Piles of books teeter beside my chair where I watch the birds and sip my morning latte and then sit for afternoon tea. More are beside my bed, while my shelves hold volumes. Books are in my purse and in the car. It feels good to be able to read again, since my concentration has improved. There was a time when I grew anxious about ever being able to read more than a Facebook post. For a short time I viewed myself as a fraud;I'm a reading teacher for goodness sakes who couldn't read more than a few sentences at a time. Thankfully, now I am reading and I am writing. My concentration is improving. Relieved, I can authentically talk about my struggles with my students. It gently reminds me just how much of the brain is robbed from chronic stress. I hope that this experience makes me a better teacher and human being.