If you’ve read my previous three posts, you may have noticed I didn’t mentioned race or socioeconomic status at all. That is definitely a critical part of what’s going on with these kids. We all know that. However, I’m not going to into it, partly because there are people much better educated on the topic, but most because I think of my students as kids first. Race and wealth have a heavy influence on these kids and the communities they live in. But communities are composed of people, very interesting and unique people. I like to focus on that, as opposed to emphasizing one or two demographics details.

(For those of you who are distracted by a curious desire to know, Saint Louis Public Schools is over 90% black, while AJATC is roughly half white, not white. At both places, the vast majority come from families with a lower SEO status).

In much the same way that kids are blamed for not knowing better, parents are often blamed for the problems with their kids. There are definitely terrible parents out there, ranging from abuse and neglect, to overprotective and enabling. At the same time, in my experience, most parents are doing the best they can with what they got.

One of the biggest criticisms of lower-income families is that they don’t know how to manage their money. How irresponsible does one have to be to buy their growing 12 year-old brand new Jordan’s when they are behind on rent?? While I agree that money management is hugely important, many individuals feel so overwhelmed by what they can’t afford, they seize the opportunity to buy what they can. “I may not be able to cover all the bills, but I can get my baby the shoes he wants.” In other words, it’s parents who are busy and working long hours trying to do what they can for their kids.
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(This thinking falls under the concept of Economy of Scale. I am not even remotely an expert about this, but this framework has helped me understand the underlying rational).
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Closely related to judgment over spending habits is judgment over lifestyle choices in general. A story that comes to mind happened in St. Louis around my fifth year of teaching. We held conference about a student who ticked many of the boxes under the definition for “at-risk youth.” His stepfather came, and he told about a problem at home, describing how he addressed it with his stepson. He displayed an earnest desire to help the young man. However, during his story, it became apparent that the man was a drug dealer. Walking away from the meeting, most of my colleagues fixated on that, adding it to the list of reasons that the kid was hopeless.

I admit that I was shook hearing that story, but something about that meeting kept nagging at me. Over time I began to wonder, why did we focus on the drug dealing? Here, in a community short on male role models, was a man very interested in supporting his troubled mess of a teenage boy. Why didn’t we focus on that? We could do nothing about his choice of income, but we had resources galore to offer an invested parent.

 The fact is outsiders often undermine the positive aspects of an existing community. Most places need help to improve and grow. However, well-intentioned people often enter an area with their own notions and disregard the experiences of the folks who call the place home. There’s also the pervasive idea that only way to succeed is to “get out.”

No one should be made to feel ashamed of where they are from. Every community has strengths; every communities has flaws. When approaching a neighborhood with obvious needs, consider taking a slower, more observant approach. Instead of bulldozing in saying, “This is what they should do,” try asking, “How can I support what they’re wanting to do?” Look for ways to encourage community development, which grows the community from within, as opposed to gentrification, which displaces the original neighborhood with outsiders (https://kheprw.org/community-development-versus-gentrifcation/).

What You Can Do

This is obviously a dense and tangled topic. I am not even remotely equipped to more than scratch the surface of its complexity. Yet, there are some practical steps you can take to help messy kids and develop the larger community we all share.

1. Really, really pay attention to the language, attitudes, and implications of laws, municipal decisions and other conversations about youth. I will not presume to tell anyone how to vote or how to engage in the political process. But as you do, ask yourself: What’s actually under consideration? Is it more about personal fears and comfort or the needs of the community at large? Is the language Othering? Are there real and solid opportunities for people to move forward after getting into messy situations? When folks are disagreeing, what is the disagreement actually about?
   
   ​2. As you encounter people and populations you desire to help, let them take the lead on the type of help needed. It’s their life, their home, they should have ownership over how things grow and not be burdened by charity. Make getting to know the community members the number one priority. Ask yourself, “What do I need to hear/learn?” versus “What do I say/do?” This takes long, but the results are significantly more sustainable.

3. My last and most practical suggestion is Help Improve Literacy. There is a strong correlation between low literacy skills and incarceration rates. It is also highly connected to income disparities and the poverty cycle. Literacy is not just ability to read, but includes the skills needed to have conversations with doctors, banks, and other places that use a specific, nuanced or particular language.

I recommend staying local. The most obvious and easiest way is to read with the kids in your life. Beyond that, support what’s already happening at your local schools and other organizations. When you contact them, have an idea of what you’re able to give (time, money, etc), but follow their lead. I can promise you that most schools have a clear idea of what they need, and that their list may not match yours.

You can also sponsor individual tutoring. When I’m not teaching GED, I create content for Cage Free Voices, an online learning company. If you are at all interested in learning more about our unique services and personalized approached, email me at drice@cfvonlinelearning.com. Great things are happening there!

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The unofficial philosophy at Rite of Passage is these are kids who are hurting AND they are untrustworthy jerks. Every single one is assigned for a different reason, but all of them have experienced trauma, and all have done something that brought them before a judge. Start having too much sympathy and pity, and you are prime material for these master manipulators. Too much focus on their mistakes, and you just add to the shame and anger. They need compassion. Real compassion that faces the reality of what is while seeing the potential of what could be.

The every day language “at risk” kids use is one of the most pervasive and subtle barriers they face. Many aren’t taken seriously because of all their slang or their cultural references. They are sometimes blown off by adults who’d rather criticize word choice than listen to what they are saying.
Negative language also surrounds conversations about these kids. Thugs, idiots, trash, failures, hopeless. Think if the response many people have when they see a group of teens being teens.
Even seemingly neutral words like ‘juvenile’ has negative connotations because you hear it most often when talking about young offenders or immature behavior.

One problem is the prevailing belief that “they should know how to act.” But should they?
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1. They are adolescents who are still developing their frontal lobes. No teenager yet has their full capacity for understanding cause and effect. This is an underlying cause of most teenage flakiness and impulsivity. That part of their brain is still growing, and will be until their early twenties, regardless of background and home training.
   
   
2. Many of their poor choices are learned behavior. For example, why would a 12 year-old growing up in a family where all adults continually and casually use foul language, understand that “fuck” is not an appropriate word for every situation?

 Look at it this way – Imagine the ridiculous things teens get up to. They are so goofy! The way they feed off each other is hilarious. The dances, the stunts, the jokes. It’s amazing. Now imagine how a kid’s home-culture would change the appearance of those things. Are they trashy for the way they dance, or are they simply moving to music in the same way as their abuelas and tias do at every family gathering? Are they being rude and disrespectful or are they bantering in the same way their dad and his coworkers do while on the job?
Yes, those things are not always appropriate, but is the problem their character or that they don’t yet understand boundaries or how to read different situations?

The above examples are from when they’re having fun. The consequences are worse when they are angry or upset. There are numerous stories about bullying and hazing getting out of control, especially with the added anonymity of social media. What may begin as a minor prank can escalate quickly when others around and they begin feeding off each other. We’ve all seen teens caught up in high emotions and losing all sense of reason.

Now add a gun

For the most part, incarcerated kids with capital or attempted murder charges were in that type of situation.

(In truth, many of these guys are among our best students. I believe it’s because they feel the weight and precariousness of their situation. On the other hand, the most problematic students are the attention-seekers who don’t yet connect actions to consequences).

These are major issues and how we talk about them matters. Any conversation that forgets they are kids is incomplete and inadequate. Too often, dramatic language if favored over actually addressing the problems in the community and building real solutions.

Think of times people misjudged or spoke derisively to you. I can think of several times growing up that people in authority underestimated me and used demeaning language. My self-confidence took a hit and the memory still frustrates me.

For many of these guys, that’s almost all they hear. The guys sometimes talk about the things prosecutors and judges said to them in court. “YOU are a danger.” “YOU are heartless.” “YOU are hopeless.” They laugh, but it makes me so angry. No wonder it’s so hard for my students to imagine other possibilities when people are telling them they are the problem, and essentially a lost cause.

In another instance, we got a student who was reportedly called a “Young Ted Bundy” by his psych examiner. I have not read what was written, but the term was put out there. This bothered me because 1) no one knew Ted Bundy was going to be Ted Bundy when he was a kid, and 2) it feels like a cover-your-ass statement. If he makes through treatment and becomes a productive adult, then they can celebrate curing a potential serial killer. If nothing changes for the kid, then they say that it’s a pity, but they always knew something was off about him.

(By the way, the boy in question turns out to be an awkward preteen who struggles with empathy, which is likely connected to his under-addressed autism).

In all these cases, what the kid did ABSOLUTELY needs to be taken seriously. But is using dramatic, derisive, or fear-based language actually taking it seriously? Is shoving them aside and getting them out of “nicer” communities really a wise choice?

​Maybe treating these kids as humans with innate dignity while addressing the dangerous behaviors takes the problem more seriously. These are kids who need help growing up. We were all kids who needed help growing up.

Before I go any further, here’s a brief rundown of where I work:
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The Arkansas Juvenile Assessment and Treatment Center is a DYS-owned facility run by Rite of Passage, a company that oversees similar programs nation-wide. There are other ROP/DYS facilities in the state, but AJATC is the largest, central hub.

The student-athletes at ROP – student-athlete is their official title – come from all over Arkansas and are there because a judge said so. During intake, they receive medical, psychological, and educational evaluations before a treatment plan is decided. From there, they are assigned either to another facility or one of the 6 units on site. The kids wear uniforms that look like any other school uniform and participate in daily activities. As part of the programming, they have ways to earn different ranks, which have different responsibilities and privileges that come with them. They are not behind bars, but it is a secure facility. All units and rooms require a key and the students are under constant supervision.

Education is part of their treatment. It’s pretty much a given that they are behind, so the students go to school year round, M-Th, with enhancement activities on Friday morning. A few years ago, a state ruling decided the classes would be taught by Virtual Arkansas. The VA teachers do a really great job, but whether or not online school is the right format for these kids is debatable. In addition to the VA classes, we have Vo-Tech, GED, and World of Works, which helps graduates with college and career prep. Also built into the school day are treatment groups and one-on-one therapy sessions.

 When I began at ROP, they had not had a GED instructor for quite some time. I’d been told they really wanted a new teacher, yet it was also true they’d been left to study on their own all summer and that I’d be the outsider walking into their territory. So, it wasn’t much of a surprise that I didn’t get the warmest of welcomes. They didn’t trust me. To them, I was just another grown-up showing up “to help them.” Given that almost every kid in their position has been let down by many, many adults, I respected their skepticism.  

​Adding to their distrust was the fact that there was a hold on all GED testing. The previous spring, the person in my position and a few others were caught helping the kids cheat. This led to firings and a stop to all testing while the site went under severe scrutiny from GED Testing Services. The kids were understandably frustrated. They thought that having a teacher again would mean they could test again. When my arrival didn’t result in immediate changes, they became angry. Since I was there, they were angry with me. It wasn’t all bad, and most of the kids were pretty chill, but there was a stubborn few, who nearing release, cut their loses and saw no reason to try anything I suggested.

 During all this, I stayed neutral, and I stayed calmed. Mostly. My quiet nature confused them. At least I assume so because, one the day two of the angriest hotheads tried to get under my skin and convince me to quit. They said I was too quiet to handle tough, dangerous men like them. I listened to their rant, shrugged and told them, “Never underestimate the quiet ones.”

For my part, I hated this interaction, but I reminded myself they were thinking and feeling a lot of things that had nothing to do with me. While their logic was flawed, and many of their decisions were questionable, I felt the best thing I could do was keep coming back and be okay with it taking a long time to build morale. I saved my need to scream until I was in my car, and apologized to my family when I still had frustration left when I got home.

Eventually, gradually, the kids got the opportunity to start testing again. There are still ongoing restrictions, like having to take their final tests offsite. (The GED consists of 8 tests in 4 subjects. The kids can take the Ready, and mandatory pretest, onsite, but have to go elsewhere for the Officials). However, the mood improved once they could make visible progress. The most resistant guys being released also helped. They started to see that I actually can teach them things that make the tests obtainable. They also seem to like that I am frank about what I do and do not know, and what the actual possibilities are.

But honestly, what had the biggest impact on morale is that I had to miss a week in December. While I was gone, they realized they actually kind of liked having me around.

 A piece of advice often shared is “you’ve got the make sure the kids know you care about them.” That sounds good, but I would just say “care for them.” Genuinely care for them. While related to what I said Part 1 about finding ways to enjoy the kids, caring is not the same. You can care for someone and not enjoy them at all. That takes work. For me, it is often an intentional choice.

Making it harder is you also have to accept that the kids may never know that your care is sincere. Their brokenness is such that they are incapable of understanding what it looks like to have someone sincerely care about them. They can’t trust it or believe it. Other kids are master manipulators. They see affection from others as an opportunity for gains. A positive response from them can’t be the goal. Is it really care if contingent on their response?

One incident that illustrates some of this involves a kid I’m going to call FR (not his actual initials). FR was highly intelligent and heavily desired to be in control. If he couldn’t be in charge, he at least wanted to treated as an equal. As a result, he was very manipulative and prone to angry outbursts when he didn’t get his way.

FR struggled with math. He’d passed almost every other test, but after several attempts, still hadn’t gotten a passing score on the Math Ready. In his frustration, he wouldn’t work with me or study on his own. He had a lot of reasons his inability to pass was somebody else’s fault. He regularly cussed me out, saying I didn’t know how to teach. One day, when he was being particularly sulky, I flat out told him his excuses were bullshit. Referencing one of his more infamous cons, I told him I didn’t see why anyone who could successfully work all those angles couldn’t shift a couple of numbers around to find x. He clearly had the strategic thinking skills.

He passed the Ready a week later.

Later, he sought me out to thank me. Unfortunately, his thanks involved some highly inappropriate flirting. It took all my acquired experience to remind myself that FR likely grew up in a highly sexualized environment, where all appreciation for women involved suggestive language. I also recognized this was the first “positive” gesture he’d ever made towards me. As much as I was cringing, I knew it was important to accept intent of the compliment without deriding him for the language.
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I did not enjoy that interaction at all, and I am grateful I had the awareness to see his perspective. It gave me the ability to choose to care about him in that moment. I don’t remember what I said, but I do know the conversation ended well.

In short, I’m glad I chose to care about that turd.

Recently, I was asked to give a talk about my job working with “juvenile offenders” for a women’s group my mother is a part of. Even though it was longer than intended, I was well received. There has been some mention of me possibly doing something again, with a larger audience and shorter duration. One attendee even suggested that I submit for publication in a magazine. I don’t know about all that, but I did think it makes sense for me to post my thoughts here. The content has been edited to fit the different format.
Essentially, this is the story of what it’s been like for me, a middle class woman who grew up in a stable home with no major threats to my well-being, to enter into a community where that is far from the norm. This is some of the things I’ve noticed and learned while working with these kids and families. Most significantly, this tells some of the ways I’ve had to shift my thinking and my perception of those around me. I recently heard someone say, “You can’t change what’s around you without changing what’s within you.” I have definitely found that to be true.​

This story focuses on the broad trends. Delving into all of the nuance and exceptions would take years. Besides, the core problems are with the big trends and too much information can be a distraction. For example, everyone knows the Mississippi River runs north to south. That one guy who tries to argue against that by naming all the jogs and bends where the direction changes briefly is just a jerk who’s missing the point.

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I never wanted to be a teacher. When I got my undergraduate degree in biology, I had vague ambitions of studying tree frogs in the Amazon. After graduating, I had almost no interest in getting my Master’s – requirement for almost every career in biology – and took a job leading school groups through nature-based activities at a camp in Texas. I like kids and I liked the outdoors, so, sure, it would do.

Well, I loved it. The camp served schools from all over SE Texas and students from all kinds of backgrounds. While I did well with almost every group, I was surprised to find that I did best with middle school kids from rougher neighborhoods. Basically, the ones of the age and background I was most afraid of before I started. When I left the job two years later, I was motivated to continue working similar kids in non-traditional education settings. I had zero desire to work in a classroom setting and was very vocal about it.

However, I couldn’t find an alternative teaching job that wasn’t seasonal and could support me year round. I floundered for several years, until I accepted that I should become a classroom teacher. Long story short, everything I attempted that took me away from getting my certification failed, while everything that brought me closer fell into place almost miraculously.

When I started teaching Middle School Science for St. Louis Public Schools, I was not nearly as prepared as I thought I was. The biggest problem was that I was essentially alone. Yes I had amazing colleagues, but everyone was too busy to readily be available. Additionally, SLPS has a prevailing culture of “this is a tough place; either figure it out or leave.” My school was more collaborative than most, but that attitude was still present. Fortunately, there were countless good days, but it was still immensely stressful. To be honest, if it wasn’t for the uncanny way I’d been led into the job, I don’t think I would have stuck it out. That and knowing that after a few years, I could get help paying my student loans.

The hardest part was feeling constantly overwhelmed by everything that was wrong. Parents who were either too disinterested or too needy. Supervisors who, when I needed help, wouldn’t have a conversation with me but would instead stuff an article in my mailbox. Or send me, the hands-on and messy scientist, to observe a queenly colleague who possessed the ability to command her entire silent science class while never leaving her desk just by the strength of her personality. Things like this made me believe I was wrong. That I wasn’t doing enough. That I wasn’t enough.

I needed to figure it out or leave.

Fortunately, beginning late in my second year, I had a series revelations that really put the job into perspective and laid the groundwork for my current position at AJATC and my motivations in general.

The first is that I started finding ways to enjoy the kids as individuals. I’d gotten into a miserable funk and just wasn’t liking them. Yes, kids can be total turds, but that’s all I was seeing. It was awful. Once I realized where I was at and recognized the problem, it became easier to enjoy them as people. I cannot over emphasize how important this has been. Some kids require a more intentional choice to enjoy – or keep enjoying – but I have never regretted it.

The second was identifying and accepting what I can and cannot do. Like I said, I was overwhelmed and felt powerless. Slowly, I realized that I needed to just be where I was and be who I was. I couldn’t tackle the crime in my students’ neighborhoods, but I could teach a good science lesson. I couldn’t command silence with the strength of my personality, but I could keep them busy. I established routines that reduced my stress, instead of trying to uphold norms suggested by folks who’d never been in my class. I could support the kids as they navigated early adolescence. They didn’t need me to fix their problems. They needed me to be a teacher.

Lastly, I learned to no take the actions and attitudes of my kids – or colleagues – personally. Adolescents ignoring simple requests or losing their temper is par for the course. There are better and worse ways to respond to teenage emotions, and not taking even the most personal attack personally is high among the better. Anger is a secondary emotion; there’s always something else going on. Teens have a lot of something else going on. Like one of my wisest & kindest SLPS colleagues used to say, “If you’re never called a bitch, you’re not doing this right.”

I stayed at SLPS for 10 years because I came to love it. Ultimately, I left because I loved it. Tired and worn down by the never-ending demands, and I did not like the direction my internal dialog was taking. It was time to go.

I expected my education sabbatical to last maybe a year, but some unanticipated shakeups, compounded by the pandemic, had it lasting 4 times as long. My re-entry began slowly when I took a side-gig writing lessons for an online learning company. I was just looking for a little extra money, but getting connected with Cage Free Voices is one of the most fortunate things to ever happen to me. I will relate more about what’s happening at CFV later, but most relevant for now is that my interactions with the founder Bathsheba Smithen were exactly what I needed to grow in confidence and move forward after the emotional toll the previous 15 years had taken on me.

Last September I took a part-time job with Rite of Passage, the company that runs the local DYS-owned facility, teaching GED primarily because it was part-time. I already knew I do alright with messy kids, and when I learned about the small class sizes and additional support staff, I thought, “Well alright, let’s give this a go.”


To be continued...

 For the past few days, a friend I talk to regularly has been less responsive. A lot less. I know enough about the current circumstances in their life that this makes sense. They are busy. At the same time, the suddenness stirs up many doubts and worries. Are they okay? Why are they retreating? Am I what they’re avoiding?

Our friendship is such that I know all will get straightened out. The process has already begun. Even so, it hurts. Deeply. And it hurts all the more because I know it will happen again.

I believe I’ve mentioned in other posts that it took me until my late 30’s to learn and accept that my experiences matter. That it’s more than okay to feel hurt by someone else, even when you 100% what they are going through. My programmed response to all slights, snubs, and disappointments (regardless the degree of intentionality) was “Whatever. It’s stupid to let this make you feel sad. Shake it off and roll with it, Dorothy.”

The truth is that ignoring all those smalls things (and some larger ones, too) led to some pretty hefty insecurities. The kind that persist, requiring deeper and deeper looks every time they are poked.

I’m getting there though. As much as my friend’s withdrawal stings, the struggle relates more to the reality that addressing this will require further vulnerability on my part, as opposed to being indignant that the hurt feelings had the audacity to exist in the first place. This is a good thing.

The reason I bring all this up is because of my job. The kids I work with have gone through some things. Being sentenced to our treatment center alone is a hefty thing for a teen to face, not to mention the varied situations that led to their sentencing. It’s intense.

Yes, all the kids receive counseling and therapy. That’s why it’s called a treatment center and not a correctional facility. The majority of the staff understand that these are kids healing from trauma and respond to their outbursts accordingly.

That said, there is an undercurrent of “these kids need to just suck it up and roll with it.” There’s an impatience with kids becoming angry over delayed phone calls or “excessively” upset over bad news. A kid punching a wall over a postponed court date could potentially lead to their release being pushed back even further.

In my GED classroom, the biggest source of frustration is having the opportunity to test. For many reasons (mostly tied to too much bureaucracy and not enough staff), the testing schedule is very irregular and hard to predict. On more than one occasion, kids who only have two or three tests remaining have waited weeks to take their tests, only to have it canceled last minute. Other times, kids are taken to test without warning. Some do alright with this. But others...talk about test anxiety! The negative impact the inconsistency has on morale is significant.

Everyone who interacts directly with the kids sees and understands the problem. The real root of the issue is that many decisions, including scheduling, are made by people too far removed from the day-to-day reality of these kids. The prevailing attitude is that the kids should be prepared to test at all times. The when doesn’t really matter. They need to just roll with it.

I would love to look these people in the eye and ask, “How do you handle prolonged delays when scheduling an appointment? A much-anticipated event being canceled? Being caught behind a slow-moving truck when running late?”

These things are frustrating! Even emotionally mature adults need to scream into a pillow sometimes. The expectation that teens of any background should be able to “just roll with it” is unreasonable and unkind. They are learning and growing. We are all learning and growing. Life is too big and diverse to not allow anger. That limitation causes nothing but harm.
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So, yeah, I’m fully grown and I spent the past 48 hours feeling very low because an old insecurity was pressed and I already understand how to move forward. These are the kinds of things I think about.

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 Here are my three, sure-fire tips guaranteed to help any runner place high at races:

1. Practice, taking intentional steps to improve. For me, given my neuro concerns, this is primarily looking at ways to strengthen my form and grow in endurance. For some, the focus is on maintaining joint health. Still others pursue strategies for increasing speed. Whatever your intent, seek advice from solid sources.

2. Choose your race wisely. The distance doesn’t matter; everyone has a preferred distance. Big community events can be a lot of fun, but there's more competition. I recommend smaller races because there’s fewer people jockeying for position.

3. Get old. As people start aging out of their 30’s, the number of competitors becomes fewer and fewer. Get old enough and Age Group Winner is pretty much a guarantee. In smaller races, odds of that prize are even higher.

The above talks only about running. However, the principles of Practice – Choose Small – Get Old apply to almost any other competition. Using these proven steps, I received first place in my gender’s age group for every race I’ve run since June 2022.
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(It was three. Three races. I’ve only run in three races, all of them tiny. The tiny-ness was a huge factor in my winning success. There was no one else to beat).

I don’t talk a lot about what I do for a living. Not just here, anywhere. It’s not a secret – I teach GED prep classes to kids in a juvenile facility. They are goofy messes, almost indistinguishable from any other group of teenagers. Regrettably, their goofiness often gets lost in the larger conversations about these kids.

The job is also frustrating. Deeply so. All teaching jobs are, and most of the time, the frustrating stories are the ones that get told. They’re also the stories people want to hear. At least, they’re the ones that get the most attention. Add the additional bureaucracy and the inherent stigma people carry towards a facility like mine, and the frustrating stories often get blown out of proportion.

I don’t talk a lot about where I work because it is a way to protect the kids. Sure, a certain amount of anonymity is necessary, but I often find that even the goofy stories get misconstrued. This goes back to my St. Louis Public Schools days. I would laughingly share a tale about the absolutely normal chaos, and my listeners would fixate on some inconsequential detail that showed they viewed my kids through a negative lens. Not willing to put up with that, I became more selective about who got to hear my stories, especially on the rough days.

​On a more personal note, I don’t talk about what I do because I love it. Sincerely love it. Even on the days I’m questioning my sanity for ever showing up to begin with, I love it. I have no idea why teaching hot messes is a good fit for me, but it is. I never had – and still don’t – any driving ambition to “make a difference” like many other people who begin work with struggling populations, whatever the field. I obliviously stumbled into it. I wonder if that’s part of my longevity. I entered with no preconceived notions. I learned the people as I learned the job.

So, what does loving something have to do with no talking? The truth is, the more deeply I care about something, the less I talk about it. This goes back to my own experiences of as a messy adolescent. I was teased about so many things I cared about that the most important ones remained unshared. So, I’m protecting myself, too.

I’ve known this about myself for ages. It’s a hard habit to break; I regularly catch myself holding back unnecessarily. This post is one of many intentional steps I’m attempting to take.

I’m also looking for ways to be more proactive and intentional in the way I talk about work. Of course this includes casual conversations, but I also want to be able to talk to people interested in doing things. For example, this summer I’ll be giving a brief talk to an organization my mom is a part of. I’ve been wanting to speak in this way and hope this is the first of many opportunities.

Additionally, I’m getting a better idea about what I want to do long-term career wise. Last week, a few things clicked regarding how my current work and Cage Free Voices could work together. (Yes, CFV is still here and kicking!) It’s early days and the possibilities are quite pliable. However, I’m ready to begin having the needed conversations.

I’m not just taking steps at work, a how this plays out in my life at large will likely appear in future posts. I’ve mentally outlined a couple already.
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We’ll see what happens!