J.

insta: joymfernandez

[Joy Joy @Joyoky1]

You are not meant to train a grown person to be empathetic. If you keep having to explain why your feelings matter, the issue is not your delivery; it’s their capacity. Empathy is chosen, not forced.

[𝒶rα˚˖𓍢ִ໋ @yslmammi]

until you date a generous man (i didn’t say rich), you’ll understand that men love to provide for their women. they don’t wait to be asked, they find joy in doing it, they take initiative, it is his pleasure to be generous to a woman he adores. generous in time, emotion, action.

[Nandi 🤍💜🤍 @pallnandi]

We are raising a generation that struggles to read or write because we taught them to swipe before they learned to think. We replaced curiosity with convenience and depth with speed. The real crisis isn’t literacy. It’s attention. And it’s already showing.

[Sesame Chiccen 🔜Dreamcon @Loccdawggg]

I am a whore for a good Cesar salad

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 The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe.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

[mar ꕤ @realfvcknlegacy]

gaza has reached level 5 starvation which means its irreversible even if food becomes available again. their bodies are gonna be permanently damaged. let that sink in.

[lady . @LadyLondon]

The 53rd & final Sunday of the year.
To God be the Glory.
Thank You for keeping me, in spite of it all.

[J. @_JoyMilly]

@Shae_Buttaa @mariah_enriquez lol I can see it!!

[J. @_JoyMilly]

🖤

[J. @_JoyMilly]

Chill🖤

[J. @_JoyMilly]

Y’all have to make everything unhealthy😭

[Raye @sweetbabyrayes]

I don’t know how I feel about this just yet hmmm 🤔

[casiqua @c_ajuhlia]

i literally love my life, i’m having a blast, & God is good

[J. @_JoyMilly]

Exactly why my children didn’t get it.

[The Vigilant Fox 🦊 @VigilantFox]

The Hepatitis B vaccine is mandated for children to attend public schools in 47 states.

Hepatitis B is transmitted through needles or sexual contact, so why is this vaccine pushed babies on their first day of life?

Doctors don’t have a valid answer. In fact, if you ask them why your child needs the Hep B shot on the first day of life, they give you the lame excuse that there could be a hepatitis B-infected needle on the playground.

The thing is, there are ZERO documented cases of a child contracting Hepatitis B from an infected needle found on a playground.

Mothers are tested for Hep B beforehand, so the disease poses no risk to the baby. Yet, we are injecting them to prevent Hep B on the first day of life?

What doctors also don't tell you is that the Hepatitis B vaccine wears off by the time children become teenagers.

So, there's literally no point in injecting a newborn baby with a Hepatitis B shot.

Watch @calleymeans and @CaseyMeansMD explain this in detail. This is a must-see conversation.

[J. @_JoyMilly]

Loveeeee

[MK @adoreanise]

having nice teeth such a flex

[girly&wordly @Brieyonce]

I have not found a better feeling than walking the streets of New York City at night while the weather is warm and restaurants are busy, people are out, flowers from the corner stores are fragrant…like it’s just unmatched.

[J. @_JoyMilly]

@LeilaMaree Thanks beauty🫶🏽

[J. @_JoyMilly]

@sadazjah_ 🫶🏽🫶🏽

[J. @_JoyMilly]

Been a while