I love that the sun sets later in the evening and the little ant hill along the sidewalk explodes with little black ants carrying objects more than their body weight. It feels that way as the school year winds down. Several, if not all, of my colleagues carry that kind of weight. I hope that I carry my end-of-the-school-year responsibilities with as much grace as those little black ants. I take care not to step on them and avoid not to block their paths (sometimes I wish we were that considerate of one another).

Many of my students stare out the windows of my classroom. They look at the bright green of spring on the trees as they contrast with the present red and black mesas. Even I purposely walk to the back of the class and watch white (sometimes grey) clouds skirt across the blue sky like passing thoughts. A couple of my last assignments are clay sculptures and poetry to finish up the unit on creative writing. It’s a calming project to put the imagination to the test. 


Delyssa Begay

DeLyssa Begay

Many Farms, Arizona

I belong to the Black Sheep People. My clan is my mother’s, and my father’s is One-Who-Walks-Around People. I am granddaughter to the Bitter Water and Red-Streak-into-Running Water Peoples. That’s mouthful, but it is my identity.

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