Every Happening

The Spinach Can

Posted on August 15, 2025August 29, 2025 by Allen Reding

As a child, I idolized my father; as a teenager, I resented his endless penny-pinching—no air conditioning, a black-and-white TV, and store-to-store coupon hunts. I felt only the confusion and frustration, aware that our home lagged behind the comforts my friends took for granted. I didn’t understand his methods at the time. Years later, though, the picture became clear: the grocery trips, the careful budgeting, all painted a portrait of a man shaped by hardship, quietly giving everything he could. What once seemed stingy was, in truth, love in disguise.

Grace Has No Outdated Addresses

Posted on August 11, 2025August 27, 2025 by Allen Reding

I spent thirty years as a teacher, and I learned something curious about shame. The students who needed correction most seemed immune to it, while the kind, hardworking kids absorbed every word like a wound. Years later, I realized I was living out that same pattern myself. Old mistakes ambush me like lightning—memories from decades ago that no one else recalls, yet I prosecute myself endlessly for them. The irony is cruel: I give grace freely to others, but not to the younger version of me. It’s time to stop answering calls meant for someone who doesn’t live here anymore.

Words After the Storm

Posted on August 5, 2025August 29, 2025 by Allen Reding

When Hurricane Harvey swept through Houston’s Bay Area, I didn’t lose everything as some neighbors did, but the storm left me unsettled. Returning to my classroom after two weeks, the familiar room felt foreign, as if loss had seeped into the walls. I wondered what to tell my students—many carrying grief far heavier than mine. Monday couldn’t simply be about supply and demand curves or notes on economic systems; it would be about finding steady ground again. Life’s storms—floods, illness, even loss—disrupt more than markets. They reshape us. Pain is real, but so is growth. Even in darkness, there’s light enough to take another step.

A woman enjoys a warm cup of coffee indoors, capturing a moment of relaxation.

Now, Not Later: Finding Joy in the Present

Posted on August 5, 2025August 29, 2025 by Allen Reding

My wife and I still live in the same modest starter home we bought in our mid-20s—one we’ll likely never leave, even as empty-nesters. In a sea of sprawling, affluent houses, our humble place somehow became the gathering spot for our boys’ friends. Maybe it was the warmth, not the square footage, that made it feel like home. We enjoy life simply: modest houses, inside cruise cabins, and the occasional small luxury before returning to reality. Maybe life’s value isn’t in its size—but in how we welcome others in. Real contentment is found not in extravagance, but in the quiet places that feel like home.

Close-up-Portrait-Of-A-Man-In-His-Mid-50s-Sitting

A Brunch of Thoughts

Posted on August 5, 2025August 29, 2025 by Allen Reding

My wife and I still live in the same modest starter home we bought in our mid-20s—one we’ll likely never leave, even as empty-nesters. In a sea of sprawling, affluent houses, our humble place somehow became the gathering spot for our boys’ friends. Maybe it was the warmth, not the square footage, that made it feel like home. We enjoy life simply: modest houses, inside cruise cabins, and the occasional small luxury before returning to reality. Maybe life’s value isn’t in its size—but in how we welcome others in. Real contentment is found not in extravagance, but in the quiet places that feel like home.

Unbonded

Posted on August 5, 2025August 29, 2025 by Allen Reding

I can still picture the toughest teachers I ever had—not the ones who challenged us academically, but the cold, drill-sergeant types whose classrooms felt like battlegrounds. My wife tells of one who yelled time from the girls’ bathroom, warning of doom for the tardy. These teachers might have pushed for excellence, but what did they truly feel for their students? When there’s no bond, the job feels hollow. Without a connection, the classroom becomes mere routine — and teaching loses its purpose.

One Teacher’s Journey

Posted on August 5, 2025August 29, 2025 by Allen Reding

Tomorrow begins my 24th year of teaching, yet I still remember the first hour of my first day—hands shaking, voice thin, wondering what I was doing there. Since then, the classroom has been both a crucible and a gift: seasons of exhaustion, unexpected laughter, heartbreak, and joy. I’ve taught lessons in economics and literature, but life always had lessons waiting for me too. Students grow, but so do teachers—shaped by storms, successes, and the steady rhythm of showing up. This journey has never been perfect, but it has always been worth it.

Shopping as a Traitor to the Carbs

Posted on August 5, 2025August 27, 2025 by Allen Reding

When I walk into the grocery store these days, I feel like a traitor. The bright boxes of cereal, the smiling mascots, even the frozen pizzas seem to glare at me, as if they know I’ve turned against them. Once, I shopped these aisles with loyalty; now, I hunt labels for low carbs and hidden sugars, scanning like a detective on foreign soil. It’s strange how food, so ordinary and familiar, can become a battleground. Every cart, every choice, is a small declaration of where my loyalties now lie.

Students in masks seated at desks in a classroom, maintaining safety measures.

Teaching Through the Pandemic (Part 2)

Posted on August 5, 2025August 27, 2025 by Allen Reding

By the second year of pandemic teaching, exhaustion had settled in like a fog. Lessons felt heavier, students more distant, and the energy I once carried into the classroom drained away. I kept moving—grading, planning, adjusting—but often wondered if I had the strength to finish the year. What carried me wasn’t technology or training, but people: colleagues, family, and the quiet resilience we found together. Survival gave way to something deeper. We learned that even in uncertainty, strength grows step by step, and sometimes just finishing the journey is itself a victory.

A man indoors wearing a face mask expressing shock and concern, highlighting the importance of health safety.

Teaching Through the Pandemic (Part 1)

Posted on August 5, 2025August 27, 2025 by Allen Reding

When schools closed and classrooms went online, I thought technology would carry us through. Laptops, webcams, and digital platforms promised connection, maybe even innovation. Instead, I stared at blank screens and muted microphones, unsure if anyone was really on the other side. Teaching became a strange mix of isolation and improvisation—part lesson plan, part troubleshooting call. I learned quickly that technology can support learning, but it cannot replace presence. The real work of teaching has never been about the tools in our hands, but the people on the other end.