krisonfiyah

[krisonfiyah]

my little guy

I’m your partner tonight. You usually take 12 years and a day to fall asleep. Not tonight. You’ve been ready for sleep since I hugged you out of camp this afternoon (can we go home because I’m tired). Instead, you powered through my boring errand to Home Depot, a trip to the bookstore (I don’t wanna find Waldo!), dinner and a short trip to bb. You cried when it was finally time to come home, gripping your new Dog Man book under one arm, fingers dusty from your bye-bye snack. Finally changed and snuggled under your monster truck covers, you sipped some water (does it have ice, mama?), grabbed my face with both hands like you do (I love you, mama), and started to power down. It really was like you were running out of battery. Your eyelids got heavy, slowly winning their battle against your will to stay awake to play, ponder and wonder. One moment you were shooting your imaginary rocket across the sky of your room, and the next your hand fell gently down into your chest at a sloth-like speed. Now your little sweaty hands rest on your chest, two-day-old ringlets cover your forehead, and your elbow is poking my arm. I wonder where your dreams will take you tonight and if you’ll remember in the morning.

[krisonfiyah]

will you remember me?

our long morning hugs

i love you when you’re happy

holding your sticky honeyed hands in mine

i love you when you’re sad

sana sana colita de rana

i love you when you’re mad

dance parties in the kitchen

i love you all the time

will you remember me?

[krisonfiyah]

things i want you to know

you came to our bed tonight. i lied down next to you after washing my face. you were facing my side. i watched you sleep. i pushed your hair behind your ear and leaned in to kiss your forehead. you woke up to say you wouldn’t sleep too closely so I wouldn’t be cramped and wake up tired. my sweet girl. i love you when I’m cramped. i love you when my leg has fallen off the bed. my girl. i wrapped my arm around your body feeling your body rise and fall with your breath. oh how many nights in our earliest days together had I spent holding my breath to see yours. i grabbed your little warm hand and tucked it inside mine and thought about how much you’ve grown, how different you look from when you were an itty bitty baby sleeping next to me. i stared at you in disbelief- how did you get so big? when had this happened? it feels like just yesterday and a million years ago that you were a squishy baby with thick black hair and a body as long as my forearm.

p.s. you just turned and landed your hand on my forehead. my sweet girl.

9/15/2024 12:36 am

[krisonfiyah]

you smell like outside

there’s a particular scent on the skin this time of year - end of spring, might as well be summer. a mix of sunscreen, sunshine, fresh cut grass, sweet sweat, and the anticipation for long, carefree summer nights ahead.

[krisonfiyah]

miami in my heart

Whenever I drive through a street covered in a canopy of trees, shading the sun, forming a naturesque tunnel with stubborn specks of sun shining through, a tingly knot grows in stomach, crawls to my heart, and finally makes its way up to sit in my throat. For the tiniest fraction of a second, I’m driving down Old Cutler. Except they’re not palm trees and this is Dallas. But I welcome this nostalgic reminder, a sweet call from home-home.

[krisonfiyah]

it’s called insomnia

my brain won’t bargain

little feet against my arm

breakfast time soon come

- haiku for you!

[krisonfiyah]

Trio of haiku

sometimes you’re tired

other times you want to fight

not today, satan 

fridays were fun days

now it’s all about my bed

things change at thirty

opted to wear heels 

walked too far in the city

not looking pretty 

[krisonfiyah]

Thursday questions

Why, god, why? Do I really need this job? Is it possible to be so tired you sleep with your eyes open? Should I wash my hair? Straight to the gym after work or nah? When will someone make me coffee? Is there a coffee delivery guy service thingy? When is my first meeting again? Can I stay in my robe? Why does my bed call me so hard? Is there time to stop at Target? Chucks or heels? Where are my pants? Can I please do laundry tonight? 

Why is this Rob and Blac Chyna drama even a thing? What does it mean to ‘make it’? What’s really important anyway? Where are my keys? Are my keys in my hand? How does one know if they’re successful? Why did Rob do Blac Chyna like that? Why is it raining? Am I happy? Banana or grapefruit? Why does Target love me so well? Should I uber to the office? Is my watch going to make it through the rain? Why is this bag so heavy? When is petty too petty? Why is it pouring? Were umbrellas invented to annoy the hell out of me? Did I just say that out loud? Will someone please invent an umbrella that works? Should I uber to the office now? Is anyone ever really happy? Do we all just settle for good enough? 

Am I drinking enough water? Did I turn off the stove? Is it weird that I’m taking a box of tofu to work? Could I take a solo cross-country road trip? Am I brave enough? What did he just say to me? Can I live bro? What’s up with the wifi? More coffee? Webcam on or off? Have I done enough? What’s up with my curls, man? Where my people at? Why is it always so quiet here? Do I have plans this weekend? Do I even want plans this weekend? Is it going to rain all weekend? Why does rain make me so sleepy? Did I just say that out loud? Why did Blac Chyna do Rob like that? Why do I have 5 Target receipts in my bag? Do I have a problem?

Am I hungry enough to walk over to the kitchen yet? Am I a good person? When was that meeting again? What were we supposed to talk about? Did I really have an epiphany last night or was that bullshit? Does anything even matter? How do we keep our sanity with this administration? Who will answer my questions? Am I making the right decisions? Did I eat enough to go to the gym tonight? Will I feel faint at the gym? What should I eat for dinner? Is my brother still a vegetarian? Should I skip the gym? Where’d that bruise come from? Why is this bag so damn heavy? Was it this heavy earlier today? Why the fuck am I at Target again? 

[krisonfiyah]

My Love is the Shhh

I think my first love was Jonathan Taylor Thomas. I’d gushed about him in my diary and would spend hours dreaming up elaborate ways he’d fall head over heels -at first sight no less- for my 11-year-old bombshell self. 

I’d be walking through the mall with my girls, mini jelly beeper clipped to my side, my hair antennae carefully plucked and gelled stiff against my forehead, rocking my pastel yellow baby tee with a profound sparkly ‘whatever’ across my chest, probably some rolled-on glitter at the corners on my eyes, an Orange Julius smoothie in hand, when out of nowhere, I turn the corner toward Claire’s and there he’d be. No bother that there’d be absolutely no reason he’d be in South Dade in 1997. 

In any case, the scene slows, My Love is the Shhh! starts playing, my hair is curiously blowing in no wind, and all of sudden, it’s just me and JTT in our own music video falling wildly and madly in love. 

Other times it’d be simpler. I’d be chillin’ in the park doing nothing, he’d take one look at me, and done. He’s in love with me. 

I ripped his pictures out of every Tiger Beat and YM magazine and taped rows of his profile -left side, right side, head on, looking out into the horizon, casually glancing up to the sky- along the blush pink walls of the room I shared with my sister. She didn’t ask for any of this. She’s the real victim of my fiery love for JTT. 

#onwriting #writing #JTT #firstlove #justbecause #chasinginspiration

[krisonfiyah]

Don’t call it a comeback

Writing, journaling, doodling, scribbling have been part of my life since I was very young. My earliest memories of memorializing my thoughts come from my revered baby blue, cloud- and unicorn-covered Lisa Frank diary. 

Writing has always been cathartic for me. A way to unburden my mind and heart, observe the world more closely, digest external stimuli, make sense and meaning of my inner workings. 

I turned to writing in the best and worst times. I kept a journal during my marriage. I jotted down ideas as they came to me while I was teaching. After my separation and during my divorce, I took on all-things-creative, to the max. I threw myself into yoga practice, danced, painted, wrote poetry, read countless books, taught classes, drew, sketched, started learning to play piano. My inspiration then was holding on to and strengthening my sanity, my physical health, my light. 

Since then, my creative intensity has waned. I’ve become distracted and inspirationally blocked in the A.D. (after divorce) era. I feel myself becoming increasingly cluttered, restless, suffocated with pent up energy. My urge to ideate, build, make is getting louder and tougher to ignore. Even as I type this, my heart is racing with all the feels you might have when meeting an old friend or finding the final corner piece to a complicated puzzle.

So I won’t call this a comeback because it’s always been there, below the surface, bubbling, patiently waiting for its turn. 

-kris 

[krisonfiyah]

Teaching through the cracks

The Rose that Grew From Concrete by Tupac Shakur

My inspiration for this new school year. I have to focus on teaching through the cracks. Also reminds me of a line in Talib Kweli's Love Language - "a flower that grows in the ghetto knows more about survival than the one from fresh meadows." 

-K

[krisonfiyah]

"Miss, I smell like doo-doo" & Other First-Year Teaching Memories

I've replayed my first year of teaching over and over in these first few weeks of summer. What an incredible ride. From taming hormone-raging fourth graders, tearing apart girl-girl/girl-boy/boy-boy/more-than-two-kid fights, wondering why one of my kids brought a BB gun to school, perfecting lock-down procedures from experience, thinking on my feet when that one kid told me he smelled like "doo-doo," staying late to revise and improve lesson plans/activities, and holding back tears when I realized how many kids had a relative who died from gunfire to moving over to third grade, mentoring my old fourth graders, surprising parents with good-news calls, having serious discussions with my class about perseverance and integrity, defending my kids like a true mama bear, feeling immense pride when my kids spoke truthfully and accountably, getting 11pm phone calls from students just to say hi, seeing my own gestures and favorite words/phrases pop out of the kids ("that is irrelevant," "why are you thinking so negatively?" ha!), having my kids defend ME like mama/papa bears, and seeing them work harder for their own satisfaction. WHAT. A. YEAR. 

I wish I could say that I am 100% satisfied with my first year of teaching and my academic outcomes, but I'm not. I'm just not that kind of person. There is ALWAYS room for improvement (some lovely TFA people could learn that). I recognize that I did pretty well in the classroom and that I have a wonderful relationship with my administration (hard to come by from what I hear). However, I have excruciatingly high standards for myself and so all I can think about is how I could have improved my execution, planning, class culture, and on and on. 

I met with my MTLD (TFA language for my boss, essentially) a couple of weeks ago and she helped highlight the positives from my first year. First, every single one of my kids passed the math FCAT. I don't take much credit for this -- the kids loved math, so I had to do was encourage that love and challenge them. All of my students made learning gains in one way or another. I was a truly no-nonsense, yet nurturing leader in my classroom and I am confident that all the students felt that from me.

The hardest pill for me to swallow is that only 54% of my students passed the reading FCAT. While I know that the FCAT is flawed in many ways and is not a barometer for my kids' intelligence or current or future success, I have always said that I have to give my kids the keys to the "game." In context, however, my class did achieve the highest FCAT scores among the 3rd grade classes at our school. That's telling, isn't it? 

I know that the achievement gap in my class is not based on intelligence or the comprehension of text. It is grounded in the inability to read and lack of experience. These kids did not enter my classroom as fluent readers. How can they possibly discuss the comparisons between characters if they cannot read the words in a sentence fluently? Now, if the class read the text together or if I guided them through the text, these kids can compare, contrast, and extract complex insights like the best of them.

In addition to struggling to get through text, these students lack experiences that would allow them to more freely and easily make connections. They have no context for many of the subjects they read and because of that have a very difficult time understanding what the hell they're reading. 

With all that said, I'll be back at it come August. I'm staying in third grade self-contained. I'm teaching the kids who, unfortunately, did not pass the reading FCAT or the alternative tests for promotion to fourth grade. From my class, there will likely be 2 or 3 kids. 

For now, I'll continue researching new ways to improve learning in my classroom, pinning countless teacher tools on Pinterest, following teacher-leaders & advocates on Twitter, and cramming in a bit of relaxing. ;)

-KP

[krisonfiyah]

'member when I taught 4th grade?

Last week, I switched over from teaching 4th grade reading and writing to 3rd grade self-contained -- meaning, I now teach all subjects to one class instead of two classes that switch midday. One week and 2 days in, and I am much happier on this side. The kids are much easier to manage and I can get through my lessons without the kids punching each other in the face out of nowhere. Seriously, that happened....Four times in 5 days.

Another reason for the switch comes from the fact that in 4th grade, there's no time to learn how to teach writing so that the kids actually pass the FCAT writing exam (the scores of which can boost or hurt the school's overall grade)... So there's that.

My 17 third graders want to learn and there is room for building a very strong, tight-knit culture. I have to take pictures of my cutie classroom - Scholar City.

I still feel for my former co-teacher because she is still in the struggle with the 4th graders who challenge her in every.way.imaginable. Guys, a kid bit her finger yesterday. Did you read that? BIT her. 

Hopefully there's a turnaround for her soon. 

More updates to come!   

<3

[krisonfiyah]

[krisonfiyah]

Back in the 3-0-5

So, I'm back. Tulsa Institute ended pretty well. In hindsight, my time in Tulsa went by fast. My kiddies made some great growth in the four weeks of summer school. Students made between 80% and 350% of their growth goals. Awesome. Our school was the highest performing school at Institute. 

Of course, I was emotional at the end of our last day of school. It sank in that I will probably never these kiddies again and that was tough. 

School here in Miami starts in a week and a half. Seriously. I'm teaching fourth grade reading and writing at an elementary school that feeds into my own high school -- and that, 1) puts the pressure on and 2) makes me feel extra responsible for the kids' success. I'm the only fourth grade reading and writing teacher at the school. Talk about PRESSURE!

I've started gathering things for my classroom and writing endless lists on what needs to go on the walls, what kind of behavior management system I need to use, components of my vision, etc. What have I decided on so far? Well, I'll be writing positive notes home daily  and I've identified my guiding tenets for the year: confidence, ownership of education, intellectual curiosity, and social awareness. 

Laters! 

[krisonfiyah]

[krisonfiyah]

two weeks of teaching.

Tomorrow marks my second week of teaching summer school in Tulsa, Oklahoma and third week at teacher boot camp Institute. Two more weeks until I pack my bags and head back to the MIA (3-0-5!)...and go throughmore training! Institute has been such a jolting, humbling, trying, joyous, and refreshing experience.

I have 8 (on a perfect attendance day) kiddos in my 2nd grade class (they're actually first graders on their way to 2nd grade). Yes, I have a tiny class. Five of them are in the "special ed" category - whatever that means. The reality is that they're a tough bunch and most of them walk into my class with a lot of baggage.

I'm teaching with two other 2012 corps members. One will be teaching in the Oklahoma City region and the other in Kansas City. They are awesome. I was nervous at first, but we complement each other quite perfectly. We each have tackled one subject for the last two weeks. I've been teaching writing. Next week, I switch over to math (yikes).

The hours here at Institute are brutal. I'm at the elementary school by 6:45 am (via cheesebus), the kids are out by 12:35 pm, we're in professional development sessions until 4:15, then back to the university (via cheese bus again) and by 4:45, it's a mad dash to fit dinner, photocopying (there's onlyone copy center for alllll 650 of us!), lesson planning, and meetings into what's left of your evening. On a good night, I'm sleeping by 11 pm. Then, repeat.

The upside? the kids, the smart people who push your limits (in a good way), and the fact that you're so busy that you barely have time to feel the exhaustion.