Even now sometimes i have my moments
Moments where i feel like
I’m gonna fall apart
Can’t let it consume me
Let it go
Breathe just breathe
You’ve come so far
To go back
I know it hurts
You cry when you don’t want to
It’s trying to release
He’s gone
Your dad is gone
In the wind
You severely question
How can he not love you
Not be there for their for you
To still have breath in your lungs
But alas be gone
I never thought you would leave me again father
Why don’t you want me
When i am made up of half of your DNA
I can’t even say i hate you
I Love you Dad
But i have to let you go
You abandoned me
Came back
Left again
Came Back
Left again
Why come if you never intended to stay
Leave
You can’t be the reason
Theirs’s no peace
I will always love you
I have to live
To explore
Without a painful memory of you
Here is our long distance goodbye

Loneliness, a friend of mine

They keep me company, they take my time

They visit often and stay too long

They whisper dark things, sing sad songs

They drink along and share my glass

Thus wishing that our time won’t pass

Loneliness, the jealous type

They shun the social scene and hype

Prefers to keep me in my room

To make my mind a heavy tomb

Of grey-scale thoughts, of shadowed dreams

And feed me lethargy in reams

If I reach out or you reach in

My friend’s departure will begin

And pull me to the Sun and light

They’re only gone when when you’re in sight

What do you say when the apology comes.
And what they did to you is not ok?
When forgiveness isn’t so easily given
What do you say when the apology never comes–
When you’re the one who gets to write the narrative.
When you need to dig deep and learn how to write your way from survival to freedom.

Dear whomever;

I became a teacher to shift the paradigm and break the chains of toxic tradition. My childhood education experience paralleled that of Matilda. Most all my teachers were more Trunchbull and less Honey with the exception of 2 up through high school graduation and gaining another 4 up through my masters program. When I decided to become a teacher, I wanted to be a Ms. Honey, I wanted to be what I so desperately needed as a child—And I did. My biggest flex is that I became the adult I needed, the teacher, the mom, the neighbor. But here’s what they don’t tell you: the cost of becoming a chain breaker, a paradigm shifter, a warrior, a Ms. Honey is expensive. Its loneliness, its heartbreak, its rage, frustration, anxiety, and despair.

As an educator, you often hear: “Know your why”, “remember your why”, “it’s for the kids.” And while this is absolutely the truth and it does help keep focus; it does nothing to shield the abuse hurled from those satisfied, or even winning, with the mediocrity of tradition. My fellow educators are overwhelmed, defeated, and burnt out. This leaves no energy for change because change is hard work and dedication. I have found that very few admin appreciate growth as well. The worse abuse I have ever faced in education, is from principals and assistant principals. Those in power, when there is perceived threat of losing control or power become the most dangerous. It takes an unusual strength to stand in an abusive environment and feel unscathed. I don’t think I have this strength.

I feel guilty because I think about leaving the education career. Yes I have thought about changing districts and schools- unfortunately, in my experience toxicity is everywhere and the unknown of new administration is scary. I don’t have much self or energy to give left. I never know when entering a new school environment if when they say things like they are “student centered” or “wanting student advocates” if they actually mean it. My experience has shown that more often these are tokens administration throws out to entice teachers with little to no intention of follow through.

I look at the other Honey’s scattered throughout the US knowing they face similar treatment and I think of how brave and strong they are. I have my master’s degree, I am trauma informed, I’ve completed my national board certification- for absolutely nothing. I don’t have the skin to be unaffected by ill-treatment. I’m not a Trunchbull. But I’m not a Ms. Honey either. I don’t know what I am; I think I’m just finished.