Today, my favorite student (any teacher will be honest and tell you they have a favorite) shocked me again. Olivia is the happiest little lark I’ve ever met. She is about 5 or 6 years old, never frowns and has a bright round face with a perfectly infectious smile. She used to call me over to her table, “Teacher, teacher, come here.” She’d motion with her hand as if she had a secret to tell and look at her feet trying to remember why she’d called me over. Continue reading
growing up
Spring Break
Spring Break is a common ritual for American college students. Perhaps the Europeans or Aussie’s do it, but they’re not Americans and therefore could barely imagine the immature debauchery and self-justified indulgences in which Americans engage their young bodies. Working out the month before, applying self-tanning formulas and maintaining a strong alcohol tolerance (almost by accident of going to an American University), we prepare for the yearly rite. Continue reading
When I Turned 30
The week I turned 30 years old, I had my identity stolen. Continue reading
William Sabia 