Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹

mamma of 3, student, and wife

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@JDVance When don’t you actually read the federal officers policies?? There is only 1 legal reason he could shoot her and that’s if she had a weapon (NOT the vehicle) and was threatening! Get out of politics!

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@Mo_midwestgirl @AndrewJRParker @SohrabAhmari Watch the full video! Stop drinking the koolaid

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@GiovanniCervini @AndrewJRParker @SohrabAhmari Stuck where???? The wheels are facing OPPOSITE him!

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@Reject_Left @AndrewJRParker @SohrabAhmari That’s actually AGAINST their policies!

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@CamillemKt @AndrewJRParker @SohrabAhmari She was told to move while being told to get out of her car AND 3 masked men were approaching her while 1 had his hands in her vehicle! Her response is called fight or flight! She chose flight! She did nothing wrong!

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@HuntSpaniels @AndrewJRParker @SohrabAhmari I hope you are referring to Ashley rabbid!

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@Stalfos23 @AndrewJRParker @SohrabAhmari It is against federal officers own rules! Even if a car is driving towards an officer, they are NOT allowed to shoot! Take a wild stab as to why!!

Hitting a driver with their foot on the gas increases the risk to other citizens! 😱

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@H86253Houston @meiselasb It’s “affected” his job performance! The effects of his health are destroying the US for its citizens and making you a laughing stock on the world stage! Get it?

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@SmyserJose55228 @larrymasonbiz @Angry_Staffer Statistically, yes! I know facts don’t matter to you but that is a fact!

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@FredErnsting @OccupyDemocrats Genuine question: why was it not ok for Biden but it’s ok for this fool to need to hold a hand to walk or trips up stairs or throws wild tantrums on the internet or falls asleep in an Oval Office meeting?

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@mark_slapinski Bro is so far from being pm it’s just in your dreams!

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@EricWal29469583 @rsingleton335 @triffic_stuff_ @harryjsisson Telling people to leave so it could be taken care of in private… heck even looking over to see?!

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@dubsndoo I’m going to make sure I speak either French or Italian when I’m out in public in yyc in case you are around! I was born and raised here. My mom is from QC and dad came from Italy 45 years ago. wtf you gonna do about it??? Close our French school too?

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@KatKanada_TM That means your child is not sick to the point of deterioration. You could also call 811 to talk to a nurse that can triage your kid and give you next steps! Also, we are loosing drs and nurses BECAUSE of conservative gov!

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@flashthecash64 @gtconway3d He’s a laughing stock in Italy 😂

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@BearsMom73 @EastEndJoe You understand the money that was given to Argentina will help their soybean farmers and grow their sales while taking away from American soybean farmers and the trades they rely on right?? That’s not America first but who’s keeping track?!

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@JinglaiHe Everyone has been calling for this you dumbnut!

[Travis Akers 🇺🇸 @travisakers]

A message from a Kindergarten teacher:

After forty years in the classroom, my career ended with one small sentence from a six-year-old:

“My dad says people like you don’t matter anymore.”

No sneer. No malice. Just quiet honesty — the kind that cuts deeper because it’s innocent. He blinked, then added, “You don’t even have a TikTok.”

My name is Mrs. Clara Holt, and for four decades, I taught kindergarten in a small Denver suburb. Today, I stacked the last box on my desk and locked the door behind me.

When I started teaching in the early 1980s, it felt like a promise — a shared belief that what we did mattered. We weren’t rich, but we were valued. Parents brought warm cookies to parent nights. Kids gave you handmade cards with hearts that didn’t quite line up. Watching a child sound out their first sentence felt like magic.

But that world slowly slipped away. The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe.

My evenings used to be filled with construction paper, glitter, and glue sticks. Now they’re spent filling out digital reports to protect myself from angry emails or lawsuits. I’ve been yelled at by parents in front of twenty-five children — one filming me with his phone while I tried to calm another child mid-meltdown.

And the kids… they’ve changed too. Not by choice.

They arrive tired, anxious, overstimulated. Their tiny fingers know how to swipe a screen before they can hold a crayon. Some can’t make eye contact or wait in line. We’re expected to fix all of it — to patch the gaps, heal the trauma, teach the curriculum, and document every move — in six hours a day, with resources that barely fill a drawer.

The little reading corner I once built, full of soft beanbags and paper stars, was replaced by data charts and “learning metrics.” A young principal once told me, “Clara, maybe you’re too nurturing. The district wants measurable results.”

As if kindness were a weakness.

Still, I stayed. Because of the small, holy moments that no spreadsheet could measure —
a whisper of, “You remind me of my grandma.”
a shaky note that read, “I feel safe here.”
a quiet boy finally meeting my eyes and saying, “I read the whole page.”

Those tiny sparks were my reason to keep showing up.

But this last year broke something in me.

The aggression grew sharper. The laughter in the staff room turned to silence. The light went out of so many eyes. I watched brilliant teachers — my friends — vanish under the weight of burnout, their joy replaced by survival.

I felt myself fading too, like chalk on a board that’s been wiped one too many times.

So today, I began my goodbye. I pulled faded art off the walls and tucked thirty years of handmade cards into a single box. In the back of a drawer, I found a letter from a student from 1998:

“Thank you for loving me when I was hard to love.”

I sat on the floor and cried.

No party. No applause. Just a handshake from a young principal who called me “Ma’am” while checking his notifications.

I left my rocking chair behind, and my sticker box too. What I carried with me were the memories — the faces of hundreds of children who once trusted me enough to reach out their hands and learn. That can’t be uploaded. It can’t be measured. It can’t be replaced.

I miss when teachers were partners, not targets. When parents and educators worked side by side, not in opposition. When schools cared more about wonder than numbers.

So if you know a teacher — any teacher — thank them. Not with a mug or a gift card, but with your words. With your respect. With your understanding that behind every test score is a heart that cared enough to try.

Because in a world that often overlooks them, teachers are the ones who never forget our children.

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@d6bbe18e44914d4 @baker_sher48798 @GavinNewsom Nope. I just had to answer the last question, sorry!

[Is it Nap time 🇨🇦🇮🇹 @AngelaA85]

@Moore2295Emma @JoJoFromJerz The guy spends more time watching tv in the day than sleeping! He knew about it!!! Get your head out of the sand