Disregard the instructor's misspelling on the board... Instead, listen to the students...

Another quarter is complete.

Each quarter, I finish English Composition off with a quote from Winston Churchill.

The words to follow are my students (taken directly from the notes on the board) with a couple puzzle pieces added to communicate their message in a unified form:


History will be kind to me for I intend to write it. -- Winston Churchill

In the beginning, take control. In order to understand what you can be, evaluate what you listen to. Live your life, and recognize it is through the process of making mistakes one creates the stories future generations will learn from.

Everyday you should challenge yourself. Challenge yourself to get along with peoples quirks. Take a breath when needed and remember some things should be left forgotten, others expanded upon to create your future and the world around you.

Knock on opportunities door instead of waiting for it to come your way. Allow yourself to be happy by letting go of the past. Have confidence in yourself: Speak loudly and proudly, capture life in anyway you can, and enjoy it--no matter what happens.

By maintaining a positive attitude you will continue on the right path. Leave the fear behind and success will be achieved. Take action to learn all you can. Who knows, by doing these things you'll be the one writing the history books.

Words Summon...

Today was a special day. For the past couple years, pen has been placed to paper in a Moleskine Classic. The blank pages allow freedom, unlike the lined notebooks that make a writer stick to uniformity. The purchase of a new journal marked the completion of the one before. It presented the notion I could leave what was written in the pages behind, start anew: fresh.

But this isn't reality. That last notebook contained many of my thoughts and ideas that I couldn't fully form into words. Secrets that continue to haunt me with their lack of clarity and structure. Ideas that never came to fruition.

As a writer, words are building blocks. Words allow the possibility to make the intangible tangible. Words provide insight and decode all that is mystic, uncertain, and difficult.

Brushing hand over binding of the journal, it mocks me. Nothing is bound, no matter how hard you try to lock the diary, the past trespasses upon the present. The words are missing. The wrapping is still smothering what I can only imagine are pristine pages. Life has become a foreign language not yet learned. All efforts to connect block to block lead to a tumbling tower, and I am left the child, sweeping the mess of LEGOs off the floor into a massive bucket. Each noun, article, and verb creating a swirl of colors. The mix intrigues me, but they are liquid with no foundation to hold them together.

And so I type. I type instead as this feels fleeting. The idea not essential to place on flesh of page.

English Class...

A new quarter is set to begin. The syllabus is set and loaded to the required on-line systems. Writing Exercises have been planned and a grading system is in place. In a mere couple hours, I will be faced with new students set to stare me down and attempt to break me of my irrational passion for the written word.

This is what I have to say to them:

You will not break me. I have had those who already tried and they failed. I will always be the crazed instructor who loves the subject she teaches. I will attempt to instill in you the fight for expression--YOUR expression.

You will not break me. I will understand when you tell me you never did well in English class, but I won't let you use that as an excuse. I will show you English isn't all comma placement, but a puzzle that can create anything you imagine.

You will not break me. I will do what it takes to keep you entertained. As much as you may want to nod off in class when the discussion of independent vs. dependent clauses comes about, I will tell you how they both work. Notice how I said TELL. The subject I teach includes stories and poems, novels and magazines.

You will not break me. I fought for what I teach. I put in the hours, I went through the critiques. And surprise, surprise... I want you to succeed.

You will not break me, and I will never give up on you.

Sound Reflects...

Twenty-two years ago a plan was set in motion. It was one of those things early teens do--the parent fake-out. Crystal told her Mom she was staying at my house, I told my parents I was staying at hers while they went off to celebrate their anniversary.



In that evening of young rebellion, and innocence, nestled the experience of my first concert. Local bands took over one building at the Logan Fair Parks. The youth of the community crammed into the building to release a bit of teen angst. Pressed near the south wall, next to the boy I was dating at the time, I was mesmerized by the sound of local musicians who formed the band Water*Front. The notes, riffs, beats, and lyrics resonated further than one would ever expect.

Last night, I stood watching three of the original members perform at Urban Lounge under a new name--Seven Daggers--while standing and laughing with a friend who just happened to be Water*Front's lass bass player. Watching and hearing the sounds took me back to those early days of my teen life--and I realized something: The men in this band played a significant role in who I've become.

Though I don't see them everyday; though I never became a grand concert promoter or critic of music--at the age of thirty-five I'm still dancing to their music.

Had the plan not been set to sneak out of the house, I would never have begun writing letters to them when I moved to a rural town in Utah. Had they not written back each and every time, I may never have started promoting concerts at Vernal's National Guard Armory (a huge thank you to Skeeter for understanding the youth of the community needed a place to go and providing the venue). Had they not traveled to perform, I wouldn't have set in motion creating my own business plan; I may never have realized my path in life was to be involved in community events. And most importantly, without them, I may never have realized my thoughts deserved to be heard--I learned to use my voice.

Twenty-two years ago, I snuck out of my house and got grounded for a week. All I can say is...

It was worth it!