And Then There Were None

Time for a little R&R.

Today was the last day of school for students. This means that it’s time for me to put my feet up for a bit, which is what I’m doing in this picture.

The end of the school year is always bittersweet for me. Mostly sweet, but there’s some bitterness in the mix as well. I love my job as a middle school teacher. I can’t imagine doing anything else. But as any teacher will tell you, it’s a tiring profession. Educating kids is hard. Loving them is even harder. Luckily, we have this nifty little thing called summer break to give us a brief reprieve.

I’ll miss the kids, of course. I had the opportunity to really get to know a couple of eighth grade girls, and it makes me a little sad that I won’t be seeing them regularly. It’s always hard to watch some of the eighth graders go, but go they must. They’ll keep in touch, and it will be interesting to see how their lives unfold. Next year we’ll have a brand new crop of kids just waiting to be stretched, challenged, and enjoyed...and the cycle continues. It’s a glorious thing. 

And in the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the summer sun!

The Lizzard in the Lou

 A picture of Liz's happy feet in Beirut, Lebanon

Last week, Liz came for a visit. It was a breath of fresh air. I took a picture of our feet together, but I'm not sure what happened to it. While she was here we went to a college graduation, cooked and ate a lot, and went for an epic tromp through Forest Park. While we were there, we saw 33 turtles, a really cool photo shoot, sunbathers in their underwear, and a gigantic black dog named Josh. It was a walk for the record books.

When I met Liz almost five years ago, Andy and I were new in St. Louis. I was intimidated by the process of finding a new community and had joined a small group to build relationships. Liz was already a member of that group, and I liked her immediately. Our first conversation was about the hilarity of working with college students, internationals to be precise. Her husband Todd is an accomplished storyteller, and that sucked me in right away. As Andy and I drove home from that night, I told him I wanted to spend more time with Todd and Liz. It was an instant connection. The four of us went on to become tremendous friends. We started a small group together. We cooked dinner together. We did dishes together. We road tripped. We dreamed. We walked dogs, and each other. Last year they moved to Texas, and it felt like one of my limbs had been removed. 

When I’m with Liz, I am the best version of myself. I feel the freedom to simply exist, and be enjoyed for who I am. There is no effort to be funny, witty, or clever. It’s refreshing. She is hopeful and compassionate; she’s the optimism to my cynicism. She doesn’t let me minimize negative experiences, and I don’t feel like I have to be a tough girl when I’m around her. What’s more, she isn’t afraid to wade into my crap with me. Sometimes I feel like I’m waist-deep in it and when I turn around, I realize that she’s helping me shovel myself out. When it became obvious that life was getting a little too crazy, she made me see a counselor. She literally sent an email to someone in the counseling office and CC’ed me in on it. I don’t know how long I would have let things go before I took that step for myself. She’s that kind of friend.

Liz is a good question-asker. Her questions are insightful and often help me get to the bottom of what I’m feeling. I usually have trouble describing emotions, but she can draw things out of me just with a few well-phrased inquiries. She also is good about narrating my thoughts back to me, which helps me to clarify my words to accurately express what I’m feeling. I don’t know of anyone who is better at this than Liz, other than maybe professional counselors. 

There is a special place in Liz’s heart for cheese, Southerners, dogs, California, my cats, Harry Potter, and processed food. She loves learning about other cultures, especially those in the Middle East; she’s passionate about learning what makes people tick. She sports purple-streaked hair with pride, and she has one of the best laughs I’ve ever heard. She’s one of my very best friends, and I love her.

Long Live the Queen

 Ms. A and I on my wedding day

Sandi Armstrong Addison, my dear friend, mentor, and teacher passed away on Saturday. About 18 months ago the woman we all affectionately called Ms. A had a stroke that seriously affected her speech. She recovered, but started experiencing other major health problems about a month ago. They discovered that she had advanced liver cancer on Wednesday, and she died on Saturday morning. It was, and still is, absolutely unbelievable.

Ms. A was one of the wisest people I’ve ever known. Just about any time she offered an opinion on something, I took it for granted that she was right. For her to be wrong about something of any importance was almost unthinkable. She used to tell us all the time that she was never going to die, and I guess I believed her. I mean, I really did.

While making plans for the funeral service, I was asked to write a couple paragraphs about Ms. A’s legacy. I was happy to do it, but we all understood that it was a ludicrous task. First of all, I’ve been accused of many things in my life, but being brief isn’t one of them. Second, this woman was a force. Her legacy isn’t something that one can put into words. I can say with 100% certainty that I wouldn’t be where I am today without her influence. I might not even be a Christian, which is the basis of my entire identity. How was I supposed to write about that?