Dickson

Covered

[39daph @39daph]

Pokopia tips thread!! **mild spoilers**
because I've played 30+ hrs in 3 days, and I'm a thorough gamer who likes sharing elite ball knowledge (ongoing) 📣📣📣

[Anubis @Sibuna_Switch]

I did some pathing today with gdb to plan how to shiny hunt all 5 Legendaries in the special scans, so I will share.

For example, I can reset Virizion by running back and forth from the corner balcony to across the street! GDB shows exactly when it's generated in the top right.

[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 The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe.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.

[Real Madrid C.F. 🇬🇧🇺🇸 @realmadriden]

Don’t cry because it’s over.

Smile because it happened.

[Beno SarkCess @benopaonyx1]

18 Pictures With Deep Meaning:

Number 10 really hit deep

1.

[Dickson @Dickson0411]

@imemerang Based on past experiences. Isn't that the application for visa as well?

[Massimo @Rainmaker1973]

Using a 3D pen to make a Pokémon mosquito coil holder.

[📹 sanago_kr]
https://t.co/rteU6JiRh2

[Dickson @Dickson0411]

One of the most important things I have learned during my time teaching is that every individual does learn differently and can succeed.
#tncohort

[EuroFoot @eurofootcom]

🇩🇪🤬 Behind the scenes of Hansi Flick's passionate half-time team talk as Germany were drawing 0-0 vs Costa Rica…

6 goals followed in the second half, with Germany winning 4-2.

[Dickson @Dickson0411]

@jooninglim Good luck!

[Dickson @Dickson0411]

输？输吗。那你人生能全部都是赢的吗？

[Dickson @Dickson0411]

@jooninglim 😢😢

[Dickson @Dickson0411]

Life will always bring opportunities and challenges, regardless of whether we are ready or not.

[Dickson @Dickson0411]

The more quiet someone is, or the louder someone laughs, its most probably because they understand what it means to feel lonely/sad.

[Dickson @Dickson0411]

有時候，這個世界很大很大，
大到我們一輩子都沒有機會遇見。
有時候，這個世界又很小很小，
小到一抬頭就看見了你的笑臉。
所以遇見時，請一定要感激；
相處時，請一定要珍惜；
轉身時，請一定要優雅；
揮別時，請一定要微笑；
因為一轉身，
可能一輩子也不會再相見了。

[Dickson @Dickson0411]

Broken beyond repair

[Dickson @Dickson0411]

@jooninglim What's up?

[Dickson @Dickson0411]

@jooninglim How long more do you have?