I never had to think about mobility when I had room to do it.

If you happened to read my last-week-of-school blog post from this past June, you might remember how frustrated and saddened I was by student attitudes that rounded out the school year. I'm not naïve enough to expect every kid to be excited for the last day of school, ready and eager to attend their class parties, field days, or whatever celebrations await them. I've known better than that for as long as I've held the job. But I certainly found myself oddly wistful for my own

Who are we supposed to look to for proof that we don't have to disappear into obligation and jadedness by the time we hit the mid mark? I'm looking for the woman who can show me.

A book about presence, written by someone who seems barely present with or tolerant of the reader's actual experience of reading it: that's the central irony I kept returning to, and I was never quite able to shake it.

There is a very specific thing the vast majority of the world wants, and the sophisticated word for it is reconciliation.

Our culture, and often our own psyche, demands constant peak performance. But a peak implies that there is a work-up to the top and a descent back down. Without that structure, its simply a plateau. In seasonal living, we flip this narrative.

On the way home from work today, I had a moment of realization: it's been at least a decade since I can remember first complaining about how much of my time social media takes up. I tweeted about it, back then. Something along the lines of "Can't wait to go on the Explore page on Instagram and watch the next three hours of my life disappear!!!" They had recently introduced an "infinite scrolling" model. That tweet touts obvious sarcasm, but unfortunate truth, even in 2015. I

And the solution is going to start with some tough, tough love.