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Some photos that I think deserved better caption than what I can come up with.
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“I teach English at a community college in Queens. I love the job, but I hate grading papers. I’d prefer to just have one continuous discussion about Shakespeare. I envy the math teachers who can just put their tests through a Scantron machine. Placing value on a student’s writing is much more nuanced and complicated. What if they have great ideas but their English language skills aren’t as developed? What if English is their second language? What if they’ve faced major challenges in life? Do I ignore those things? Or do I consider context while grading? I want to set high standards and prepare my students for what comes next. But so many of them already have a self-defeating attitude. And I don’t want to discourage them any further.”
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Often our first is when we are young, high school even. It’s the idealistic love; the one that seems like the fairytales we are all read as children.
It’s a love that looks right.
The second is supposed to be our hard love; the one that teaches us lessons about who we are and how we often want or need to be loved.
Sometimes it’s unhealthy, unbalanced or narcissistic even.
It’s the love that we wished was right.
And the third is the love we never see coming. The one that usually comes dressed as all wrong for us and that destroys any lingering ideals we clung to about what love is supposed to be.
And maybe there’s something special about our first love, and something heartbreakingly unique about our second.
But there’ s also just something about our third. The one we never see coming. The one that actually lasts. The one that shows us why it never worked out before.
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Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.
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Printed Tshirt
Ripped Jeans
Handbag
Black Pumps
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