Friendship

I LOVE spring break.

It's true, I am so very thankful that I have a job that allows me the opportunity to escape the monotony of life's routines and hit the pause button on my life. It's allowed me for the past two years to pause with my friend, the one who lives in LA.

I wish you all knew the bond that we share (though there are a few of you who do!), it's something that has gone beyond the awkward Jr. High years (and Lord knows how awkward they were!) and will continue into the future where we are both old and gray. We've already planned out what we want to do when we're in our hair curlers sitting around the nursing home playing our millionth game of skipbo.

I love this time with her that I have, where I have escaped my present and take the time to remember with her, to share about the currently paused present, and contemplate our immediate futures.

One of the things that I am continually amazed over, is our ability to continue this friendship. How in the world was I so lucky to find a friend who has continued to be there throughout so many different transitions in our lives? No matter how long I ponder the matter, I inevitably come away with a sense of awe. How did we become such good friends? With just a few short differences in our circumstances, we would have missed each other completely. If she were born a few months earlier, if I had moved in middle school, if we hadn't been placed in a hotel room together... any of these things would have completely changed our lives.

And yet, these things, these circumstances, the contexts in which we found ourselves, were planned out. The purpose is continually being revealed, like fog lifting from the countryside. C.S. Lewis (how I heart him) describes this in The Four Loves. His chapter on the love of friendship ends with describing how friendship is not mere happenstance, but rather a deliberate and well orchestrated composition.

"But, for a Christian, there are, strictly speaking, no chances. A secret Master of the Ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples "Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you," can truly say to every group of Christian friends "You have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another."

This completely blew me away when I read it. Seriously? I'm left amazed that He thought of me enough to bring my friends into my life, to reveal His beauty all the more clearly, and then I am humbled by the thought that he brought me into theirs to do the same.

Lewis goes on to explain that, well... I'm just going to quote him because there's no way my paraphrase will do any justice!

"The Friendship is not a reward for our discrimination and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each the beauties of all the others. They are no greater than the beauties of a thousand other men; by Friendship God opens our eyes to them. They are, like all beauties, derived from Him, and then in a good Friendship, increased by Him through the Friendship itself, so that it is His instrument for creating as well as for revealing."

Which is why I am sitting here, thinking of not just my friend in LA, but those I have at home and from home. I think of how their friendship has impacted my life and who I have become today as a result. I think of how my friendship with them, and how I have fallen short so many times of being the kind of friend I should be.

Friendship is a gift. And I am so thankful for it.

The Little Things in Life

After a poor attempt at making Pad Thai (my roommate Lauren is going to have to school me in how to make it... her absence tonight is what I attribute to my failure!), I tried to redeem myself in an attempt to be productive. I gathered up the clothes that were starting to overflow from my laundry basket and made my way to the washer. I sorted, loaded, and started the process of cleaning my clothing.

As I continued the process of laundry, folding my clothes on top of the dryer, I found myself thinking back on the school day. My students and I are studying WWII in Europe, and we finished watching an educational film on the Holocaust. Even though I have read, studied, and seen films on the subject, I am still left with the deepest sense of disturbance in my heart. The kids and I watched a recount of how when the British soldiers arrived at Bergen-Belson, they discovered that the Germans had cut the water lines and the prisoners had been without water for almost a week. In a matter of hours, the Brits had patched the water lines and people were finally able to drink and wash.

There was a clip of a woman washing a piece of clothing. That image replayed in my mind as I continued to fold. She stood outside over a faucet and scrubbed the cloth with her hands. I stood in my utility room beside my washer and dryer and played origami with different styled shirts.

How easy it is to take for granted the little things in life. Little things like running water, the opportunity and option to wash my clothes and have them cleaned with detergent with minimal effort. How often do I think, Gee, I sure am lucky to get to do my laundry! Uh... I'm usually cursing under my breath over the fact that there aren't any more socks in my drawer and I'm forced to do something about it...

But it's not just laundry, it's other things too... like having a warm house, a kitchen to cook in, a bed and room that's my own. How is it that I hardly ever take the time to marvel over all that I have been given?

I want to be the kind of person who stops and takes notice of these things, the little things in life. I want to live a life of realization that I am surrounded by a richness that far too few have been given the opportunity to experience. I want to walk in wonder, and pause in response.

It is a challenge to not become jaded by the monotony of life's seemingly stolid pace, but rather to take in its marvelousness and put on an attitude of gratitude. When this happens, you see more... you hear more... and life ceases to seem dull and mundane.

The little things in life. They're what make it worth living.

The Choice is Yours...

Teachers are awful.

Ok, so that's a bit strong, let me try again. Teachers are awful at some things, like practicing what we preach.

Each morning at my school we hear the phrase, "Make it a great day or not, the choice is yours." and we deep down inside hope that the kids hear that, understand the message, and apply the principle: think about your actions and words, how they effect you and others, and choose to do what is good and right because it's the right thing to do.

Do you know how awful I am at doing this?

It's so easy for me to look at the day once the kids have finally packed up their bags and made their way down to the buses and think about all the crappy stuff that happened. How so-and-so didn't complete his or her work, or how they talked back, put forth such little effort, and trust me the list goes on and on. As easy as it is to simply think these things, it's even easier for me to complain to anyone around about all the things that went wrong in the day.

Now, I'm not saying that you should keep all of these frustrations pent up inside and not share them. It's important to be able to be honest with yourself and to avoid telling everyone you see that life is just fine. But it's equally important to gauge how much of what comes out of your mouth is negative versus positive.

Why is it that finding the positive is so stinkin' hard?

Teachers (ok, not just teachers, but since I am one and work with a bunch of them, this is the group I'm going to pick on) are faced with the dilemma of finding the positive, and choosing to do so, on a daily basis. What makes the situation even harder for teachers is that we are all too willing to feed off of each other's frustrations, add our own, and sometimes even try to compete with each other in how crappy a student or class we have in our rooms this day or year.

Why is it that by talking about the negative stuff provides such a good conversation piece, whereas talking about the positive doesn't ever last very long?

I find that a lot of times, the conversations I have with anyone who will listen about my day very similar to watching more than an hour of the news. Eventually all the stories sound the same, and none of them are all that great. In fact the most interesting ones are usually the most depressing ones. I get frustrated with the news casters and often find myself yelling at them, tell me some good news!

The choice is theirs after all... they're the ones who get to decide what to talk about.

The choice is theirs...

The choice is mine.

The choice is yours.

Make it a Great Day...

Every morning at school, there comes a point where I decide I actually need to enter my classroom and not stand out in the hall talking with my fellow teachers. That point is usually when the principal's voice crackles to life over the intercom and gives the students their morning announcements. There's the usual listing off of events, congratulations to so and so at such and such sporting event, and of course the pledge. However at the end of these everyday topics, the school counselor will share some words of wisdom.


No matter what the message, from being a good student to seeking advice about bullying, the message ends with a simple phrase, "Make it a great day or not, the choice is yours."


I often find myself saying the ending along with the voice over the intercom. The kids look at me like I'm crazy. But I don't care.


Because of this routine in hearing those words repeated, there are times throughout my day I'll find them running through my head... "Make it a great day..."


Which gets me to thinking, how do you make a day great? There are rainy days, week days, school days, and dog days, but you don't make any of those days that specific kind of a day. Those days are simply that kind of a day. But a great day, that is something to be made despite of the inherit type of day it may be.


It starts with a choice of perception. I believe that a great day starts not with the first interaction it encounters, but rather with the choice to look upon this day as one that will be different from the rest, that no matter what, it will be made a day of days. Then from the perception grounded in perseverance and positivity it develops into a great day.


However, I am inclined to believe that it cannot truly be a "great day" if it is only great for one person. There is no true greatness to be had in isolation. Besides, if it's only great for one person, that means it's not-so-great for most everyone else.

I'm left to conclude that in order for it to be a truly great day, I must determine it to be so at the onset, as the sun rises and the gray morning twilight gives way to it's warmth. And I have to choose to make it great not just for me, but for someone else as well, so that we might have something to share and talk about at the end of it, when the sun sinks slowly, reminiscing on how great of day was made.

Make it a great day...

Humble Pie

If I could classify my classroom to any genre of TV show, I would have to label mine as a soap opera. The love triangles that never seem to end and the drama that is produced within a week's span is incredible... The Deaf-Amish boy is in love with the Popular-Amish girl, who wants nothing to do with him. Meanwhile, SpecialEd-Girl is competing for Deaf-Amish boy's attention with the Other-SpecialEd-Girl in my class... all the while Deaf-Amish boy's best friend in the neighboring classroom is growing increasingly jealous over the amount of time Deaf-Amish boy spends eyeing up Popular-Amish girl with his new found friend Quiet-But-Sneaky Amish boy. The best friend then tries to get Quiet-But-Sneaky in as much trouble as possible.

Well, Popular-Amish girl has had enough of Deaf-Amish boy, and in an attempt to deflect his attention, she decided to flip him the bird. This was of course reported to me and I then decided to serve Popular-Amish girl some humble pie.

Now, for the record, I love this girl. She is smart, witty, and a hard working student. However, she knows this, along with the indisputable fact that she's rather good looking, and can't wait to start her partying years as soon as possible. Pulling her out of her high-ability math class in front of her peers in order to deal with the issue was one of the best ways to bring her back to the reality of her life as a student. One who sometimes makes poor choices. Though it wasn't pleasant to watch her fight back tears of embarrassment and shame, it gave me a sense of satisfaction helping her realize that there are consequences even for the pretty girls who think they're all that and a bag of chips.

Which got me thinking... how many times do I need to pulled out of my comfort-zone and served a slice of humble pie? Though I have never found myself included in the group of "mean-girls" or "popular-girls", those praised for looks and, well, all that goes with that... nor those praised for their notable and exceptional intelligence, I have received a fair amount of positive feedback on my teaching abilities and personable skills that I sometimes find myself thinking more of me than I ought.

Now, I'm not saying that the feedback was invalid (or at least I hope my evaluators weren't just telling me I make a good teacher to make me feel good!), but rather how I have processed the assessments and allowed them to puff up my self-concept has contorted the information from being a source of encouragement into a tainted pride.

How do you stop this from happening? As a person who wants to abstain from arrogance, what must I do to maintain a healthy sense of self-worth? The best I can muddle through this is understanding the need to be honest as well as remembering the times your humanity gets the best of you. You won't make the right decision every time. Inevitably, you will make a wrong one. Sadly, we're not perfect. As much as I would like to be and sometimes think that I am, I know (and must continue to know) that I'm not. This acceptance of imperfection is one of the hardest parts for me to swallow.

Humble pie does not go down easy.

Letting it Go...

I blew up my Uncle's Microwave.

Ok, that's an exaggeration... but there were sparks and an awful smell that penetrated his whole house after I opened the microwave door. You can probably guess from the description what mistake I made while warming up some chicken noodle soup. Yes, I put the soup in a metal sauce pan.

For the record, no one had ever told me that you couldn't put metal in a microwave. I knew that plastic would melt, but had no clue that metal would destroy the microwave. Regardless of this, I felt awful about the whole situation, and have kicked myself over and over again since then...

The sad thing is, this was over 15 years ago, it's still bothering me.

This is not a new story in my life. The feeling guilty for years that is, not the whole microwave story... though I suppose you could say that it's not new either... but you know what I'm really driving at here. I hold onto the most undesirable feelings, harbor them in my heart, and eventually convince myself that I'm a complete moron, and try to devise plans to make certain that I never find myself in such an embarrassing situation again.

A problem appears with this resolution, no matter how many times I resolve to "perfect" my imperfections, I inevitably find a new mistake to feel guilty about. Today, I had another incident where I feel like I was completely incompetent in my classroom. I felt like I put the proverbial metal pot in the microwave, and poof! my day is filled with an awful odor of guilt and I am left burnt out.

One of the consolations I hold onto: I'm not alone. At least in this process. I know that there are others out there who struggle with the exact same thing. Struggling to let go of the past mistakes, and not letting the lessons they teach us become bigger than moving on and living life free from the fear of making a mirrored mistake. In fact, just the past week, a co-worker shared with me his own story of struggling to move on.

Wanting to encourage him, I sent a quick message (when our server wasn't down, but actually up and running!). In it I shared my consolation, and urged him to do what I need to do when I find myself in these situations. Stop carping in my head about all that I've done wrong, but instead cast the cares off to Someone who understands a whole lot more than I do.

Why is it that this is so hard to do? Why is it that after 15+ years, I'm still struggling with letting something so small go? If I want to be effective (as a teacher, or just a person for that matter!) I need to learn that failure can be turned into success only when it becomes less about me, and more about the learning process I went through.

Letting it go... easier said, than done.

Adventure Calls

There comes a moment in your life
Like a window, and you see
Your future there before you
And how perfect life can be
But adventure calls, with unheard voices
Pulling you away
Be careful or you may regret
The choice you make someday

I know this is going to sound silly, but these are some of the lyrics from one of my all-time favorite songs, and it comes from a Muppet movie. As ridiculous as that may be, I cannot deny that I love the words and what they implicate.

There have been countless times that I have looked out the window of my life to gaze at what the future might hold. I think the first time I ever experienced this was when I was four years old. Yes, I distinctly remember the moment I first started to plan my future, and I do believe that I was around four or five.

I lay on my back in my parents' water bed looking out at a very blue sky and thought through what I wanted out of my life. College? yes... a job? most likely... residence? maybe I'll find a house just down the street from my parents... it worked for mom, maybe I'll do the same.

From that moment, I strove to make those dreams a reality... determined my major by eighth grade, started pursuing college choices by ninth, acceptance letter at the beginning of my senior year.

Life looked perfect. All was on track with making my plans my reality.

And then I heard the call.

Having moved away from the comfortable and well-known, to the new and seemingly exciting life I was living on my own, I heard a voice within calling me to continue the adventure. The adventure has pulled me away from that I once knew, to something else.

The song portrays answering this call to adventure as something that tears one away from love. I however, have found that in my own life this is not the case. This call to adventure, to living outside of that which is comfortable and known, has caused me to grow in ways I never could have imagined as a four year old day dreaming about the future. By growing in the development of myself, I have a greater love and appreciation for those who have come alongside me throughout my life.

Will I someday regret these choices? Of moving away from old friends and family? It is possible. What I find now however, is not regret, but a sense of confidence found in knowing that when adventure called, I answered, not by shirking away, but by accepting the challenge and continuing to try my best in what life has presented before me.