As I write this, I’m finishing my final day of summer school. The program flew by and I’m relieved. I made some extra money, spent time with Cymone, worked on some materials I needed for the first week back of my normal school year, and got motivated to exercise. I also successfully finished the first task for curriculum planning, and, with Lisa, created a detailed and helpful unit overview for Reconstruction. The other four members of our curriculum team worked on two remaining units. Two members finalized Westward Expansion and two members took on Gilded Age/Industrialization. These are the first three units of study, so it was imperative that we completed them before the start of the 2025-2026 school year. We then, should hopefully begin work on the next three units; this is where Lisa and I will tackle the Spanish American War and World War I.

This week, I’ll also be getting ready for my brief trip to Texas. I leave next Monday and will enjoy a direct flight to Austin. My brother is all set for my arrival, and I’m glad I can say I am still going…my darling little cat, Ike, decided to scare his mama by getting sick. I came home from work last Monday and noticed that he was keeping to himself. He had also vomited. I thought nothing of it that day; he usually gets hairballs because of his long and thick black fur. The next day, though, he was still avoiding me and, to make things worse, he wasn’t eating. He didn’t come beg me for his dry Temptations dairy treats when I shook the bag or sit on the floor with his big green eyes pathetically begging me for his wet Churu treat. I decided to wait it out and see if he improved the next day. Ike only acted more lethargic on Wednesday, so I decided to call my vet. The vet, luckily, could see him on Thursday afternoon.

After my work day ended, Ike and I headed to the vet. He was vocal about being put in his cat carrier and meowed the entire five minute drive to the office. You could see the anger and frustration on his face when the vet examined him; he refused to come out of the carrier for a little while. The vet drew blood, shaved off some of his matted fur, and attempted to get a urine sample. Ike, however, was not having it, and refused to urinate. Unfortunately, since he didn’t go to the bathroom during the appointment, it would be up to me to obtain the sample. I also received a topical steroid to apply on Ike’s ear; this would help stimulate his appetite.

Ike, luckily, started to eat a little bit after the cream was applied. He drank water too. I decided to let him get some nourishment into his body before I began the process for the urine sample. The vet supplied me with a special litter that did not absorb the urine. I would be able to use a syringe to collect the urine and place it in a plastic medical tube. I only had a 12 hour window to get the urine and take it to the vet. It was also the weekend, so it would be easier for me to monitor him going to the bathroom. My goal was to take the urine sample to the vet first thing on Saturday morning. I figured, if I delayed it any further, I would not have enough time to get Ike’s diagnosis and therefore, need to postpone my travels so I could keep an eye on him.

My issue was that his sister would use the box with the special litter, so, per my vet’s suggestion, I purchased a new litter box. I filled it with the special litter and placed it in my bathroom. Ike was directed by the vet to stay locked in my room, with access to the litter box, until he decided to relieve himself. Umm, easier said than done.

I was going to need to pull an all-nighter then, hoping he would pee, making sure the other cat didn’t try to find him, and timing it to where I could drop off the sample within that 12 hour window before the vet closed at 1 PM on Saturday.

Ike, thank God, was tired and managed to sleep for most of the night. He knew where the litter box was if he needed to go. My anxiety over hoping he would go to the bathroom had me waking up every hour checking for any progress. By 2 AM, he still had not peed and was getting the zoomies…he kept scratching at my bedroom door to let him free. I ignored him and then begged him to go to the bathroom…as if talking to him would make him listen to me (but I was exhausted and running out of patience).

I fell asleep and woke to an alarm that sounded at 7 AM. Ike was awake too and scratching at the door again. I decided to let him free so he could try to eat breakfast. I grumbled to myself that I would never get the urine sample as I checked the box for the umpteenth time…

Only to see that Ike, my clever and sweet little Ike, had obeyed his mother’s orders.

I quickly siphoned the urine into the medical tubes, refrigerated them while I got dressed, and was at the vet right as they opened. My all-nighter had been a success. I spent the rest of my morning running errands and cleaning up the mess from his litter box in my bathroom. I took a glorious nap later that afternoon and spent the rest of the weekend recovering from my messed up sleep patterns. Summer school had me up at 5:30 AM every day, so I was tired enough from that early wake up time…my body was truly craving the sleep.

So much for a restful summer, but hey, at least I didn’t just sit and veg out every day. I was productive, spent time with my friends, visited with my family, exercised…and didn’t spend all day rotting away in my pajamas. I call that a success.

The vet called on Monday evening to confirm that there was nothing wrong with Ike…no UTIs, no infections…he got a clean bill of health and I am out $400, but at least my wee critter is healthy and I can go to Texas with the relief and knowledge that he is perfectly fine. If there are any lingering doubts about his health…well, the fact that he’s being mischievous and jumping on the “no-no” places (i.e. the kitchen counter) assuages those doubts for sure.

I can also go to Richmond this Saturday for a quick visit and tea time with Breanna. We had talked about going to Floris again before the summer ended for a tea, and she invited me to join her and her mother on the 26th. I was worried about Ike and told her I was a tentative “yes” but would let her know if that changed once I got Ike’s results back.

Even though Ike is fine, I’m still going to make it a day trip. I’ll leave early-ish on Saturday and come back in the evening. I need some time to focus on packing for Texas, although that really shouldn’t take long since I’m not even staying a week. I’ll be home from Texas by next Friday, because by then, I need to get back into history teacher mode and start preparing for year eight.

Year eight. I can’t believe so much time has passed since I began my teaching journey, amidst a global pandemic nonetheless. I keep reminding myself; if I could survive teaching during COVID, I can handle anything else that comes my way for the rest of my teaching career. I keep holding onto that hope that I can continue teaching…

But, as the Richmond FC football fans in Ted Lasso say:

It’s the hope that kills you.

Granted, we’re not talking about hoping a perpetually losing English football team will eventually win a trophy as what will “kill” me, but when I heard this quote during a recent Ted Lasso rewatch, this time, it stayed engraved in my mind.

Perhaps me holding onto hope is what’s “killing” me inside. Perhaps me, choosing to have hope in education…and that student (and parent) behaviors will improve the further away we get from the pandemic, is what is causing my mental state to decline.

I remember I once had a colleague tell me that he noticed the joy and sparkle in my eyes had disappeared. This comment had been made when I went through a breakup, so it made sense that I was struggling and had lost any sense of optimism. This colleague, someone that I miss teaching with, was concerned about me, because I had always been the perpetually cheerful and perhaps, too optimistic, girl. That joy and sparkle came back, briefly, as I focused on myself and met the guy I am still (unfortunately) in love with, but ever since the pandemic…and ever since he left me, the joy and sparkle seem to have disappeared for good.

I feel like no matter what I do, or whom I’m with…when I try to find ways to find joy and sparkle…nothing works. Nothing changes how I feel. Hoping to lose some weight and feel healthier, hoping for true love, hoping for my anxiety and depression to lighten up, hoping for improvements in education…

Hoping for me to just be “me” again…

It’s killing me, mentally, every day. The joy and sparkle are just about extinguished from my eyes, this time, for good.

Then…then I think about Ted’s response to that quote:

I believe in hope. I believe in ‘believe.’

No matter how crappy life was for Ted, despite his divorce and his own mental problems, he never stopped believing in hope. He believed in believing in others…and he believed in believing in himself. If you’ve never seen Ted Lasso, give it a watch, because at first glance, the show appears to be a comedy…and yes, for the most part, it is…

When the dramatic parts happen though? They don’t just tug at your heartstrings…no.

They break your heart.

So, thanks to this wonderful show, I now realize I have two choices:

I can let the hope kill me…

Or I can start my school year with Ted’s mindset.

Have some hope for me that I can be like Ted, okay?

Many happy returns!
-kate

P.S. Season Four of Ted Lasso went into production this week! Brett Goldstein, who produces and writes for Ted Lasso, while simultaneously playing my favorite character, the ever-grumpy footballer Roy Kent, posted a video to his Instagram (@mrbrettgoldstein) showing a brief “behind the scenes” of the new season. This is a still from the video with four of the main characters.

This news arrived after over a year of fans wondering if there would be another season, as Season Three was supposed to be the end of the series. Not anymore! Richmond ‘til we die!

Hey y’all!

Happy (almost) July! Oh boy, this Oasis lyric/title inspiration from Don’t Look Back in Anger couldn’t be anymore accurate! This Virginia heatwave has been nasty and my allergies are suffering. My poor little Ike has been trying to keep cool amidst his coat of thick black fur, and I’ve brought out the shorts (although I hate how my legs look in them) for my own relief in this weather.

This heatwave, however, means that I’m on summer break. It has finally arrived. Lucky year number seven has ended and I honestly still don’t know how I feel about this, even two weeks after we were dismissed for vacation. I enjoyed my school year content wise; I actually got to the end of my curriculum. I went from 1865 to as “modern” as I could possibly go; the kids learned about globalization, new technologies of the 1990s and, gasp, 2000s, as well as 9/11, during the final weeks of school! I attended some of the end of the year activities as well.

I went to the 8th Grade Awards Night to especially support Lisa’s younger daughter who was being recognized, and then I helped Lisa with her National Junior Honor Society induction ceremony (she’s the sponsor). I got to witness many of my now-8th graders receive membership into this prestigious academic society. Lisa and I also attended the 8th Grade Formal Dance as we usually do. I got the chance to say goodbye to many of the 8th graders I taught the previous year throughout the final week of school. And, as tradition, all of the teachers went to the bus loop and waved off the students (with tears from most of us) as the buses rolled out for the final day of the school year.

This was the end of year “lucky seven” for Lisa and I!

My students that I ended the year with, however?

Well, let’s just say I don’t have any hope that I will trust this group to one day grow up, find steady work, and contribute meaningfully to my Social Security. The sense of entitlement and laziness was real. I’m honestly scared for their future, but it’s also not my problem anymore. They are now 8th graders and I get to see what’s in store for me for my next group of 7th graders. I had no luck in getting into a high school (again), but I will not give up this dream! I will continue to apply and see what comes my way, even if it means teaching English instead of History.

Speaking of teaching English, Cymone and I survived our first week of summer school! We only had two days with the students this past week; the first two days were our work days. We used those days to get our classrooms ready and attended meetings about the summer school expectations. We even had some time to go out on the track and do some walking, despite the 100 degree temperatures! I was a little sunburnt, but it faded within the day, as this Texas girl has always thrived in the sun. It felt amazing getting some sunlight and exercise, and it was easier to do it with Cymone by my side as motivation. We were able to kill time by shooting the shit and before we knew it, we’d walked two miles. I’m so happy that I have Cymone to be my “accountability buddy” as we try to lose some weight.

My summer school students are trying to get credit to pass English 10. They’re taking English 10 a second time because they failed it during the school year. They need to pass this summer if they want to enroll in English 11 and be considered a junior. So far, most of them seem like they want to get the work finished so they can receive their course credit. They’ve been respectful and polite, but not very talkative. They ask for help when needed, so I appreciate all this, especially when my 7th graders caused me a headache most of this past year. These sophomores are indeed a refreshing change. I also like the fact that I get to change things up and teach English, rather than History! I may be a tried and true history nerd, but there is something about explaining texts and writing research papers, poems, and journals that also makes my heart happy. I love to write (this blog is evidence of that) and I’ve mentioned before that I’m trying to piece together a novel (of the romantic and historical fiction variety), so being amongst students taking an English class has certainly revived my dream to continue drafting and editing what I’ve typed so far.

I’ve since been inspired to compose a series of what I’m calling: Letters I Will Never Send. I’ve been in my head lately about my (lack of a) romantic life; how I’m nearing my mid-30s and haven’t come close to getting married. I have so many bottled up feelings and emotions about the men who have come and gone. As the title says, I’m not going to send these new letters to the “recipients.” More than anything, it’s catharsis for me, since I’ll never receive closure from the men who will be “getting” these letters. Some letters will be longer than others; the length, of course, depends on the impact the man had on my life during the time we knew each other. As I write these letters, I will also continue to write my historical romantic fiction novel, and fictionalize my own experiences as the ones my lead heroine will encounter in the plot of my story. The first letter is linked if you are interested in reading through it, as you, dear readers, are not the intended recipient. I doubt the intended recipient will ever read it…and even if he stumbled upon my words…I could care less. He’s not a factor in my life anymore and I don’t aim to please him. My words won’t impact him, especially when we haven’t talked in almost a year!

All this writing I’m doing is not to say I’ve lost interest in teaching History! Just today, I had a call with the the History & Social Sciences curriculum specialist of the county I’m employed with. The state of Virginia finally released the new units of study and standards public schools will need to follow. I, alongside Lisa and four other teachers in the county, have been tasked with creating new unit guides and suggested lessons for other 7th grade middle school teachers to use. This is to help all teachers have adequate materials as we familiarize ourselves with teaching the new standards (the Industrialization/Gilded Age unit alone is a behemoth). This is paid work as well, so it’ll be nice to pocket some extra money while creating engaging resources for my fellow history teachers to use! I’m always happiest when I’m working on anything history based, so completing these resources is certainly not what I would call boring! It’s also great professional development; I’m hopeful that my experience with curriculum work can get me a position with the department at the county level. That would be a dream…and it would get me out of the classroom!

A rare photo of Mamie (the tortie) and her brother Ike.

After summer school is finished, I will have two whole weeks to myself before year eight arrives and I have to do the history teacher thing all over again. Those of you who think teachers just do fuck-all (pardon my language but it’s necessary) during the summer, well, as you can see in my case, we do not. Many of us hold a second job and/or attend professional development sessions, all while maintaining a home life and trying to mentally recharge after 180 days of dealing with children. And you can’t even say we get three whole months to enjoy; it’s only eight weeks! My summer, summer school or not, really does fly by.

I’m grateful for the time I do have to work on my personal writing, bonding with Ike and Mamie, sleeping in when I can, and spending time with my friends and family. I’m blessed really, to have most of the summer to focus on myself. I’ll try to plan a weekend to Richmond (I need a VMFA/Floris/brewery day) with Breanna. She and I usually go to the Floris tea room at the VMFA and enjoy a beautiful high tea service after visiting the museum exhibits (they’re currently featuring Frida Kahlo’s artwork). I love getting all dressed up for our tea, but I love even more that Breanna will actually do this with me! We just need to figure out a weekend that works for both of us. Maybe I can talk her into going to The Answer for a beer and some yummy Vietnamese food…

*what a life it would beeeee…if you could come to mine for tea… (Floris, Richmond, VA - April 2025)*

Breanna, her husband (my fellow history nerd/former teacher), Thomas, and Jessica and I will definitely be headed to Great Meadow for their 4th of July fireworks show this week. Cymone and I plan to be “ladies who lunch” and enjoy a nice meal out once a week after we’re done with summer school for the day. Lisa and I will probably drunk brunch at our favorite restaurant, Ted’s Bulletin (I need me a Ted’s Tart, stat), at some point when we’re not working on curriculum planning, and I’ve got birthday celebrations for my mamá and papá this month!

I’m praying I finalize my trip to Texas. Last time I visited was Spring 2022 and as I’ve stated before, I’m now a tía! My niece, Gabrielle, is now over a year old and I still haven’t met her, so I need to get to Texas to meet her and spend a few days with my brother and sister-in-law.

Busy, busy, indeed, but I’m all the more blessed for having so many wonderful and fun summertime distractions with my most favorite people.

Gabrielle makes the same face I do whenever there’s cake in front of me! Isn’t she the *sweetest*?

It’s also Britpop summer, as Oasis will officially start their reunion tour in Cardiff, Wales on July 4th. I’d much rather be in Wales for Independence Day to witness this epic first concert, but I guess I’ll have to live vicariously through social media for tour updates. I wasn’t even close to getting on the waitlist for the Chicago gig at Soldier Field. Alas, I won’t get to see the Britpop legends live for the reunion, but at least I can say I went to one of their concerts in my lifetime.

So, feliz summer y’all! Keep posted for more frequent updates since I’ve got more time back to write to my heart’s content.

many happy returns,

-kate.

is it the hope that kills you?

step outside, summertime's in bloom...