How does social media impact my life...

The impact social media has on my life is truly dependent on my mental vulnerability at any given point. In the past when I have been stressed out or resentful towards certain people, I have caught myself conjuring the social media world up to be an environment of hostility and - worse - an ongoing, yet entirely meaningless popularity contest among peers. With a negative mindset, my brain automatically classifies every post I encounter on social media under "annoying," "boring," or "offensive." Social media is essentially a virtual stage; when we log on, the floor is ours and we are allowed to speak our minds. Often times, however, I believe people lose sight of their audience - this is when posts start to offend others. On the flip side, when manipulated appropriately, social media can be incredibly influential and a very powerful tool. Social media has enhanced all levels of communication. I rely on social media to stay in touch, informed, and updated. Admittedly, I do not remember the last time I picked up a newspaper and read an article in full. In closing, someone once told me, "treat social media as if you were walking down the street - you wouldn't walk down the street naked, you wouldn't walk down the street cursing at people...so, don't expose yourself on social media in ways you wouldn't if you were just walking down the street." 

Noah-en a baby is tired...

Before heading over to campus to attend class this afternoon, I spent the morning babysitting a 7-month-old baby boy. He is the baby brother of my former student. Usually, I babysit for my old students, who all live in my neighborhood - they are 3 and 4 years old. Anyway, I was trying to put Noah down at 9:30 this morning for his first nap of the day (rough life), but for some reason, he would not stop crying. I mean, he was really hysterical. But, that's probably what he does every time someone puts him down for a nap (babies don't realize how luxurious napping is), I thought. I stood outside the door.

Ten minutes passed. He wasn't giving up. The cries had slowly transitioned into a painful series of ear-numbing screeches. I felt so bad for him, I went back into his room and picked him up. To calm him down, I started slowly walking around the house with him in my arms, whispering to him quietly. Eventually, I brought him outside to the back porch - he stopped crying (literal miracle). We spent a few minutes walking around the porch before heading back upstairs. 

I was barely one step into the kid's room before the wailing started again. This time, it was worse than before. What could possibly be wrong, I thought. I started walking with him around the house again. The crying stopped. 

Ten minutes passed. I decided to give nap-time another go. But, alas, a single step into Noah's room was all it took to get the waterworks going again.

Finally, it dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, Noah was hungry. So, downstairs we went (one. last. time.). I fixed his bottle: first measuring 3 scoops of formula, then mixing the powder with 6 ounces of water, and finally, shaking it all together. Noah's eyes lit up. 

Ten minutes passed. The bottle was completely empty and, in my arms, a seemingly content baby boy sat, fighting to keep his eyes open. Noah and I made one last journey upstairs to his bedroom. This time, Noah went down for his nap without a fuss. He slept for almost two hours, and when he woke up, he was smiley, giggly, and happy to see me.

It bothers me how adults constantly do what I did this morning. As adults, we have a tendency to fabricate complication. We invite stress and anxiety into our lives by generating complexities out of things/attitudes/ideas that are supposed to be perfectly simple. 

Babies feel what their body tells them to feel. It was clear to me that Noah was not crying because he was experiencing pain, physically or emotionally. Obviously, he wasn't tired (at 9:30, when he was "supposed" to be). What else do babies really feel? 

Today, the minutes that fell between 9:30 and 10:30 A.M. were unproductive - not just for me, but for Noah, too. Even though he wouldn't be able to articulate what happened, the truth of the matter is that Noah and I both experienced a feeling of overwhelming frustration this morning. I managed to muddle through the morning routine, but it never had to be that difficult. 

MSBAnew Beginning

This past summer was not only the busiest, but also the most confusing 3-month stretch of time that I can ever recall. Summer mornings were spent teaching my three- and four-year-old students at their preschool on Capitol Hill; afternoons and evenings were spent babysitting former students at their homes. I woke up at 6:45 am and sometimes did not return home until 11:00 at night. The summer days were structured and perfectly predictable; but, at the same time, I felt completely and utterly unorganized.

The moment I walked across the stage to accept my college diploma was the same moment my life was stripped of the academic routine I had inadvertently relied on for the past sixteen years. For the first time in my life, I had absolutely no idea where I would be or what I would be doing when the last week of August rolled around. My summer months were spent seeking direction and listening to the advice others had to offer. I knew that my passion for helping went beyond what could be accomplished in a single classroom – but, how could I accomplish more, I wondered, when I was only equipped with a bachelor’s degree in education studies? More than anything, I wanted to know the steps I needed to take to achieve my goal.

Now here I am, a little bit over a week into my master’s program. In class, I sit next to people who are motivated, strong-minded, and eager to learn; I am consumed by lectures and conversations that are relevant and engaging; I am studying subjects that challenge me to think about the world from a completely different perspective. Now, every day is a new stepping stone…