#Georgia’s Pre-K Teacher of the Year
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One thing I think folks forgetting or not realizing (and admittedly, hadn't clicked for me either yet) about the impact of school shootings is that it's not just going to hit the school the shooting was at. That will be the epicenter and the worst of the trauma and deaths and everything but....
Every school that went into lockdown because of their location nearby and turned on the news to see the center will be dealing with the horror and trauma of seeing it hit next to them for possibly the rest of their lives.
Every school that had any level of credible threat and had to clear the school now has a school full of scared teachers and kids.
My private high school had cops with guns checking cars in the lot as parents frantically rushed to pick them up because of the possibility of another shooting. If anyone tries to say that things will be normal at my high school anytime soon, I might just laugh in their face.
I might have graduated but I'm also not blind.
We had a lockdown because of the bank robbery nearby when I was still in school. We heard the news of other shootings and were anxious.
But this is the first time cops have come to our campus and been checking cars because of the real possibility of a threat.
That is going to scare the hell out of the poor pre-k kids who don't know what's happened and have adults desperately trying to figure out how to protect them, because this school is a pre-k to 12th grade school.
The elementary school kids who are just old enough to understand but who adults still try to shelter are going to be scared and looking for answers.
The middle schoolers might have already stopped seeking assurance and are most likely angry and sad and frustrated with things, or they might still be terrified.
The high schoolers are probably going to be the same, and they're going to probably be the ones to talk with the middle schoolers, if any. Maybe even try and reassure the kids. There will probably be scared kids too, because I have to remind myself that 14 year olds are freshmen and high schoolers sound like they're more mature but they're still kids. and one of their age mates did this.
I hope there is support for all of these kids.
Because of all of us who were there, the high schoolers had the highest chance of having been through multiple lockdowns and multiple scares, too.
And not everyone was there from pre-k to 12th grade. Some of us came from public schools. And we were all aware that school shootings wouldn't avoid us because we were a private school.
Hard lockdown, code red, whatever the term, we all knew what it meant and what the difference was between soft lockdown or code yellow.
They stopped doing drills at some point because I'm pretty sure they figured out it scared us more and made it worse.
This is going to leave scars on my high school. On Winder High. On BASA. On every single school in the area who had cops on campus making sure the atrocity that happened (yet AGAIN) at Apalachee wouldn't spread elsewhere in the county, in the state, and even across the country. This is going to hit the county hard. The state hard.
We cannot let this keep happening. Georgia, please, I'm begging as a resident, as a former student of Barrow, as someone who is sick and tired of seeing these news stories day after day after day, we CAN and NEED to take action.
This. Isn't. Normal.
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Georgia’s Pre-K Teacher Of The Year Is The First Black Man To Win The Award http://bit.ly/2IYEglg
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💕 get to know your mutuals!! when you get this, it means someone wants to know more about you, so list 5 things about yourself you want your followers to know. they can be as simple as your age or as complex as your deepest fear, as long as it’s something you’re comfortable with sharing. when you’re done, send this to some people you want to get to know better!! 🥺🌼💕
Five things about me:
1.) While I’ve officially been writing fanfics since 2008, I’ve been imagining ‘what if’ scenarios for things I love as long as I can remember. 🥰
2.) While I am a (mostly) functional adult with a job and responsibilities and everything, my bedroom is pink--and I plan to keep it that way for the forseeable future (I just painted it in 2018, after all). I’m hoping to move in the next few years, but that room will likely get painted pink as well--unless it’s because I get married to a dude who’s just not feeling it (like I would be with, say, brick red)--and we’ll find some mutually appealing color--I’d be cool with that, because I got my pink room for at least a few years 💗
3.) I live in Georgia, where the weather is relatively mild--but I’ve been known to wrap up in a blanket and put on fuzzy socks in the middle of summer (and sometimes take a nap in such a state!)
4.I’m a total night owl--if I try to go to bed before 10, I’ll wake up and won’t be able to go back to sleep, even if I’ve only had a few hours--so it’s better for me to wait until I’m more tired so I have a better chance of sleeping through the night.
5.) My career path since finishing undergrad has been anything but linear. I taught kindergarten for a year, pre-k for 4 years, was a substitute teacher while I worked on my School Library Media degree, worked in public libraries for almost 5 years after graduation, then worked in a high school media center for 4 years--with a ridiculous commute every day. Now I work in the office for my friend’s fast-growing outdoor furniture and fire pit business--and still deal with barcodes and inventory and emails, just like I did at my old job--but it’s a much more laid-back environment--and I’m only 15 minutes from home!
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Charles Drew
Charles Richard Drew (June 3, 1904 – April 1, 1950) was an American surgeon and medical researcher. He researched in the field of blood transfusions, developing improved techniques for blood storage, and applied his expert knowledge to developing large-scale blood banks early in World War II. This allowed medics to save thousands of lives of the Allied forces. As the most prominent African American in the field, Drew protested against the practice of racial segregation in the donation of blood, as it lacked scientific foundation, and resigned his position with the American Red Cross, which maintained the policy until 1950.
Early life and education
Drew was born in 1904 into an African-American middle-class family in Washington, D.C. His father, Richard, was a carpet layer and his mother, Nora Burrell, trained as a teacher. Drew and three of his four younger siblings grew up in Washington's largely middle-class and interracial Foggy Bottom neighborhood. From 1920 until his marriage in 1939, Drew's permanent address was in Arlington County, Virginia, although he graduated from Washington's Dunbar High School in 1922 and usually resided elsewhere during that period of time.
Drew won an athletics scholarship to Amherst College in Massachusetts, from which he graduated in 1926. An outstanding athlete at Amherst, Drew also joined Omega Psi Phi fraternity as an off-campus member; Amherst fraternities did not admit blacks at that time. After college, Drew spent two years (1926–1928) as a professor of chemistry and biology, the first athletic director, and football coach at the historically black private Morgan College in Baltimore, Maryland, to earn the money to pay for medical school.
Drew attended medical school at McGill University in Montreal, Quebec, Canada, where he achieved membership in Alpha Omega Alpha, a scholastic honor society for medical students, ranked second in his graduating class of 127 students, and received the standard Doctor of Medicine and Master of Surgery degree awarded by the McGill University Faculty of Medicine in 1933.
Drew's first appointment as a faculty instructor was for pathology at Howard University from 1935 to 1936. He then joined Freedman's Hospital, a federally operated facility associated with Howard University, as an instructor in surgery and an assistant surgeon. In 1938, Drew began graduate work at Columbia University in New York City on the award of a two-year Rockefeller fellowship in surgery. He then began postgraduate work, earning his Doctor of Science in Surgery at Columbia University. He spent time doing research at Columbia's Presbyterian Hospital and gave a doctoral thesis, "Banked Blood," based on an exhaustive study of blood preservation techniques. He earned a Doctor of Science in Medicine degree in 1940, becoming the first African American to do so.
Blood for Britain
In late 1940, before the U.S. entered World War II and just after earning his doctorate, Drew was recruited by John Scudder to help set up and administer an early prototype program for blood storage and preservation. He was to collect, test, and transport large quantities of blood plasma for distribution in the United Kingdom. Drew went to New York City as the medical director of the United States' Blood for Britain project. The Blood for Britain project was a project to aid British soldiers and civilians by giving U.S. blood to the United Kingdom.
Drew started what would be later known as bloodmobiles, which were trucks containing refrigerators of stored blood; this allowed for greater mobility in terms of transportation as well as prospective donations.
Drew created a central location for the blood collection process where donors could go to give blood. He made sure all blood plasma was tested before it was shipped out. He ensured that only skilled personnel handled blood plasma to avoid the possibility of contamination. The Blood for Britain program operated successfully for five months, with total collections of almost 15,000 people donating blood, and with over 5,500 vials of blood plasma. As a result, the Blood Transfusion Betterment Association applauded Drew for his work.
American Red Cross Blood Bank
Out of Drew's work, he was appointed director of the first American Red Cross Blood Bank in February 1941. The blood bank being in charge of blood for use by the U.S. Army and Navy, he disagreed with the exclusion of the blood of African-Americans from plasma-supply networks. In 1942, Drew resigned from his posts after the armed forces ruled that the blood of African-Americans would be accepted but would have to be stored separately from that of whites.
Academic career
In 1941, Drew's distinction in his profession was recognized when he became the first African-American surgeon selected to serve as an examiner on the American Board of Surgery.
Drew had a lengthy research and teaching career, returning to Freedman's Hospital and Howard University as a surgeon and professor of medicine in 1942. He was awarded the Spingarn Medal by the NAACP in 1944 for his work on the British and American projects. He was given an honorary doctor of science degree, first by Virginia State College in 1945 then by Amherst in 1947.
Personal life
In 1939, Drew married Minnie Lenore Robbins, a professor of home economics at Spelman College in Atlanta, Georgia, whom he had met earlier during that year. They had three daughters and a son. His daughter Charlene Drew Jarvis served on Council of the District of Columbia from 1979 to 2000, was the president of Southeastern University from 1996 until 2009 and was a president of the District of Columbia Chamber of Commerce.
Death
Beginning in 1939, Drew traveled to Tuskegee, Alabama to attend the annual free clinic at the John A. Andrew Memorial Hospital. For the 1950 Tuskegee clinic, Drew drove along with three other black physicians. Drew was driving around 8 a.m. on April 1. Still fatigued from spending the night before in the operating theater, he lost control of the vehicle. After careening into a field, the car somersaulted three times. The three other physicians suffered minor injuries. Drew was trapped with serious wounds; his foot had become wedged beneath the brake pedal. When reached by emergency technicians, he was in shock and barely alive due to severe leg injuries.
Drew was taken to Alamance General Hospital in Burlington, North Carolina. He was pronounced dead a half hour after he first received medical attention. Drew's funeral was held on April 5, 1950, at the Nineteenth Street Baptist Church in Washington, D.C.
Despite a popular myth to the contrary, once repeated on an episode ("Dear Dad... Three") of the hit TV series M*A*S*H, Drew's death was not the result of his having been refused a blood transfusion because of his skin color. This myth spread very quickly since during his time it was very common for blacks to be refused treatment because there were not enough "Negro beds" available or the nearest hospital only serviced whites. In truth, according to one of the passengers in Drew's car, John Ford, Drew's injuries were so severe that virtually nothing could have been done to save him. Ford added that a blood transfusion might have actually killed Drew sooner.
Legacy
In 1976, the National Park Service designated the Charles Richard Drew House in Arlington County, Virginia, as a National Historic Landmark in response to a nomination by the Afro-American Bicentennial Corporation.
In 1981, the United States Postal Service issued a 35¢ postage stamp in its Great Americans series to honor Drew.
Charles Richard Drew Memorial Bridge, spanning the Edgewood and Brookland neighborhoods in Washington, D.C.
USNS Charles Drew, a dry cargo ship of the United States Navy
Parc Charles-Drew, in Le Sud-Ouest, Montreal, Quebec, Canada
In 2002, scholar Molefi Kete Asante listed Drew as one of the 100 Greatest African Americans.
Numerous schools and health-related facilities, as well as other institutions, have been named in honor of Dr. Drew.
Medical and higher education
In 1966, the Charles R. Drew Postgraduate Medical School was incorporated in California and was named in his honor. This later became the Charles R. Drew University of Medicine and Science.
Charles Drew Health Center, Omaha, Nebraska
Charles Drew Science Enrichment Laboratory, Michigan State University, East Lansing, Michigan
Charles Drew Health Foundation, East Palo Alto, California, 1960s-2000, was the community's only clinic for decades.
Charles Drew Community Health Center, located in Burlington, NC near the site of the old Alamance County hospital.
Charles Drew Pre-Health Society, University of Rochester
Charles R Drew Wellness Center in Columbia, South Carolina
Charles R. Drew Hall, an all-male freshman dorm at Howard University, Washington D.C.
Charles Drew Memorial Cultural House, residence at Amherst College, his alma mater
Charles Drew Premedical Society at Columbia University, New York
K-12 schools
Charles R. Drew Middle School & Magnet school for the gifted, opened 1966 Los Angeles Unified School District https://drew-lausd-ca.schoolloop.com/
Charles R. Drew Middle School Lincoln Alabama operated by Talladega County Schools
Charles R. Drew Junior High School, Detroit, Michigan
Dr. Charles R. Drew Science Magnet School, Buffalo, NY
Charles R. Drew Elementary School, Miami Beach and Pompano Beach, Florida
Bluford Drew Jemison S.T.E.M Academy, Baltimore (closed in 2013)
Bluford Drew Jemison STEM Academy West, a Middle/High School in Baltimore, Maryland
Dr. Charles R. Drew Elementary School, Colesville, Maryland
Charles Drew Elementary School, Washington, DC
Charles R. Drew Elementary School, Arlington, Virginia
Dr. Charles Drew Elementary School, New Orleans, LA
Charles R. Drew Charter School opened in August 2000 as the first charter school in Atlanta, Georgia. This is the setting for the 2015 Movie Project Almanac.
Dr. Charles Drew Academy, Ecorse, MI
Charles R. Drew Intermediate School, Crosby, Texas
Dr. Charles Drew Elementary School, San Francisco, Ca.
Charles Richard Drew Intermediate School / Charles Richard Drew Educational Campus, Bronx, New York
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via Politics – FiveThirtyEight
A pandemic is an expensive thing to weather. The COVID-19 crisis has already prompted a huge drop in state tax dollars, and seems likely to cost states hundreds of billions of dollars in lost revenue over the upcoming fiscal year. That’s pushed governors to come to the federal government, hat in hand, asking for a federal bailout. But while Democrats in Congress seem eager to oblige — a new stimulus package that narrowly passed the House on May 15 includes nearly $1 trillion for state, local and tribal governments — congressional Republicans and President Trump aren’t sold yet.
There’s a tinge of moral and political outrage to this debate. Trump has repeatedly suggested that blue-state governors mismanaged their finances and don’t deserve a bailout. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, meanwhile, made headlines last month when he suggested that states should simply file for bankruptcy if they run out of money.
But experts think that doing nothing could be even more costly in the long run than bailing the states out. Without a lifeline from the federal government, states would have no choice but to start slashing budgets and raising taxes.
Recessions are never easy on state finances, since states rely heavily on tax revenue — whether it’s income tax, sales tax or property tax — and all of those sources of income tend to fall when people lose their jobs or stop buying luxuries. And because states generally have to balance their budgets — unlike the federal government, they can’t go into massive debt during a financial downturn and promise to pay it back later — they have to make up that missing revenue in other ways. In the aftermath of the 2008 financial crisis, many states took a hatchet to higher education funding and reduced their spending on K-12 education, infrastructure, local governments and their own government workforce — and raised taxes.
And states had barely recovered from the last recession when the COVID-19 crisis arrived. The Great Recession technically ended in 2009, but according to an analysis by the Pew Charitable Trusts published last year, the slowness of the recovery meant that state tax revenues didn’t return to their pre-recession levels until 2013, adjusting for inflation — much longer than in the previous two recessions. Over this period, states lost an estimated $283 billion in tax revenue. “It was kind of like falling off a cliff and then walking up a ramp,” said Donald Boyd, co-director of the Project on State and Local Government Finance at the University of Albany.
This meant that even by the time state revenues had recovered, it took longer for dollars to start flowing toward education or infrastructure. States did put more money into their rainy day funds, which they can draw on during emergencies, in case another recession hit. But that prudent instinct left them with even less cash to spend on other things. By 2018, according to Pew, nearly half of the states were still spending less money than they were a decade earlier. State funding for higher education was down 13 percent, and state infrastructure spending as a share of GDP was at its lowest level in more than 50 years.
“Think about what happens if the main breadwinner in a household loses a job,” said Barb Rosewicz, director of the State Fiscal Health project at the Pew Charitable Trusts. “There are things you stop spending money on — maybe you don’t put a new roof on your house, maybe you don’t save for your kid’s college education. Even if the head of the household gets a new job and the salary goes back to where it’s been, there are all these deferred investments you want to catch up on. And that’s how states got left after the last recession.”
And now, states are facing an even more devastating budget crisis. There is, of course, a huge amount of uncertainty about how long the COVID-19 pandemic will last, and some states are already beginning the process of reopening, which could bring lost tax money back into their coffers. But the long-term outlook still looks bleak. Analysts at the financial services company Moody’s gamed out a few scenarios in April — including one that was categorized as “severe” but looks more and more like our current reality — and found that states could see a shortfall of $172 billion over the next 15 months.
That’s because in addition to a huge decline in tax revenue, states are facing new, unexpected costs. Earlier relief bills did provide money, including $150 billion from the CARES Act, for the states to use to offset spending in response to the coronavirus, as well as some additional money for Medicaid. But there hasn’t been any federal money directed at the state-level economic impact of the coronavirus crisis, and even the money that’s tied to health costs likely isn’t enough to cover the huge influx of people who have lost their jobs and employer-sponsored health care and now qualify for Medicaid. The 36 states that expanded Medicaid under the Affordable Care Act are facing a particularly large surge of new recipients, since it’s now especially easy for newly unemployed people to get covered.
It will be very, very difficult for states to pay for all of these expenses without cutting costs or raising taxes, even if they drain their rainy-day funds. According to analysis by Moody’s, only five states have the reserves they’d need to fully float through a severe recession caused by COVID-19. Most states would need to fill gaps of at least 5 percent.
States are already facing hard choices about how to manage the giant holes in their budgets. California, for instance, is borrowing money from the federal government to ensure that it can continue to make unemployment payments. But other states are already looking to significantly reduce their spending: Earlier this month, state agencies in Georgia were asked for a revised budget proposal for next year with cuts of 14 percent.
The trouble is that because states never returned to their pre-recession levels of spending, it will be even harder to find places to trim fat. Higher education often gets slashed early in a recession, Rosewicz said, but because it now makes up an even slimmer portion of many states’ budgets, it’s harder to reap significant savings by making cuts — especially since universities are simultaneously facing potentially large drop-offs in tuition if they can’t reopen in person in the fall. Similarly, state workforces are smaller now, which means states can’t pocket as much money by laying off or furloughing workers. And with public school teachers already protesting stagnant salaries in many states, significant cuts to K-12 education could be politically dicey.
So tax hikes could also be coming — which would also make it even harder to recover from the recession even after the economy starts to pick up again. “The problem is pretty obvious — raising taxes is going to make consumers less inclined to spend money,” said Raymond Scheppach, a professor of public policy at the University of Virginia. “That will make it even harder to get the economy going again.”
But financial assistance from the federal government could still make a big difference, Scheppach and other experts told me. Studies conducted in the aftermath of the Great Recession suggested that the stimulus funds that were sent to states to help cover Medicaid costs or invest in new infrastructure helped increase employment, and general aid to state governments prevented them from slashing programs and raising taxes when those actions could have hurt the economy even more.
Of course, the stimulus funds during the Great Recession didn’t mean there were no tax increases or spending cuts. But this is another situation, Rosewicz said, where an influx of federal cash would be a good investment, if it prevents states from cutting their budgets to the bone. “Federal aid isn’t the full solution — this is an unprecedented crisis and we don’t even have a good estimate of what the need is, because we don’t know how long it will be going on,” she said. “But significant state tax increases and spending cuts will pull even more money out of the economy, and that will almost certainly prolong the recession, so in that sense federal aid is a really essential tool right now.”
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FRIENDS DON’T | CH. 8/?
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RATING: M | WORDS: 4,755 | ao3
Chloe’s new job as an elementary school music teacher — teaching grades pre-K through third, to be exact — doesn’t officially begin until the first week in September, but she’s eager to get out there early. She’s moving to a whole other city, a whole other state, in fact, so she needs to find her sea legs out there, and to settle into her new apartment. In true Chloe Beale fashion, she’s excited to explore a whole new place.
And the idea of spending a little quality time with Beca before the school year begins is definitely a contributing factor to her enthusiasm, too.
They’re not exactly living in the same city, but they’ve gotten pretty lucky in the sense that they’ll be only an hour’s drive away from one another, so despite the fact that she wants to get to know her new home, as soon as her parents leave the day after helping her move in, Chloe is climbing in her car and making the first of what she assumes will be many drives to Beca’s place.
It would’ve been nice to surprise her, she thinks to herself as she sits in the exhausting Los Angeles traffic. Any other time, she’d likely be annoyed by the wait, but because she knows she’s going to see Beca at the end of it, that’s something of a comfort, something to keep a smile on her face. The two have been texting back and forth constantly ever since Beca flew back from Georgia, though, talking on the phone whenever possible, too, so this trip is planned, and Chloe wonders if Beca is as excited to see her as she is to see Beca.
The ‘How far now?’ text that pops up on her car display would suggest that she is, and Chloe smiles to herself rather than responding. She’ll be there soon, she doesn’t really see the point.
Beca has never been someone Chloe has felt any kind of awkward or uncomfortable around, and she’s sure that won’t start now either, but she has to silently admit that she’s a little nervous to see how things are between the two of them. There’s always been some kind of unspoken connection between the two, but now it’s out there, it’s spoken, and while Chloe sees it as a good thing, she can’t keep the slight worry from creeping into her racing mind the closer she gets to her destination.
It becomes quickly clear to her that she has no reason to feel that way, though. The moment Beca opens the door, Chloe barely gets to greet her with a smile before Beca is taking a stride toward her, palms resting delicately against Chloe’s cheeks and soft lips pressing firmly to her own.
The whole thing catches Chloe off guard, causes her to drop the large bag previously held securely in both hands, but she doesn’t mind. In fact, the smile rising to her lips, the one stretching into the kiss, is very solid proof of that. Chloe’s lids flutter shut, now free hand reaching out to gently grab a fistful of Beca’s shirt, and a part of her wonders if she’s dreaming as she feels Beca’s grip on her face tighten, soon guiding her into the apartment without parting from their lip-lock.
Eventually, Beca pulls back, and Chloe doesn’t miss the deep shade of red prickling her cheeks. She’s sure hers are just as rosy, so she doesn’t point it out. Instead, she just loosens her hold on the dark fabric, bottom lip dragging in between pearly teeth.
“Uh, wow. Hi,” she chuckles softly, still practically able to feel Beca’s lips against her own. “That’s how we’re greeting each other now?”
It had seemed very uncharacteristic for Beca, for someone usually so guarded and essentially withdrawn, so it doesn’t really surprise Chloe that she seems to have retreated into herself a little bit already. Beca shifts from foot to foot, right hand cradling her left elbow, and it seems she’s struggling to make eye contact. Chloe can’t help but think it’s adorable.
“I guess I just missed you,” Beca finally says, shy gaze moving upward for the briefest of moments. “I’m sorry, it was probably weird. I’ve just been kind of freaking out about how things are supposed to go now, so--”
Chloe takes a small step closer, noticing the way Beca flinches slightly but doesn’t move back herself, and cuts her off with a soft shake of her head, neat curls dancing in the process. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I wasn’t complaining. I liked it,” Chloe grins, auburn brows rising and falling playfully. Her tone softens some as she continues, becomes slightly more serious, though still incredibly gentle. “There is no supposed to, Bec. We just keep being us.” Beca still isn’t making eye contact, though Chloe reaches out a hand to gently push a chunk of brunette hair over her shoulder, and the action causes their gazes to finally lock. She swears she can see the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Beca’s mouth, and she knows she’s mirroring the expression easily.
This whole ‘just friends to something more’ thing is going to take a little navigating, a little adjusting to, but Chloe isn’t worried, not anymore. She’s confident that they’ll do it, because this is already the most natural, the most at ease she’s felt around Beca in the longest time, and she thinks that the other girl feels the same way, too.
“I missed you too, by the way.” Chloe’s voice is both gentle and reassuring, but somehow still laced with the utmost confidence. “I don’t like being away from you.”
---
They relax into being regular Beca and Chloe easily, and the day is spent with the two of them exploring the vast, vibrant city. It occurs to Chloe quickly that Beca might’ve been waiting for her to do all of this with, because she seems just as mystified as Chloe by each new sight.
(Though, in true Beca Mitchell fashion, she attempts to hide her enthusiasm -- as usual, Chloe thinks she’s adorable.)
Chloe doesn’t know whether to consider the day a date, or just two best friends hanging out. However, where the two would usually just grab one another’s hand mid-walk, things are much more subtle today, much more careful. There’s the light brushing of fingers against fingers in passing, the stark reality of longer than usual, lingering stares when the other isn’t looking.
It’s at dinner that Beca literally confirms it, and it seems to take them both by surprise.
“Put that away,” Beca frowns, motioning toward the floral patterned wallet Chloe is pulling from her purse as the waiter presents them with their check. “I’m paying.”
Chloe shoots a skeptical look across the table. Just because she’s Beca’s guest this week doesn’t mean she’s expected to take care of her. “This place is kind of fancy. We should split it.”
In spite of her attempted insistence, Beca adamantly shakes her head. “I’ve got it, Chlo.” Her tone is breezy as she slips her card from her wallet, almost like she’s barely paying attention. “You can pay on our second date.”
It seems that Beca doesn’t even realize what she’s said until it’s already out there, and Chloe watches as her cheeks flush a deep shade of pink, her eyes widening some in either surprise or horror, Chloe can’t really decide which.
“I was wondering if that’s what this was,” Chloe says, breaking into the silence. She’s sure Beca finds it awkward, but Chloe doesn’t. She just relaxes back coolly into her seat, intent gaze on Beca. “A date.”
Beca somewhat hastily clears her throat, gaze diverting from Chloe’s face. “Uh, I mean...” Her hand moves up to rub the back of her neck, thoughts evidently frantic. Chloe just grins, reaching out a pale hand across the table. She settles it palm upward, fingers motioning Beca’s closer.
“It’s okay,” Chloe promises, immediately closing her slender fingers around Beca’s once their hands have met. “I was hoping it was.”
---
If you were to ask Chloe, date or not -- it very much was a date, as they’d already confirmed -- it has been the perfect day. Just the two of them, exploring and learning a whole new place together. It’s something of a metaphor for their new relationship, in fact. The way they’re exploring and learning these whole new sides to one another, getting to see more intimately into each other’s minds.
What she’s learned thus far, Chloe adores.
It’s dark out by the time they return to Beca’s apartment. The Los Angeles sun is veiled by a dark, starry blanket, and the idea of curling up comfortably beside Beca seems like the perfect way to end their day. Chloe is tired, she knows Beca is, too. She’s willing to bet that they’ll both be asleep by the time their heads hit those plush pillows, but as long as they’re ending the day together, that’s really all that matters.
They’d taken their desserts to-go, so Beca goes to place them in the fridge to stay fresh until the morning, while Chloe retreats to the bedroom to dump her purse and fall onto the comfortable mattress. She’s perching casually on the edge of it by the time Beca comes in to join her, shrugging off her leather jacket in the process.
Chloe watches her. Studies her, in fact. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, not until she sees the soft blush overtaking Beca’s formerly pale cheeks, notices the shy smile curling at the corners of her lips.
“Come here,” Chloe instructs, a long arm stretching to flex her fingers in Beca’s direction. Beca grasps gently onto them, allowing Chloe to tug her carefully closer, until Beca is seated on the bed beside her, blue eyes studying blue eyes.
“Thank you.” Chloe barely recognizes the softness of her own voice, doesn’t notice the way the pad of her thumb rubs small circles over Beca’s knuckles. She just... Does. Like everything with Beca, it just is. It is what it is, she thinks. It’s natural.
A dark brow raises, though Beca doesn’t question her, at least not verbally.
Chloe responds with a soft, quiet giggle, realizing she needs to clarify further. “For today. I had a really great day with you, Becs.” Her throat feels slightly dry, but that’s really not what she’s paying attention to as she lifts her free hand to delicately cradle Beca’s rosy cheek in her palm. Neither says anything more, but that’s really nothing new.
They’ve always had these conversations, the ones communicated so clearly with nothing but their eyes.
And then they’re both leaning in. Chloe doesn’t know whether she has begun to guide Beca’s face closer toward her own, or whether Beca did it herself and Chloe’s hand just happens to be resting against her cheek still, but either way, two sets of mascara coated lashes flutter shut, two sets of full lips crash against one another’s.
And suddenly Chloe is hooked.
This hadn’t been the intention tonight, Chloe thinks as her hand slips from Beca’s face and down toward her neck, the feeling of small hands ghosting along her lower back causing her body to tense beneath their touch. She relaxes as she lays back against the comforter, pulling Beca down on top of her. Beca’s knees fall either side of Chloe’s thighs on the bed, and it’s clear that neither one of them has any intentions of this stopping.
They’d wanted to take things slowly. They were both in agreement that there was no need to rush. But four years is a long time, and Chloe can admit now that she has wanted Beca Mitchell for the last four years. Each second of that time, all of the build up, the longing, the anticipation, is all poured into the way their hands roam and eagerly explore, the way fingertips slip inside of loose fabric, nails ghosting feather lightly along soft skin.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” Chloe murmurs quietly against Beca’s lips, gently flipping them over until Beca is the one on her back, with Chloe hovering over the top of her. She forces herself to pull back from their desperate kiss, just to gauge her reaction, feel out her emotions. Their gazes lock briefly, before Beca’s hands are cupping Chloe’s cheeks, tugging her face down and reconnecting their lips.
Parting from the kiss a second time is almost physically painful, and it’s clear that Beca feels the same way, because Chloe hears a soft whine fall from her swollen lips, though her breath hitches as Chloe presses her open mouth to the delicate skin of Beca’s neck, memorizing the taste with each sure, deliberate kiss, each gentle flick of her tongue against hot skin.
It’s like, somehow, everything is moving in both fast and slow motion. One second Beca’s hands are brushing along Chloe’s body, the next they’re sliding her shirt up to tug over her head. Chloe only breaks her contact with Beca’s skin to allow her the room to peel away the garment, and makes quick work of tugging off Beca’s in the process. Next comes their bras, and Chloe doesn’t mean to stare, she really doesn’t, but God, Beca is so beautiful. She’s so fucking beautiful, and Chloe is finally allowed to notice, she’s allowed to appreciate every part of her. And so she does, she notices. She takes in every curve, every freckle lining her pale skin, the very same way Beca stares back with lust filled eyes in return.
When her head ducks to take Beca’s already stiffened nipple between her lips, Chloe wonders if she’s going to stop her. As caught up in the moment as she is, she doesn’t want to take things further than what Beca is comfortable with, but the instant whimper the action pulls from Beca’s throat tells her that this is okay. More than okay, in fact. She allows her lips to suck and nip at sensitive flesh, her tongue flicking and swirling around the hardened bud, and Beca slides her hands desperately between the two connected bodies, fingers working less than expertly at the button of Chloe’s faded jeans.
Chloe is used to taking charge in the bedroom. It’s second nature to her at this point, but she’s willing to switch things up for Beca. She’s happy to go at Beca’s pace, to let her take the lead, but it seems Beca is just as happy to give in to Chloe, too. Her arms fall back against the pillow as Chloe’s slender fingers wrap around her wrists, pinning her hands above her head, and she takes note of the adamant aching between her own legs as small, pleasured sounds rise from Beca’s throat and ring through her ears like the sweetest, most sacred of sounds.
So consumed by the woman beneath her, by the haphazard removal of the rest of their clothes, Chloe has to take a moment to truly admire Beca as she lay on the bed before her, every item now removed and out of her way. Her knees shake with both lust and anticipation as she kisses her way down soft skin, over toned abs and sensitive flesh that causes Beca’s back to arch slightly, causes her breath to hitch in her throat.
And then she’s tasting her. Not just her skin, nor her lips, though Chloe can still feel Beca’s kiss against her own, can still imagine that sweet taste, the way their lips fit so perfectly against one another’s. No, this is much more than that. Arm slipping beneath a pale thigh, Chloe lifts Beca’s leg to rest over her shoulder, tongue meeting with Beca’s wet, already swollen clit, and fuck, Chloe is addicted.
She’s addicted to the way Beca tastes, to the way her body moves beneath her own. She’s addicted to the sounds erupting from the back of Beca’s throat as Chloe takes the swollen bud between her full lips, sucking and aching for more.
“God, Chloe,” Beca whimpers, lower back arching and slim fingers winding their way into weathered auburn curls. Hearing her name on Beca’s lips, especially in the heat of the moment, only serves as a bigger turn on for Chloe, causes her tongue to press flatter against her clit and move in a way that tells her she wants to draw out every sound she can, every movement she can from Beca’s trembling body.
Her chin is slick with arousal, glistening with everything she is doing to the woman beneath her. Chloe silently feels pretty smug about it, but she’s too wrapped up in the moment to voice it, too intent on pulling every reaction she can from her. Two fingers slide easily inside of her center, tongue lapping at wet folds, pulling louder whimpers and desperate moans from Beca’s still kiss-swollen lips.
When Beca comes, when she reaches that sweet release, Chloe is pretty sure she comes right along with her. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of her walls clenching around her fingers, of her body twisting and writhing beneath her own. Chloe stays where she is, actions slowing as she guides Beca through her high, until she’s kissing her way right the way back up her body and pressing her glistening lips to Beca’s.
“You have no idea how incredible you taste,” Chloe whispers into the kiss, teeth gently nibbling down on Beca’s lower lip. She’s sure she can taste herself on her tongue, but nothing can compare to actually doing that to her, to being the one to make Beca Mitchell come undone like that.
It’s only a matter of seconds before Beca is pushing her body up against Chloe’s and flipping them over, insistent on reciprocating.
And God, when Beca makes her come, it’s better than Chloe ever could’ve imagined.
---
Ever the morning person, Chloe is the first one to wake with the bright light of the Los Angeles sunrise. It takes her a moment to adjust properly to consciousness, to relive the details of the previous night. Her lightly freckled face feels warm as she twists her neck to take in the day’s first glimpse of Beca Mitchell, and an almost lazy smile stretches itself across her lips in response.
Beca is laid on her side, back facing Chloe. Blue eyes study the sight of soft, pale skin, admire the way the smooth curves of her back outline her petite body. The fact that neither one of them had bothered to put on clothes last night is not at all surprising; they’d been in a hurry to take them off of each other, so putting them back on had been the last thing on either of their minds. They’d fallen asleep together, naked bodies tangled into one, and just like usual, everything had felt so natural.
For a brief moment, Chloe considers waking Beca. She would be lying if she was to say she has never imagined a morning like this, where she’d wake up beside the other woman and lean in close, press her lips delicately to the curve of her shoulder, kiss her way along her neck until Beca is turning around with sleep glazed eyes. Chloe would capture her lips with her own the moment she’d turned toward her, and they’d fall into each other all over again.
But it was a long night, and this is their reality now. It’s allowed to be their reality now. So Chloe decides not to wake her.
---
By the time the sound of lazy footsteps padding out of the bedroom catches her attention, Chloe is already tucking into her second slice of toast, her legs swinging coolly as they dangle from the counter where she has casually seated herself.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Beca asks mid-yawn. She takes a moment to stop, to stretch up her arms and work the stiffness out of her tired body. They have apparently both had the same idea as far as clothing for the morning; each wears a band tee, both from Beca’s middle drawer, and both sport a pair of panties to serve as pants. Beca’s shirt is black with green and white writing, while Chloe’s is green with black writing -- she can’t help but smile to herself about how accidentally coordinated they look.
“Because you looked peaceful,” Chloe shrugs, swallowing the bite of toast she’d been chewing on, then easily parts her legs as Beca approaches. The shorter girl slots into the gap with the most natural ease, and Chloe lifts a long arm to drape around Beca’s neck. “Hi,” she greets softly, comforted entirely by the way dainty hands move to rest against her hips. She feels smooth fingertips brushing against bare skin where her shirt has risen, where Beca is making small, lazy circles that cause goosebumps to rise in their path. Chloe offers out the half eaten toast slice. “Want some breakfast?”
While Beca leans forward to take a small bite, she also shakes her head, swallowing before she speaks. “Not yet. I’m still kind of tired. I only got up because I heard someone in my kitchen, I had to go investigate.” Her arms snake their way around her waist, tugging Chloe closer toward her, toward the edge of the counter.
“And that’s what you’re wearing?” Chloe smirks softly, gaze lowering to take in what she can of Beca’s outfit. “Whoever broke in here would be in for a real treat.”
“Right. I look great first thing in the morning,” Beca teases, eyes rolling playfully.
Chloe responds with a soft laugh, a small shrug of her shoulder. “I think you do.”
She can see the way Beca’s cheeks darken a shade, the sight causing Chloe to grin.
“Well, I guess that’s down to you. You’re the reason for this morning glow,” Beca states, reaching up to take the almost eaten slice from Chloe’s hand. She pops the rest of it into her mouth, and Chloe doesn’t mind. In fact, she smiles in response, silently taking note of how easy this is. God, it’s just so easy.
“And you’re the reason last night was so perfect,” Chloe exhales, other arm now wrapping around the shorter girl’s neck, too.
Sex is... Sex. It’s sex, it’s natural. It isn’t something Chloe generally thinks about before or after. It’s just something she does, usually a heat of the moment occurrence, and not something for her to question nor to think too deeply into again. But as her gaze locks with Beca’s, the shorter girl actually managing to maintain eye contact, Chloe is transported back to the night before, to the feeling of slender fingers and the sound of heavy breathing, and she realizes it might be the first time she has ever truly felt this lucky.
“Come here,” she just above whispers into the comfortable quiet between them, her head ducking to graze her lips against Beca’s. Beca stretches up taller, meeting her halfway, and suddenly Chloe is entirely consumed by her friend all over again.
Friend.
Friends don’t do this. They’re more than friends, though; they’re exactly what they were always supposed to be.
Chloe feels slender arms tightening around her, her own grip instinctively strengthening, too. It doesn’t matter that she’s tiny in height, Beca is incredibly strong, and she lifts Chloe off of the counter easily, legs wrapping around her waist. They don’t break from their kiss, not until Beca has moved across the small kitchen, carefully settling Chloe down on her feet.
“You really didn’t want me sitting on your counter, huh?” Chloe teases, grip loosening slightly.
“No way,” Beca shakes her head, small smirk on her lips. “I just cleaned that yesterday.”
“You might be cute but you’re also very annoying,” Chloe states, with Beca leaning in to peck her amused smile away, before she’s letting go. Chloe takes a second to silently think about how easily they’ve slipped into this new dynamic, into being, as she’d previously thought, exactly what they’re supposed to be. There’s a certain level of reluctance between the two of them when it comes to parting again, but they can’t exactly stay glued to each other’s side forever.
“I’ll be right back, okay? You stay off that counter,” Beca warns, the playful tone in her voice evident.
There have been many times in the past where Chloe has caught herself staring as Beca has walked away from her, but she doesn’t try to hide it this time. She doesn’t have to try to hide it, and only turns away once Beca is out of sight. There’s a content smile still settled on Chloe’s lips as she turns toward the island, elbows resting down on the surface. She extends a hand to pick up the decorative candle placed before her, humming breezily to herself as she studies the frosted white holder, just keeping herself occupied until Beca is back here with her again.
She isn’t alone for long.
Chloe has the time to set the candle back down in its spot before she feels familiar arms wrapping around her waist from behind. Her previous smirk begins to tug at the corners of her mouth again, and Chloe starts to straighten up, though she soon feels a hand settling gently on her back.
“No,” Beca whispers, carefully pushing her body forward, “Stay there.”
Although Chloe has of course felt the screaming desire to fall into bed with Beca Mitchell before, she has never actually taken the time to imagine what it would actually be like. But Beca is kind of awkward, she’s somewhat withdrawn, so the idea of her doing anything a little crazier when it comes down to sex is kind of out there.
Not that fucking Chloe over the kitchen counter is exactly crazy, but there’s something surprisingly adventurous about it, and Chloe definitely does not fight it. She just leans her top half against the counter, eyes fluttering shut with the feeling of Beca’s fingertips grazing over her sides and down to her bare thighs. She’d been the one to take the lead last night, so she’s happy for Beca to do it now.
“This okay?” Beca mumbles, lips pushing delicately to the back of Chloe’s shoulder through the fabric of her shirt. The feeling causes her skin to prickle, that undeniable ache between her legs spreading already.
“More than,” Chloe nods, a part of her desperate to turn around and watch what Beca is doing. She doesn’t want to stop her, though, doesn’t want to throw her off. So, she stays exactly where she is, leaning over the counter and allowing Beca to touch her however she wants to.
Even though she can’t see her, she can imagine just how sexy the scene going on behind her is. As Beca’s soft, parted lips lower down to the bottom of her back, fingers looping underneath the fabric of her panties to begin tugging them down her legs, she can just picture how incredible Beca looks. The way she’s lowering to her knees the further Chloe’s panties slide down slender legs. She knows Beca will be able to see that they’re wet already, that she’s aching for her right off the bat.
Feet stepping out of the now useless material, Beca pushes it aside, before beginning to trail wet, open mouthed kisses right the way back up Chloe’s legs, paying special attention to her thighs. The feeling of her lips against her skin causes a soft whimper to rise from the back of Chloe’s throat, eager for more.
With Beca’s hand slipping between Chloe’s thighs, fingers ghosting just below her center, there really could not be a worse time for the obnoxious sound of a fist hammering loudly against the door.
The sound causes Chloe to jump slightly, and Beca pauses for a brief moment, before lips are pressing to the back of her legs again. “They’ll leave,” she murmurs against her skin, “No one important.”
Normally, Chloe would go to see who it was. She’s a very hospitable person, whether this is her home or not. But given the current circumstances, she has no desire to move anywhere, so she simply relaxes onto the counter again.
“Bec?”
Both girls pause, and while Chloe’s brows tug tightly together, her body straightening up, Beca’s heart just about stops.
“Is that...” Chloe begins, tone quizzical.
“Beca, open up.” Another loud knock. “It’s Jesse.”
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Atlanta Man Becomes One of Georgia’s First Black Male Teacher of the Year
Atlanta Man Becomes One of Georgia’s First Black Male Teacher of the Year
Atlanta, GA — Johnathon Hines, a teacher at Barack Obama Elementary School in Atlanta, has been recognized as Georgia’s Pre-K Teacher of the Year. He is the first Black man to receive the award, and hopes to continue inspiring his young students!
Johnathon Hines has been voted Pre-K Teacher of the Year in Georgia
“Now I have the opportunity to inspire other males in early childhood. And that’s…
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#african-american#atlanta#Barack Obama Elementary School#black men#black people#black women#blacks#Georgia’s Pre-K Teacher of the Year#HBCU#hip-hop/rap#Indie love#indie music#Indie Soul#Johnathon Hines#lfp media#Phinesse Demps#pre-K teacher
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Sounds of Science
By Patrick McShea
In early October, when a pre-school teacher requested frog and toad materials from the museum’s Educator Loan Collection, she mentioned plans to share the items with a fifth-grade teacher.
Jean Nipaver, an early childhood teacher at Pittsburgh’s Beechwood PreK-5, has long borrowed museum materials to create stimulating learning environments for children 3 – 5 years old. In her email request, she credited a former student for the plan to share resources:
“Yesterday, a fifth-grade teacher stopped me in the hall. Her class is reading Night of the Spadefoot Toads, and a girl in the class told her about all the science she remembered from pre-k, especially about the frogs & toads we'd borrowed from you and the very cool frog song player that you lent us.”
Battery-powered song player
Night of the Spadefoot Toads, which all fifth grade students in Pittsburgh Public Schools read as part a core literacy program, is an award-winning book from 2012 by long-established children’s book author Bill Harley.
It tells the story of a fifth grade boy’s adjustment to a move from Arizona to Massachusetts, and his eventual attachment to new varieties of wildlife and the habitat that supports them. As the author summarizes on his website, the book is “about nature and wildlife, friends, school, bullies, and finding a home in the world. The story reminds us that the place around the corner has its own secrets and treasures.”
At Beechview PreK-5, borrowed museum materials let pre-school students and fifth graders in on the same secret – the deep groan-like croak of the spadefoot toad. For the older students the spooky noise added a bit of a soundtrack to the engaging, relevant, age-appropriate story they were reading. For the younger students in Jean Nipaver’s class, the toad call was part of a school-year-long soundtrack, one focused on learning about science.
Learn more about spadefoot toads and play their call courtesy of the University of Georgia’s Savannah River Ecology Laboratory.
For information about the popular book, visit Bill Harley’s website.
Learn more about the CMNH Educator Loan Program.
Patrick McShea works in the Education and Visitor Experience department of Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum employees are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.
#Carnegie Museum of Natural History#Educator Loan Program#Night of the Spadefoot Toads#Spadefoot Toads#Bill Harley#Pittsburgh Public Schools
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👆🏾 this woman is 71-year-old teacher Amelia Stripling she was arrested after knocking over a pre-K special needs student in Georgia.
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Georgia’s Pre-K Teacher Of The Year Is The First Black Man To Win The Award http://bit.ly/2VR66Fi
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Hannah Corpe Introductory Post
I’ve been into history since I was in the first grade in 2003. I know that sounds extra, and that’s how everybody starts introductory blogs, but it’s true. One of my older sisters did a book report on Mary, Bloody Mary by Carolyn Meyer and left the book lying around, and I picked it up and was instantly hooked. This started me on a passion for the history of Tudor England specifically, but also a fascination with how things used to be and how they had changed in the intervening centuries between now and “a long time ago”.
At first, history was just a hobby, a class I excelled in and was interested by, but nothing more. Then in 9th grade, I saw quote from Stephen King, saying that a real author reads 70-80 books per year. Since being an author had been the ambition of my tender heart since before I knew how to write (I actually got in trouble several times for “writing” when I was in pre-k, since my “writing” at the time was just scribbling lines of loops in the perfectly nice journals I had been given for practicing the alphabet) I thought, I should give that a try. I pretty quickly ran out of YA that I found compelling, and so I moved on to historical fiction, remembering how interesting I had always found different time periods. Shortly even that wasn’t enough, and I began to read more scholarly works of historical nonfiction to find out more about my favorite subjects. By the time I was in 11th grade (2013) I knew that I wanted history to figure prominently in my higher education.
I knew that I wanted my future to involve a well-paid job without many extra years of schooling beyond undergrad, so it seemed like a traditional liberal arts college was out of the question. But there was nothing that interested me as much or made me as happy as history, and nothing that made me feel as out of my depth as technology. Because my dad from graduated Tech (BSBio in 1976) and I had two sisters there at the time who have since graduated (both BSBAs in 2016) and I’ve been going to Tech football games since before I really knew what football was, it made sense to at least check it out and see if I could picture myself happy in any of the majors.
That was when I hit across something that perfectly fit all of my requirements- the Ivan Allen College of Liberal Arts. I could study my history and learn about the things that interested me, but I could also learn other supporting skills that would help me get a job after graduation. All of my coursework would be geared towards relevance in the modern world without losing respect for the past. The IAC had a wealth of opportunities, from doing research with professors to being a college ambassador, and I would have access to all the resources of a large, well-funded state institute while still enjoying the small class sizes and close relationships with professors of a regular liberal arts college. Additionally, I would graduate with a Bachelor of Science, instead of a Bachelor of Arts, so I would be equally prepared for any path I wanted to take- if I wanted a job in a humanities field, my coursework would speak for itself, and if I wanted a job in any different field, having a BS would clearly demonstrate that I had been well trained in the rigorous STEM courses expected of a Bachelor of Science. And as an added bonus, the History, Technology, and Society major had the most free credits of any major in the school, making it easy for me to pursue anything from a double major to a certificate as well as possible to continue participating in band and orchestra, programs I have enjoyed since my early adolescence.
When I packed up and moved to campus and got ready for my first semester, I didn’t know just how many amazing opportunities I would have. I’ve been able to participate in the research option, and write an entire paper about the Tudors, which I presented at the most recent regional history conference. I’ve become one of the Ivan Allen College Ambassadors, and the vast array of skills I’ve learned from helping coordinate volunteers at our Shadow Day recruitment events and hosting information sessions have helped me become a more effective student and to stay calm (or calmer anyway!) in high-pressure situations. Those skills also translated well to working part-time while also taking classes in the Office of Enrollment and Student Affairs for almost a year. I founded a club (the History and Sociology Club) and was inducted to Phi Alpha Theta, the national history honor society. I’ve taken classes that have impacted my worldview like European Intellectual History and the History of Disease and Medicine, and classes that greatly developed my understanding of subjects I previously thought I knew a lot about, like the Classical Tradition, and the Science, Politics, and Culture of Nazi Germany. I’ve had a chance to learn from teachers who are some of the foremost subject experts in their field. It’s also been possible for me to get a certificate in Information Technology Management from the Scheller College of Business, which helped me get my current internship with IBM, and to remain a member of the Yellow Jacket Marching Band and become a brother of KKPsi, the national honorary band service fraternity.
These experiences have really influenced my development from a teenager who was unsure of quite what she wanted to do but knew she wanted it to not involve chemistry or computers into an adult with aspirations to work full-time, and perhaps pursue a masters’ degree, in Cybersecurity Policy. My experiences at Georgia Tech as a whole, but specifically in the Ivan Allen College, have taught me that if there’s anything important to have in life, it’s the attitude that any problem, no matter how daunting, can be solved. Except for maybe chemistry I’m not gonna lie to you it’s the devil’s work.
As I enter my senior year, I’m looking forward to continuing to work part time, and giving more of my attention to my extracurricular activities. I still have one more year left, and I’m really excited to see how many new opportunities and experiences are waiting around the corner.
Note: the picture above is of me as Eleanor of Aquitaine at the HCon, hosted by the History and Sociology Club on Halloween. Featured also is the most prominent HTS major, Kayleigh Haskin, as a fabulous Boudicca.
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Georgia’s Pre-K Teacher Of The Year Is The First Black Man To Win The Award http://bit.ly/2nVFxCD
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