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Carpool Confessions

John has a car and offers to drive home from grad class every Tuesday and Wednesday night for three months. There are four of us for a twenty-minute drive home, and I quickly come to love the car rides and the camaraderie.

Age of Innocence

I reveled in my first watch of The OC because I wasn’t allowed to watch it in middle and high school. Shows about teenagers having sex were strictly off-limits. (However, watching Jack Bauer torture terrorists was totally fine.)

Leap Year

The last leap year was 2012. That was the year I told myself I would take a photo every single day and create a chronological collection of three hundred and sixty-six snapshots.

Report Card

On Wednesday, your child turned in a list of ideas for creative writing assignments instead of the assigned argument essay. On Friday, I collected a love note from your child to another student in the class. It said…


When we feel overlooked, under-appreciated, or ignored, isn’t it intoxicating to feel seen? Isn’t it easy to love someone who really knows you for who you are and still loves you anyway? This is the appeal of God.

Stumbling Upon Poetry in Paris

I am having a conversation in broken English outside a bar with a man named Matthieu. He brought up the attacks before I did, which is good, because I was terrified to bring it up, and not even sure if I should. “You are from New York, so you understand,” he explained.


The number one thing I’ve learned is we have to keep giving. Give a freshly sharpened pencil to the same student every damn day. Give another sheet of paper if it means the record and preservation of the original thought of a child.


We unpack the McDonald’s breakfast we picked up on the drive from Brooklyn. My roommates used this as an effective bribe to get me out of bed at 5:45 a.m.

My Children

In September, I assigned a five-page fictional short story and Elinor took it upon herself to write a twenty-five-page story about a teenage girl named Sky who owns a mall.

Binary Sea

Don’t tell anyone this, but last year I dreamed of being in middle-of-nowhere-Michigan while wandering the beautiful streets of the El Barrio district in Barcelona.

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