Free Blog Crazy

Let me start by saying, thank you for listening to my sobbing mess. I am sorry I cried, but not because I cried but because you probably didn't get to hear all my words. Once again:

I am Basque, tall, proud, clear eyes, clear head, work hard, no time for wimps.

I am from family, the four of us, the two of us, the five of us, us four.

I am from Oregon, bikes, tagalongs, burleys, bobikes, Sam Adams, neighborhood, compost, Goodwill, bring you dinner tomorrow.

I am from two languages, one to feel, one to curse.

I am from a long line of Acuñas who cry when they pray.

I am from teachers who refused books, lame high school counselors, idiot mentors.

I am from Argentina, pride, arrogance, psychologist, plastic surgery, we're all beautiful and smart.

I am from mate and table, bread and butter, talk, laugh, stories.

I am from knitting, yarn, rooms, sweaters come undone.

I am from old white horny privileged men hoarding. 

I am from Texas, Arizona, California.

I am a mother, I mother.

I am from say it, I can't read your mind, al pan pan, al vino vino.

Also, to add to the great insights about how to remember our students have histories, I'd like to remember that when you're a student, sometimes you don't know why your crazy teacher wants you to do something but you do it anyway because you trust her and think she has your best interest at heart. I hope I honor that trust with the children I teach.