It’s Not Easy Being Ms. Green

The education team with our friend Joshua who walks home with us from school each day.

The [Wo]man in the Arena

“It is not the critic who counts; not the [wo]man who points out how the strong [wo]man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the [wo]man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends [her]self in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if [s]he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that [her] place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

-Theodore Roosevelt


This last year of my life leading up to Zambezi felt like a boxing match, me vs. me, where I was ready to pronounce myself KO’d on multiple occasions. Broken, marred, and bloody, I somehow managed to lift myself back to my feet each time I fell and sometimes I couldn’t even get my hands up in front of my face before I was hit with the next punch of failure or shortcoming, sending me to the floor again. Somewhere amongst the self-loathing, pockets of depression, self doubt, numbness, and loneliness I lost pieces of myself that once seemed so innate. Relationships became distant. Apathy kicked in. I left my senior year feeling mediocre about my year and the direction I was headed. I was relieved to depart for Zambezi, to get out of the boxing arena, and give myself an adventure filled with new growth.

We are now 11 days into our journey, and I’ve been unable to escape the boxing arena. How naïve of me to think it would be that easy. Each morning as I finish my final bites of breakfast, the all-to-familiar fear and anxiety settle in as Anna, Lydia, Ethan and I prepare for our drive to Chilena Basic School where our grade 6 and 7 students await our storytelling lesson for the day. My chest clenches; hot tears swell deep behind my eyes in the place that I have learned to store them so well. My body feels out of sorts as I begin frantically running the lesson plan through my head. Start with the song. Then hand out journals. Then read the book. Wait…are we reading the book before or after we hand out journals?? You don’t even know what you’re doing. Why am I teaching? I don’t want to do this. I’ve never been one to enjoy running, but I’m convinced that my mind could beat Usain Bolt in a 100m sprint.

I just finished student teaching last semester and am now graduated with a B.A. in Mathematics and a teaching certificate, but I don’t know if I will ever be “ready” to teach. It still does not seem real to me that I could have my own classroom and be trusted with the lives of 150 students on a daily basis. I am hyper aware of my lack of experience, and if you ask any wise teacher, the limit of growth as a teacher does not exist. There is always new research, new methods, new theories to keep up on. I am left wondering how I will ever feel good enough in the profession or as though I am providing my students with the education they deserve.

“Who is important in your life?” I ask the grade 6 students as their eyes intently focus on Lydia and I in front of the dusty chalkboard at the front of the classroom. We received an array of responses–mother, father, grandmother, doctor, teacher–amongst a list of answers you would expect to hear. I walk to the second row on the right of the room full of creaky wooden desks and point at Edgar who is squeezed between two of his classmates on a shared bench. “What about Edgar? Why is Edgar important?” My question was met by a sea of perplexed looks on the faces of the other 45-plus students as they were caught off guard by my question. The moment of silence and no response was all too familiar from my student teaching days. But this time, I didn’t cringe. I stood tall in the discomfort.

Seated at the desk just behind Edgar, a girl slowly lifted her hand into the air as the corners of her mouth simultaneously lifted slowly into a soft smile. “To play with,” she answered softly. The class agreed with affirming nods, and I thanked her for her answer. I continued to scan the classroom to find another hand up in the front row, confident and firm. The kind of hand raise so full of eagerness that the student might burst if not called upon promptly. I point at the enthusiastic young boy just in time to relieve his anticipation and he answered with conviction, “Because Edgar is a person.” Wow. There was a prolonged pause as I scrambled to get on this student’s level. “YES,” I said as I grasped onto his profound answer. I pointed to 3 or 4 other students in the crowd one by one asking, “Is he important? Is she important?” with each prompt being answered with a firm and resounding “Yes!” from the class. We concluded together that all people are important, simply because they are people.

I have held this small, yet impactful moment in my heart and will cling to it as I step in front of the class tomorrow morning with the lovely Miss Lydia by my side remembering that our students, Lydia, and I are all important people just by being who we are. Again I will lift myself to my feet, eat my breakfast, hop in the back of the Land Cruiser, and step into the arena as Ms. Green.

All my love,

Morgan Green

Thank you to everyone who has left comments on posts! They keep us going and keep the tears flowing. Your words and love are so valuable.

P.S. Maddie, KP, Leigha, Moogs, Linds- Thank you for helping me get back in the arena again and again. I could not have done this year on my own. I miss and love you all dearly. I think of you all daily. I am guessing this first bit of post grad hasn’t been easy. Did you hear what the grade 6ers said? You are important. Stay green as you each start your new adventures.

P.P.S. Mom, Dad, P-man, and Bailey- Holding a special place in my heart for you all at Great Grandpa’s funeral today. Thanks for hanging in there on graduation/move out weekend. Thank you for all the things I never say thank you for. Bailey, I bet you are kicking butt at work. Can’t wait to hear about all of the things you are learning. Payton, finish 7th grade strong bud! Much love.

P.P.P.S. To any Ferris students who may read this, I miss you all! You too Charlie and Chad. You have brought so much joy into my life. I am so thankful for the time I got to spend with you! Enjoy the last month of school and I wish you all restful and adventurous summers.



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22 Responses to It’s Not Easy Being Ms. Green

  1. Hannah Van Dinter says:

    Beautiful blog post, Morgan! You are a talented writer. It is amazing how each person’s experience in Zambezi can be so profoundly impactful for our understanding of what matters, both within ourself and in the world. How incredible that you were able to be confident in a space that allowed your students to begin to reflect on the same things you are reflecting on. Keep it coming, Zags! I love checking in for these.

    Kisu mwane,
    Hannah Van Dinter

  2. Mogan's #1 fan says:

    Thoughts while reading this blog post:

    1. Award winning title. How did we not think of this pun this year?
    2. THE ARENA. Marred with sweat and blood. Thanks for pulling this beaut out whenever we got hopeless and scared this year.
    3. Thank you thank you thank you for being the most honest, least bullshit-y person I know. Thank you for showing up and letting us into those damn mud puddles.
    4. You know the importance and value of education more than so many. What a weight to carry, what a burden to bear if you do it alone, but God, what a gift you are. Thank you for showing me that it is okay to be scared and self-doubting, while you also do such big things (especially as I head into a classroom far sooner than I will be ready for.)
    5. Crying because of Edgar and how this is such a little portrait of how you treat everyone, with dignity and love, calling out the goodness no one needs to work for. You are teaching the most important things!! So proud.
    6. You are living deeply into yourself, and all the joy and fear that holds. Breathtaking. Love you Mogs.
    p.s. You are the one who has offered us healing in hard places over and over, even when you didn’t have the time or energy to. Like I told your dad the day you moved out (with lots of tears in my eyes), you were the glue of our house. Of course, you are so much more. Keep growing and getting up.

    Moogle (I guess the nicknames are sticking post-grad)

  3. Amy Phifer says:

    Zags I love reading your posts each day. I’m so excited for each and every one of you and the experiences you are having. Thank you for sharing. You are all “Someone Very Important”

    Morgan Smith. I’m writing because I hope you are as excited to hear from me as I was to read your post and those of your companions each day. I can’t wait to hear your stories but I know for you personally they will be more than just stories to tell, they are a piece of you.

    Blessings to each one of you.

  4. Lindsey says:

    MORGAN GREEN WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US YOU WERE THE 5TH SECRET ENGLISH MAJOR OF THE HOUSE? This is beautiful (as expected). I’m not surprised at all to see this quote, and I’m also not surprised that you are making a classroom of kiddos see the inherent goodness and dignity of every person because I’ve witnessed you do that countless times in Spokane…why would it be any different half way across the world?

    Right after I heard my TFA placement and was not sure if I would commit, I watched the 10 min video of a bilingual teacher going over the Declaration of Human Rights with her 1st graders (the one I sent to you!), and that was all I needed. To daily be able to remind others and to be reminded myself that every human is worthy of dignity is the most important job in the world that I can think of. You do this every single day, and it is beautiful and it has changed me more than you could know. Some moments that come to mind now…our sunshine walks, you listening even when my words fail, your countless notes of encouragement, your hugs and holding, you surprising me with Scoop, you choosing to leave a room to affirm that all people are important, your intentionality and commitment in relationships, and you giving the dignity of being heard to all (even when that is painful, it is right).

    Thank you for your love and friendship, it is one of the most important friendships that I’m walking away from GU with. Thank you for never being satisfied with “good enough.” Thank you for giving and giving of yourself when you did not even have enough for you. Thank you for modeling for me and Megs and Mads and all the other teacher ladies out there what it means to be an in-progress, incredible, and convicted teacher. You are a force of good that can’t be stopped. Can’t wait to witness your goodness into these next weeks, months, and years, Morgs. Love you, miss you, so good to hear from you.

    Love always,

  5. Emily Handy says:

    Wow. Wow. Wow. You get this. You really really do. You’re a superstar and you’re a super teacher already. I know that me telling you doesn’t make you believe it. But I believe it. I read this in your voice in my head and it was comforting and honest and raw and all of the things that make you you. Your heart can only bring strength, comfort, and love to these kids, the same as it has brought all of those things to me. Thank you for reminding them how important they are. Please remember that you are too.

    I love you and I’m praying & thinking of you all!

  6. Venezia says:

    Your words are beautiful. Remember when we went to Ultimate Bagel at the beginning of the year and just talked about the hard things? And what it meant to be strong for yourself and for those around you? I was so grateful for our conversation because it was the first time I felt like someone was actually listening to me and what I was going through. You sat and listened even though I’m sure you were in the midst of the crazy boxing arena. You have the ability to listen so well and I am so happy that your students and the rest of Zambezi gets the chance to be in your presence. YOU are important because you are a person too. I would read anything you have to write a million times because it is filled with such honestly and beauty. You are so great and I want to hear all about this trip once you get back. Please and thank you

    much love,
    a lil mule

  7. Adelaide says:

    Hi, Logam. It’s Adelaide. My daddy says you are in Zambia. I hope you and your peoples are having a great time. Okay, bye.

  8. Jeffrey Dodd says:


    Remember four years ago when you thought you were a bad writer? You were wrong then, and now the whole world has evidence of your care and thoughtfulness. These comments are a pretty great testament to how important you are to so many of us. If you end up a classroom teacher, I can’t wait to learn of all the lives you will influence. If you don’t, I am excited to see how you use you grace, dignity, and empathy to change lives wherever you end up. It has been my great pleasure to know you, and I am so happy to know that you continue to push yourself back out into the arena.

    PS, Lydia, I am sorry that I missed a day on your day! I am glad that you are still wandering, and learning yourself as you go. I can’t wait to hear more when you are back in Spokane.

    And another thing, I heard rumors that Brady Essman is with yall. Brady, remember when we spent hours talking around that sketchy gas stove in Denver? You are still my favorite KC zag. The rest of you all have probably already figured this out, but you should dig in with Brady.

    Finally, I think you may be headed to Dipalata this weekend. That’s a special place. If you see an older man named Benard, please give him my best. And enjoy the honey.


  9. Jennifer Akins says:

    What a joy to read! Yes, there will always be new research and theories, but knowing how, and then remembering, to go into the classroom ready and willing to learn as much or more than you teach is, in my humble opinion, the theory that will stand you in good stead for a lifetime. I imagine you all have realized by now that your education has barely begun. Enjoy!!

    Tunasakwillila mwane,


  10. Katie Polacheck says:

    In his book The Alphabet of Grace (which I think I sent with Elly), Frederick Buechner writes, “when you wake up in the morning, called by God to be a self again, if you want to know who you are, watch your feet. Because where your feet take you, that is who you are.” Morgan, your feet take you back into the arena every day, bloody and marred though they may be. Your feet travel the potholed roads to Ferris and the sandy roads to Chilena. Pay attention to where your feet take you, even when your mind is telling you otherwise. That is who you are.

    You show up, day in and day out, to do work that nobody asked you to do so that students (and friends and family) can feel just a fraction of their worth. You are deeply, beautifully entrenched in the lives and stories of those around you. You carry your heart in your hands—working tirelessly to sow love and dignity and justice all around you. You listen even when you’re tired. You always make the necessary Zips run. And you just keep coming back, despite all the reasons you tell yourself not to.

    I am so proud of you and in awe of your ability to grow through such a hard year. You’ve taught me so much through this experience so far and over the past four years. Freshman year, I learned of your wild dance moves and love of salt n pepa. Sophomore year, I learned about your dedication to the idea that every child is deserving of a quality education and I learned that it’s important to respond to a nine year old’s emails, even when they only say “lol”. Junior year, I learned that your love overflows into every part of your life. We are all much more joyful just being near you. And senior year, ah senior year. This year you showed me a boundless compassion that isn’t passive or easy. Thanks for challenging me along the way and loving me all the same. I know it wasn’t easy. There are many more Ms. Green lessons to come, even if they don’t include my falling asleep in your bed and then complaining about how warm it is. I’m looking forward to it. Mogs, I cry every time I picture you in Zambezi, eating chocolate in George’s shop, playing soccer in a sandy field, or wandering the fishy market. You are right where you need to be. I can’t wait to hear all about it.

    Zags, I hope you are leaning on and learning from one another. Continue the daily tasks of being family and seeking teachers inside and outside the convent. We are rooting for you all the way across the world.

    All my love,

  11. Claire Polacheck says:


    Thank you for this beautiful post.

    I don’t think I have seen more love in one room than when twenty-odd exhausted pals came to celebrate you at 5:30AM. In reminding your students that they matter, don’t forget to remind yourself as well. After a long year of teaching, it would have been easy to take a break from it all. Your experience with Edgar and students demonstrates how impactful your presence can be, even if it feels like you are constantly throwing yourself into the arena and coming out defeated.

    In other news, Katie is absolutely losing her mind with nothing to do for three weeks. She has taken to hiking with 40 lbs of books on her back, seeking out sunny spots to read, and crying about every blog post. It isn’t easy for her to be home while all of her favorite people are in her favorite place, but all of your words are making it just a little bit easier.


  12. Ashlyn Whelan says:

    Ms. Morgan Green,
    You never cease to amaze me! Your post was heartfelt and authentic, a true reflection of who you are! Thank you for sharing your feelings of self-doubt and anxiety, struggles that are full of burden and extremely relatable to all. I am so proud to know you! I am in awe of your ability to teach in addition to textbook academics, but more importantly of human worth and focus on each of your students as individuals. I am forever grateful for your friendship, as you made GU my home Freshman year when I was experiencing a time of disorientation. I am thinking of you and praying for you and all the fellow Zags in Zambia!
    Lots of Love,

  13. Katie Barger says:

    *warning: this is my second attempt to post/write this comment, so if a very similar comment from me has already appeared, please disregard this one. Technology is hard sometimes.

    My dearest Morgan,
    Wow you currently have me hiding my tears in my pillow because I’m sharing the tiniest hotel room with my family and I don’t want them to see me crying this much.
    I just want to say thank you. Thank you for your words, for your light, and for reminding myself and so many others that we are important too.
    I remember two years ago, you randomly organized for a group of us Coughlin girls to go “star gazing”. I didn’t understand why because it was such a cloudy night. But you and CMay convinced me to go, and so we spent the the night laying on our backs, heads in circle, on top of cliff park, answering questions about hopes and dreams. Then you asked everyone to share what they love about the person to their left, then to their right. I guarantee everyone went to bed that night feeling so much more loved than when they woke up that day… all because of you. This is just one example of the many opportunities you take to make people feel important. I’m so thankful your students at Chilena get to dance in your light as well. I’m sure just as you will always remember this moment, so will Edgar.
    But amidst all that you do, I hope you one day accept that you are important too. When I first started typing this out, I wrote “Dear Mo Money,” but that felt wrong because you, my friend, are priceless. During finals week when I saw you in Hem, I wished you a good last week here at Gonzaga. You quietly responded that, the thing is, you haven’t been here. My heart hurts that you’ve felt so alone this year as you have bravely fought in the arena, but please know that you are here. I see you and so does everyone else. Your light shines everywhere you go. You are important because you are a person. This world is a brighter place with you in it. Please don’t ever forget that.
    Mo I thank you again for your incredible words and for allowing me to call you a friend! No matter what your future holds, know that I look forward to continue learning from you because you are an incredible teacher, in and out of the arena. I wish you all the more courage, strength and love during your current and future challenges, and above all I wish you faith in the belief of your own importance. I will obnoxiously be cheering for you from the stands, along with your ZamFam and so many others! Love you love you love you!

    -Katie Barger

    P.S. Lydia, what wonderful wonderful words! I have so enjoyed hearing your experiences and wisdom every Monday night this semester at tabling. We probably did more storytelling than selling of honey- sorry Josh- but I am so happy to hear so many parts of your story meet in Zambia and to know you are walking its sandy paths right now. Thank your for your kind soul, so full of wanderlust. Keep wandering. So much love to you!

    P.S.S. Sending love to all of you guys. Business and leadership team, I can’t wait to hear stories about Orange Julius and other students, and hear how classes are going.

    P.S.S.S. Elly, I hope you are finding home and love in old connections, as well as adventure in new ones. Drink a strawberry or banana ZamSip for me (or both) and take lots of pictures of wansie! Love you!

  14. Molly Bosch says:

    Morgan Green,

    Wow. What a gal you are. Your words are so profound and beautiful, and I can’t even think of the right words to respond to this post, besides thank you. Thank you for this amazing and simple reminder that humanity is so important. I am so blessed to get to know such a strong soul who fights like an absolute superstar in the arena of life each and everyday. I’m certain that Jublia and all of the dogs in Browning, Montana are cheering you on like crazy right now as you take on the arena that we like to call Zambezi. If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed during your time over there, just think about that time that we “hiked” up the Buffalo Jumps and I had to take Ex-Lax and how we didn’t really like Julia.

    You are fantastic. Thank you for your powerful words and spirit.

  15. Leigha Warner says:


    Hey from a little place to the south called Zimbabwe (it’s nice to be sleeping one floor/country beneath you again– feels right!).

    Wowowow, you continue to amaze me, though at this point I already know there is nothing you can’t do. Thank you for your words, thank you for entering the arena daily, thank you for entering your friends arena and helping them fight their battles, even after a long fought day in yours. I am forever grateful for the small part I got to play in your life and the huge impact you left on mine.

    I am smiling so big through my tears right now imagining you in front of your classroom (current and future). Your passion, intentionality, thoughtfulness and light are ever apparent and inspiring. We may never feel ready, but you have so so much to offer. Lean into those nerves, it is most often where we are uncomfortable that we experience the most growth. Stay green, my friend.

    Lotsa love from the Zags in Zimbabwe,


  16. Daring Greatly says:

    “For me, teaching is about love. It is not about transferring information, but rather creating an atmosphere of mystery and imagination and discovery. When I begin to lose myself because of some unresolved pain or fears or the overpowering feelings of shame, then I no longer teach…I deliver information and I think I become irrelevant then.”
    – a veteran teacher from Daring Greatly by Brene Brown

    Ms Morgan,
    “Take courage dear heart.” Mm. The arena is a very real place. I would say that you have more courage then you realize. Physical battles are one beast, intellectual ones are another, but the even greatest battles that we face and the biggest beasts that we fight are those in the heart ie. learning how to feel, learning how to tend to these matters and to heal. Those battles take great, great courage and you continue to fight them. With one foot in front of the other. You are stronger then you feel, you are more beautiful then you realize yet, and we all certainly have a lot more to learn from you Ms. Green. If I am honest, I don’t like seeing you in the arena because I feel like you are meant to run up all of those mountains that you described to us in your “when I was on the mountain” stories my freshman year. But. Because you are their, know that you are so so so so so loved Morgan. And…look at all of these amazing comments. So great! Thank you for daring greatly. It makes me smile to know that there is a teacher out there, like you, who demonstrates and who is willing to introduce the idea of what it means to dare greatly.

    In response to that quote in your post Brene Brown says, “vulnerability is not knowing victory or defeat, it’s understanding the necessity of both; it’s engaging. It’s being all in.”
    Keep being all in, engaging, and daring greatly. So proud of you.
    Love and peace.

  17. Maddie Burns says:

    Dearest Mogan,

    I’ve been waiting for your post like I am for a Sister Act singalong and eating it up like tortellini. Megs texted in Homey Home saying “ugghhh mogs 4 president” (obviously. because you’re great and we love you) accompanied by the link to your post. All the Love Does Ladiez are bursting with pride and love for you. Love Does: the Arena. This was such a hard, frustrating year. And yet you were tenacious, intentional, gracious, and brave day after day. Remember when you took me to Cold Stone after I had that sucky day? Or all the times you asked the good, hard questions? Or how you continued to show up when it was excruciatingly painful? I sure do. I am constantly in awe of your deep conviction to love others well and your relentless empathy. You fight the good fight. Morgan, you are innately good just as you are because you are Morgan Green. I’ll be thinking of you tomorrow morning when I join you in the arena as I leave for Creighton. Preparing to enter the arena sure is scary. I love you dearly, Morgs.

    Also, a big hello to the rest of the Zags! You have all been on my mind and in my prayers since your first plane took off. Every summer since my freshman year a piece of my heart has been in Zambia because beloved friends have always made a home there through one study abroad program or another. And so Zambia, though I’ve never been, has become dear to me over the years, just as you are dear to me. Elly, Taylor, Morgan Smith, Caroline, and Kelen- love love love love love loooove you ladies. Can’t wait to hear your stories of how you are continuing to come home to yourselves and to one another, to your fellow Zags and Zambians. To those I might not know as well or not at all- you are deeply loved and cherished. I’m loving and praying over you too.

    Much love,


    P.S. While writing this post I was listening to Phil Wickham but stopped and switched to “In that Order,” “Once Upon A Time…” and “Lip Gloss” in honor of you Mogan 😉

  18. Caroline says:


    I am always inspired by your tenacity and spirit. You love unconditionally. Your dedication to your students and others puts me in awe.

    I am so grateful to have been your roommate. My Gonzaga experience was entirely shaped by you. Your love and laughter has picked me up time and time again. I was recently telling someone about how we met at Whitworth before ever becoming roommates. Before when I hard to tell that story, I just assumed it was a weird coincidence. But now I know someone somewhere had to be looking it for us. Every time I talk to someone about being your roommate, they always tell me how lucky I was and I all can respond with is “You have no idea.”

    The boxing arena is a frightening place to be, especially when battling yourself. No matter how much people tell you how great you are, you’re ultimately up against yourself. But just like that student in the front row said, you’re important because you’re human. You’re important because you love unconditionally. You’re important because you’re compassionate. You’re important because even though you’re scared, you do it anyway. You’re important because you’re you.

    Love always always and can’t wait to hear about your experiences when you get back.


    P. S. My mom wanted to know when you posted so she could comment also. Be on the lookout for a comment from Sue.

  19. Kathy says:

    Dear Morgan,

    Thank you for sharing your journey. I believe finding, accepting, and embracing our true authentic selves is a lifelong endeavor.

    You understand Morgan–the question you posed “Who is important in your life?” is about the core of teaching and learning–relationship. Being present and calling others to be present is at the heart of teaching. Teaching is a vulnerable profession, because we must enter into relationships–relationships that matter. It is those relationships that give us joy. Each relationship, if we let it, can lead us to better understand ourselves and accept that we matter. It is sometimes overwhelming to know we matter–but we do. I think it is important to realize that teaching and learning does not just happen in formalized classroom structures it happens all the time. What did we teach each other about ourselves in the endless rain and linoleum scraping of Neah Bay? Teaching and learning is about relationship–we matter, each of us.

    To all–I have been reading the blog posts, thank you for sharing! You are all in my thoughts and prayers daily. I would like to share one of my favorite quotes from Anthony de Mellow, SJ: “Behold God, beholding you, and smiling.”


  20. Moira Andrews says:

    My fellow Ms Green fans have stated so much of what my heart and mind are thinking right now. Thank you for sharing with such intentionality and love. I would give anything to be a fly on the wall during that lesson, how lucky you, Lydia and those students are to have shared that moment together. Thank you for always reminding others of how important and valued they are. Love you so so dearly. Ms Green you are absolutely lovely, I can’t wait to hear about the many powerful moments you will be a part of in classrooms in Zambezi and beyond.

  21. Lauren Drake says:

    Dear Mo Money,
    I kid you not when I say that this post has me sitting in a coffee shop smiling and wiping tears from my eyes like I’m watching the final episode of Fresh Prince. That is how powerful your words, your thoughts, and your actions truly are Morgan. Plain and simple, you are incredibly loved. When I left Friday morning after finals I was explaining to a fellow Zag at the airport that I was exhausted because I woken up at 5 am to go to a surprise party for my dear friend on her last day of teaching. They were in shock that so many people would get up at that time to do that for someone. But knowing you, it doesn’t surprise me one bit. As expected your post was the perfect combination of moving, funny, and real. I am so proud to know you and I’m sorry I was not able to provide more comfort to you when you were struggling this year. But know that I am always your #1 hype man. Keep your gloves up Ms. Green.
    All my love to you and the rest of the Zags in Zambia!

  22. Motha G says:

    Morgan! This blog post is AMAZING!!! You have touched many lives and have taught people just by being who you are. Your lame mother just figured out that we can comment on these posts. Sorry I didn’t post sooner. I am learning from you too. So proud of the young adult you have become. See you soon. Can’t wait to hold you in our arms. Love you! Mom

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