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Before I dive into my own story, something weighing heavily on me today is that my 2-year-old nephew Leo got his first haircut. The photo above was taken at our family Christmas this year and he truly earned his name with that hair. I don't know if his parents ever intended for his hair to get that long, but I imagine the choice to cut it was not an easy one. Look at those curls!

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But as you can see, he pulls off the short hair really well and looks even cooler with that prince shirt. It's almost like my first nibling (can we get a better gender neutral term for nieces and nephews?) has grown up, but then I have to remember he's only two, haha.

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Hi all! My name is Allison Millea (rhymes with hey) and I am a big fan of breakfast. Anytime of the day, I am down for breakfast.

I live in the Nokomis neighborhood of Minneapolis with two of my best friends. They get to experience the joys of living with my dog Henry and my cats Jerry and Pam.

This year marks my 9th year teaching at Burnsville High School. I can't believe nearly a third of my life has been spent in one building, but I also can't believe that nearly a third of my teaching career has been in the midst of a pandy, ya know?

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Pardon the bathroom mirror pic, but my academic/teacher/scholarly self are all wrapped up in silliness. This picture is from the spring of 2020 when we couldn't have in-person dress up days, so teachers got in the habit of dressing up with the theme and tweeting pictures of ourselves to show students we were still honoring the sanctity of spirit week.

I survived a semester of teaching five different courses and I'm just about to begin spring semester next week. I was treated to only four different courses this semester, plus two hours of hall duty. Lucky me!

Starting next week, I'll be teaching a College-in-the-Schools Introduction to Literature course through the U of M geared for seniors, (a course I use as a bouncing off point for all of my upper level curricula) a Journalism writing elective for 11-12th graders, two sections of mainstream 9th Grade Language Arts, and finally, I'll have a totally asynchronous section of Into to Composition This final course provides a lot of flexibility in my day, oddly enough. Those of us who volunteered to take on a fully asynchronous course for our finalized concept of a Virtual Academy, (for kids who really thrived in distance learning) get the bonus of no added duty during the school year. It'll be interesting, but after the last 2.5 years of teaching, I'm well-adjusted to teaching with my head barely above water.

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Meet my cats!

Jerry, (the overbearing yet somehow emotionally withholding gentleman in the back) was found in a dumpster by my friend in downtown Minneapolis when he was around 8 months old. He likes to scream at my face around 3:30 every morning despite having access to food and clean water around the clock. Jerry has full acclimated to the life of an indoor cat, but has a proclivity for doritos, which I assume is a relic of his dumpster days.

Pam, the gorgeous Maine Coon mix being protected by Jerry is my absolute baby. I got her from a shelter in April 2020 when I was in the midst of my early pandemic depression. Now that we're nearing the endemic stage, I'm still depressed, but Pam keeps me smiling.

Jerry is very much a structuralist who wants to breakdown every aspect of his day correctly. He's very rule-oriented and believes his way is the only correct way. Pam, on the other hand, is largely post-structuralist. She communicates her wants/needs effortlessly, but not in the expected ways and does not always follow the norms of existence.

Both of my cats coexist peacefully and truly love each other even if their behavior is opposite of the other. Composition scholars do the same thing, (maybe not as peacefully.)

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I'm lucky enough to work in a beautifully diverse and inclusive school district. The scholars I work with deserve a teacher who views them for their humanity. I always tell my classes on the first day of school that I will help them grow as readers and writers, but I care about them holistically and want to help them grow as people first. This includes actively voicing my supports for groups like Black Lives Matter in my classroom. I'm thankful for administrators who share this mindset and very thankful that we have been working under a Cultural Proficient School System title for about five years now. In the metro, it seems like every school board meeting is a shit show recently. Whether people are mad about masks or critical race theory, there is an enormous amount of racist rhetoric being spewed around. My district on the other hand, has had peacefully quiet school board meetings recently. This is largely due to the fact that we had all of these conversations (except for masks, haha) so long ago and all the parents who were against equitable practices in school left our district in a massive display of white flight.

The photo I've included is important to me and who I am. I am constantly trying to be an advocate for historically marginalized voices, but I try to show up physically whenever possible rather than just relying on social media posts. The protest I was at was an educator-centric protest against the Brooklyn Center police department days after Daunte Wright was murdered. This protest was heart-breaking and invigorating because it also fell upon the same day that Derek Chauvin was sentenced. There was a celebratory feeling, but it was also riddled with grief and fear. At one point, a man drove by pointing a gun at the protestors. He didn't do anything and just drove on by, but it was still one of those moments that will always stick with me because that millisecond of fear I felt was a smaller version of what BIPOC generally feel around officers.

As far as politics in the classroom, it's hard to separate it sometimes, but my students across the political spectrum know that I love them all and will give them the most supportive environment to flourish as readers and writers as possible. Sometimes, it's essential to bring politics into the classroom.

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Friends, I'd like to introduce you to Henry. He's a 14-year-old chiweenie who weighs 8 lbs. He originally ended up with me a few years ago as a foster from Texas' infamous kill shelters. I had successfully fostered a few dogs before Henry and if I could back in time and tell my former self that this dog would become my partner in crime, I would laugh hysterically.

Henry's story is unique. When he was picked up for the shelter in Texas, he was found on a leash stuck in the hand of someone currently in rigor mortis, presumably his owner who was an elderly man with home insecurity. At that time, Henry was around 9 years old and had significant health issues. One of his eyes was scabbed over and nonfunctional, (it has since been removed, obviously,) he had fleas so bad and for so long that his hair follicles had been eaten along his spine and he was bald. He's got double luxating patellas, which look insane, but don't cause him much trouble. He's got a heart murmur, terrible cataract in his remaining eye, and to top it all off, he ate part of a bouncy ball that has become a part of his intestines. I forgot to mention, he's extremely fearful and that turns into aggression. So while he's generally fine with his specific person, he is not the kind of dog you take to a birthday party.

After a month of fostering which included multiple vet appointments per week to get him all fixed up, he was adopted! Aaaand three weeks later he was returned to me for being too aggressive. At that point, I decided I would foster fail just to let this little guy live in retirement in peace until his death, which I thought would be any day.

Five year later and Henry is in great spirits. The picture above shows his normal demeanor, but if you scroll down, you'll see the demon gremlin that pops out sometimes.

I always spend an entire class period talking about Henry with my students because sometimes they feel like Henry based on their circumstances. I use this time as a reminder that if I can love this horrifying little creature with my whole heart and let him sleep in my bed? You can bet I won't give up on a kid in 9th Grade Language Arts.