I've set aside a new section of this website for ESA students enrolled in my English classes. You can access it by clicking on the ESA link at the top right of every webpage or by clicking on the ESA logo on the left-hand side.
 
Once you're on my ESA webpage, there's a link to the syllabus for each class. There's also a calendar icon next to each class name that will take to you to the schedule for that class. I'll be updating those schedules throughout the school year.
 
And you can also easily access ESA's Moodle system from that main page.
 
I'm looking forward to a great school year.

On Tuesday, I'll start my new job teaching English at the Episcopal School of Acadiana in Cade. I'll be teaching all of the 8th grade classes and one of the 10th grade classes of American literature.

When I left The Independent in March, I did so with the intentions of doing some freelance writing and going back to school to pursue my masters degree, although I hadn't decided on the course of study. But the ultimate goal was to teach. It's something I've been thinking about for quite a few years now.

But a few weeks after leaving the paper, I got a call from ESA about an English position that was being vacated. It was a great opportunity for me and one I couldn't pass up. It's going to throw me into teaching without having to go back for my masters right now, although I still want to get one at some point.

And the other great thing in all of this is that Henry will be in the PreK-3 program at the lower school campus here in Lafayette.

Her bio states: "Hadley Fuller, 16, is a sophomore at Lafayette High School in Lafayette, Louisiana. She plays the violin, loves nature, and loves to write." But Hadley's also my niece, and she has a great eye and ear. And an even bigger heart.
 
"As the meadows roll by my window, the cows stroll lazily by the lake that reflects the glistening moon and the luminescent stars. We drive on, my darling and I, in our deep blue beetle bug. I look ahead, and the canopy of trees darkens the road, shadowing every twist and turn that I know it must be hiding. As it envelopes us, I smell a skunk. My darling comments about how horrendous it is, and I quietly smile to myself. I’m lost in a memory from years ago."
 
Read "The Smell of Night" by Hadley Fuller.

"No, the story's not interesting. I simply applied for it and got it. I never was a good reporter."