Ten Minute Missive

Somewhere this week or so marks the 8th anniversary of my starting my last semester of teaching. That occurred to me today as I stood too long in the shower, trying to make sense of my day. Eight years. The passing of those years has witnessed changes in my body, family configuration, hair color, skin tone and psyche. Time has passed. But one thing among many has remained constant: the reason I left a career that spoke so loudly to my head and heart that I was always a teacher whether I was in my classroom or not. I left teaching because I was at my breaking point.

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I think it is the storyteller in my heart that catches glimpses into lives and then makes worlds out of them.  In other words, I am never bored.  Any little thing can be a springboard for my imagination.  As a high schooler, it made me irritating (I’m sure) as I was always wondering what people where doing, talking about, et cetera.  What must have seemed as “nosey” was merely  me collecting vignettes with which I could later craft entire stories.  Probably only other birds of the storytelling feather can understand this as “normal” and not “weird”.

Here are some glimpses into other worlds that I caught so far this morning:

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