So here's the truth. Is this a safe space?
I'm an English teacher that's mega insecure about his own reading and writing. I loathe how long it takes me to get through novels that I actually want to read. Don't judge me, I just finished my first lesiure book of the year.

To commit to this profession means centering your own humanity. Despite what leaders and the system says, students have never asked me to be perfect. So I'm unsure why I've taken on this burden. I'm a slow-ish reader. My mind moves fast, so it's hard to write on a blank page.

I sat in the grass yesterday struggling through Love by Toni Morrison!! Omg. I was summarizing as I read, flipping back, re-reading, taking notes. I'm determined to get through one of the hardest books I've read in my adulthood.

I'm grateful for my village who consistently lifts me up. I'm in love with an avid reader. He lifts me up. My best friend has a famous book account and always giving me encouragement and tips. She lifts me up. My other besties inquire about my reading. They lift me up.