Onward + Upward to Another New School

“Ashley Glass New Job.” Was in my recent Google analytics’ search.

I wanted to write about my new job right from the beginning and never made the time, as seems to be my journey with most of my writing plans. It was ironic that I looked at those search phrases the same day that a bomb was dropped in my lap.

Last school year I made the decision to venture from the setting I had been in for the past decade, and to try something NEW. I saw the opening at Georgia Chaffee T.A.P.P. and hit 'apply.' Low and behold, I received and did an interview and within a couple of weeks, I was hired. I had been eyeing the T.A.P.P program for several years, I had heard so many amazing things about it. It's our local teenage pregnancy program, and I had NO idea what to expect upon walking in the double doors.

I was greeted warmly by the staff. The ECE (special ed) teacher I would be working closely with, and I hit it off immediately. Within the first week, it felt like home to me. Laughing and joking and cutting up with my co-workers, especially the ones on my end of the hallway. I fell in love with the classes I was co-teaching in, English and Civics. I worked well with the teachers, observing and collaborating and helping wherever and however I was needed. It was a dream job.

And the girls, the pregnant ones and the mamas, there aren’t enough words to describe my adoration and respect for them. Getting back to the bomb, shall we? The ECE teacher and I were called to the Principal's office on our planning. We walked in, and we knew by looking at her and the assistant principal, something was wrong. She immediately got down to business...our school district didn't like that our ECE numbers are SO low, and they were making her cut one of us. Right now our state (most states) are in a ginormous teacher shortage, so they are pulling as many teachers as they can to fill empty positions.

"Glass has seniority," she said. "She can stay or she can choose to leave." The conversation went on a few minutes longer, but the moral of the story is that she pulled us in TOGETHER, said in front of my co-worker, "Ashley gets to choose." She even said something like, "One of you gets to do something nice for the other."

That was it. We shook our heads in disbelief and walked back to our little closet office. We were quiet. We were worried. We were in disbelief. I JUST GOT HIRED. I JUST started this job. She has been there already for the past few years. My brain went into preparation overload. What should I do? How could I leave? Never have I ever loved my career so passionately, until now. And my brain began to spin again, after the shock of the meeting was coming back down. It dawned on me, I was called to a room as a friend and left as a Bad Guy. If I chose to stay, I wouldn't be forgiven. Her friends would think differently of me. And I didn't even know if the principal wanted me there. That afternoon I had overheard her very loudly tell the other teacher, "I know, Glass has only been here a few weeks, I thought for sure it would be easy for her to say she'd go."

What in the actual heck??? I felt as though I was in a frenzy. I got contacts and called HR and the ECE Manager. They were the most helpful people I have ever talked with in JCPS (Jefferson County Public Schools.) They sensed my panic and they were so patient and understanding with me. They told me where openings were, and encouraged me to take my time on the decision and to try to breathe. Every time I considered being the one to leave, I felt sick to my stomach or like I would break down sobbing. In my heart, I thought I would stay. I thought I would kindly explain that I have earned my teaching seniority, I have been overstaffed before early in my career, and that I had done the work to be there at T.A.P.P. But my heart and mind and soul were in all different places.

The next night Asa asked as we got into bed, “What do you think you’re going to do?” and I lost It. My body started shaking, the tears flooded my face, I couldn’t breathe well, and eventually I passed out. I literally fell asleep sobbing. Between tears all I could muster was, “The girls!! The girls!” Morning came and I overslept. I must have hit snooze twenty times and when I finally crawled out of bed, I realized I hadn’t showered the night before, my head was splitting and I was going to end up late for work. I started crying AGAIN. I knew there was no way I could make it through a work day and I also knew I needed to pull it together. I called out and went back to bed, praying as I fell asleep for God’s wisdom and peace.

The day of my breakdown I had spoken with the HR gentleman who oversees all middle school openings. I had told him that I would really only consider leaving my placement IF there was somehow an opening at Barrett Middle School—it’s where we hope to send our son for middle school, and it’s the best in the district. “You won’t believe this,” he said. “But an opening literally just happened minutes ago for a split position with Barrett and Crosby Middle. It’s yours if you want it.” He reassured me no one else even knew that opening existed and to sleep on it. So I did. And on my mental health day, I just kept thinking over and over and over again that I couldn’t stay. As much as it killed me, I couldn’t do that to this other teacher. She is pregnant, has been there a while, and I knew I would be pretty judged if I decided she should be the one to go.

At 4pm Friday, I called HR again and told him I would take the job. I was immediately put in touch with the principals and admins at both schools, and in a crazy way, I felt peace wash over me. I couldn’t fathom not seeing the girls every single school day, but I started to feel as though God did all of this for a reason. I will say, things have since transpired and not really how I liked for them too. The ECE teacher quickly unfriended me on Facebook, she never had a conversation with me about my choice, and on the day I was leaving, neither Administrator said goodbye. Neither even checked in on me when I came to work Monday (and all week) with my head held high, and honestly, that bothers me. Overall, the whole situation is sad. I wasn’t ‘forced’ to leave or take the overstaff, but in the way that it was handled, not in private, I felt completely helpless. It would have been crappy for her to leave. Pregnant, new school, I get it. But my heart hurts, and it’s equally as crappy for me.

These girls have changed my life. In five short weeks, I have been completely humbled by them. The core group that I got so close to, they gave me so many hugs today and we exchanged phone numbers. I know that today wasn’t goodbye, it was more of a “I’ll see you soon.” I get to go to their baby showers, meet their babies, and heck, invite them to dinner! I am thankful the Lord allowed me to come to T.A.P.P. even though only for a short period of time. I feel like He’s always been so good about showing me who needs me the most (and who I equally need!) and I am trying to be hopeful that the same will be true of my new schools.

PS: have you ever seen a teen mom and thought about judging them? Maybe you scoffed under your breath or shook your head. These girls are warriors, Y’all. Keeping their babies alive and thriving, while many of THEM do not have have complete support or stability from their parents. These girls have dreams and are working on fulfilling them. They are loyal, resilient, and real. Next time you find yourself judging a young mom, judge yourself first.

When You Doubt Yourself, Read This

One of those days I guess. Where my mind spins and I think 150 different and unique thoughts, most of them not really connected or intertwined with one another…if you’ve had a day like that, and you can maybe relate, read on, friend. You may want a cup of tea or coffee though, because it’s been a minute since I’ve written like this and it may be a while…

The summer is winding down. Well, not the heat, but the days until school is back in session. Trust me, its been over 100-degrees heat index wise for days and there’s not really an end in sight with that. But I can feel the end of our season drawing near.

I find myself wondering,

“Have I done enough?” “Were my kids happy?” “Will they remember this summer as a memorable one?” “Was I patient enough?” “Loving enough?” “Silly enough?” “Bold enough?”

Was I enough?

And then I shifted to wondering about former students. A giant chapter of my life is coming to a close, or has closed rather I suppose, as I accepted a brand new job in my teaching position for the coming school year. I worked with psychiatric and troubled youth for TEN years…it feels like so long, yet not long enough. Every year it never failed that I had repeat students. Sometimes I had them in their elementary years when I taught K-5th grades, and then they would come back to me as middle or high schoolers. Those were the really tough ones emotionally for me…

One in particular, a boy, I had in both fourth and fifth grade. I remember how much he made me LAUGH and how he helped around the classroom. He was so bright and really intelligent academically. Socially too—witty, charming, just an all around great kid. Flash forward to him entering the halls and bumping into me as a then 8th grader. I exclaimed his name with a giant smile and bear hugged him. [Bear hugs are frowned upon I guess in the teaching world, especially in a psychiatric facility, boundaries ya know?] But when you have my [then] job and a familiar face shows back up, one who made YOUR days brighter and happier, you kind of sigh a sigh of relief knowing (or hoping) that student will be similar even though he’s older now.

He remembered my name and smiled and I was bummed he wouldn’t be in my classroom because I didn’t teach middle school, I had been teaching high school the past three years. Then he showed up on my roster and BAM, there he was, at my doorway, in a class with high schoolers, and I shook my head in disbelief. Where I worked made changes, OFTEN. You HAD to go with the flow, practice extreme flexibility, and be able to just roll with the punches. So the whole last half of the school year I DID teach middle school, AND high school. And it was fine and I loved it and I maintained great classroom management and behavior…and yet I left wondering…

Did I do enough?

I watched that child go through a Richter scale of emotions. I watched him find hope and comfort, and I watched his talents SOAR. Then I watched as his world fell apart. The goofy, class clown boy I knew and loved did a 180 and began to doubt the whole world around him. Several nights I found myself crying, wishing and praying that I could do MORE. I wanted to be able to scoop him up [okay yes, he’s bigger than me now, that wouldn’t be possible AND it would be weird], but I wanted to be able to show him normalcy and kindness and take him to basketball games and show him how a loving family COULD be. How a family COULD protect and love and walk WITH him through the hardships. He was able to leave, I said my goodbyes, told him about my new job, and I prayed to God I would maybe see him on the outside one day.

Did I do enough?

That’s one of the reasons I decided to take a leap and part ways with that job placement. It was so hard to be able to foster impacting relationships with kids. Once they left the program, that was it. And I get it—that’s the job and I knew that. My heart has been longing for more, to be able to build relationships not strictly within the classroom, but out as well. With students’ families and their communities, to be able to walk with them longer than a few days or weeks, or in that students’s case, months…

See? There’s my brain tonight. I typically feel like I want to save the world: kids’ lives, everywhere, MY kids’ lives, and often that feels like a very big task. On the flip side, I know the answer to these questions. I hope you don’t read this thinking that I honestly doubt myself THAT much, or that I have felt inferior. I know my own children are happy. In between their bickering there are so many moments and memories FULL of love and laughter. And I know that in the classrooms that I taught in, I was often the reason students also laughed and felt loved. I very rarely forgot students names with their faces. Even when it had been years between seeing them, I remembered. Most of their lives are very hard, very broken, and for some I fear what the years ahead will do to them…but I pray I left an impact on them deep down.

For now? I have 16 days left of summer break. Sixteen days left to invest wholeheartedly every day, ALL day, with our children. I’ll have a fourth and fifth grader come this school year and that BAFFLES me. After this summer, I’ll be working in a program (school) for teen mamas and pregnant teens and while I’m very nervous for change, I am also very excited to invest in these young women. If you too, have been wondering, “Am I enough? Did I DO enough?” I guarantee your answer is yes.

Sometimes it takes some time to sit back and reflect on what YOUR life has looked like. If you’re a verbal or anecdotal processor like me, jot some things down in a notebook or journal. Think about this summer, and instead of dwelling just about the times you lost your patience and snapped at your kids [trust me, it HAS happened a LOT over here….] try to remember the surprise snow cone trips you’ve made, the sleepovers you’ve let your kids have, the late night movies, the extra treats and bags of popcorn, the fireflies caught in the backyard, the time spent with family.

You were enough.
You have done enough.
You ARE enough.

A Letter to My Ten Year Old Son

Ten years of you, my dear boy. Ten glorious, beautiful, BLESSED, years with you. I am so thankful the Lord trusted us to be YOURS. At 11:11am on 6/15/12, you were born into this big, scary, ever changing world. 

I was thinking, what have I learned in these ten years of being your mama? Well, the first is that time is fragile. You can’t stop it, or catch it, or hold it with your fingers. It slips through our fingers and truthfully, the cliche saying, “The days are long but the years are so fast,” couldn’t be more true for how I feel. 

Double digits. Wow, that is YOU, today. You are tall. Your long legs are so lean and strong. You love to play sports and have a new interest in soccer, which has been fun to watch. You are incredibly smart, and I can so see you being a savvy engineer one day. Maybe not. Maybe you’ll be a teacher. Or a doctor. Or a scientist. Maybe you’ll be a college athlete. Time will tell. And as I said, we already know that will feel like all too soon. 

The world needs you, Pierson Clive. You are a wonderful, brave, adventurous little boy that is going to change so many lives. You’ve changed mine, sweet boy. Oh how you have changed mine. 

In just ten more years, you will be twenty. Will you still be at home? Living with me and Dad? Going to a local college, maybe U of L? Again, time will tell. I can’t think about how there may be only “eight more summers” that you spend with me at home. My mind will explode and my heart will surely shatter. Instead I will be so thankful for what I do have with you—the time, the laughter, the memories, the hugs, the still nightly back tickles and you asking me to sing a bedtime song. 

The world is work, Pierson. There may be an easy route, a simpler path, but that doesn’t always make it right. I pray that you have work ethic, and grit. That you realize how sweet success is when you have put a little sweat into it. But beyond the physical work, my son, the world is full of emotional work as well. I pray that you will love dearly every version of you. I also pray that you will know and love and cling to Jesus. In every part of your life. That you will trust Him with the answers, and you will always seek Him first. In the good times and the bad, happy and sad…I promise He is walking with you.

Oh how you will change these next few months, these next years. Be quirky, goofy, curious, and believe in yourself even when others do not. And know this, whatever phase and stage you are in, your dad and I and SO MANY PEOPLE, believe in you. 

We love you. All ten years of you. The ups and downs, the funny and everything in between. I hope you look back on these ten years and smile. Knowing that we have loved every single second with YOU.

Happy 10th birthday, Pierson. Mama loves you so dang much.

When Fighting Doesn't HAVE to Ruin Date Night

When you are out with friends as a married couple, the LAST thing you want to happen is a fight between the two of you. I mean, no one sets out on a night away, planning to laugh and be carefree and to thoroughly enjoy being just the two of you again—and then ruining it with an argument. And I’ve written a blog post before about ‘When You Ruin Date Night,’ but this time I want to flip that scenario.

What if you fight, while on a date with friends, and even though there is still tension and some big feelings, the night doesn’t get RUINED?

This past time, it was 100% Asa’s fault. And he will be perfectly fine with me stating that. We were going out to celebrate a couple of his co-workers graduations from college and their masters program and I was so happy for them! Asa had already in his mind decided that the night was going to be just PERFECT and that I would be the cut loose and giggly / outgoing / extroverted version of myself. Well the truth is, that side of me is VERY few and far between. Thirty-four year old Ashley tends to be more quiet, more introspected, HAPPY still, just not loud or completely carefree. I tend to quietly people watch. Listen. And take the moments in as they come. We had an overnight sitter for the kids, there was zero reason we needed to have an early night in, but I had warned Asa that the later it got, the more I wanted to just get HOME. At one point I literally said, “I want to go home, wash my face, put on my charcoal mask, get in pajamas, and cuddle the dogs.” [Did I mention thirty-four year old me may be super lame??]

He kept asking me if I was okay. Repeatedly. We parked the car at our next destination on Fourth Street and I kept saying, “I’m fine.” In the PAST, me saying, “I’m fine,” didn’t always really mean that I was fine. Even in the 2019 blog post I wrote about ruining date night there’s a paragraph there about how I get quiet and shut down and stop talking when I’m angry or upset. But I wasn’t upset that evening. I wasn’t angry! And I’ve been on a low dose anxiety med for quite some time now and I swear the one thing it does for me is that it simply REGULATES me and my feelings [aka its’ JOB.] I wasn’t feeling overly adventurous or outgoing that night on this date, but I promise you I really was 100% FINE. I was content, I was happy, I was having a good time. Did I want to be in pajamas cuddling my Golden Retrievers? YEP. But I was also FINE being out with my husband.

Things escalated and he wasn’t taking my word for it. He got quite angry and exclaimed, “Well I’m not sure how we’re going to finish this night? I’ll feel like an idiot if I go in there and I’ll feel like an idiot if we just leave.” I clapped my hands together and said, “OR, Asa, we GO INSIDE and we tell the TRUTH that YEAH, we had a fight. YEAH we had a disagreement. YEAH we are frustrated with each other now, but we WILL BE OKAY.”

Everyone there was married [except one] and I was POSITIVE they would understand. Why would we abruptly leave the date and why would we just ACT like everything was hunky dory?? [You see, I wasn’t mad BEFORE this moment in the car. I really was FINE. But the more he pressed and questioned my ‘fineness’ the angrier I felt myself getting. So yeah, I was real annoyed.] It is OKAY for married people to fight. It is OKAY to admit to those in your circle around you that you ARE fighting or were fighting.

We were able to move on, move forward, and get over the silliness—WITHOUT ruining date night.

In 2019 I said,

Asa and I strive to continue having an exceptional marriage, and I am forever thankful for the patient and loving man that he is.

and on this day in 2022 I still believe every word of that sentence. Daily we strive for an exceptional marriage. I also strive to be exceptionally honest. I will always go back in my mind to the Hollis’ and their 100% dishonesty with their fans and listeners. I listened to their podcast often, where they bragged about loving to make out with one another and that they were each other’s best friends, that their marriage was strong and incredible…and then one day, Jen wrote this publicly:

"We have worked endlessly over the last three years to make this work and have come to the conclusion that it is healthier and more respectful for us to choose this as the end of our journey as a married couple.”

THREE YEARS?! Endlessly working on their marriage?? But not ONE podcast about the difficulties and struggles and fights and REALNESS about marriage. Nah, friends. I want to forever be real with you. Asa and I do NOT fight very often, I am incredibly thankful for that. But we still DO fight. Sometimes it happens on date nights, sometimes it happens in our home, sometimes it happens in Target. IT HAPPENS.

I want to end this post with a simple challenge to you, don’t strive for perfection. Strive instead to be with someone who is okay to fight with you and who can take ownership for it at the same time. Who can face friends and people and humbly carry on with the evening. Who isn’t trying to save face or have a public image that LOOKS perfect. But one who fights with you but yet loves you, chooses you, and grows from mistakes.