Please see my interview with Coreen McBurnie!

Traveling to NYC for CSPA

Walking the streets of NYC at CSPA

Yes, I am that crazy teacher who organized a four-day-field trip with 37 students (four from our rival school, Patriot, of course), 4 parents and 5 teachers, to....the busiest city in the country. I love New York. But being in New York with 46 people, all on my schedule, my plan and my watch was a bit unnerving.

Luckily the bus successfully picked up on Wednesday evening, about a half-hour after school let out. Mind you, when I took my first group of students, teachers and parents five years ago, the bus never showed up at the 4:30 appointed time..that threw a wrinkle into our day. Back to this year, my first panic was that I had over-booked out trip. We had fluid numbers until the very last day, with students thinking about cancelling, last minute additions and two amazing yearbook reps who couldn't come (injuries suck the fun out of life). By the time everyone had loaded the bus, we had one extra seat; let me tell you I was sweating it...recounting the numbers and people, hoping I hadn't miscounted...being an English teacher and all. Although kids are used to sharing seats, we adults are not, and we were crammed into seats built for small teenagers, not large adults. Despite the close quarters, the ride was easy and we had WiFi and bathrooms for our comfort, making everything just perfect. Even if we did have to eat Wendy's and Burger King for dinner.

Thank goodness by the time we arrived to the Days Inn on Broadway and 96th on Wednesday evening, every adult on the bus was in agreement that as soon as we had our room assignments, We would do bed checks and get ready for the next day's events, which included breakfast at 6:45, a 1.2 mile walk to Columbia University from our hotel, sessions from 9 am until 4 p,m., dinner reservations at 5:30 and a Broadway show at 7:30. The biggest challenge in all this was the transportation of 37 children between the ages of 14 and 18 through the city of New York, knowing that each one of those students was someone's precious baby. Yep, no pressure at all. Oh, did I mention that I had two presentations to make as well. Yep. no pressure. at. all.

By 11:30 the first night the other teachers and I taped all the students in, after doing bed checks. That means that we knocked on the 15 doors and made sure each student was accounted for, and then placing tape on the outside of the door so that we could verify that no one left their rooms during the night time hours. While doing bed checks, we were astonished by the noise and freedom that the other students in the building were taking. Not only were they running through the halls, there was a strong smell of pot in the halls above and below our rooms. Thank goodness out students made us proud and were happily taped in, and I knew my group of kids would not risk their trip, or reputation by choosing to leave their rooms or causing disruption in the halls. (Side note: if you've ever stayed in old NYC hotels, you know that this hotel was like...long, narrow ringleader hallways that meander to dead=end one random room, room numbers making no sense at all, and all the hallways being strangely claustrophobic..,)

The next morning, we ate at the very sweet little place, the EuroPan Cafe across the street. The hotel actually arranged this for us after I learned that this Days Inn actually didn't offer a continental breakfast. These sweet little men organized breakfast for the 46 of us each morning in shifts..that being said by Saturday morning our kids were done with scrambled eggs, potatoes and toast.

The best part of the trip was just about to begin. CSPA is one of the best organized and most adventurous conferences I have taken students too. The best part of the conference is that it take place at Columbia University, in their lecture halls. 

Columbia University

For many students, it is the first exposure they have had to a true college campus, and for many the only Ivy League experience they will ever have. The campus is located right off Broadway, so we were able to walk straight to the campus. This is exciting for the kids... a real experience, where they walk around the campus in pairs or groups, unsupervised and attend lectures on writing, design, photography, marketing, business and leadership. A teacher's nightmare! How did I make sure kids were where they said they would be? Photo check-ins! So, every hour I would get a flood of photos through our GroupMe Ap, letting me know where each kid was. This isn't my first rodeo folks. My favorite was the "fake" check-in four years ago, when kids posted a photo to the group..but then posted photos of themselves on Instagram posing at the cupcake shop across the street. I share with all my students that my full time job on this trip is to stalk their social media like I am their mom. I will find them. Ironically, on this first day in NYC I presented on using social media to manage your publications! The irony was not lost on me, or anyone in my audience, as I pulled up our GroupMe account and showed everyone where all my kiddos were (bless their hearts most of them were in my session..as if they don't hear me lecture enough at school!).

The best part of Thursday was our trip to dinner and the Broadway show. We had all planned on walking the 2.4 miles there, but many of the kids and parents decided that the walk would be too long. I have complete subway phobia, for good reason (imagine transporting 22 kids on my first trip to NYC four years ago), and I wanted to avoid it any cost. We tried booking a bus for the five mile round trip. In true New York style, it would have cost us $1200...the brave adults took the subway, one adult Uber cabbed it, and I walked with 9 kids. We arrived with bloody feet, wind swept hair...and rain soaked....and smiles on our faces.

After a fabulous dinner, we saw the best Broadway show I've been too (ok, I've only been to four)...Finding Neverland. It was amazing and magical.

Students Kirsten DeZeeuw, Jessie and Lauren Kronzer and Shelby Cesario pose outside of the Finding Neverland Show.

The rest of the trip became easier and more routine, walking to Columbia, and breaking into smaller, more manageable groups to sight see. On Saturday we ended out trip with an incredible experience. We went on a tour with a retired captain of the NYC Police Department. He spoke to us about what it was like to be a first-responder that day, and what it was like to lose colleagues and neighbors. All the pressures, concerns, expectations and dreams we all feel each day were put into perspective. We were brought to tears, remembering that day. For some of the kids on the trip, who had no real memories themselves; this was their first real experience and hearing it first-hand, standing there seeing the memorial was life-changing in the sense that they realized that there were people out there who were willing to give their lives for the security of others.

The group in front of Ladder Company 10 at Ground Zero

What I have learned over the last seven years of teaching is that the most important moments of teaching are not in the classroom, and they often have little to do with curriculum, but they are the life lessons they learn from you, and from themselves as they push themselves beyond their own boundaries, stepping outside of their safety zone and into the adventures that life can and will bring them. Love my kids.

Along the Garden Path is out!

My new novel is out. This is a young adult contemporary fictional piece. I think it appeals to more than just young adults. If you've ever been a teen, parent a teen, or know a teen...you will connect!

Available at Amazon 

This is a story about Addison Erhard, an affluent young 17 year old growing up in McLean, Virginia who feels pressured to be successful. She wants to be a journalist who makes an impact on the world, and wants to attend Columbia University. Her family is split in their support, the pressure in the community and from her father is to attend an Ivy League school, to become a successful lawyer, doctor, politician or banker; her father would like her to become a banker. Her mother, an artist who does not fit in with the McLean society as well as her father, supports her desire to follow her dreams. While pursuing her dream to write, she also is striving to break the state record in track for the 800 meter run.

She meets a young man, Mason Gentry, who wants to buck high society McLean by following his family’s legacy and become a farmer. While investigating her story about kids who pursue non-traditional college and career paths, the young journalist falls in love with Mason.

In March a student at Chain Bridge High School and friend of both Mason and Addison, Jamison Randall, is struck down during a hit-and-run accident early one morning. The driver of the car has fled and Jamison is in a coma. Addison, who works for the news magazine decides to investigate the accident on her own, and what she find is more than she can handle.

http://amzn.com/B01CXKEY0G

How @4410 Changed our Journalism Program

My son, Willem Drescher performing at Open Miic Night in October

@4410 changed my news magazine program, Inside 15000. Yes, I know, it’s a music space, and what does that have to do with a news magazine? The owner of Contemporary Music Center (CMC) and @4410, Menzie Pittman visited my class in October of 2015 to speak to my students about how their skills as journalists can take them to amazing places. After his talk, he walked around the classroom and talked to the kids, saw what they were working on, and asked us how we made our money to run the magazine. My then-business manager, Lauren Ainslie, explained that we held Open Mic Nights in our cafeteria once a month, but that it wasn’t all that great because we didn’t know what we were doing with the sound system and things sounded bad, and the work it took to set everything up and take it down barely made it worth the while. We just weren’t making out numbers.

The idea of Open Mic Nights at @4410 was born. Menzie offered to host our Open Mic Nights; we would benefit from their incredible sound system, stage with light, and seating for a crowd of over 100 kids. I have never felt more relieved, I would be able to offer a cozy Open Mic environment with all the benefits of a professional setting, without having to pay for it, or set it up and take it down.

The arrangement benefited @4410 and Inside 15000: we charged $7 per ticket for attending the otherwise free Open Mic Nights. Menzie got a fee ad, but more importantly, kids were attending @4410 and word was getting out this amazing space. Our first Open Mic Night gave us a 130 student turn-out. We raised enough money to pay for our next edition, in just two hours’ time! The arrangement continues to be a win-win situation for both CMC and the community.

The best part of the entire experience is watching students, parents and teachers performing, not only for each other, but with each other. My favorite experience in this regard was watching a student of mine perform; she was a shy student in class, she wore her hair so that I couldn’t see her eyes, she was soft spoken and vey nearly never voiced her opinions in our many class discussions. She hated my class so much that she tried to transfer out. I offered extra credit for students to perform at @4410. This quiet, shy girl got up on stage and, with her family and classmates watching, belted out a song with such a rich, deep and emotional voice that it brought tears to my eyes. When she finished I embraced her, and told her how her music moved me. That changed our entire year. She began speaking up in class, she formed a group of friends to work with, and she and I developed a much stronger teacher-student relationship. It is incredible to see how music can change the way we view those around us.

MaryBeth Starkey and John Crocker belt out some old country tunes.

Not only have students come out of their shells on stage, teachers have as well. We’ve seen a teacher and student duet, with Mary Beth Starkey and John Crocker performing a country music set. Students in the crowd cheered as this unusual duo performed together. We’ve hear Mr. Dittmer sing old fashioned Frank Sinatra ballads, we’ve had Ms. Thorpe, a new Spanish teacher at the school sing, after being part of the school for just one month.

Because @4410 has such a family-friendly environment, we see family performances as well. Teacher’s children have performed, we’ve watched the Young family with father and son performing, and the youngest Young belting out in a voice that amazed the crowd. We’ve had the Thistle family perform, not only with father and son but father and sons!

After each event, we leave not only with our hearts filled, but our coffers as well. @4410 has helped us publish our $610-a-month issue for the past year-and-a-half. @4410 has also benefited from our combined events, because the students who attend our BHS Open Mic Nights love it so much, they attend it every Friday when it is a community Open Mic Night (and free).

If you haven’t visited the Open Mic Nights yet, visit the next one! Visit their website for upcoming events.

Andrew Young Rocks out

At what cost?

I don't understand. I mean, I do understand why people take their own lives. But I don't know why we let it happen over and over. Especially young people in our society, who are under tremendous pressure to perform, to be liked, to blend in -- yet stand out to be an individual -- it is tragic. Being a teenager in Northern Virginia is the most "#FirstWorldProbs" place to grow up. We may laugh at the need for a car for every 16 year old, the fact that they have more clothes than they can wear, and that they have the newest phones and computers, but the cost of all that "success" and "status" is that they are under pressure. Very real pressure. It is real. It is scary to these teens. Today we lost yet another bright student with a promising future, with everything in place to succeed, yet something inside her couldn't take it another day.

I know the statistics. Believe me, as a teacher at my high school, I have watched eight young souls lose their lives to suicide. We've struggled at home with depression linked to the high expectations placed on our students, not only academically, but physically as well. There is a standard, and if you don't fit it, you try to compensate, or you worry. Some kids can handle it, some kids don't mind being unique, but far too many kids crack under the pressure.

Suicide is the third leading cause of death among teenagers today. Nationally it is the tenth leading cause of death. According to the CDC, "There were 41,149 suicides in 2013 in the United States—a rate of 12.6 per 100,000 is equal to 113 suicides each day or one every 13 minutes." Even when you take the full number of suicides per year, which includes adults and children, the national rate has nothing on our local rate. We have lost eight students in seven years. Each year we've had about 3000 students, some years more, some years less. So, out of the 21,000 student who have walked through our halls, we've lost eight. that is 1 in 2,625 instead of 1 in 100,000. That is a bit shocking. Our school in not unique, our geographic location is unique, the pressure we are putting our students under is what is unique. Every school in Northern Virginia has had its unfair share of teen suicides. Why?

What can we do for our teens? This goes back to the blog I posted on Saturday. Kids are seeking self worth and value in their school performance, their testing ability and the schools they apply for, get accepted to, and attend. We need to re-examine as parents, teachers and a culture what really is important to us. Is it success? If so, can we find a new way to measure it?

I know as a parent, I want my children to be happy. I will measure their success based on their level of contentment. What I mean by that is, if they choose a career that makes gives them joy and satisfaction, despite making little money, then that is successful. If they make a living that makes them happy, and wealthy, then awesome, but I won't measure success by income, college attended, people they know, or how they look. It is the smile on their face, the clarity in their eyes, and the people they surround themselves with that will tell me if they are happy and and thereby successful. I plan on telling my kids just that tonight.

Some resources if you feel that your child might be in danger:
The Parent Resource Program
HealthyChildren.org
Suicidehotline

Like a Thief in the Night - a short story

"Like a Thief in the Night"

A short story by Charlotte Strack Peyton

Prequel to Along the Garden Path

“I don’t understand, Derrick.”  I couldn’t believe he just dropped this bombshell on me, just days before our wedding. Derrick stood facing me in my small apartment in Dupont Circle, near the windows that overlook Massachusetts Avenue in Washington, D.C., as the rain poured down from the heavens outside, in thick sheets of gray. It was May 16, 1990, and we were to be married on Saturday, May 19, at St. John’s Episcopal Church in McLean, Virginia, the prestigious and affluent suburb of Washington where Derrick grew up and where generations of his family lived.

“I’ve discovered that Pop has been hiding money from his clients.” I looked at my fiance’s strong features; he was worn-out and tired, making him look much older than his thirty years. His dark, deep-set blue eyes were clouded with worry. He ran his strong hands through his dark hair. His height and strength were diminished by his anxiety.

“How did you find out?” I asked in disbelief. Derrick’s father owned a successful investment firm in the city; he put his entire life into the firm, building the family legacy. Derrick was set to take over operations of the firm by taking over as Vice President as soon as we returned from our honeymoon. Derrick’s father, Derrick Ronald Erhard, Jr., affectionately known as JR by his friends and colleagues, had been grooming his son for this, first sending him to Boston College for his undergraduate in business administration and finance, and then off to The University of Pennsylvania for an MBA and Masters in Finance. My Derrick, or Trip, as his family called him, was poised to take over the business, but what I was hearing now was that the firm was not as we had expected it to be.

“It’s a mess, Lizzy, a huge mess. I’m just so disappointed in Pop.”

“Okay, Calm down, baby.” I circled behind him and wrapped my arms around him, nestling my head between his shoulder blades. Derrick was a powerful man who had run track in college, and he maintained his physique by running regularly. It didn’t matter if it was rain or shine, he was out running. I could feel the muscles under his light cotton shirt. “I know we can work through this. It shouldn’t affect our wedding. You know I would be with you no matter what. It’s never  mattered to me if you’re a successful banker or a poor gardener. As long as we share a home, a bed and a life. I can face anything as long as you are by my side.”

Derrick turned around so that he was facing me, and he cupped my face in his hands. “Your words mean the world to me. It’s what I love best about you, the fact that you take me as I am. Through sickness and health, right?” His eyes bored into mine. They searched, as if trying to see if there was a hidden message that he was missing.

“I mean it, Love. We could be living in an efficiency in New York, as long as we have enough money for canvases and ramen noodles, I will be content.” I meant it. His money had been more of a deterrent to me than an attraction. I didn’t want to spend my life feeling obligated to him, his family and their money. I would have preferred to marry a simple man, knowing that we owed only ourselves for our successes and failures. But I learned early on, after losing myself in Derrick’s sapphire eyes and spending long nights talking and discussing the world and what we wanted, that I could not fight my attraction to him. I could not help but accept his money, his drive, and his family and all that entailed.

Yet, here we stood at the precipice of marriage and our future. Upon our return from Italy, we would move into the enormous house in McLean. To me it was a mansion, even though I knew that technically, it was missing the ballroom and servants a mansion would necessitate. The house could have fit five of my parents’ homes in it. I knew it would be a challenge for me to create a space in the vast structure that would feel like mine, a place to feel at home in. From what Derrick was telling me, we were at risk of not following this well laid path we had planned.

“So, explain to me what’s going on.” As I said this, I poured two big glasses of Malbec, Derrick’s favorite. I handed him one and took his free hand in mine and led him to the small sitting area. We sat next to each other on the antique sofa I had rescued from my grandmother’s home when she moved into the care facility a few years before. Knees touching and facing one another, Derrick began to tell me what he had uncovered..

“Okay.” He took a deep breath, I could see he was gaining the courage to tell me the entire story. “A few months back I was going through the account books, I wanted to be sure that everything is in order before I take over. Pop seemed to be in such a rush to hand it all over, something just didn’t sit right. He said he wanted to give us a good start to our marriage, but it felt like he is trying to push it off, rushing through it. The way I see it, either he really wants to  retire and move to the South, or something else is going on. I’ve caught him avoiding answers and making up little white lies too.”

“What kind of white lies?”

“I’ll say, ‘Pop, where is that paperwork for so-and-so’...only he can’t find it, and he blows it off, blaming his assistant on misplacing it. Then, when I remind him later, he pretends he doesn’t remember that I ever asked. You know how he can be gruff and dismissive? He does it all the time at work － to me, and it wasn’t always like that.” I looked at Derrick more carefully, his hands were trembling, his eyes looked bloodshot. I could understand the late nights now. The extra glass of wine or shot of bourbon after dinner. I could see that all this was taking its toll on him. Anger bubbled up inside of me. Not only was JR doing something with his firm, his actions were having a grave effect on my fiance.

“So, you think he is hiding something?” I asked hesitantly.

“I do, I just have a gut feeling, and I’m terrified to find out the depth of it.”

“Do you have any idea what it could be, and what the implications are?”

“Yes, I do. The reason I’m so upset today is that I think I found incriminating evidence.”

“What?” I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand, terrified to find out what had disturbed my otherwise immovable fiance.

“I found a transfer from one of our client accounts to another client’s, without any correspondence from them indicating they wanted the transfer. When I dug a little deeper, I found that same sum transferred to several different accounts, until I found it in an offshore account.”

“Derrick, am I understanding you correctly that you suspect that your father has embezzled client money into some sort of offshore account?”

“That is exactly what I am fearful of.”

“Oh, God. What will you do?”

“Well, I can make that money re-appear if Pop comes clean with me. God knows, if he’s doing it now, who knows how long these things have been going on. He could have embezzled any amount of money from his clients － clients he’s been working with for ages, clients who have trusted him. I don’t even know where to begin confronting him, having him come clean, and then putting things back in order. But it has to be done, I just can’t work in a corrupt business; I will not look the other way. I know that in this business, and in this day and age, people are corrupt, hell, it’s nearly the expected: they do unethical things. I just can’t sell my soul like that.”

“Derrick, are you going to report this to the authorities?” My words were intended more as a rhetorical question than an authentic one. The answer seemed obvious to me.

“No!” Derrick got up and walked away from me, looking out of the window over Massachusetts Avenue. I could see the conflict brewing inside of him. “I can’t do that for many reasons. Pop would serve time, the company would be destroyed, and if it somehow were to survive, then rebuilding our reputation would take decades. We would lose everything, Lizzy. My career as an investment broker would be finished. I share not only his name, but his reputation as well. Years of schooling, years of grooming myself, building relationships of trust with clients. All up in smoke.”

“But you can’t let him get away with it! He has stolen money from his clients. How can you turn the other way?” Now I stood up, coming closer to him, but keeping my distance. I was revolted by what he was telling me.

“I wouldn’t turn the other way, not completely at least. I would make Pop leave the business. He has to retire immediately. I’ll return the funds, and find some way to explain it to the clients so that they don’t believe it was Pop embezzling. Then, I’ll work very, very hard to make sure everything that happens in that office is clean, tracked, and transparent. I want people to know when they trust us with their money, it is safe.”

Derrick passionately defended himself. He made it seem as if hiding these crimes was the right thing to do. I believe he had already convinced himself that by handling it on his own, he would undo what JR had done. Only, it didn’t sit right with me. How could I stand by when the law was broken?  People’s money had been taken for personal gain and hidden in some off-shore account. I didn’t think I could enjoy our planned future: the house, the cars and jewelry purchased with that money. It would be tainted by what his father had done for God knows how long.

“Derrick, I just don’t know if I can stand by, live in that house, off that money. It goes against everything I am, everything I know.”

“Lizzy, please listen to me. I attended six years of school, I have spent every summer and vacation working for Pops while all my classmates spent their time at the beach or on vacations in Europe. I have put years of work into the firm. I’m confident that the work I have done has been honest. I know that the people who work for Pop have earned their money, they support their families, and they are good people. If the company implodes, not only do I lose everything that I have been working for, but all the employees do too, and they will be equally tainted with the shame of Pop’s guilt. No one will hire them knowing that possibly they took part in this.”

“But, Derrick, maybe they did! How can you trust anyone who worked for your father?” Exasperated, I stormed across the small room into the kitchen, where I refilled my wine glass.

“I will have to spend many, many late nights cleaning things up and finding out if anyone other than Pops knew about this. I will remove anyone who was associated with it, but I will not punish innocent and hardworking employees for my father’s greed.”

I knew that he had many good points, but my gut revolted at the thought of letting him go without punishment. JR had always seems like a slippery snake to me. He always said the right things to everyone, pulling everyone into his trap through flattery and feigned interest. Except my parents. He clearly had little respect for my Minnesotan parents; he wasn’t impressed with Grandpa being a professor and my mother a housewife. His interest in those with power and money always seems so transparent to me. But I adored his son. Derrick was everything his father was not. Yes, he had money, but he understood the value of working for that, for respecting people, regardless of where they came from. He treated my family just as well as he treated those clients and friends who were worth millions. I often wondered what his mother had been like; she must have been incredible to raise Derrick. It was unfortunate that she died young, and that I never got to meet her.

I looked up at Derrick, who stood before me with pain in those blue eyes and hope etched in his features. “Derrick, you know I love you more than anything, but I need to think on this. It changes everything for me.”

“Lizzy, what are you saying? Elizabeth?” His sweet face was crestfallen, I could tell he never anticipated that I would hesitate to accept his solution. He believed so strongly that he could handle it and administer justice himself.

“My sweet, sweet man, I know your heart is in the right place, but I just don’t know if I can live my whole life knowing that we aided a criminal, that we did not do right by the law.”

“I guess you need time to think then. I am not going to sacrifice what the Erhards have worked to build for generations because one corrupt man became greedy in his old age. I can’t do that.”

My heart broke into a thousand pieces at his words. How could I choose? I just wished he could see it from my perspective. If I were willing to live with the simple things in life, why couldn’t he? Wasn’t I enough for him? Why did he need the bank, the house, the money and the legacy? He has so many other talents that he never acknowledged. He was incredible at gaining the trust of those around him, of managing people. Somehow, we could manage, I knew that we could. If only he could have as much faith in himself, in us, as I did.

He got up and gathered his coat, ready to be enveloped by the storm raging outside, and within himself, I knew. His face reflected the emotions I felt. Distress, heartbreak and conviction. Just as I was convinced that I knew what was right, so was he. It was the very characteristic I loved so much about him.

---

Elizabeth turns to her daughter, Addison, having told this family secret for the first time in its entirety. She looks at her strong daughter, who holds the same strength of character as both her parents. The conviction of knowing what is right and wrong, and the strength to carry out those beliefs. Her caramel-colored hair frames her face. Her clear green eyes hold the same clarity that once drew Elizabeth to Derrick. It is hard to imagine that twenty-five years have passed since that May day. They sit together on Addison’s bed in her cozy bedroom overlooking the garden and studio Elizabeth loves so much. The very same house that so long ago she couldn’t imagine living in.

“I always knew that something had happened with Pop and the firm, and I knew that Dad had worked hard to correct it, but I didn’t realize that he had been stealing money for all those years. Wow. Why did you decide to accept Dad’s solution?

“It’s really simple in the end. I loved him. I loved him more than anything.The panic I felt when he walked out that door. It was crushing. It was then that I realized that just as I could live somewhere with nothing just to be with your dad, I could live with this too. I needed your dad to be complete. Without him I was just a part of myself, but not the whole.”

“But, did you ever really accept it?” Addison looks at her mother with the innocence that only youth can deliver. The belief that you can stand by your ideals, your convictions and do what is right, without question. She gazes at her with the hope that her mother will uphold this naive belief. Hoping that her mother did not have to sellout to love her father.

“No, I struggle every day with that decision. Every purchase I make, each time I come home, I can’t help but think that we don’t deserve any of it. So, I hide myself in the only place that was built by my money, my studio, and I feel at home there, and at peace.”

Crazy swim parents

Where am I now? Well, at swim practice of course. I know that doesn't sound unreasonable, because we parents of this generation drag and drive our children to practices nearly every day, even on Sundays, previously a sacred family day. However, to help the reader understand the insanity of this, let me explain some details around tonight's extraordinary craziness:

I live in suburban Washington, D.C., about thirty miles outside of the city, in Virginia. We just got our second largest snowfall in twenty-four hours on record. My neighbors and I measured over thirty inches. It was blizzard conditions, so it may well have been slightly more than that. In addition, to the snow fall, the fore-mentioned blizzard included seventy-mile-an-hour winds. That means those thirty inches of powdery snow created enormous drifts. Drifts larger than me. I am six-two. So, tall.

If anyone has experienced even an inch of snow in Virginia, you know we don't know how to drive, and do not choose to drive, in snow. At all. Ever. So, I do not anticipate going near our school until February. Yet, my husband convinced me to bring Theo to swim practice.

I arrogantly thought, that as a Minnesota-raised girl, I would be the only one brave enough to make it to the insanely scheduled practice. I am pretty sure that the facility also only expected one or two other mentally challenged parents to show up, because they seem to have forgotten to plow eighty percent of the parking lot.

The not-so-plowed parking lot at George Mason University

Yet, when I showed up, I was not the only ridiculous swim-parent to show up. The lot (what was plowed that is) was completely full. I parked my little orange jeep halfway up a pile of snow . I dragged my son and his buddy, both who were less-than-thrilled for practice and exhausted from an entire day spent playing in the snow. The boys talked about how awesome it would be if they were the only two swimmers to show up.

As we walked into the Freedom Center on the George Mason campus, wecould look through the windows into the pool area. All swim lanes were FULL of little swimmers. Did I mention my son is twelve, his buddy eleven. Yep, they are not trying out for the Olympics yet.

Swimmers working out at the Freedom Center at George Mason University post-blizzard 2016

So, yes, we are all crazy parents, making sure our little swimmers get all the practices they can before the big meet this weekend. I promise you, in my old age I will look back at today and laugh at the "silliness of the young."