Wednesday, December 19, 2012

I Can't Even. (or 30 Reasons to be Thankful, v.3)

I typed this. Then I read this. And it sounds like..... I haven't done any of it justice. But I gotta get it out of me. So, here you go, internet.

Today's agenda in Ms. Mazzella's room.

Obviously, I am a teacher. And obviously, I am more than a little sentimental. About most things. To be honest, I once got misty eyed over seeing how excited a cute little pup on our street was to be let into his home by his owner. These are the things.

Then, the Sandy Hook shooting happens, and it puts all of the things into perspective. I spent, literally, all weekend torturing myself (and Bret) by reading every possible article, watching every possible video clip, and imagining this horrible tragedy play out in my mind over and over. Then, I spent the rest of the weekend counting down the time until I could go back to school and love, love, love what I do and proverbially hug all of my students.

I have honestly been wishing (and probably subconsciously believing) that by taking all of these details about the shooting in, I could somehow take on some of the pain and grief that these families and this community must feel. It has taken me almost a full week to figure out how to say what I want to say.

Considering that these children were first graders and that my sister just turned 6 on Monday, my gut reaction was to make sure Cate knows how much I love her little cute face and her little smarty-pants self and how the families in Newtown can possibly manage to watch the world keep moving after they experienced such a loss.

Sorry for these jagged thoughts.

Anyways, this situation has made me consider my job (and my little sister) in a whole new perspective over the last week.

13. Cate. (again (for different reasons this time)) Basically anyone that knows me knows that I plan on never having kids. And basically everyone who knows that has told me that it will be different  when it happens, even though I remind them over and over that it just won't. Thankfully, I have a little bitty sister to remind me to keep my crap together. She pushes me to be a role model, to be honest and to try my hardest and I could not, would not want to ever imagine living without her. I wish that I could share her with all the people who are hurting from this tragedy the most.

14. My career. (again (for different reasons, again)). I put my heart and soul into my job and this tragedy made me ask myself: "Could I or would I do what those amazing heroic teachers did for their students?" Without question, yes. Absolutely. Even for those kids who write mean nasty messages about me because I made them make up their late work. Even the kids who spit sunflower seeds on my classroom floor even though it is expressly forbidden.

I really, really love them.

And I really, really hope that this shaken community can find some type of solace in the holidays with their families and friends for support.

I still don't even feel like what I have said here covers how I feel. But this is what I could get out, so this is what you guys get. My heart is broken, broken, broken for the families of those precious children and all amazing adults who protected them.


  1. Well what you said here actually just made me cry. I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around it. I keep wondering what must have been going through those little kids' heads. Can you even imagine? And the brave adults that were right there trying to shield them.

    The worst part for me is all the fighting happening in the after math. Gun control and mental health issues and whose fault it is and why it happened. It's all so small and petty. It just makes me so, so sad.


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