A breathtaking aerial perspective of Mt Everest (8,848.86 m), captured by a DJI Mavic-3 drone, filmed by 8KRAW— a Chinese expert team in drone storytelling and aerial cinematography.
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 The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe.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.
Woke up this morning and tested positive for Blue Jays fever. It’s contagious and the whole city has it. The rest of MLB should quarantine, keep their distance and mask up. Go Jays
I long for the days when Republicans and Democrats came together to balance the budget, pay down the debt, and drive robust economic growth. It took a combination of courage and bipartisanship, and it worked. That model can be repeated, hopefully before a major crisis occurs. But I fear we are on the road to that crisis now.
Enjoy your Memorial Day and let us remember why we celebrate. We celebrate the lives of the heroes we have lost. Never Forget.
Please read the entire post.
Brendan Looney. Did our first deployment together at SEAL Team 3. One of the best and most respected leaders on the Team. Husband, son, and brother. “Be Strong. Be accountable. Never complain.”
Auston Matthews has the most career goals from anyone drafted since 2010, he was drafted in 2016. #LeafsForever
(@JeffVeillette)
Matthews (2016) — 359g in 553gp
Skinner (2010) — 357g in 999gp
Seguin (2010) — 346g in 964gp
Pastrnak (2014) — 346 in 667gp
@krassenstein Brian - I am a Republican and agree with everything you’ve listed here. Our differences used to be about how big a role government should have in our lives… Less is more for me and that is why I am a Republican.
Gelje Sherpa was taking a private client up Mt. Everest when he noticed someone dying just 500 meters from the summit. So he ran over, wrapped him in a sleeping mattress, gave him oxygen, put him on his back, and hiked him 6 hours down the mountain to safety.
Mitt Romney:
"I don't really have a home in my party … I come from a tradition of, you know, Ronald Reagan, and George Herbert Walker Bush, and George W. Bush, and John McCain. … Those are the people that have shaped our party: anti-Putin, anti-Russia, anti-authoritarians, anti-Kim Jong Un, very strong on foreign policy...I don't recognize that in the great majority of our party today. And that, for me, is very troubling."