The night before, I attended dress rehearsal for my concert the next night. Jokes were made, corners were sat in (get it?), piano parts were botched perfected.
This concert was going to be epic!
Wednesday morning we woke up to get ready for our morning walk.
And then my water broke.
Cue uncertainty, excitement, disbelief (what about my concert?!), and haphazard hospital bag packing. Add a dash of morning cereal, a last minute photo op (just in case),
and a steady stream of what I like to call Insta-birth photos:
Roko Alexander Besich changed our lives forever at 1:37am on April 12, 2012.
We love him.
He loves us.
We are in heaven.
*This was originally meant to be posted on April 6th. What can I say? Life happens.*
Yesterday was my last day of teaching.
Let me repeat: yesterday was my last day of teaching.
After a very emotional nine months at my school, waiting and wishing for this day to come, it has. And it felt good. Very good. Saying that I complained a little about the stresses of work would sadly be an understatement. Negative Nancy was my M.O. It was hard. Towards the end, my job eased a little, whether because I was numb to the stress or started to change my attitude is still to be determined. I'd like to think it was an attitude change, but I don't feel comfortable giving myself that much credit.
Sitting here looking into the rear-view mirror of my life, the last year presented a lot of opportunities for growth. I had countless conversations (aka- pleading sessions) with Baldo about finding another job, but he held strong to his motto: Besiches never quit. He told me over and over that I could do hard things. Reluctantly, and, to be quite honest, bitterly, I kept at it, waking up every morning at 5:00am, staying at school until 4:00 or even 5:00 at night. I had my good days, I had my bad days, and I had my really bad days. But I kept going.
When my dad called me yesterday to tell me how proud he was of me not giving up, it hit me. I did a hard thing. I did it. In a flash all of the emotions felt over the last nine months consumed me and all I could do was cry. No words can truly capture the emotions I feel right now; only tears.
Three and a half years ago I embarked on my teaching journey. Not many pictures exist from the first class I taught; I still block them out of my memory. My second year showed me the joys of teaching. Those 8th graders will always have a special place in my heart.
Then came the big move to Guam where I found myself teaching these kids:
As a teacher, I love discovering the talents my students possess:
I may have forced a few of them into an impromptu talent show:
Somebody call Adam Lavene; I just found the next Voice!
Finally we moved back to Tempe where I taught 8th grade for the final time. I learned a lot about myself this school year. I learned that 13 year-olds possess the ability to extract swear words out of my mouth, that attitude is everything, that it's better to walk out of a room when I'm at my wit's end than let my emotions get the best of me, and that sometimes it's okay to let them see me cry. My favorite lesson I learned is that I can do hard things- even when pregnant.
Enduring the last 9 months had it's final reward: a baby shower thrown by my students. There was food, there was fun, and this time, I was the one forced into an impromptu talent show (my piano skills are a bit rusty).
