The Art of Growing in Purposeful Silence

I expect myself to stay in alignment with Source.  I expect myself to hear the Voice at all times.  I expect myself to be in the right place at the right time.  I expect to find the answers to my questions in the right time.  I expect to understand why things happen.  I expect to apply my knowledge and use my wisdom.   I expect to be accepting and allowing. I expect and anticipate starting my own family when the time is right.  I expect my companion and I to be the root of a strong family.  I expect to open my own creative spaces for the youth.  I expect to travel the world as an author and educator.  I expect grant money.  I expect and anticipate being financially free very soon. I expect to be loved and respected everywhere I go.  I expect my visions to become clearer and clearer.  I expect to grow my perspective by learning and listening.  I expect to go beyond my wildest dreams.  I expect to live beyond my potential.  I expect myself to be effective with communicating my needs and

If a woman is what she thinks all day,  what am I? I am chosen.  I make no bad choices.  I make opportunities for myself.  I see what's not always apparent.  I am wiser from every situation.  I am confident in my gifts.  I am able to hold myself as the focus of my joy.  I appreciate the small things.  I learn fast.  I am not afraid of my intuitive voices.  I am powerful.  I manifest what I need and want.  I am guided by the ancestors.  I am not alone.  I know what love is.  I don't believe in mistakes. I am always in the right place at the right time.  I pay attention to everything.  I am a beautiful soul.  I am growing everyday.  I am aligned with Source.  I attract people that expand my thinking.  I am intentional.  I am thoughtful.  I move in the Light.  I do not avoid my feelings.  I do not avoid confrontation.  I understand that growth is not always comfortable.  I know I am loved.  I have true loved ones in my support system. I don't make excuses for myself.  I don

She is reading a thick hardcover book and has a canvas shopper with the word LOVE spelled in bold letters. Leaning into the coziest spot of a man's body, the small underneath their shoulder, where a woman usually fits like it was chiseled just for her. And she never looks up but he looks around every once in a while when he's not scrolling through his phone. A subtle sign of protectiveness that men show at times. Chewing gum out of the side of his mouth.  I mean, she could be Hispanic. But I wouldn't know unless she speaks. Skin pasty. Hair blonde. Nose pointed. Persimmon maxi dress to match her mani pedi.  He's in all black. Ashy boot cut denim. Laceless Nike's. Tight shirt but not snug enough to be a muscle tee.  Both unbothered.  Truly unbothered. A woman squeezes into a gap to sit next to them. He scoots closer to his woman. Cozier.  And I do nothing but continue to watch. Continue to creep. Lurk. And wonder if I am the only one wondering: Are Black men who wear

A true story — Brooklyn, New York “Don’t judge him, Mommy.” With a high-poofy-puff for a crown, this less than 4 feet-tall queen had her mother at a loss for words. “I’m not judging him, baby. I was just telling you, that’s a man… He was dressed like a woman.” “I know but it’s okay. A man can dress like a woman and a woman can dress like a man.” Her mom grabbed her hand and together, we all crossed the street. Knowing I was guilty of eavesdropping because of my conspicuous smile, she looked at me and said everything she was thinking, without even speaking one word. “It’s their generation.” I said. “Yes. Exactly.” “What grade are you in, honey?” I touched her shoulder, feeling the innocence of her spirit and smoothness of her brown skin. “Third.” “Wow, and with all that wisdom! I am so impressed.” I looked to her mom, I could feel myself transitioning into full Ms. Clay mode. “I’m an 8th grade teacher, I know I sound like it with my praise, right?” “A teacher?! No! You look like a stude

I listened to a recording that you and I made back in 2015. We were on the Avenue and a guy was strumming an acoustic in the background of our conversation. I didn’t notice it then but I heard it this morning. We talked about transitioning and the process of becoming butterflies. We talked about white guilt, which I still didn’t completely have a full understanding of yet. We talked about peace and Shakespeare, and mindfulness. You shared how you can always see your students’ feelings escalating before they explode. And you gently put your hand on theirs to calm them down. You tell them to listen to their heartbeat and they say, “It’s going really fast.” And they forget they are upset because they are too busy focusing on their breaths. It was beautiful. You were teaching kindergarteners, in the middle of one of the most crime-infested ‘hoods in the country, how to develop a sense of oneness. You were the future. You still are. So many quotables… You said, “ So much of this wor

Who I am: Humble enough to affirm others.  Positive enough to uplift others.   Confident enough to put others on.  Loving.  Expecting.  Aligning.  Grateful for even the smallest things. Self-soothing.  Non-complaining.  Not competing.  Understanding.  Truthful.  Easily annoyed.  Confrontational but not combative.  Fair.  Selfish if I love it.  Impatient if I hate it.  A dreamer.  A thinker.  A visionary.  Action oriented.  Aware.  Not like them. Not like them. Just like you if you are aligned. Growing. Learning. Finding. Preparing. Forgiving. Independent. Innovative. Intelligent. Reflective. Beautiful inside.

I have this urge that I've been trying to fight. It's the urge to publish another book. I don't think it's time. How do I know? I don't. But I do.  I'm sitting at a bus stop on Charles, across from Notre Dame. Baltimore. I got my license freshmen year because I spent half the year taking the bus from Morgan to Hunt Valley. 3 cars later, how is it that I am back on the bus stop?  Honestly I wish I would've been here 3 cars ago. Instead of using my money to pay off a car note and insurance, I should've been paying my student loans. I promise if I knew better, I would've did better.  But everybody around me was doing 2 things: deferring  their loans and buying new cars. I wasn't confident enough to be the odd ball. I didn't have the sense to be one either.  She's wearing fake fur slides. Pure cocoa skin. Box braids probably about a week old. And a phone conversation that won't stop. It started with her talking about

The formation of this post is an authentic example of how homework should always be assigned. I was sitting in Red Emma’s, just finished reading “The End of Homework” by Etta Kralovec and John Bell. Posted the book on my Insta-story captioned, “I have strong feelings about this…” To my surprise, within the 24 hours allotted for the post to be up, I received almost thirty direct messages from folks wanting me to elaborate on my feelings. If this were my classroom, I would label this a teachable moment and task my students to research the question of ending homework, on their own, for homework! Since my readers are not my students, I can’t tell them to do the research to their question, so I have decided to write this post, and assign the task of reading of it as homework! Fellow edu-blogger, Stacey Riedmiller , teaches 4 th grade and I teach 8 th . The purpose of homework differs between elementary grades and middle grades, so I thought it was necessary to include her perspec