Houston humidity turns cardstock into a soggy mess faster than a second-grader can lose a library book. I learned that lesson the hard way last March during our “Literature and Lace” afternoon. My classroom looked like a glitter bomb exploded in a wind tunnel. Twenty-two third-graders were trying to glue lace to paper, and I…
My living room looked like a primary-colored crime scene last October. It was October 12, 2024, to be exact, and I was staring down the barrel of my son Leo’s 4th birthday party. If you have ever tried to host eight four-year-olds in a rainy Portland suburb during a “Lego-tastic” phase, you know the vibration…
Twenty-two years of teaching in Houston has taught me exactly three things. Glitter never dies. Fifth graders smell like a mix of anxiety and Takis. And finding the best cowboy party supplies on a teacher’s salary requires a minor miracle. Last October, I decided to throw a “Wild West Reading Roundup” for my nineteen 11-year-olds….
Thirty-four years in the classroom has taught me one thing: adults are just big kids who have better taste in snacks but worse luck with flimsy napkins. Last October, specifically on the 12th, I helped organize a retirement bash for our head science lead, Mr. Henderson. We had a spread of Texas brisket—because this is…
My twins, Maya and Arjun, turned two on a cold Tuesday last March that felt like a whirlwind of dirty diapers and Casita-themed dreams. Living in a cramped walk-up in Chicago’s Logan Square neighborhood means I don’t have space for a pony or a bouncy castle, but I have a lot of stubbornness and a…
I stood in my kitchen in Decatur last March, staring at a grocery store sheet cake that looked like it had been through a car wash on the wrong setting. It was March 12, 2024, and Leo was turning 11. I had 22 kids coming over in exactly two hours. My plan to pipe a…
My living room looked like a crime scene involving a giant canary and a very angry stapler. It was April 12th, exactly three hours before my son Leo’s 8th birthday bash, and I was staring at a pile of deflated yellow rubber that was supposed to be a magnificent pokemon party balloons set. Being a…
Nobody warned me that being an elementary school teacher in Houston during a record-breaking humidity spike would turn my classroom into a sticky, glitter-covered battleground. Last March 12, 2024, I decided to host a “Level Up” celebration for my son Leo’s 2nd birthday, which I combined with my classroom’s spring reward party. I had 17…
Sweat was dripping into my eyes while I tried to staple three different shades of green plastic tablecloths to a rented chain-link fence in Marietta. It was June 12, 2024, and my daughter Maya was turning five. I had exactly $50 in my pocket and a backyard that looked more like an abandoned construction site…
I stood in the middle of Humboldt Park on August 15, 2025, clutching a plastic bag like it held the crown jewels. My daughter Maya was turning 12. Twenty pre-teens were about to descend upon my carefully curated “High Tea in the Grass,” and I had exactly $91 in my checking account earmarked for this…
