Kristi Ziemba
Bio
I dream of a world of inspiration, imagination, and innovation where there is no lack of connection, no one is judged, and freedom reigns supreme. What can I do to be that change and empower those who, like me, seek a greater future?
Stories (6/0)
The Magic Mic of Possibilities
I am an artist. I've always been an artist. That's who I am, but it's not who I truly be. Not in entirety. I am also a writer, an author, a songstress, a craftswoman, nature enthusiast, music lover, and technology wizard. I love the arts and science, and I am led by my own voice into the future.
By Kristi Ziemba6 days ago in Confessions
The Forked Tongue
“How do you know when someone is lying?” asked Gary Douglas, the creator and founder of Access Consciousness, during a podcast interview that I recall listening to several seasons ago. After a few incorrect guesses, he lightheartedly quipped, “Their mouth is moving.”
By Kristi Ziemba8 months ago in Journal
Lighting the Torch of a Village Teacher
Lighting the Torch of a Village Auntie I have been thinking in terms of neurodiversity and diversity in general in the classroom over the past few days since I witnessed a major meltdown. I have been working with students in a blended classroom for several days over the past two weeks, and there are kids aged 9-11 years old in the classroom. We have students with autism, ADHD, and Tourette’s as well as students who exhibit varying degrees of mental illness or social anxiety. My own boyfriend has autism, a mild form that may have previously been called Asperger’s syndrome when that terminology was still afloat, and I may have some form of neurodivergence myself. However, I have remained undiagnosed and do not care to diagnose myself one way or another. I suffered the ill effects of mental illness and the treatment of that’s as far as I’ll go into the poking and prodding of who I am and what makes me tick. I get to decide that now.
By Kristi Ziemba8 months ago in Education
Nova, Unearthed
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. As Artemis expelled the last bit of air from her lungs, which were her uncertain cries for help that escaped even her own ears, she remembered this, but it was not her last thought. She also wondered what might exist beyond this mortal form. Most importantly she asked, Is this really it? What would it take for life to go on and for Earth to flourish once again? There was scarcely a living thing on Earth, and she had not seen a man, woman, or child in many years. In those last ten seconds, she chose to remain conscious as her physical senses began to fade.
By Kristi Ziemba2 years ago in Fiction
