For almost my whole life I knew pretty much exactly what I wanted to do, where I wanted to be, since too small. It changed like most people but I always loved all the options, I was just constantly finding better ones.
When I came to college I was heavily considering Secondary Ed in English until I discovered I could work for cities without being an architect. I LOVE architecture but have the math skills of a small child. I discovered planning. Which works hand in hand with architecture but less say.
I thought I was going to go to Tufts University in Boston for Planning and Environmental Planning and Policy. I really want to. Truly. But then funding became an issue. I will get maxed at $20,000 in grad school loans, and Tufts is $30/yr. I knew CU Denver had a program but was really hoping for out of state.
Today, in a Building Environment class, someone showed this picture of some beautiful architecture and that piece of me that always wanted to be an architect came out. I feel lost in these two things I am so passionate about.
I have declared to the world so many times I will go to Boston and nothing will stop me and now I feel like I will be falling short of what I had planned if I don’t go. But at CU Denver there is a planning and architecture dual program so I could decide what I liked more.
God, the real world is approaching quickly and as much as I was excite for it, financial obstacles have really stunted my dreams I feel.
Maybe staying here won’t be bad for me. I just want to be the best. And I KNOW I can and will be.
I will figure it out. Don’t you worry Tumblverse.
Like I actually have followers. Hahaha!
Let Her Go..
"You only know you love her, when you let her go."
The worst 4 letter word of them all. Sure it could be beautiful. Yes, it should be. But sometimes its the most volatile war, dropping bombs to maim. To maim that person who could look at you with a smile and take your breathe away. To destroy that person who, when you stared into their eyes, everything in the world was better.
When the bombs start dropping, the question left when the smoke clears…..
Is love real..?
Trying to Fix a Broken System
To Whom It Should Concern:
Since I was a child I have had a deep conviction to make a difference. I value leadership, equality, social justice, environmental stewardship, and community building. This is because of education. I started in the poorest district in Colorado, one of the worst funded education systems in the country. I finished in one of the lowest funded districts. I knew this throughout my life. I knew if I wanted to learn, I needed to go outside of my over crowded classroom—not physically, but mentally. I spent my lunches and the fifteen minutes before the bus came after school, in my teachers’ rooms. Throughout high school, I formed significant bonds with them. I was the living exemplar of the phrase, “It takes a village to raise a child.” This deep connection with my teachers made budget cuts tear on my heartstrings because I knew how much my teachers tried everyday. I knew they were making a difference because of passion, never their paycheck, but that didn’t make it easier. I struggled with the packed classrooms, and I wasn’t even the one trying to manage them. I watched my school downgrade every year as more millions were cut, and I thought once I graduated I would leave to never look back, but I was dead wrong.
I was in my freshmen year of college when I found out the proposal to increase tax revenue to fund my hometown district had failed. I sat in the corner of the dining hall, tears falling, with a fellow grad from my high school. We knew how much our teachers did. I was a teacher’s aide every year, I was in Student Council, played and managed soccer, and saw first-hand the passion that pushed my teachers. I have seen some of the best teachers lose their jobs while worksheet teachers with no dedication, skid by every year, just like their students. I went from being a proud, involved student to a disappointed, ashamed alumnus. After my first year of college, I returned to my hometown with a plan on how to pass Mill Levy 3A, the tax increase to fund our district. Three attempted emails later I finally received a response from the superintendent about a meeting. I prepped a PowerPoint, an outlined plan, all backed up with data I spent personal time to find. I showed up with faith and hope—only to be completely shot down. I didn’t even get to open my presentation. I was told, “No. The polling says no.” Not even a chance for me to show all the hard work I put in with my limited free time.
I left that meeting disillusioned and discouraged, but became amped up again with “Pass 3A 2.0 - Revised Plan.” I sent the email, no response. A year later, I still haven’t heard a word. The only things I’ve heard about the district is their failing grades provided by the state. This is the Year of the Student. I have created, signed, and shared petitions because my name on a list of thousands will be heard more clearly than my endless attempts to reach out to my own district as a citizen, alumni, and formerly aspiring educator.
Budget constraints are problems that are understandably irreparable, to an extent. However, the financial decisions are questionable when a veteran administrator with teaching experience loses his/her job to an inexperienced amateur who will require more resources to train, when there is a security team who does more to help students evade policies, when instructional coaches are hired in place of qualified classroom teachers, or when money is used for credit recovery courses overflowing with students who could have grasped concepts the first time but failed because of the established district precedent that innumerable chances will be offered to those who willingly choose not to come to class or don’t take personal responsibility for their learning. I am not a financial advisor; I am a broke college student. But as a student, my peers and I saw several wastes like these that aggravated us when we had an outdated textbook and solid teachers on the brink of burn-out.
Throughout high school and at the beginning of my college career, I wanted nothing more than to teach high school English. I was happy with little pay, as long as I had a chance at making a difference in someone’s life like the many teachers who changed mine. Now, I have no desire. My plan has completely changed because of the way administrators treat their committed teachers, and because district leaders seemingly exhibit a lack of passion for their hardworking teachers and the students in their care. Their conviction seems to lie in power more than anything, and it was painfully obvious as a student who could see teachers immediately on edge as an administrator walked by. As experienced administrators get pushed out, inexperienced, power hungry rookies come waltzing in the door. Quite frankly, it is disgraceful. No one has to say a word; the passion is being defeated by arrogance, and it’s written on the helpless faces of so many.
Disgusted. That is the only word that comes to mind when I think of my alma mater. The place that inspired me to be a leader and follow my heart now inspires me to dedicate my whole being to fixing the broken system, no matter what it takes. I will obtain a graduate degree in Education Policy and return to secondary education to help with reform—because if I have learned anything from seeing the management of Colorado schools, it’s that it needs to be scrapped and rebuilt.
I, for one, do not know how to do your jobs, nor do I have a full understanding of all of the problems within the district or education system, but I know first hand what it is like in the hallways and classrooms of our schools. Teachers are underappreciated. Students are not adequately held responsible and are consequently being misled about the workings of the real world. I send this letter in hopes it will inspire and evoke those sitting in positions of power, to dedicate themselves to making a positive difference for students, teachers, and this community. I know some things are out of your hands, but conviction towards change can bring it. I hope that in your leadership positions you can devote yourself towards trying to make a difference in the lives of students and for the many teachers who, regardless of how difficult their job have become, challenge and inspire kids every single day.
Tori Sue Petersen
Livestrong : A brand?
I am a Boston Red Sox fan. Not sure how that happened but it sure did. I have many friends I joke with about it, my favorite being my Yankee fan friends. Especially in a year with the best record in the league, and New York coming nowhere near the playoffs. These friendly rivalries always come with playful banter that I could swear up and down all day make friendships stronger. It is a bond. In this season, we are in the second round of the playoffs. After a rough game, a few of our friends gather in a living room to watch some terrible show (that I really only watch to spend time with my friends). During a commercial break our jokes break out, especially between the Yankees fan and myself. And as it always does, twenty-six World Series championships came up, therefore A-Rod’s recent steroid trial does. It is all jokes and laughs until one outsider from the conversation pitches in, “Says the girl with a live strong tattoo.”
This may be funny to some, and offensive (as it was to me, the girl with the live strong tattoo). Why yes, Lance Armstrong in the past year admitted his use of blood doping. As the world watched and cracked their jokes, I ripped down my posters, cried a little, and watched my phone consistently blow up with texts, like I didn’t know before all of them anyways. Yes, I have a “LIVE STRONG” tattoo, right along the wrists for everyone to see. LIVE on my right, STRONG on my left. I got this tattoo the day I turned eighteen after waiting four long years. This tattoo wasn’t a dedication to a cyclist. This tattoo wasn’t taking a fad to the extreme. This tattoo was a permanent wound to myself with two words that when put next to each other was the most beautiful word I have ever heard.
When I was fourteen, I started to love cycling. I’d ride around my neighborhood as fast as I could. I loved watching Lance lead the pack up those hills and over the cobblestone. But I love Lance because he made a yellow wristband with two little words that when put next to each other meant, you can get through anything, literally fighting death, you can fight. I hadn’t gone through anything horrific by the age of fourteen, but I wanted to remember my entire life that I could always live strong just like the millions of people fighting cancer everyday. Once I got into my senior year of high school I let some events jade my view of a lot of things. But shortly after abandoning that hellhole, I permanently etched a phrase into my skin that told me nothing could stop me, and it helped me escape the mind of a bitter person, which is a powerful demon to overcome.
Warren went to high school and was a huge leader. Graduated and then headed off to Harvard University where he was another leader, in and out of the classroom. He went on to become an accomplished surgeon, with a loving family, three sons, a few mules on some land in Grand Junction, and he also had been battling cancer since his early 20s’. The cancer returned several times through out his life. Warren battled it off every time. He passed away this last summer after battling for more than half of his life.
My uncle Warren was the original reason I wanted my LIVESTRONG tattoo. I would always forget he had cancer, because he never lived his life like he was dying. I always thought about how livestrong meant so much to me because the people struggling to stay alive fighting cancer, and how I thought those two words were beautiful because they symbolized that fight. Then after listening to story after story about my Uncle’s life, successes, and leadership. I realized cancer patients may be dying, but they know how to live better than any of us. Livestrong doesn’t mean die fighting, it means live fighting. Whether it sounds like the biggest scam ever because it came a blood doper, those two words are the most beautiful words in our dictionary, slammed against each other with the best meaning. Life: the thing we all have, that is so precious, that we hold on to, hoping to never lose it. Strong: Passionate, sturdy, fierce, vigorous, the ability to withstand. When you put those two words together you are defining a beautiful life.
As upset as I am about Lance Armstrong, he showed me how I want to live my life through two words. Warren showed me how I wanted to live life through living his to the fullest and fighting through everything in order to keep seeing the beauty of another day. I don’t have LIVESTRONG tattooed on me because it looks cool. I have a permanent scar full of black ink that says there is no such thing as a permanent scar.
Have you ever come across a homeless individual and felt totally uncomfortable?You see them and you know they are in need, but you are not sure what to do. You know that handing them money is not the best thing. But, you also see that they clearly have some needs. Their lips are chapped. They are hungry. They are thirsty. They are asking for help.How can you help?Here is a simple idea - blessing bags.
This was such an easy project. We are now going to keep a few “Blessing Bags” in our car so that when we do happen to see someone on the streets who is homeless, we can hand them a Blessing Bag. I first learned of these bags from my friend, Julie. I am using the picture of her bags (see above) because the ones we took were taken in horrible lighting and turned out really grainy and hard to see what is inside of them.If you’d like to make your own Blessing Bags, this is what you would need:Gallon size Ziplock bagsitems to go in the bags, such as:chap stickpackages of tissuestoothbrush and toothpastecombsoaptrail mixgranola barscrackerspack of gumband aidsmouthwashcoins (could be used to make a phone call, or purchase a food item)hand wipesyou could also put in a warm pair of socks, and maybe a Starbucks gift cardAssemble all the items in the bags, and maybe throw in a note of encouragement. Seal the bags and stow in your car for a moment of providence.This would be a great activity to do with some other families. Each family could bring one of the items going into the bags (ex: toothbrushes). Set up all the items around a table and walk around it with the ziplocks and fill the bags.
oh man i wanna do this
mee tooo. im bout to go to the dollar tree and rack up or a wholesale store.
All these reblogs make me so happy to see. So many amazing people on tumblr
random acts if kindness