Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Eighty-Five
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4:05. Oh no.
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Waiting for the whistle.
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But the ramen is good and warm and it is so cold.
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I see the news. Last night he asked when will Russia invade the Ukraine? “Imminently,” I said. “Very soon.”
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I text her and ask her if she can recommend something that might be approachable. Because she cried again last time we met and we’re supposed to connect this morning to work on an email to send to parents, and I want to send her all the resources before we talk again.
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I make a list: Here is what I sent the parents of the friends of my kid. Here are some resources for you all as educators. Here is a list of resources and books for you, personally, to give you context for the past conversations we’ve had.
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He stops me as I head up the stairs and asks me if I’m the basketball coach at the high school. He tells me who is daughter is and how she almost didn't play. How this year she loved it so much and came home after every game so excited and so proud of herself and that he could see how much she’d grown.
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Red turtleneck. I can tell by the look on her face. She is not interested in talking. She did not read anything. She just read the article headline. She must have gotten stuck on the “white woman tears” part. And if she had actually read the article, then she would have understood why those two times she cried were a problem. Perhaps I was too optimistic in thinking that we could continue to have a dialogue.
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I text my friend. 4.5 minutes long. That’s how long the conversation was.
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I love learning all of these things.
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This time with her gives me comfort.
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I have to remember that sometimes doing the right thing is uncomfortable.
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There is more good than bad.