Showing posts from January, 2017

#RefugeesWelcome Lesson Plan

Here's a glance at the lesson plan my colleague, Geoff Godfrey, and I have put together to address the banning of refugees and immigrants, that was enacted by Donald Trump over the weekend. 
Learning Target: I can engage in an informed discussion about Trump's decision to suspend admission of all refugees into the United Stares for 120 days. 
Guiding Questions: Is the suspension a violation of the law? Will this keep us safe from harm or engender the anger of extremists?

I. Am I Wrong for My Feelings?
This protocol can be found in Soundless Cries Don't Lead to Healing: A Critical Thinking Guide to Cultural Consciousness. I have placed a plain text screenshot of the worksheet, incase you do not have the book. Be sure to preview the learning target above before beginning this activity. 

II. Silent Social Media Gallery Walk
Post pictures, from social media, around the classroom. Silently, students will use sticky notes to write their thoughts, questions, and reactions to each pictu…

Worst Behavior

She was talking for the whole waiting room to hear:
"I'm ty'd a dis bullshit, honey. I don't drink. I don't get high. But they wan' keep sendin' my ass down here to get a gotdamn drug test. This sh't some sh't." 
All the men in the room agreed, though she wasn't talking to them. My school district sent me to the clinic for a TB shot, not a drug test but I agreed as well: it was some bs that she and the other city employees had to spend their day in there. Failing a drug test is just another cloaked form of structural oppression. Big corporate tycoons get higher than an average Baltimore fiend but they never get tested, meanwhile, blue collar workers will lose everything if they get caught with even a drop of THC in their system. 
Seeming to all be familiar, men dapping one another saying, "I'm ready get my CDLs and be through with this sh't!" And the others repling with congratulatory praise. 
I walked out after my shot to wa…

Analyzing the Highs

10:41 AM
On what I wrote last night about being addicted to self-care: 
I think it's quite possible to abuse and overuse the act of self-care, so much that it does more harm than helping. Though self-care must be implemented in our daily lives, just like drinking water, we still have to remain attentive to how much is too much. 
I believe we can do this by first, identifying and listing the parts of us that need to be nurtured most, and as we culminate the period of refining one aspect, we then can choose the next part of ourselves that needs some extra tender love and care. This way, it's not an addiction, it's a healthy cycle. 
After months of free formed acts of self-care, up until yesterday, I still felt like blahhhh. I was diligent in my efforts to pull myself out of my funk but secretly frustrated because I didn't feel like anything was working! It was not until I identified the parts of me that dragged me down from my natural highs... then, I was like, okay - cool..…

To Be Continued...

I don't do much. 
Read for a few hours today. This book called "Intimacy with God" that I found at the free book drop-off on Broadway last Sunday. Curated my closet. Prepared 4 bags of vintage clothes to sell at the Hunting Ground on Falls. I need that money now more than ever. Then took Tay for a walk to Urban to return a jacket I bought a month ago and still haven't worn - clearly don't need it - got a nice store credit to use when their Spring/Summer line drops.  Now, I'm in Barnes and Noble. Picked up my fav mags and Zadie Smith's "Swing Time"... It's just me and the books for the rest of the night. Who am I kidding? It's always just me and the books every night!
I didn't go to the women's march in DC today because I don't like being in big crowds. The last march I went to was for Trayvon. We protested from 14th to 42nd. That was fulfilling but I don't know, for whatever reason, it just wasn't in my heart to be there…


It's working. Really it's working. This whole feed yourself before nourishing anyone else. It's working. 
I'm watching myself, totally present, through this process of learning to love, let go, and love again. 
I couldn't advocate for anyone else until I fought myself for myself to be a better version of myself. 
Months of therapy, silence, and writing words of coal ... The season for the pain has yielded a great harvest of wisdom and I am grateful. 
Joyful.  Truly at peace. 
Depression is not curable but chasing the highs and catching them has rewards that I consider a fair trade. 
Smile. Even when it's fake. Trick the mind and watch the mind make everything else feel better. 
I love myself and my will to find spaces within myself that allow me to accept everything about myself. 


It's been officially 2 weeks that I've been living in my new place. Spent most days depressed about being in this big space, regretting my decision. But after visiting New York this weekend I remembered why it was so important to me to get my own space here in Baltimore. 
There's nothing like having your own. 
I am grateful for my clean bed  I am grateful for my pup  I am grateful for having a living room as my library and a separate space just for my bed and only my bed  I am grateful for a closet that keeps my clothes behind closed doors  I am grateful for large windows I am grateful for purchasing a 4 piece sectional couch that I decided to take apart and spread throughout the living room  I am grateful for my record and magazine collection  I am grateful that roses never die, they wilt  I am grateful for the sound of the air  I am grateful for the thin walls that allow me to hear other people's televisions at night, a reminder that I am not alone  I am grateful for taking my t…

Inspired by the Man Behind the Mason Jar

Yesterday, I never would've ordered a grilled cheese and ginger ale from here or anywhere. 
Its crowded. The only available seat was next to a man who has fallen asleep in the middle of writing, "Homeless, kindly asking anyone for anything they can spa..." on a rectangular cardboard box top. His head nods closer to the table but his marker stands straight in place. He wakes up to write another letter, gently scratches the matted blonde hair under his yellow paint-stained beanie, then, begins to nod again. I wonder: is he high or dead-tired. 
His head finally rests upon the tabletop. He's gone into dream land. A woman carelessly hits his chair while walking by us. He sits up and scratches his beard. Never opening his eyes or parting his tightened lips. The whites of his nails are filthy. He caresses his beard a few times after scratching it, as if he was checking to see if it was still there...
He's gone again. Forehead on the table. Wood for pillows doesn'…

Love Resurrected Me

God will give you so much, you won't even know what to do with it! - Aunt Lorraine's words, of course. 
She's right. I'm in this luxurious loft like: Why do I have so much space? It's been so many years of only having one room, having my own living room and bedroom seems so useless. I tried to hang out in the living room but I just came back into my room and laid in my bed. I guess the living room is for guests ... I never have guests so it's kind of pointless. But it's nice to look at my couch and records and books in one place, I suppose. 
I was going to start my Etsy page again. I have all of these beautiful vintage pieces I know I can sell, but I've decided to take the easy way out and sell all of them to Hunting Ground, my favorite consignment shop. Anything they don't want, I'll drop off at Value Village on York. Having a vintage shop is not in my heart right now, it would just be an extra responsibility, taking up my creative space - mental…


11:51 PM
I was sitting on the steps that lead to my bedroom, overthinking. Taylor walks from where he was napping in the foyer to the bottom step and looks up at me like, "What's wrong, Mom?" I tell him I'm just trying to put it all together in my head. He crawls right into my lap, licks my hands, and balls himself right to sleep. Guess he's telling me how to handle my thoughts right now.. Just go to sleep.
But I purposely put all of the towels and bedding in the washing machine so that they could be washing while I stayed up to finish working on my plans for tomorrow. Sad thing is, I'm staying up extra late just to keep trying to do something I have found impossible to do over the last two weeks. I have "heart block" as Alex calls it. I keep finding every excuse not to put the plans in my head on paper. Nothing feels good enough. Am I doubting myself or just uninspired? Thankfully, G and G will be at the school at 6:30AM tomorrow. I'll be able to…