It's a mom thing

I missed my chance. I think. The year I decided to not take the job offer in NYC. I missed that opportunity to buckle down and work out because I missed home, I missed another part of my being, that would have come through in that world. Maybe. I don’t know. I didn’t take that job interview in PHL as seriously as the 1,500 other girls that applied, kind of scoffed at the themes, and popularity. I didn’t consider that job in PDX to be worth a move away from my mother, which in reality would have almost been like cutting off my right arm. I suppose that leads to so many other maybes and missed things.

Maybe I missed the opportunity to date men who ushered me around on their arms or them on mine for fashion week events, or to dinners so perfectly curated in $2000 dollar a night at up state functions. Maybe I missed the opportunity to marry the man who would have built a house and business with me from the ground up had I just settled in and asked. 

I’m no longer a blogger. I’m a woman in her mid twenties disillusioned by internet personas, I like color schemes and I take photos of things I like.

 I’m agitated.

You ever play that card game bullshit? I’m playing my 50th round and I’m hoping we play another game soon. But instead of me being able to leave, more and more bullshitters pull up with exterior charm and walls built as high as the elephant’s eye. 

I’m hoping you and I get to slip out of the game room and into the kitchen or onto the porch, where I get to ask you about how you feel about your life. Where I tell you the last time I opened my mouth and hurt someone with my own selfishness. I hope you give me perspective. Because I think we should find moments in life to share the truth behind the bullshit. Not just cruise through on filters, and idolize women who walk the fucking plank of reality, dipping their toes and dropping their hips for showmanship. 

All education is self-education.  Period.  It doesn’t matter if you’re sitting in a college classroom or a coffee shop.  We don’t learn anything we don’t want to learn.

The grass is greener … if you’re a student in Detroit, looking across your school district’s boundary with the neighboring Grosse Pointe public schools.

Nearly half of Detroit’s students live in poverty; that means a family of four lives on roughly $24,000 a year — or less.

In Grosse Pointe, a narrow stretch of real estate nestled between Detroit and Lake St. Clair, just 7 percent of students live at or below the poverty line.

To recap, that’s 49 percent vs. 7 percent. Neighbors.

Which is why a new report from the nonprofit EdBuild ranks the Detroit-Grosse Pointe boundary as “the most segregating school district border in the country.”

The report, called Fault Lines, doesn’t stop there.

“What we did is built an algorithm that identified all 33,500 school district borders in the country … and compared their school-aged child poverty rates,” says Rebecca Sibilia, the founder and CEO of EdBuild.

From this comparison Sibilia’s team compiled a list of the 50 most segregating school boundaries in the nation — in short, the district borders with the largest difference in child poverty rates from one side to the other. In this case, “segregating” is being used to talk specifically about class, not race, though the two often overlap, especially in America’s large, urban school systems.

The 50 Most Segregating School Borders In America