Goodbye, Ms. Filippelli

"Good morning!  Did you find yourself in the right place?"
Blank stares.
"Third hour, Composition, really long Italian last name next to it on your schedule."
Couple of smirks.
"It's easier to pronounce than you think.  Hold out your hand like this."  I demonstrate with fingers pinched together raised in front of me.  
Eyebrows go up and I can see the "she's crazy" thoughts in their eyes.  
"Fil - a - pel - leee!" I say in my best Italian accent adding hand gestures at every syllable.
That gets the giggles going. And requests for repeats until the class starts echoing.  Before long, I've created a classroom full of Italians.  

For five years, this has been my speech on the first day of school, open house, student orientation.  It starts an instant connection with students.  They are already asking questions, and the ice is broken on that first day when half the class is still on summer vacation.

With a last name like "Filippelli," you get a true story.  It holds character, heritage, and a spelling test every time you say it.  As with my students, it sparks conversations with strangers.  I don't remember the last time I introduced myself as "Filippelli" and didn't immediately spell it after: "Filippelli, F as in Frank, I, L, I, P as in Paul...."

As a teacher, I never accepted "Ms. F."  If I can learn how to spell it before kindergarten, these teenagers can certainly learn how to say it.  And I definitely didn't accept the student who wanted to call me "Ms. P."

This year, the students and I say good-bye to Ms. Filippelli.

Double Check the Calendar

Sunday night, I went for a run at 7pm just as dusk was approaching.  I meandered the streets of Urbandale, getting lost in my mind and on my route.  Pushing my body like it hadn't done in awhile.  Making it realize what it could do again.  The 75 degree light wind set the perfect scene for what I had been missing.  My energy renewed.

This morning, I woke up to this.

Schools are closed and delayed.  Winter Weather Advisories are in effect.  Forecast predicts 3 to 5 inches of snow.  Road conditions are deteriorating.  It's May 2nd.

At this rate, it's going to snow on my wedding day in the middle of July.  As a friend said, what a story that would be!

A Motto

The prevailing excuse for not starting a blog hinged on the title.  How do I start a blog without the perfect title?  It will be my everything.  Set the tone.  Encompass all that I might write.  Be the url for the website. Capture every part of who I am and who I want to be.  Allow for photographs and creativity to shine through with my words.  A lot of pressure on just a few measly little words.  Hence the avoidance.

Last week, it hit me.  The thing I say after I tell or hear a story I can't wait to share it with someone else.  A story that will help define and shape who we will be.

"Well, it makes for good stories."  It is my hashtag.

Sometimes, it's encouragement.  Sometimes, reassurance or a lesson learned.  To me, it's a motto.  Do things in life that make for good stories.

In just a single day, moments for great stories are all around us.  Some may represent the worst part of ourselves.  Others are moments to celebrate.  All offer something real and human for the world.

Perhaps a *working goal* for this blog is to take this idea that everything in life makes for good stories and use it as fuel for writing, sharing, and experiencing with each other.