking back.
Recently I’ve thought about my earlier listlessness and contrasted it to my now-intense alertness, especially when I’ve had readers message me with, “Isn’t it crazy how parts of your books parallel what’s happening today?” and “Did you accidentally write history?” (Yes, it is crazy; no, I didn’t intend to prescribe history.)
Those comments have left me wondering, Why didn’t I see any of this coming?
Then yesterday I saw this post in a group I follow: “Remember the 10 virgins who waited for the Bridegroom to come?
Walter Rane “Five of them were wise”
“They had fallen asleep—all of them had fallen asleep. And then when they awoke, five were ready to follow Him to the supper, while the other five were unprepared and had to run to find oil for their lamps . . .”
I was struck by “all of them had fallen asleep.”
It’s ok that I didn’t see this coming, that NONE of us saw this coming. We weren’t expected to.
But now we’re waking up. Now it’s time to trim our lamps and get hustling.
Some are slower than others to wake up–I am solidly a mid-to-late-morning person. No “up before dawn around here.” I’m so grateful for friends who are earlier risers and noticed when I was ready to see what was going on. I was fully awake by the time March came around, and I was still alarmed, but now we are “awake to a sense of [our] awful situation.”
Today I realize that we need to rid ourselves of petty anger, self-righteousness, and divisiveness. Satan’s doing all he can to splinter us, and he’s (literally) damned good at it.
But we can be better than him!
It doesn’t matter what “stupid” or “ignorant” thing someone posts on social media, look past it and love them anyway. We don’t all have to agree about everything, but we need to set aside our differences so that we can stand together strong in the midst of the storms that are coming.
And they are coming.
I’ve been quiet on my website because every time I’ve come here to write something, the Spirit has held me back. I’m not sure why.
Today, though, I feel strongly I need to share this message.
Look past the arguments meant to divide us. Instead, cling to each other.
Hold tight together.
Brace yourselves, look to God, and live.
One last thing, from a book that truly is “writing history” and teaching me daily how to respond:
23 . . . it is wisdom in God that these things should be shown unto you, that thereby ye may repent of your sins, and suffer not that these murderous combinations shall get above you, which are built up to get apower and gain—and the work, yea, even the work of bdestruction come upon you, yea, even the sword of the justice of the Eternal God shall fall upon you, to your overthrow and destruction if ye shall suffer these things to be.
24 Wherefore, the Lord commandeth you, when ye shall see these things come among you that ye shall awake to a sense of your awful situation, because of this asecret combination which shall be among you; or wo be unto it, because of the blood of them who have been slain; for they cry from the dust for vengeance upon it, and also upon those who built it up.
25 For it cometh to pass that whoso buildeth it up seeketh to overthrow the afreedom of all lands, nations, and countries; and it bringeth to pass the destruction of all people, for it is built up by the devil, who is the father of all lies; even that same liar who bbeguiled our first parents, yea, even that same liar who hath caused man to commit murder from the beginning; who hath chardened the hearts of men that they have dmurdered the prophets, and stoned them, and cast them out from the beginning.
26 Wherefore, I, Moroni, am commanded to write these things that evil may be done away, and that the time may come that Satan may have ano power upon the hearts of the children of men, but that they may be bpersuaded to do good continually, that they may come unto the fountain of all crighteousness and be saved. ~Ether 8: 23-26 The Book of Mormon
No babies should try to walk until we’re sure they’ll not fall down.
No child should take an exam until they’ll get every problem correct.
No learner of a second language should utter a word until they’re sure they’ll pronounce it right.
No one should drive cars until we can guarantee they’re 100% safe from accidents.
No one should leave their houses until all danger is gone (never mind that most accidents occur in the home . . .).
And then everyone will be safe.
But no one will ever have lived.
Do what makes you feel safe, but don’t forget that in this world there’s no such thing as “completely safe.”
Life’s not supposed to be safe. How can we grow in a dull, quiet bubble? We can’t. And why would we want that? The greatest growth comes from the biggest mistakes. We learn more from failures than successes.
Remember Miss Frizzle on the “Magic School Bus”? She was right. (Although I’ll agree that bus was potentially terrifying, still I’d go on it and sit next to Ralphie.)
(Quote from Book 6, Flight of the Wounded Falcon, here and here.)
I’ve read a hundred or more books about lives taking abrupt turns, about dramatic endings, about sudden loss.
I’ve even written a few books on those topics, too, and had readers email me with comments such as, “I hated that. Why did you do that to my favorite characters?”
Right now I feel like I’m living all of those stories simultaneously, and I keep waiting for the books to close and life to go back, pretending that I’m in charge of this plot.
And I know all of you can relate to what I’m feeling.
Today I’m cleaning out my classroom, a task I didn’t plan on doing until June 12. But on that Friday in a few weeks I anticipate moving into my new rental house in Utah–2,700 miles away from where I now sit in Maine.
(For those of you who have read my books, I went through and “patted” everything first just as Mahrree did in Edge at the beginning of Book 5.)
I always expected to be here only three years anyway. I had told my adult children living in Utah we’d return after Dad’s jaunt to the east coast. Only three years. But then we thought we could stretch it out for longer, another year or two. And then everything started going strange, and I wanted nothing more than to be back with my kids. So it turned out to be only three years after all.
Three very fast, unforgettable years.
I expected sad good-byes this month and next, when school graduation took place June 1, and the rest of the students left by June 10th.
Today, I would have expected still four more weeks of students crowding into my slightly-too-small classroom, leaving the musky, sweaty scent of teenagers in spring that my window fan would struggle to swirl out of there each afternoon.
I expected to give them all a little farewell speech in June where I thanked them for accepting me, entertaining me, and teaching me for the past three years. Where I told them that I had quickly grown to love them, and that they had become “my kids,” and always would be.
I never expected that Friday, March 13, would be the hurried last day, when I called out to my students who suddenly found out they wouldn’t be coming back on Monday, “Take everything home with you! We might not be back for two full weeks!”
Unimaginable. Two whole weeks?!
But it was two whole months. And now three.
They never came back.
I had intimations of that when I did lunch duty that day in March, Friday the 13th. I had lunch duty once a week to monitor the doors, and I hated it. I usually write notes about something I needed to do, trying to ignore the noise of Lunch C.
But not on Friday, March 13. I felt God nudge my head up from my notebook and I heard a whisper, “What if today is the very last day? Your last look at the students of this school?”
Being someone who loves to entertain any plot, I played along and watched the kids that day. I tried to name each one in my head, remember their behavior in my class (I’ve had about 75% of the student body in my classes by now), I watched who they interacted with, and I smiled or cringed.
At that point of the day, none of them knew that my husband had messaged me earlier: The admins will be temporarily closing school because of the virus. They’ll announce it in the last period. Keep it quiet for now.
I took notes, and just now I found them, still on my shelf behind my desk where I dropped them, exactly two months ago today.
My handwriting is difficult to decipher, but some of the lines read,
“What if this is my last lunchtime? I can’t swallow it. I imagined it so different, but also so grateful I got to pull this shift. I usually hate this. Today–I’m grateful for one last look, if it is the last look.”
It was the last look. None of us would have imagined that.
I had a prom dress boutique to put together with the National Honor Society in April. We had junior prom in May, and I was asked to again announce the juniors as they entered. I was planning to have my AP students come to my house to watch “The Great Gatsby” and have a barbecue before the end of school, we had the AP Exam coming . . . (which is starting in just one hour. I’m writing this in my classroom as my kids sit at home trying to write only one essay to pass the test. It’s like putting all your eggs in one basket, then running through a forest and not dropping any . . . )
Ridiculous now to think of any of those past plans while we try to make some new, tentative ones.
I’m sitting in my classroom, one last time right now. I took down the chairs, turned on the lights, and made it seem like a regular Wednesday afternoon. My husband will call me maudlin. I call it therapeutic.
And just now, as I’m taking pictures and saying good-bye, I’m realizing it more important to say THANK YOU! This isn’t a time for brooding, but celebrating!
Thank you, WA and students, for reminding me that I love teenagers.
Thank you for accepting me so readily.
Thank you for asking me to chaperone dances, to advise groups, to take pictures, to come to your activities, to write you letters of recommendation. It was fun. Truly, deeply, amazingly FUN!
Thanks for letting me dance at those dances and pep rallies, and for even playing my music and not laughing at me.
Thank you for such growth! For such trials! (Don’t make me name names–you know who you are, and there are several of you.)
Thank you for pushing me to my very limits–mentally, emotionally, and even intellectually. I didn’t know I could go that far and still survive. And then come back the next day and do it all over again. (But you have to come back, just to see if you can do it again.)
Thank you for your patience, for your willingness to try new things, for laughing at my lame jokes, for letting me roast you in front of the whole class. But you asked for it, because you tried to roast me first. But I never, never lose a roasting. You know that now.
Thank you for such life, such activity, for teaching me about “Bubs” and trucks and hunting and lobster fishing and cheering and even the darker elements of your lives. You have enriched me and sobered me.
Thank you for your inspiration, for showing me true resilience, patience, endurance, and determination. Many of you live difficult lives, and I wept for you and prayed for you. I will continue to do so until the end of time.
And thank you for letting me come back some day, because I know I will. I’ll come looking for you. And that’s when I’ll get to hug you again. And we’ll laugh and remember together.
Until then . . .
I love you.
Thank you for these past three unforgettable years.