I'm Not Sorry

Question: How was your day?

Response #1: It was ok.

Interpretation: Nobody died. I fulfilled my duty.

Response #2: Hahahahahaha.

Interpretation: I'm laughing so I won't cry, but in about an hour I'll think of today as a really great story.

Response #3: IT WAS AWFUL.

Interpretation: I'm a firm believer in honesty.

Response #4: IT WAS GREAT.

Interpretation: Somebody said thank you, I got a hug, children helped each other without me asking them to, and I drank ALL my coffee!

Question: How's your first semester going?

Response #1: It's ok.

Interpretation: I'm still breathing and most organs are continuing to function normally.

Response #2: I'm learning a lot!

Interpretation: ...about body fluids, conflict resolution, and how to make the English language sound logical when it actually makes no sense.

Response #3: It's been really hard, but I love my job.

Interpretation: I go through a lot of mood swings and would probably do well with some counseling right now. I love my children and get an unhealthy sense of satisfaction whenever I throw paper away. I'm also accidentally using the words "butthole", "fart", and "stupid" around other adults with increasing frequency because most of my social time is spent with eleven-year-olds (to whom I do not say "butthole", "fart", and "stupid" unless I want to start a classroom uprising).

Statement: Wow, you're getting home late.

Response: Yeah.

Interpretation: Late. So home. Food time? Look this thing on end of my arm. Have five nubs. Called "and". And is conjunction. Conjunction connect words. It the English teach. Food? And. Late. Nubs.

Question: What do you do in your free time?

Response: I don't have much free time, but sometimes I like to go on walks, or bake, or hang out with friends.

Interpretation: My free time is spent feeling guilty that I'm not doing something school-related. I go for walks so I can remember what outside feels like. When I get stressed out, I bake or sit on facebook for unholy amounts of time while thinking about my children and telling myself I'm inadequate. Everyone says I should get a boyfriend. I don't remember what that is.

Question: Do you like your school?

Response: Yeah! It's a little crazy, but I like my students and the people I work with!

Interpretation: It's probably not healthy to spend fifty hours a week under fluorescent lights. Thankfully, I can't differentiate smells anymore and the people around me tell funny jokes.

Question: Are you excited about Christmas Break?

Response: OH YEAH.

Interpretation #1: I need to pay someone to make sure I don't leave the country.

Interpretation #2: I hope I get lots of money so I can buy more pencils.

Interpretation #3: ROADTRIP.

Interpretation #4: Siiiiilent tiiiime. Sleeeep all niiiight. All is caaaaalm. No flooourescent liiiights. Round, fresh cooookies, ready and hot. Tender sofa so fluffy and soooooffft. Sleep in paperless peeeeeaaace. Sleep in paperless peeeeeeeeeeaaaaace. 

Or I might follow this list that I found at school.

Most of you know that this year hasn't been easy.

Usually, your first year as a "regular" teacher isn't.

I've been in rural, urban, and foreign classrooms, but this has been the hardest teaching job by far.

The great part about challenges, though, is that they make it easier to see beauty, cultivate deep relationships, and grow into someone better.

I have no doubt that each of my students is in my room for a reason, whether to be taught or to teach me. 

Someone recently told me, "I'm sorry you're having such a hard year." 

The response that dropped out of my mouth surprised me. 

"I'm not," I said. "I'm not sorry."

Teaching During the Holidays

Teaching during the holidays is like: 

herding cats and trying to count all of their fleas.

swimming with 23 toothless piranhas.

(they won't kill you, but they will gum the heck out of you) 

having a wrestling match with a swarm of mosquitos.

putting a leash on a tornado.

swimming in a pool full of lemon jello.

giving a Tasmanian Devil a bath.

training goldfish to jump through a hoop of fire.

running through a field of porcupines. In shorts.

holding two dozen helium balloons underwater.

climbing a mountain with flippers.

crossing Niagara Falls on a tightrope while carrying three backpacks.

eating popcorn with braces.

clipping a tiger's fingernails.

putting zombies behind the wheel of a car.

playing floor-is-lava with a litter of puppies.

giving monkeys a bottle of wine before asking them to write an essay.

My brain has melted like a popsicle.
I swear the children have become magnetically attracted to the floor.
Nobody remembers how to do anything.
I've forgotten what quiet sounds like.
Paper covers every surface of my classroom.
Everyone has to go to the bathroom all. the. time.

And, yes, there is a reason why I didn't put a Christmas tree up in my room.

One more day of school. Just one.

This is the block of fudge I devoured after the kids left last Wednesday.
I have no shame. Or sanity.

Curse Words

You read that title right.
In the realm of school, there are certain words that shouldn't be said around teachers too much.
Oh no, I'm not talking about real life curse words.
I'm talking about little phrases that will make any teacher's calves tighten up, stomachs drop, and teeth grit. Words that should rarely be mentioned unless you're looking to be assaulted with raised eyebrows, whacked with a cardigan, and sent straight to the office.
(Disclaimer: these only seem to have an effect on the young teachers who do not yet have the skin of a rhinoceros.)

"Bus duty"
Two teachers. Two weeks. A gymnasium full of children at the beginning and end of ten very long days. Bus duty perks? Yelling, shooing kids out of the bathroom, and chasing renegade students down the hallway.
In that sentence, "chasing" was 100% serious.

"In the bathroom"
If a child uses this phrase, you know your day is about to get turned upside down.
Nothing good ever happens in the bathroom. Ever.

"There's blood everywhere."
Don't laugh. It happened to me this week.

"Check your email."
Nobody ever tells you to check your email because they sent you something nice. For once, I'd like to open my inbox and see an email titled,
"Compliments to the nicest, most patient and understanding teacher in all of Tennessee"
or
"For my child's beautiful teacher"
or
"Free Gigi's in your mailbox"
or
"Hot date with Theo James at the Donut Friar."

"Have you finished..."
Probably not. Was there something to finish? SHOOT. I forgot to input yesterday's attendance, make a list for the reward party, give that makeup test, pass out that important notice, check planners, and sign up five people for detention.
What time is it?
What day is tomorrow?
What was that other thing you were talking about?

"Observation"
The moment your observer walks through the door, the classroom feels like it's on fire and you're sure you're standing in front of the kids in your underwear.
What's a verb again?

"Parent-teacher conference"
This one's a double edged sword. Sometimes it's really good. Sometimes it's really not.
Anxious anticipation should be the next breakthrough weight-loss plan for young teachers.

"Grade cards"
NO NO NO. THAT MEANS ALL OF THE PAPERS HAVE TO BE LOOKED AT AND RECORDED IMMEDIATELY.
There's a reason this rhymes with "graveyards".

On the flip side are some phrases that I like to call bless words.

"I made cookies"
Usually this phrase comes out of my own mouth.

"_______ meeting is cancelled."
YES! I'll go home before six!

"Snow day"
Which is another way of saying "catch up and recover day".
Get back in my warm bed?
DON'T MIND IF I DO.

"Clean"
As in, a student who finished early wants to straighten up/organize that mountain of processed trees sitting on the back table.

"You look pretty"
Five hours of sleep and you think I still look fabulous? A+ for ALL OF YOU.

"I did ______ for you"
You put my tissues away? You wiped down the desks without being asked? You finished your homework for the first time?
Sorry. I'm crying. I know it's awkward for everybody.

"I love you"
This comes out of my students' mouths frequently. And for that, I am blessed.

Fall Break

"But Sevier County doesn't have a Fall Break," you mutter to yourself as you read the title of this blog post. 

You're right, it doesn't.

School's been in session for two months now, with one long weekend at Labor Day and no real breaks in sight until Thanksgiving.

"Breaks!" you scoff. "You get weekends! Normal jobs don't have breaks like school does. SUCK IT UP."

Weekends. 

Those would be nice if I didn't spend them working.

I'm not complaining about my job. I knew what I signed up for when I applied. I work 10-11 hours, five days a week, and then a minimum of 11 hours over the weekend. If I'm lucky and work really hard on Friday night and all day Saturday, I can have Sunday off.

I usually spend my time not at school thinking about school, even if I try not to.

And, as is the case for most young teachers, I often feel like I'm floundering because I can't meet the impossible standards set before me.

But it was time for a Fall Break, so I signed up for a sub and prepared myself to get a WHOLE SATURDAY off.
I. Was. Jazzed.

On Thursday night, I was rebellious and went to MagiQuest with my friend Josh instead of going to bed at 9:00.

On Friday, I spent the day planning, grading, and looking at the rubric for my upcoming observed lesson (Y'all. A five-page rubric for one lesson. I've been sweating about it since September). I also went through a few stages of guilt because I felt like I'd abandoned my kids for a day and was SURE something terrible was going to happen (but the kids lived without me).

At 5:00, though, I put it all down to go out to dinner with some friends I used to babysit for.

That's right. I put it down.

And it stayed down through Saturday, which was THE BEST day.

On Saturday, I went to Chattanooga to be with Lisa, the roommate who shaped my entire college experience. We shopped, visited Covenant, and went hiking.

We had a roommate date.

It started with a macchiato that was nothing like what Starbucks has taught me a macchiato is. That cup was the size of my pinky.

We sloshed over the walking bridge.

We tasted Balsamic vinegars, which were shockingly good.

We visited Julie Darlin Donuts (no, we did NOT eat all of those).

We were silly on the merry-go-round.

I sat on Asia (and, as usual, I was bigger than everyone there).

That Balsamic vinegar geared us up for Greek lunch.

We visited our old hall (but didn't burst into our old room like we wanted to).

We gazed off The Veranda.

Lisa demonstrated how she used to spend chapel.

We looked for the broken boat by Jackson Pond, but didn't find it.

We hiked to the overlook that is easy to find.

We hiked to the overlook that is hard to find.

Then we spent an hour on a cliff.

We also what we used to call our "magic kingdom". It hasn't lost its magic. 

In the realm of school, there will always be more to do. I will never be caught up. Even today, the Sunday of my "Fall Break", I spent the afternoon inputting grades and googling resources. But taking a break made my school problems look a little bit smaller and reminded me that there is a Laura outside of Miss Love. 

I don't speak "School".

Y'all are going to get tired of all these posts about teaching, but until I figure out how to grade/plan/be a teacher like The Flash, I won't have anything else to write about.

However, in lieu of my not being able to go many places right now, I'd like to write a short piece on how one's first job in an American school is much like adjusting to another country.

1) Everyone speaks a different language.

RTI?

Star Testing?

Renaissance Learning?

Skyward?

Tier Three?

HANG ON, I need Google Translate for this.

2) Plans usually don't work out.

The copier ran out of ink and I didn't know until the tests I was passing out turned out to be blank? OH WELL. Everybody....work on narratives instead. 

Prompt:

Write a story about a) someone who always has bad luck, or b) a tired teacher who doesn't check all her copies when they come out of the copy machine.

3) You're slow. At everything.

Two years ago it took me three hours to go to a real grocery store. 

These days it takes me three-four hours to plan ten lessons (that will all be replanned the morning before I teach them). 

4) Technology is unpredictable.

Like when the microwave in the teachers' lounge stops working at lunchtime. 

5) Everything around you feels dirty.

MMMMMM. The germs of hundreds of small people all packed into a one-story building...coated in a layer of pencil lead smeared by Dorito-laced fingertips.

6) Going out of your room at the wrong time can get you run over.

Packed hallways complete with the smells of sweaty, stressed bodies.

7) Chocolate will make you more excited than it used to.

Overseas, Twix is a miracle because it's a rare find. At school, Twix is a miracle because any form of chocolate will help everything feel more ok.

8) You come home drained from sensory overload.

But this time, it's because at least 60 people needed something from me that day.

9) Contact with friends can completely change your day.

Overseas, the problem was time difference. Now it's because their conversations remind me that life exists outside of the classroom.

"You met someone on Ok Cupid? You're going on a date? HAHA. What's a date?"

10) Baking will fix everything.

At least, for a little while.

Lunch is Always at 11:15. Always.

I love a good routine.

Thankfully, after five weeks of teaching, my life has started to fall into a pattern.

Here's what it's like to be Ms. Love for a day.

Wake up at 4:50. Take a shower. Get ready for school.

Arrive at school at 7:00. Look through the windows to see if any of the middle school boys are feeling chivalrous enough to open the door for me. Smile if they do.

Spend an hour doing a lot of things but not really knowing what those things are and crying because your classroom will always be a mess no matter how many times you try to straighten it up.

Turn on instrumental Pandora at 7:50, open the door, and remind all the loud children to PLEASE GO TO THE BATHROOM BEFORE CLASS STARTS.

At 8:14, tell everyone to settle down. At 8:15, tell everyone to settle down again. At 8:16, GET IN YOUR SEATS AND STOP PLAYING WITH THE STAPLER.

Remind yourself to hide the stapler.

Forget to hide the stapler.

On Monday, Wednesday, or Friday, begin the day with Language Arts. First period is always the best because the kids are still tired and only treat their desks like jungle gyms for part of the class.

At the beginning of Language Arts, do the Daily Proofreading Practice, where the students correct a sentence from the board in their notebooks. Then pick three students to write the corrected version on the board. 

Begin by saying, "Alright, I'm going to choose three--"

Expect to interrupted with,

"MISS LOVE PICK ME I'VE NEVER HELD A DRY ERASE MARKER IN MY LIFE AND I WILL DIE IF YOU DON'T LET ME WRITE ON THE BOARD PLEASE MISS LOVE DO YOU SEE ME I'M FALLING OUT OF MY SEAT IN DESPERATION."

On Tuesday and Thursday, the day begins with specials. Drink all your coffee in a hurry because the only other pee break the whole day will be during lunch.

Lunch is always at 11:15.

Always.

And between 9:00 and 10:00, a student will ask when lunch is. 

Always.

"And our next word--'qualifying'. Does anyone know what that means?"

"Ms. Love, when's lunch?"

"At 11:15. It's at 11:15 every day."

"What time is it now?

"There's a clock behind me."

"I can't read it."

"Sorry. Tell me what 'qualifying' means."

At 11:40, pick the kids up from lunch. They're supposed to be picked up at 11:45, but somehow they magically end up in the hallway at 11:40.

The child at the front of the line, no matter who it is, will be excited.

"Ms. Love! You're alive! We missed you! You were gone for so long!"

On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, specials are after lunch.

Those days deserve to be kissed. 

On Tuesday and Thursday, wrestle the second class into their desks for another round of Language Arts.

Every day at 1:15, Social Studies starts. 

At least that's what it says on the schedule. 

Expect to actually begin at 1:22, when they get back from the bathroom and have their supplies out.

At 1:21, have the same conversation with at least three different students.

"Ms. Love, I forgot my sort cards."

"How? You know you're supposed to bring them every day."

"I also left my Social Studies notebook at home."

"Why was it at home?? You didn't have any homework in it last night!"

At 2:00, gear up for another round of Social Studies. The day begins and ends with the homeroom group, and by the time they get to Social Studies, they pile in like they've never seen a classroom before.

Get excited for the days that end up with GREAT discussions, though, about what makes life worth living, what's it's like to fight for a cause, and how Northerners have always taken their tea without sugar.

At 2:45, have the students start to pack up. Prepare to have all brain functions scatter like cockroaches under a lightbulb. Start using the same script.

"Do you have all your homework?"

"I see trash by the desk in the back corner!"

"If you're finished, have a seat!"

"No talking during announcements!"

"If you are finished, have a seat!"

"FOR THE LOVE OF SHARPENED PENCILS, NO TALKING DURING ANNOUNCEMENTS."

At 3:00, tell them goodbye.

For the next 2-3 hours, run around the school like a chicken with its head cut off.

(Doing what? I couldn't tell you specifically, but I know I'm doing something.)

Get home between 5:00 and 6:00, eat food, and watch the news.

At 7:00, go for a walk to think about something other than school.

Spend the entire walk thinking about school.

Do random school stuff until bedtime. Sometimes that includes filling out the attendance document that was forgotten in the morning. Sometimes it's grading papers. Sometimes it's trying to find a new worksheet because the lesson planned for the next day isn't going to work out.

Every once in a while, call a friend instead.

At 9:00, get ready for bed.

Then drift off and have dreams about telling students to be quiet so you can sleep.

The First Week of School.

A few thoughts about the first week of school, which just ended.

In the last five days, I spent 53 hours between concrete walls and under flourescent lights. I had a constant headache until about Wednesday.

On Tuesday night I had a nightmare about drowning in paper and, more importantly, not being able to get my lessons planned.

My arms are going to be steel cables after a year of carrying so much school stuff in and out of my car.

On Thursday, I got over 40 emails. I had to unceremoniously turn off my computer and walk away because I was afraid that dripping tears may fry my keyboard.

The first week of school is supposed to be about teaching your classroom rules and procedures. That's weird to do when YOU still aren't sure what your procedures should be.

"Two people can take bathroom breaks at a time!"

"Just kidding--go pee before class OR DON'T PEE AT ALL."

I'm pretty good at being Madame Serenity until the 16th student has asked me the same question.

"YES. IT IS ON PAGE SIX. EVERYBODY. GO TO PAGE SIX. PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF NUMBER TWO PENCILS. JUST DO IT."

(FYI: I have never yelled at my students. That would be a noise level 4, and I already told them that a noise level 4 should only happen if someone has broken a femur.)

"Class, class!" "Yes, yes!" has saved my life this week.

I apologize to the families of every dead tree that is lying on my desk.

The football chart has been resurrected.

I'm a little sad that these students can pronounce my name correctly.

I never read The First Six Weeks of School. It feels like I'm violating some kind of teacher code. Sorry, Harry Wang. I know you would have been a big help, but I was sorting through all the websites and whatnot that I need to sign up for.

And this sentence that I've heard more than once: 

"Sure, I'd love to send you my fifth grade lesson plans from last year. But the standards have changed since then, so be careful."

This week I had two bad days, one mediocre day, and two days that ended well.

Friday was the first day that I finally went, oh yeah, this is why I'm supposed to be here.

I wish I could tell you all stories about my kids.

They are unique, creative, and diverse.

I try very hard to tell them, as a group, when they are following my expectations and respecting each other well.

Why?

Because, more than anything, AS ALWAYS, my main concern is with their characters.

So if any of you have been lifting me up this week, focus specifically on this--

That my classroom would become a community of respect, empathy, and care.

I'm thankful to be Ms. Love.

The Pink Cardigan of Power

The last week and a half have been a pretty big deal.

Why?

Miss Love got a teaching job and turned 24.

The only thing that would've made it bigger was if Jude Law and Benedict Cumberbatch had flown out to propose and I'd become Laura Lawmberbatch.

Right now I should probably be working on a powerpoint or tweaking my gradebook or researching more about what to do during the first week of school, but my brain so full I....can't even think of a clever line to finish that sentence with.

And I already spent ten hours at school today.

So here we are.

Last Monday morning, two days before my birthday, I donned a pink cardigan, picked up my green binder, and drove my little yellow car to a teaching interview. I'd never thought about stopping by this school before because the sign out front had a big fat "MIDDLE" on it. Surprise surprise--this middle school also had a fifth grade. 

Forty-five minutes after I strutted through the front doors, I came back out again with two thoughts running through my head:

1) GO LAURA! GO LAURA! You didn't fidget or play with your hair ONCE! You are the interview MASTER! You have the cardigan of POWER! You are the prettiest lady who ever did sit in that OFFICE CHAIR!

2) AaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhHHHHH.

I was panicked. I knew next to nothing about this school, it was a middle school, I could end up with math, and I had no other interviews to compare with this.

What if they offered me a job?

It was like being terrified of the blind date your great-aunt Bernice set you up on.

Not that I've ever been set up on a blind date or had a great-aunt Bernice.

Anyway.

I went back to my office job and spent six hours feeling like my stomach was slithering out the soles of my shoes while my scanner WWWWWHHHRRRRVVVed a dirge in the background.

Then.

THEN.

My phone went off.

Bpppt bpppt.

"Hello, this is Laura."

"Hi, Laura. You still interested in being a tiger?"

"UH. Sure? What grade?"

"I've got a fifth grade position. Is that a yes or a no?"

"Yeeeeessssss....?"

REAL PROFESSIONAL, LAURA.

After I hung up, my phone hit the desk and I wandered into my aunt/manager's office.

"I got a job," I said. "I guess this is my last day?"

(and it was, but they still threw a little party on my birthday and we all had PIE.)

Suddenly I had what I'd been praying for, less than two weeks before school was supposed to start.

I was going to have a classroom. 

A badge. 

A name plaque.

Piles and mountains of paper.

And 20-something fifth graders.

The next day I went back to the school and started meeting co-workers and digging through my room.

That's when I finally got stoked.

I'm not kidding when I say that I couldn't have asked for a better team to work with.

I have Language Arts and Social Studies, which is exactly what I wanted.

Kindergarten is something I won't have to fear as long as I work at this school.

All that fear I felt after my interview should have been a positive indicator, because as we all know, most good experiences start with me being terrified.

Over the last week I've accumulated enough paper to build my own castle--which is fortunate because I may need it to cover up my poor, unfinished classroom. 

I survived open house with a smile, cookies, and fifteen pounds of "I've-got-this". 

School starts on Friday.

I don't have any cap erasers or pencil holders yet.

This year is going to be hard.

You know what, though? It's where I'm supposed to be.

And I'm excited.

This will be my new background WWWWHHHRRRRVVV.

24.

There are a lot of days when getting stuck in a rut is easy.

Days when you believe that life isn't going in the direction it should, when you feel lonely, and when you're sure that you've missed some sort of mark.

Everybody has them.

I have them a lot, and I'm sure I will have them for the rest of my life.

But today, on my 24th birthday, I want to look back at gifts the Lord has given me over the last year.

I want to remember how He has provided. 

Why?

It's one of the ways He keeps my head from getting too big or too small.

To be cheesy, I'll make a list of 24 things and give it a title:

Before 24: Blessings during Laura's 23rd year of life

1) Le'monjuice. The cutest car in the world.

2) An office job. The day after my 23rd birthday, I started scanning charts at dad's office, which gave me a lot of time to reflect on...everything. And, yes, there were some days where I took extra bathroom breaks just so I would have two minutes of peace from the WWWHHHHRRVVVV of the scanner, but the ladies at the office more than made up for that in life and laughter.

3) Fall Program. I hung out with these people a lot during the Fall while they lived at Discipleship Focus, and they were the community that helped me adjust post-China. Also, they're awesome.

(Minus the girl in purple. We didn't know her.)

4) Frozen. Four times in the theater, because I have a problem.

5) Christmas with family. Not just immediate family, but a whole bunch of Loves.

6) Seeing a lot of my brother and sister.

7) Subbing. My two-days-a-week job that was nerve-wracking and awkward half the time, and an awesome learning experience the other half of the time. There are few things more rewarding than all the kids in school knowing who you are and being called "The China Lady".

8) A year's worth of blue sky and nature. Go to Asia, you Tennesseans. Come back and feel blessed.

9) Baking. Thanks, America, for chocolate chips.

10) Randomly being sent to Mongolia. Just when I was feeling most stuck-in-a-rut, I was suddenly hopping a plane to go to Mongolia, of all places. WHO GOES TO MONGOLIA?? Which leads to...

11) Teaching eighth graders. Who I came to love--not as much as the teachers who were with them all year--but a LOT for only having them for two months.

12) Having an awesome team in Mongolia. I was selfish and didn't love them very well, but they loved me well, and I don't think they know how thankful I am that they did.

13) Returning to China. I don't know if I can ever be blessed as much as I was that week.

14) Going to Spain. The people, the places. SO. MUCH. AWESOME. 

15) Reconnecting with myself. There's a stateside Laura and an overseas Laura. Personally I think the overseas one is more interesting. 

16) Roadtrips. Taking my baby car to see people I miss.

17) Singleness. Some days you forget that it's a gift.

18) International students. From my Kazakh friend visiting in June to getting to hang out at the International Student Ministry every once in a while over the last month. 

Being with those kids is a blast.

19) Downton Abbey and Sherlock Holmes. I've got a Benedict Cumbercrush.

20) Becoming an Aunt. My best friend since 2nd grade birthed the cutest little boy, and yes, he's calling me Aunt Laura. In his mind. Because he can't talk yet.

21) Solid long-distance friends. While friends at home are sweet and near, my friends at far are caring and dear.

I should go into cross-stitch.

22) Getting to observe true Tennessee culture. Out of all the places I've been, home may be the most entertaining. 

23) Sleeping in a soft, clean bed. NEVER TAKE IT FOR GRANTED.

24) Being uncomfortable and feeling out of place. Being the youngest at the office, being THE SUB, being in Fall Program without living at Discipleship Focus, being the new short-term foreign teacher in Mongolia, being the teamless first-timer at camp in Spain, being the only American 20-something-year-old with the international students, being that-girl-who-went-to-China-which-makes-her-not-really-from-around-here everywhere in Sevier County...

I'm almost more comfortable not fitting in than I am with being one of the group.

It's been a year of waiting and insecurity, but it's also been a year of unexpected adventures and growth.