This morning I arose.
An early morning.
I got up and I froze.
What have they overheard?
Mommy calls me for pancakes.
Daddy calls me for cornflakes.
The sky still dark outside.
Cartoons are playing on cable.
I got nowhere to hide.
Breakfast is set on the table.
Tears in my eyes.
Hear my sad cries.
Insecurities got the best part of me.
The children break every rule.
Curiosities got me in misery.
I have no friends at my school.
The sun comes out.
I lose my doubt.
The school bus is about to come.
I will get bullied today.
A loner – I just want to run.
My memories of yesterday.
I stand taciturnly on my fathers front porch.
The caliginous that began to take control of my soul.
It’s another day to sit through more church.
The pastor that could take this broken girl and make her be whole.
The seniors home the choir would sing at.
The church ladies and all their fancy hats.
Head coverings that glow like beauty.
New places. New communities.
Prayer meetings and the elders duty.
New school for me. New surroundings.
My first baptism and my first communion.
My first boyfriend at Family Reunion.
My first heartache. My first breakup.
Comfort food ; cake. My first make-up.
I turned on a love song.
I put that lipstick on.
Just another nice Canadian girl.
Beautiful, elegant, like a pearl.
A diamond to be cherished.
Flaws covered and were blemished.
Books were special like my best friend.
They were the wisdom at the end.
How did I tumble down from grace?
I was just looking for my place.
I look back on my many mistakes.
I sent my parents through heartaches.
How did I turn it around?
A world of silence – no sound.
Claire once knitted me a sweater.
I thought I knew so much better.
Teen years like cold winters are some of the hardest.
Everybody wants to date the hot lead guitarist.
A popularity contest.
Hoping everybody’s impressed.
I grew up and I wanted to soar.
I packed my stuff and out the front door.
I said goodbye on the telephone.
I found a new place to call my home.
I wanted to be a dancer.
Church was no longer my answer.
I waved goodbye to the life I knew.
I watched as the resentment grew.
Who had I become?
Things I must succumb.
I knew I should go to college.
Guidance I failed to acknowledge.
I became my own worst enemy.
The darkness as it overwhelmed me.
I searched for healing ; therapy.
I searched for meaning ; clarity.
I found maturity in broken places.
As I looked at the pain in others faces.
I saw tears like rain in their meaningful eyes.
I looked up at the sunset into the skies.
I discovered the word empathy.
A country of much diversity.
The world has really changed.
It has been rearranged.
Tradition is no longer the normal.
Job interviews are still very formal.
Beautiful scenery for adventures.
Unconditional love for transgenders.
No more democracy.
A place for equality.
I picture the strength of a mother.
I picture a sister who lost a brother.
I live in a land of beauty.
Helping hands who see.
Broken people… I went on a search.
Broken people…I took myself to church.
I saw a pastor there.
Dapper, tall, fine hair.
I wanted to cry on his shoulder.
It was time to start my life over.
In the USA / Canada. This week we celebrate Teacher’s Appreciation Week. What did you do to thank a teacher this week? They’re so patient, dedicated, devoted, and hard working.
I don’t know what I would of done without my teachers growing up. I had my first teacher when I was a toddler. My parents took me to church for Sunday School. I don’t remember her name. I just remember I loved being in her class. My parents also used to send me to this program called AWANA. I had a whole bunch of teachers there who helped me memorize the bible and taught me to put GOD first in my life.
I grew up and volunteered in things like Vacation Bible School. It is one of the most rewarding experiences because you’re helping create the leaders of tomorrow. I’m far from a teacher, but it’s always rewarding to know that the children that were in your class still refer to you as their teacher even if it was only for one week. Those experiences have made me appreciate teachers that much more.
Now let’s talk about the teachers that spend long days at work. The ones who taught us to write and to read. The ones who shaped our beginnings. They get up early just to go to work with a class of students, only to go home and still have to do marking. When do they ever get a break?
I remember pretty much all my teachers from kindergarten straight through to grade 12. Each one left a different mark. Some were overly nice and others were overly strict. In the end they all wanted to see me succeed.
I remember how many of them often praised my writing over the years. Those were in the years I didn’t even think I was a good writer. If not for all their commentary – I don’t think I would love writing as much as I do today.
Whatever you’re doing this week. If you come across a teacher. Make sure to thank them. They’re so devoted to the future generations. They help create the success of tomorrow. They need to be praised every now and then to remind them that we appreciate them because they make so many sacrifices.