Brace For Impact

Earlier today I read a facebook comment directed at me from a former student and I'm not ashamed to admit, it hit me hard. No, it wasn't bad or mean or sarcastic, just a simple note that warmed my heart and turned it to mush. After taking a moment to compose myself in the bathroom (hey, who doesn't utilize that quiet space?), I asked the Lord for forgiveness for my self-centeredness of late and thanked Him for the people He has put in my life.

My grandma. We all know that.
My mom and dad. I couldn't ask for better.
My brother. The husband. The three ducklings.

My fourth-grade teacher. She's the reason I wanted to teach.
My high school friends. The reasons I survived a small town.

The drill instructor in basic training who yelled at me in the midst of a rather difficult obstacle course. That yelling is what made me mad enough to fuel a successful finish.

Neighbors, past and present. Friends, old and new. Family, far and near.

I gotta tell you, though, as crazy as it may seem, it's those younger ones who have impacted me the most. The third and fourth graders who let me play cowboy songs to teach them states and capitals. Fifth and sixth graders who let me sing silly songs to teach them verbs and prepositions. Seventh and eighth graders who rolled their eyes (but couldn't help but smile) when I would act like a fool to teach them complex diagrams.

The kids I've had the privilege of seeing graduate.
My own kids who I've had the privilege to teach.

I'm telling you right now, I've had it good. No matter what the future may hold, the people who have impacted me have made the journey thus far pretty darn sweet. I think if we could all grasp that and hold onto it, our influence on the world around us would make more of a bang.

Imagine the impact that would be.

We Have Survived Another Year Without Medication

(And anybody that knows me knows that's an inside joke. I medicate other ways... believe me).

This was the middle and youngest at the beginning of this school year.

Full of hope.

Full of dread.

Full of hair.

The year went by pretty uneventful. In fact, on a scale of one to ten with one being the worst school year ever (which we've had) and ten being the best one yet, I would say this one came pretty darn close to being a ten. Very little drama. Very good grades.

One happy mom and dad.

(And this in no way reflects the fact that the oldest is no longer in the school picture, just so you know).

It was just a good year.

They even got along. I think deep down, way deep down, they are starting to realize they do kinda actually like each other... at least some of the time.

My two youngest.

Always missing the oldest.

Never really use to this changing family dynamic.

Senior Year #2 Coming Up Next.

Ponytail No More

A long time ago, my boy began growing out his hair. He had spent his elementary years and the first few years of middle school in private schools where the hair was kept short. In the eighth grade, he branched out into the public school system and a style of his own. While my opinion of public school might be a mixed bag, my opinion of his style never wavered.

He definitely had a style of his own, and his style was all about hair.

It grew longer.
Covered one eye.
Eventually hid both eyes.

Surpassed his chin.
Touched his shoulders.
Went down his back.

He marked his last hair cut (a minor trim, I might add) around February 2010, I think. I do believe he knows the exact date. A week ago, I had just come home from an out-of-town trip when he made the following announcement,

Mom, I'm ready to cut my hair.

Now, I handled this staggering statement rather well. I didn't cry. I didn't jump up to hug him. I just sat stunned. And probably as only a mother can know, it really had nothing to do with the hair. His hair had been something of a battle in the early years... we wanted it short; he did not. We (as in his dad and me) came to realize that his long hair was something that he needed. Something that defined who he was. He was never one to blend in.

Anyway, at that moment I looked at the man he is becoming.

Ready to make a change.
Ready to make a statement.
Ready to move forward.

That's my boy.

I Got It!!

Whoo-hoo! My diploma came in the mail yesterday. I giggled like a little girl when I opened the mail box, skipped (seriously) back to the house, and squealed with delight when I showed my husband. I handed it to him unopened and the look he gave me made me want to cry. He was so proud. Handing it back to me he said, "It's yours. You open it." So I did and we both just sat and admired it for quite some time. The silence was only broken when I whispered, "I wonder what that means."

Magna Cum Laude

He smiled. "I think it means you're smart."

I'm telling you, I know there might be some who are weary of hearing about this and others that wonder what the big deal is, but I can promise you this, I will celebrate this moment for the rest of my life. There are specific points throughout my time on this earth (so far) that will forever be a part of who I am:

Getting Glasses In The Fourth Grade.
Finishing A Horrible Obstacle Course In Basic Training.
Watching My Husband Get Baptized.
A Miscarriage Just Before Three Months.
Praying For My Dad Before His Heart Surgery.
Packing A Penzke Moving Truck.
Kissing My Grandma's Lifeless Body Goodbye.
Watching My Kids Get Baptized.

And yes...

Earning A College Diploma.

#8 on my list of 25 Things To Do Before I Die.

It always feels good to mark something off as done.

Happy "I Am Finished" Day

Bachelor of Arts in History

It's official.

As of today, I am finished.

A four-year degree in under three years.

Two years and eight months to be exact.

Only six weeks off the entire time (two weeks each Christmas).

Go me.

The funny thing is, I'll be using that same clip art for the oldest's high school graduation in less than two months. Another funny thing? Now I'm actually thinking I could do a master's. I've got confidence galore.

At least 'till I start making those student loan payments.