Do any of you remember the original Top Gun? Tom Cruise, the reckless bad boy in a flight suit. The killer soundtrack (my mother-in-law listened to her copy of the soundtrack so many times that it stopped working recently). The action. The needless love story. It was one of the few movies I actually watched as a kid (I’ve never been a movie kind of person.)

Some time ago, I got an email asking if I’d like to read an upcoming book billed as “Top Gun for the new millennium,” there was no way I could say no. I didn’t even read the jacket copy, which is unusual for me. I just gladly accepted a copy of the book, excited to read an action book.

I’m not typically an action reader. My books are always slow-burn kind of books. I like quiet. I like espionage. I like books that take their time and pull me in. So I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when I finally got the chance to read Lions of the Sky.

So… You may have noticed I’ve been gone for a while. You may not have, I don’t know. But the fact remains, I have been gone for nearly three months from the Pluckyverse.

I took some time off this summer to recover from the busy school year and to set up my new classroom and to start learning my new curriculum. Then I took some time off to recover from the busy start to summer. Then I went to workshops and meetings and I was still recovering from recovering. And then I needed to recover from my recovery period, and suddenly I look up, and here September is, creeping its way into October already.

The world kept spinning while I was recovering, and it left me in the dust. At first I called it a rut. Then a phase. Then I reminded myself that I always do this. I always withdraw from people and books and keep to myself as much as possible. (I never do that. I’m an extreme extrovert and a voracious reader.)

Recently, I had the opportunity to go to a workshop at Ron Clark Academy in Atlanta, GA. This was actually a dream come true for me; Ron Clark has been my teaching idol for years. I’ve modeled the way I present myself to students after Ron Clark’s methods since my first year as a teacher.

I try to build the connections he makes with his students. I hold them to very high standards. I try to make learning fun. I try to make everything I do as fun and engaging and challenging as Ron Clark and the other teachers at his Academy. Watching them in action was incredible, to say the least.

One of my favorite things I observed at RCA was the celebrations teachers throw for their students when they do something outstanding. Ron Clark has a red button that activates a dance party. Teachers have chants and cheers and dances. They show the kids how amazing and incredible they are. They stop and party and celebrate.

And it’s a beautiful thing.

Because what those students are learning is that their importance comes from within. They are taught that the thing that makes them incredible, amazing, wonderful, and unique comes from within. They’re taught to celebrate their achievements healthily. They’re taught that it’s okay to acknowledge when you are successful, based on hard work. They’re taught that it’s okay to take a moment after a job well done and pat yourself on your back.

And it made me realize how little we do this as adults. We’re told to be humble. We’re told to hold back. You’re considered a jerk, arrogant, self-centered if you want to celebrate your achievements. We’re told that we have to veil our own achievements behind a veil of humility.

We’re expected to be successful, but not too successful. We’re expected to let our lights shine, but not too brightly. We don’t want our light to overpower somebody else’s.

But what nobody can manage to tell me is why?

Why are we not allowed to celebrate ourselves? Why are we not supposed to share our successes with others? Why aren’t we allowed to brag, just a little bit? Are we so insecure in our own failures that we can’t allow others to celebrate their accomplishments?

What is so broken in our human nature that we can’t bear to watch other people do great things without us? Why aren’t we celebrating achievements? And if we feel bad about it, why don’t we just try harder?

When did we lose the ability to hit our own red button? When did we lose the desire to throw our own party?

Our Deepest Fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. 
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. 
It is our light, not our darkness
That most frightens us.

We ask ourselves
Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? 
You are a child of God.

Your playing small 
Does not serve the world. 
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking 
So that other people won’t feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, 
As children do. 
We were born to make manifest 
The glory of God that is within us.

It’s not just in some of us; 
It’s in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, 
We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. 
As we’re liberated from our own fear, 
Our presence automatically liberates others.

-Marianne Wilson

Nothing makes me as excited as discovering a new Broadway musical that I love. Seriously. I cannot describe the feeling of pure joy I get the first time I listen to the cast recording of a musical that resonates with my soul.

I can remember the magic of listening to Wicked for the first time. I was 17, I was sitting in the passenger seat of my friend Natasha’s bright red Ford Mustang. We were on the way to lunch after choir and she stuck the album in her CD player. From the opening number, I was hooked. The instruments, the singing, the entire experience. I was quickly swept away by the world that Wicked pulled me into.

After that, I went out and bought the book, and then the sequel, and continued reading the entire series. I loved everything about it. It was the first step I really took in widening my world view and making me reconsider the very, very conservative view I had on things. It was a turning point in my life.

That year, I also discovered Rent, and, again, I fell in love with everything about it. I loved the story. I loved the characters. My heart broke for Roger and Mimi and I cried legitimate tears for Angel and Tom. I learned how to truly be a humanist from Rent; I learned how to love everybody, because everybody is important.

Since then, I have fallen in love with musical after musical. I discovered my love of Bonnie and Clyde. I hum “Dyin’ Ain’t So Bad” to myself regularly. I found myself enraptured by Pippin and Waitress and Hamilton. I’ve even loved the lesser-known musicals, like Bright Star and Tuck Everlasting.

April is National Poetry Month, and though I didn’t post about it on here, I observed it as I always do. I love poetry. I truly think poetry is the only voice that many people have in this world. I know my students connect to poetry, and I know when I was their age, I connected to it as well. And as I’ve grown, I still connect to it, but in a very different way. Instead of writing poetry about my complex feelings, I’ve read the poetry of others. I’ve enveloped myself in the musings of others as they deal with their own complex emotions.

If I had to name my favorite poet of all time, I think it’d be Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto, better known by his pen name (and later his legal name) Pablo Neruda. Neruda’s poetry has always touched me. Last year I wrote about my favorite love poem of his, “Tu Risa.” This year, however, I’m sharing a different poem.

This poem, “Keeping Quiet” is one that resonates with me in today’s atmosphere. I don’t just mean the political atmosphere, though to talk about Neruda’s poetry is to talk about the political atmosphere. I mean in this world that is full of hate and greed and envy. This atmosphere in which we spend more time tearing each other down than building each other up. Sometimes I am truly overcome with grief at the way people behave toward one another. I’ve caught myself crying at interactions on Facebook and at the grocery store. I just want to shout a refrain of, “why can’t we all get along?”