Blame it on those Summer Nights...

Aw, cute. Remember when I was young and blogging was a thing I did? First on livejournal (that was a thing, right?) and then my more respectable blog over here on blogger? I started this blog in 2005, so says my archives. That was ten years ago. I don't really remember what life was like ten years ago. If I wanted to, I could go back and read about what I was comfortable sharing publically about what it was like, but that seems uncomfortable. And like far too much procrastination.

So I'm toying with the idea of blogging again. Isn't it one of those things that has gone so far around the bend that it's almost cool again? No? Maybe? I think I lost any readers I had years ago when I, you know, stopped posting entirely, so it probably doesn't matter one way or the other. This is more an exercise for me. Unless it isn't.

What am I interested in blogging about? Teaching, obviously. Dealing with the fact that, as of next April, I will not have a single Single friend. Body acceptance. Adventure. Writing. Buffy the Vampire Slayer (probably not though). Books. Wine. I don't know.

And let's be entirely honest: I may just be doing this because I don't feel like reading an article on education right now and because I really feel like I need a platform to share how delightful I am finding "To Kill a Mockingbird" on second reading. I have blogged for lesser reasons before.

So I leave you with a moving quote from the article I am reading AND absolutely no promise that I will return to blogging any time soon.

“It hurt even more that although my colleagues called me a good teacher, I still felt that I had failed in the task that was most important to me—teaching black children and teaching them well. I could not talk about my failure then. It is difficult even now. At least I did not fall into the trap of talking about the parents’ failure. I just did not talk about any of it.”

- 'Dilemmas of a Progressive Black Educator' by Lisa D. Delpit