My teacher voice 2018

I became a teacher because I care about kids. To this day, like any other teacher, I would do anything to protect those kids because, at the end of the day, I have often spent more time with them than with my own family. I have watched them succeed and fail, laugh and cry, grow and struggle. I have watched them squeal in delight and crumple in defeat. I have no idea when it became part of my job to jump in front of a gunman or part of their job to escape one; I don't know why it has become the "go to" reaction to grab an automatic weapon instead of meeting your foe on the football field to settle the score; I don't know what has happened to the value of the lives of our children over all else. But here's the thing: Because we, the teachers, love your children, because we realize that no one else is listening to what this is doing to our kids, and because no one else will value these young, beautiful lives over their own selfish agenda, we will pledge our lives not only to your child's education but to their literal survival. Is this how you spend your day, practicing the escape routes and hiding places for 600 kids and memorizing code words, thinking about the student who hasn't come back from the bathroom yet, wondering if your classroom door is locked or unlocked and whether or not your keys are close? No? Well, don't you worry. You just keep worshipping your guns and misinterpreting the Constitution; you just keep arming those gunman and protecting their rights...and we'll do what we've always done: we'll arm your children with an education that will someday stop the ignorance that is taking their lives away from them, and we'll protect their rights to live and to thrive even if it means we must risk our own. Our kids deserve a world so much better than this...

Notes to my son 1

Some may think that a visit to this blog 7 years later would be difficult for me, but it is not. As life has moved through so many changes since then, I continue to experience those events as if they happened today.  Every time I look at my brave, amazing son - he is 23 years old now - I am beyond even a fathomable level of gratitude.

My son's experience has left him with something to which he will forever come to terms, but his recovery has been nothing short of miraculous. I guess I might also commend myself on my ability to move forward, accomplishing what I had for so long given up and allowed to dissipate. Josh is on his own now, living his life as a young man and experiencing life again every day. Nothing is succinctly available to him emotionally or socially, but he's managed to find himself and bring closure.

From this point forward, I wish this blog to be something of a collection of thoughts on life after the events of my son's teen-hood.  He has moved on, and so shall I.