Month: January 2026

Of Snow Days and Coming Off the Bench

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I’m sitting in my living room looking out at my snow-covered neighborhood. The temperatures are so low that we’ve only had school twice in the past 10 days, and it seems likely that we won’t have school for the next couple as well. Every educator loves a snow day, but if we’d had this many in my teaching days, I might be getting a little antsy by now. This many days out of school would mean my scope and sequence, my pacing, and my lesson plans would all need adjusting. The plans I wrote for two Thursdays ago would no longer be relevant. The lesson I was going to lead with today would need adjustment before we went back.

However, considering the current circumstances, I am thankful. We’ve missed four days of school out of the last two weeks, and I have been using the time — almost all of that time! — to get caught up and to get ahead.

Why? Because once again I am coming off the bench. The next day we have school, I will be teaching.

Last May I taught what I thought was my last English Language Arts lesson. It probably revolved around revising and proofreading since my seniors were getting ready to submit their final high school paper. My husband, ever thoughtful, sent me flowers to mark the day. He, more than anyone, knew I’d been teaching in one venue or another since the fall of 1988 when I did my student teaching at a high school in Ft. Wayne, Indiana. While not all of those years have been in a classroom –I stepped away once to stay home with my young children then again to recover from a significant health challenge — I have spent almost all of those years teaching, writing, or instructing in one way or another.

When, due to autoimmune disease, I hung up my hat (and gave away all of my teaching gear!) in 2014, I really thought I was finished with the classroom, that I had entered retirement at the age of 48. Last spring, after five years back in the game, I really believed I was moving into the season of instructional coaching and that my days managing a roomful of teens were over. I thought I had secured my spot permanently on the bench.

Both times I was mistaken.

This past fall, I onboarded two certified ELA teachers — exactly what we needed for our small school. One would teach freshmen and seniors, the other would teach sophomores and juniors. I was so excited! Both were experienced; both were people of color! It was like a miracle!

Throughout the fall, since they were on my coaching load, I observed them teaching many times, and met with each one at least weekly. Together we began to build what I hoped would be lasting relationships.

One is getting settled into our culture. One resigned over the holiday.

This is what education looks like right now. We have more classrooms in America than we have teachers, so folks can decide midway through the year to take a different path. It can be liberating for a teacher — to know that if your current setting doesn’t fit, you have options. It can be demoralizing if not devastating for students.

In this case, the sophomores and juniors, who were without a science teacher for most of the fall semester until we found a strong candidate in mid November, are now without an ELA teacher. To complicate matters, the SAT is in less than three months. For the juniors, this the highest-stakes test of their educational career so far, and half of the test focuses on mastery of English Language Arts skills.

How, how I ask you, can we hope to overcome literal centuries of educational inequity for students who routinely experience staffing shortages throughout their educational journey — not to mention inequitable facilities, insufficient supplies, inadequate transportation, poor nutrition, and other realities of institutionalized racism. What can we — those who envision something different for these folks — do?

I came back from the holiday break with a directive (not to mention my own ass-kicking, name-taking internal drive) to support the students through the end of the semester — to make sense of where they are, to grade the work they had completed, to give some kind of a final, and to help as many as possible receive credit for the class. Three weeks and four snow days later — done, done, done, and done.

Somewhere in the course of those weeks, my supervisor communicated that I would be taking over the junior classes in the run-up to the SAT. I was to provide high quality instruction that would prepare these students to do well on that assessment. My internal desire is to also give these students — these kids who have marked time first in their Earth Science class and then in their ELA class — a good experience. I don’t want to merely get them through to the SAT; I want them to fall in love with a book, to learn the power of a growing vocabulary, to see what happens when you write down what you think, to understand the complexity of language and how it can reflect the complexity of our inner lives.

So, when the first snow day happened, I spent the day updating the grade book for these students and unpacking the curriculum I would be teaching. I will admit to a significant case of the grumpies as I began that morning. I might have been muttering under my breath about the audacity of a teacher to leave three weeks before the end of the semester without finalizing grades. I might’ve been clenching my guts in anxiety over how I was going to manage high quality instruction while still being our school’s testing coordinator (managing the SAT, MSTEP, and WIN Work Readiness tests). The neighbors might’ve heard me sputtering for the morning, but when I rounded the corner and moved from cleaning up the mess to planning for instruction, my mood shifted.

I opened up the curriculum for the class, determined I would use the text Their Eyes Were Watching God, purchased the audiobook so my students could hear the rich dialect as they followed along and annotated the text, dug into the unit plan that focuses on “figuring out yourself in a complex society” and I. was. stoked!

The ideas started pouring in. I began to picture the faces of my students engaging with the text, describing for me things that are obscure compared with things that are pervasive. I saw the connections to their lived experience, and I was energized. How would I change the classroom set up, what visual aids would I need? What tools would I use for motivation? How would I begin to build strong relationships? The gears were fully in motion.

And then we had another snow day, so I spent two days of what I thought would be a four-day MLK weekend visiting my mother and then found out that we would have another snow day to make it a five-day weekend! On that day, I prepared a final exam.

When we did have school two days this past week, I spent it giving that final exam, entering grades, and convincing these students who I had not yet taught to turn in one more assignment to get themselves across the finish line.

And then we had another day off for extremely cold temperatures. I used that time, too! Each day I tick a little off my to-do list. I’m not sure how I would’ve gotten all of this done — or how I would’ve mentally made this transition — without the time off from school!

As I finish up this post, snow is falling. Forecasters predict anywhere from 2-7 inches followed by more windchills of -20 degrees. Although no official announcements have been made, I’m going to guess I’ll have the next couple of days at home. I already know how I’m going to use them.

I’m going to audit the grade books of the teachers in our building and close out the semester. Then, I’m going to continue preparing for testing season and getting myself fully prepared for my juniors — they deserve a teacher who has intellectually prepared with them in mind, not someone who has slapped something together on short notice.

I’m thankful for the gift of all this time, and for the years and years of training that have taught me how to use it.

This old girl has still got the moves, kids, so get ready. It’s almost game time!

Before they call I will answer;
    while they are still speaking I will hear. Isaiah 65:24

Would you or someone you know like to come join our team at Detroit Leadership Academy?

Want to help me supply snacks and incentives to my students?

Reply Requested: Singapore and the Archives

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Dear Reader,

I’m breaking from my recent rhythm of ranting about the new year in hopes that you can answer some questions for me. I’ve been writing this blog for going on twelve (12!) years. In the beginning, most of my readers were folks who knew me and who were following my journey through a recent chronic illness diagnosis and my resulting exit from teacher life. I was writing my way through a major transition and my readers were empathizing and cheering me on. Much has changed since then — while I still write about my journey into a healthier existence, I more often write about my life back in the world of education, about current political issues, or about my inner journey to emotional healing. My readership has changed, too!

WordPress has an app where I track my statistics — how many people view a particular post on a given day, what country each reader is from, and what was the referral source. I will admit to being a bit of a data geek, and recently I have noticed an odd trend. In the past few months, the overall activity on my blog has increased — overall views have more than tripled — and it doesn’t seem to be because my recent content has been more engaging, more inspiring, or more colorful. No. When I look at the stats, it seems the increased viewership is coming (at least partially) from abroad and the engagement is with stuff that was written a year, five years, or even twelve years ago!

Most notably, I’ve seen a surge in views from Singapore! Substantial clicks are also originating in India, Germany, and China! This information has me over here scratching my head.

In full transparency, I can locate Germany, India, and China quite easily on a map, but while I’ve heard of Singapore, I definitely needed to go to Google to learn that it’s an island nation off the south of the Malay peninsula (home to Thailand., Cambodia, and Vietnam). While its inhabitants are Chinese, Malay, and Indian, one of its official languages is indeed English, so some folks there can easily read this blog, but why, reader, why would you want to?

Where is Singapore?

What does this middle aged white woman from the United States have to say to you? And, frankly, to those of you from India, Germany, the United Kingdom, and other places around the world? What is resonating? I’m dying to know!

The statistics tell me you are reading those early posts about chronic illness but also posts from the Covid era; about racism but also about minimalism. It looks like you’re interested in my teaching but also my exploration of emotions. Even my readers from the US right now seem less interested in what I’m currently writing and more in the archives.

I’d like to open this up for discussion. Would you be willing to engage with me?

I met with a long-time friend over the weekend for coffee. We’ve known each other most of our lives, but we’ve recently been reconnecting. We talked and talked for a while, as you do when you are catching up. I gave her my “latest” then said, “I think that’s all I have. What’s going on with you?” And, being asked, that dear friend trusted me with part of her story. And, in her sharing, in my sharing, we found areas of connection, of commonality, of shared experience.

So, I’m asking you — where are you from? what’s going on with you? where do you find connection with me? Maybe your responses will lead to a further conversation. I hope so! I know I have something to learn from you!

To share, you could use the comment feature on Word Press, or you could follow this blog on Facebook and comment there. Let’s see what happens, shall we? Maybe someday I’ll even travel to Singapore!

Whether or not you decide to share, thank you for taking the time to engage with my writing.

Hold on…

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I am not sure I made my expectations clear. When I wrote my letter to 2026 last week, I thought I spelled out the fact that I was looking for something different than years past — something better — but perhaps I was not specific enough.

When I asked for no falls, no cancer or chronic illness diagnoses, I guess I should have specified that aging family members experiencing strokes was also off the table. Maybe when I asked for grace for those who are already suffering, I should’ve included a request that they have access to the meds and the care that they need.

Now, I will acknowledge that while I haven’t received the snow (or snow day) that would’ve been not only acceptable but welcome, I was not disappointed in the unseasonably warm temps we experienced this past week.

However, my staffing vacancy has not been resolved unless you count the fact that I am — while also attending to my myriad other responsibilities — cleaning up the former teacher’s grade book, giving assignments, communicating with students, and preparing for the more formal transition when we will indeed have a highly qualified replacement, before the end of January, even. However, I probably should have made it clear that I was thinking that replacement wouldn’t have the exact same name and birthdate as me.

And, when I asked for sanity in the political realm, perhaps I should have started by defining some terms. By sanity, I mean “reasonable and sensible behavior or thinking.” Since all of the words in that definition are abstract let me provide a concrete example. A reasonable way to arrest an unarmed protestor who is driving a car is perhaps to, I don’t know, aim your gun at their tires to stop them rather than, say, at their head. And perhaps a way to stay out of wars is to speak respectably to the leaders of other nations, inviting them to civil conversations, and not, say, threatening to “do it the hard way.”

I was encouraged by crowds gathering in Minneapolis, Minnesota to mourn the loss of life of a civilian who was committing no crimes and then almost immediately discouraged by a subsequent shooting of similarly innocent civilians in Portland, Oregon.

This violence stems, of course, from racist and xenophobic rhetoric (which I also asked for an end to) that comes straight out of the Oval Office, where the president has, for example, called Somalian immigrants “garbage” and has said that ICE agents, those responsible for these and nine other shootings since September, “acted in self-defense,” which you’d be hard pressed to agree with if you examined the collection of videos that have been compiled.

All of this can be downright discouraging less than two weeks into a year that many of us were hoping would be different — and by that I mean the good kind of different, not the insane kind of different.

Ugh! I can’t stay in this angry space for the whole year! I can’t keep seeing headlines, shaking my head, and sputtering!. Instead, I am going to willfully point out some bright spots from the past seven days so that I can keep myself grounded in hope, in the belief in human decency and resiliency. For that, I have to turn my eyes away from national headlines and take a look at the spaces where I spend most of my time.

I will start by sharing the fact that I work with an amazing staff — there is some kind of magic that brings a team together to work in an under-resourced environment serving students who are significantly below grade level. Every person on the team wants to be there — and, we quickly (as you’ve seen) weed out those who are not on board. Because of that, staff meetings are often enjoyable, even fun — a gathering of like-minded folks who want to be together, who support and celebrate one another.

Next, I must mention our resilient students. All of our 10th and 11th grade students had a substitute science teacher for about eight weeks this fall. This same group — which now has a very capable science teacher who has quickly re-established a culture of learning — this very same group of students just found out that they no longer have an English Language Arts teacher, at least temporarily, and how did they respond? They listened to the administrator who delivered the news, they gathered evidence of assignments they had completed, they cooperated with school staff, and they opted in to the temporary plan, and trusted those who said a permanent plan was on the way.

Some of these same students and others — the athletes in our building — worked with the athletic director this week to hand deliver printed invitations to the Friday night basketball game to school staff members. Not only that — the following day they delivered team jerseys to each staff member, took photos with them, and invited them to wear the jersey to the game.

The hype continued to build throughout the week, and many staff wore the jerseys to school and showed up on a Friday at 5:30, after a very long week, to cheer on their students, first at the ladies’ game and then the men’s game. The AD and students had created a VIP section decorated with photos of every staff member in the building posing with a student. Colleagues chatted and laughed together as they watched the games, cheering loudly for every steal, every change in possession, every landed shot, and especially that one sweet moment when a 6’5″ senior who we’ve all watched grow up from a timid impulsive freshmen to the guy who waited for just the opportunity, saw his moment, and slam-dunked like a pro! The crowed (especially the VIP section) went wild!!

Throughout the evening, students boldly grabbed the mic to shout out their teachers, and then, between the games, the whole group — athletes and staff — took to the floor for a photo op. Smiles everywhere!

It’s still January. Nothing has really changed, but all is not tragic.

In a small building on the border of Detroit and Dearborn is a little community that is somehow choosing to keep going. Communities like this exist everywhere, despite corruption, despite tragedy, despite illness, despite loss. Folks who would have every reason to throw their hands in the air and say, “that’s a wrap” are getting out of bed, combing their hair, and showing up for another day, and sometimes, that day, against all odds, turns into a celebration. Even now. Even in places like Minneapolis and Portland.

No matter how politely we ask, we have little control over what 2026 brings, however, we can choose to search out these spaces and these moments. We must, also, call out corruption, gather to protest, and work for the change we wish to see in the world; in order to do all that, we’ve got to hold on to hope.

I am confident that I will see the goodness of God in the land of the living. Psalm 27:13

Dear 2026,

Featured ~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

I realize we are just getting to know one another, and perhaps this is too soon, but seeing as we are going to spend the next twelve months together, I wanted to make my expectations and non-negotiables clear. (It’s something I’m working on.) You see, the last few years have been a little unkind, and I want to be clear from the jump that I’m looking for something different.

Now, you may be coming to this relationship innocently — full of promise and potential — but I’ve heard similar claims before. Fool me once and all that…I don’t want to judge you on my past experiences but, look, if we don’t learn the lessons of history, we are bound to repeat them, am I right?

So let me state it plainly, I will be tolerating no January falls that injure the elders in my life. No new cancer diagnoses are welcome. In fact, make that no new chronic illness diagnoses either. And for those in our lives who are already suffering, let’s agree on a little grace — a little compassion — you know what I mean?

I don’t mind, particularly, if you want to bring a significant snowfall to kick off our time together. I mean, what’s six to eight inches of snow and a school cancellation between you and me? In fact, it could set us off on the right foot together.

I did hear a rumor that you have already provided me with a staff vacancy to work through — so thanks for that. I am willing to overlook this offense if you quickly provide a highly qualified replacement who has a passion for my students. Bonus points if that happens inside of January and if they come with loads of experience. But let’s have no more teachers walking away from their positions before the end of the school year. Got it?

Now, what you could provide is some sanity in the political realm. I’m not picky; it just might be nice to have leaders held to the same levels of accountability as average folks. Also, a return to the constitutional balance of powers might be nice — you know where Congress has to approve things before the president takes sweeping action or where the Supreme Court holds him accountable when he doesn’t. That type of thing. I’m not crazy enough to hold out for indictments against the president that lead to conviction — I mean we’ve seen how that plays out. I’m trying to keep things realistic here.

What I’m not looking for is more innocent civilians, minding their own business and committing no crimes, being targeted by federal agencies. I’m not looking for racist or hate-filled language from government leaders or the policies that are birthed from such rhetoric. Instead, what I am looking for is the people in positions of power to stand up and do something. I honestly don’t even care how they protest, as long as it looks like elected and appointed officials are not just serving to prop up a very corrupt enterprise. You want to get in good with me? Inspire some justice, some equity, some good old fashioned civil disobedience.

I’m not expecting miracles — just movement. A movement toward policies that benefit the poor, the voiceless, the helpless, the disenfranchised. I’m looking for some legislative moves that benefit those who don’t make six- or seven- or 10-digit salaries, that help those who aren’t necessarily white, that benefit women, and children, for heaven’s sake.

These asks have grown to sound audacious in recent years. I am begging you to provide a different climate — a climate where all voices can be heard, where all bodies are safe, where all children are fed.

I realize I’m coming in kind of pointy here, but if you scroll back through the timelines of the last few years, you may begin to understand how insane it has been. I’m just trying to find some days, weeks, and months that hold some hope.

Hope for healed relationships, hope for improved health, hope for immigrants, for the poor, for the LGBTQ community, for the aging, for my students.

Wouldn’t you like to be different, innovative, dare I say transformational? Imagine what people might say about a year that turned the tables, changed the course, began a new era? A year without gun violence, without scandal, without sexual crime, without devastating fire or flood or war?

I do recognize that you can’t do this on your own. We can’t expect a new year to waltz in here and create all this change by itself. You’ll need partners who are willing to think differently and act differently. You’ll need folks to put in some effort, not to just shrug their shoulders muttering, “well this sucks, doesn’t it?” You’ll need people to envision the possibilities and then work toward them. You’ll need us to believe in One who makes all things new — even when we’ve stopped believing, perhaps because we’ve stopped believing.

So here I am, 2026. I am taking a step of faith, believing that you might be different from the ones who have come before you. I’m committing to doing my part to be the change I want to see in this world. I am trusting not in you — come on, I wasn’t born yesterday — but in the Creator of all things, the great Transformer, to do a new thing. And when He does, I’ll be writing about it. You just watch and see.

[for] He is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine. Ephesians 3:20