Von G. Jones

📚 Author | Writer of upmarket #BIPOC stories
🤝 Rep: Leticia Gomez at Savvy Literary
🦋: vonangel

[APStylebook @APStylebook]

You've been asking for this one for years. We heard you.
We announced a change in AP style at the @ACESEditors conference today: It's now healthcare, one word, in all uses.
We also changed childcare and daycare, closing them up to one word rather than two.
This guidance is live on AP Stylebook Online now.

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

My ancestors didn’t fight [and ☠️] for this right for me to sit idle. This is how my voice sings loudly. #idomypart #ialwaysdomypart #vote

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

@UPS My UPS account has been locked for over 2 weeks now due to fraud, and no one at UPS has been able to help me unlock it! Should I just delete the account and create a new one?

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

I’m officially agented!🎉 Beyond thrilled and grateful to be working with Leticia Gomez of Savvy Literary Services—someone who’s just as excited about WHIST as I am.📚 #AmAgented #WritingCommunity #WritersLift #Authors #Writers #BlackWriters #BVM

[Gavin Newsom @GavinNewsom]

BREAKING: As Donald Trump cancels free admission to National Parks on MLK Day, California will be offering FREE entry at more than 200 participating state parks.

Honor MLK. Get outdoors. And stick it to an old man with a fragile ego.

[Pablo Manríquez @PabloReports]

CHICAGO — This might be the best man on the street interview I've seen all year. Well done, Don Lemon.

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 The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe.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

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

@theloudflower This is awesome!! Congratulations!🎊

[Acyn @Acyn]

Obama: Imagine if I had done any of this. Imagine if I had pulled Fox News’ credentials from the White House press corps. Imagine if I had said to law firms that were representing parties that were upset with policies my administration had initiated, that you will not be allowed into government buildings. We will punish you economically for dissenting from the Affordable Care Act or the Iran deal. We will ferret out students who protest against my policies.

It’s unimaginable that the same parties that are silent now would have tolerated behavior like that from me, or a whole bunch of my predecessors.

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

@MCTaylor_author Ugh, none for me either. But I haven’t pitched in nearly a decade and almost forgot how it works.😂

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

@tvwriteher Thank you!😊

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

One more boost✨ for #questpit #WritingCommmunity #A #T #Q

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

WHIST = Blacktop Wasteland x Gone Girl

A Creole crime heiress. A white-collar criminal.

A love meant to unite their feuding families—until he betrayed her and locked her away.

Now Sicily Soulé Spade has escaped, and she’s playing her final card: revenge.

#QuestPit #Q #A #T

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

WHIST = Long Bright River x Gone Girl

Power.💪🏾 Betrayal.💔 Bloodlines.🩸

Sicily Soulé Spade was erased by her own family—locked in an institution by the man who swore to love her. Now she’s back.

The game is revenge, and she plays to win.

#questpit #A #T #suspense

[Buzzing Pop @BuzzingPop]

Kendrick Lamar breaks the all-time #SuperBowl viewership, with 133.5 MILLION viewers.

The record was previously held by Michael Jackson in 1993 with 133.4m viewers.

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

@J_Schiecke You're so kind and supportive! I would love a boost.😊

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

Thanks for the retweet! @AvinashLSPaul

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

@Boho_Bookworm_J Ooh, I'm intrigued! GL to you!

[Von G. Jones @Von__Angel]

WHIST = Blacktop Wasteland x Gone Girl

A Creole crime heiress. A white-collar criminal.

A love meant to unite their feuding families—until he betrayed her and locked her away.

Now Sicily Soulé Spade has escaped, and she’s playing her final card: revenge.

#QuestPit #Q #A #T

[Jim Himes 🇺🇸🇺🇦 @jahimes]

Glad you asked. Since February 24, 1803.