Monthly Archives: August 2016

Gifted is Easy

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Gifted is Easy

Atlas Educational

Don’t let people tell you otherwise- being gifted is easy.

Being gifted is picking up a clarinet and playing first chair that week because you played the recorder since you were 4.

Being gifted is having a million ideas for your PhD thesis.

Being gifted is being able to take the idea of discussing a story with your child and turning it into “an educational opportunity conducive to furthering the intellect of a child through an exploration into the narrative elements of a literary event while focusing on the figurative and connotative language inherent within”.  (Yes, off the top of my head.)

Being gifted is easy.

Being gifted is needing more time for math because you invent your own algorithms and not being permitted to use them “because I said so”.

Being gifted is not understanding a story map because it’s so simple that you can’t wrap your head…

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Transportation is a Need, Not a Privilege

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In a previous post, I had mentioned that, in my street-wise opinion, one of the leading causes of homelessness and poverty is the extremely high cost of public transportation. Indeed, many people work in cities in which they can’t afford to live but that they can also not afford to leave since cars are pricey and the bus is almost more so.

That you now have to be middle class to take public transit is outrageous. If you are poor, you bike. If you can’t afford a bike, can’t ride a bike or it’s, say, winter, you walk. This means that you have to make sure your job is within walking distance (by which I mean an hour, not ten minutes; when you’re poor you walk a lot) of your dwelling or you can’t work at all. Read the rest of this entry

To Those Who Would Not Meet My Eyes (If They Knew)

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When I was about ten years old, I received a present from my aunt (actually a cousin twice removed, I think, but I always called her “Tati” – Auntie – and so that is who she shall remain) that I carry around with me to this day, much like my cherished teddy-bear and my newer companion, my teddy-bunny.

My auntie is a writer, which is quite a magnificent and wondrous thing to be. Every now and then, she’d send me a box full of books she’d written and I’d be delighted. I too wanted to be a writer when I grew up (as well as a cat, and a mermaid, etc.) so the books bearing her name were proof that it was possible to become a real live author.

I’d always pick up her books with the intention of reading them cover to cover but I never got very far. Being a strong reader, I could understand the books just fine but they were always about – no offense, Auntie – boring things. Acclimatization to a new reality, separation from one’s family, solitude, fear, hope, hope, hope. Loss, tragedy, pain. Growth. I don’t know if there were happy endings; I never made it that far into the stories. Read the rest of this entry