When Things Go Sour, Smile.

There's something that I've noticed. And I'm not sure what starts it. But there's something that happens to teachers. Eventually, they struggle with becoming bitter.

I've seen different educators struggle with this, during my observational years in my undergrad, as well as my experience as a student. You knew which teachers were just unhappy with their jobs, partially because of the frown they constantly wore on their faces, and also because of their reputation as "screamers." You know the type, they're the teachers who are constantly reaming out one of the students in their classrooms for such-and-such, and much like a tea kettle, they start out with a low rumble and escalate into a ear-piercing scream. And yet whenever I look into those classrooms, it's usually not the kid who is at the root of the cause, but rather something bigger.

Now, if you imagined the old crotchety type to be the only ones screeching at the kids and struggling with bitterness, you might be mistaken. I've seen enough of us younger teachers struggle with the exact same thing. Yes, kids will be kids, and they will make stupid mistakes, and they probably need someone in their lives telling them that their behavior doesn't always cut it, but when that seems to be the only thing you have time to deal with, and math and language arts lessons don't goes as plan due to some bad choice makers, it's easy to become discouraged and disheartened. When you have this, coupled with little support from fellow teachers and administrators, I understand how tempting it is to let your heart go sour.

So how do you prevent this from happening? Or how do you deal with it if it has already begun? I don't have any clear answers yet, but I know it starts with examining your own heart, and getting to the root of the root of the problems. It may be stemming from school, or it may be from something at home. In either case, I know that wrestling to find out the cause is important. From there, it becomes a choice. A choice to let these things fester and burrow a bitter hole in your heart, or a choice to accept what is, change what can be changed, and move on with a smile. Because in the end, it doesn't matter what so and so said or thought, it doesn't matter if the kid drove you bananas, what matters is the way in which you carried yourself through that time. What matters is if you are happy with who you allowed yourself to become in the end.

Christmas, Cookies, and Kids.

The season of Christmas is upon us. My kiddoes have been as busy as ever getting ready for the various celebrations and performances they will have as the 25th of December creeps closer and closer. Pinatas for the infamous pinata party are being constructed in the science lab. Kids singing in classrooms songs for the Christmas program have teachers ready to pull their hair out from all of the repetition. And yet, I find that I am more excited for Christmas with each passing day.

My hope is to bake some Christmas cookies before the holiday has passed us, and give them away to my kiddoes and colleagues. There's something about baking a gift that makes it extra special, especially if the baked goods are good! The time and care that was taken into gathering and measuring the ingredients, combining them in a certain way, and then forming them into something delectable infuse these precious gifts with love and an extraordinary warm goodness.

Thankfully, this is the kind of gift I can afford to give to large numbers of people. With 23 students, a slew of fellow c0-workers, and neighbors, cookies make the best presents. I want to give my kids something special this year, something made by me for them. In so many ways they have warmed my heart this holiday season, and I want to return the favor.

And so I'll bake. Sugar, chocolate chip, thumbprint, and even a cutout or two with a generous coat of icing. For me it's a fun process, of licking sugar off my fingers and feeling all warm inside and out. But most importantly, it's great to give my hard work away to someone else who will appreciate them for what they're worth.

Socializing: My Own Personal Struggles.

Tonight I performed one of my "good teacher" acts. Namely I went to a Christmas program put on by the Westview Music program to watch some of my former students play musical instruments and sing in the choir. The program went well, and reminded me and my roommate of our own Jr. High productions in the not so distance past.

It was great to see my students from last year, and say hello to the families of these kiddoes. It made me feel good, and it made me sad. I felt good because I know that I love being around groups of people, where I know many of those present, I could go and talk, and be my chipper chatty-Kathy-self! It reminded me of when I was at Grace. There was hardly a time where I did not know at least someone gathered in the former ABJ, now TOL. It was hard to find a place to meet with people one on one without someone walking up and saying hello. And I have to admit, I loved that.

Now, I just don't have those kind of experiences as often. I'm trying to figure out if it's just the natural progression of life, that growing up means leaving that sense of "popularity" behind, or if it's due to the fact that I live a life that does not allow for much social interaction. If it's due to growing up, then I suppose I can make myself move on... but if it's not, does that mean I need to change the life I live? Should I be in a place where I often feel insignificant? Incompetent? And alone? I'm just not sure.

And that's why I'm just not sure what the next step is in my professional and personal life. As I feel as if I am missing out on a more fulfilling life, and am struggling to have a life as it is, my ability to be a "good teacher" is suffering. My professional life has become my personal life. I have nothing outside of work save a few phone calls to friends scattered throughout the country and a once every other month coffee date (which is due to the fact that I have no time to go and visit my friends who live an hour or so away every weekend) with a friend or two.

Who would have thought that the former homeschooler would be having issues with NOT having ENOUGH social interaction! And yet there it is. I want this to be home, for the sake of having a place to call my own, like Grace was for four years. I want this to be home to finally let myself take root, as that is what I so desperately want. I want this home to be filled with friends from now and from the past. And yet what I want, is so rarely what anyone gets.

The Feeler Teacher

If you have spent any amount of time with me, it does not take long to figure out that I am an emotionally based person. What I mean by that is that the way I think of different situations, different people, and myself is often based upon how I feel at any given moment. As a result, an average day in my life often resembles a roller coaster ride.

I go up the track with a great conversation with my roommate before I leave for school. I come crashing down when I realize that there's not enough time to fix the school copier that I jammed with the overhead I sent down from my computer and everyone who was using the copier goes to their rooms pissed. I go back up when I see my kids working quietly and singing along to the Christmas program music. Then after this rush of pride, it gets knocked down when the PE teacher tells me that they were completely awful. But then I feel better about myself when I read an encouraging/humorous e-mail from a colleague. However, it only takes one disdainful look in the lunch room that makes me think that I am a horrible teacher and why am in this profession? I suck at life.

And that's kinda how I left school yesterday. Misunderstood, disheartened, and depressed. I am thankful to be in a place now where I feel understood, at home, and with familiar faces. It is good that Thanksgiving is almost here. I need time with my family, as that is a different roller coaster track. But I don't think that it will solve my problems as a Feeler Teacher.

As I contemplated my feelings left over from the day before, I found myself festering over the moments that left me frustrated and in self-doubt. I realized that these moments bother me not necessarily because they were valid, but because I disappointed another.

Hi my name is Betsy, and I'm a People Pleaser.

This is the bane of my existence. I worry and fret over whether or not everyone is happy. I run from conflict, and try to appease all whom I encounter. When I cannot please everyone, I am left feeling like I am worth nothing, and question my capabilities. It's not right, I shouldn't do it, but I do.

The Feeler Teacher is one who will have a very rough existence if the People Pleaser in them cannot be controlled. I know that I am young, and still learning how to experience life with these vices, but I also know that with the knowledge, comes the responsibility and power to control. This is what I must focus my energies on, and learn how to not let my feelings control me, as a person or as a teacher.

Does Jr. High Ever End?

You can ask just about anyone, and they'll tell you that at some point throughout their 6th-8th grade years of life, things got a little rough. If you're a girl, you probably went through that awkward I-don't-know-what-to-do-with-my-hair, I'm-not-sure-how-to-wear-make up, what-the-heck-do-I-wear phase, coupled with shopping for new cup sizes when you just got used to that training bra. If you're a guy, I'm speculating you went through something like what-the-heck-just-came-out-of-my-mouth-that-can't-be-my-voice, along with I-wonder-how-far-I-can-get-this-zit-to-shoot-out-of-my-face, and coming to the realization that girls are more than an alien species on the planet.

Along with all these changes, there was the inevitable drama. Girls not talking to other girls because so-and-so likes the number one hottie at camp, and is flirting non-stop with him even though her bff just broke up with him and can't believe that so-and-so is even talking to him, therefore none of the girls are talking to so-and-so because of this, at least not in front of the bff.

If you are male, and none of this made any sense to you, here's the reader's digest version: girl won't tell her friend that she's upset. Now, guys aren't completely Innocent here... but they typically don't carry a grudge like a girl. The sad thing is, I'm seeing this kind of behavior continued throughout life.

High school, college, and even now that I'm "grown up," I still see it. People who are inconsiderate, making others upset, and neither party will fix it, but rather are quite content letting it fester and grow out of proportion.

And so my question is, and still remains to be answered, does Jr. High ever end???

Writing: What's Important.

I taught a lesson today in writing. You know those lessons which grow greater and greater in the moment from the seed called a lesson plan? I experienced that today. We're at a transition point in writing right now. My kids have completed descriptive pieces, narrative, and a choice piece. We're back to a choice piece right now... and I wanted my kids to grasp the idea that writer's write for a bigger purpose, not just to put words down on a page, but to actually say something in their pieces, something important.

So I had them start out with listing things that just drive them crazy, giving a few examples of my own to start them, such as people intentionally hurting others. That drives me crazy! And so the kids listed things that drove them crazy. Then they shared with each other some of the things that they listed. The next thing I had them list were things that they loved, or were important to them. Again I shared to get them started, telling them that family is really important to me, how those people will be there in the end whether or not you like it.

And off they went! My kids started generating ideas, wondering about how they were going to write it, whether in narrative form or poetry, or even descriptive. It was great having them come up to me saying, I want to write about soccer, but I'm not sure how to do it. Yes! Finally, my kids are getting how to be a writer! I'm excited to see where they go from here.

Home: Where Will it be Next?

Do you remember the first time you went back home for a break from school, and suddenly it hit you; home wasn't home anymore. That happened to me this past weekend. Only I didn't go back to my parent's house, the place where I spent all of my childhood and adolescent years. Instead this venture "back" was to my old stomping grounds at Grace College.

Strangely enough, I spent no time on campus. I looked out a window to the welcome sign. I peered out my car, remember the days of turning in student teaching journals to Mount Memorial. I gazed at the lawn which I had walked so many times traveling to and from classes. I remembered, all the memories of years gone past.

And it hit me. As I sat surrounded by friends who live near and far away, listening to the music of those I graduated with, this was no longer my home away from home.

For so long, for so many years, I envisioned and pictured my life after college as one established in the community that I was growing found and a part of. Others recognized this as well, or else I wouldn't have received the senior superlative of "Most Likely to Raise a Family in Warsaw." And yet, that's not where my life has taken me. And sitting there, with the bass of the music pulsating through my body, I understood that I was no longer one who belonged to this place. My life has moved on.

Later in the evening, as a group of us sat around a table munching on chips and salsa and sipping margaritas, I was confronted with another sad reality. One of those sitting at the table, whom I had not seen in over a year, asked if I had any friends where I was living. Blinking once, then twice, I had to respond with an answer, not only to the one who asked the question, but to myself. No. I do not have any friends where I currently reside.

Now that's not saying much, the town where I live has a population of just over 3000, and the average age is 30+. However, coming from a town 7 X's greater than this... it's a little depressing. And so I'm left to wonder... what will happen to me if I stay here?

I don't know what the future will hold. But I do know that I will continue to teach. That, is something that I know I am called to do. Where, is a question I will continue to ask, so that someday soon, I will know where home will be next.

New Kids, New Hassles, New Lessons to Learn.

So I was recently confronted with the fact that I teach at a great school. I teach a great class. I have LOVED going into work this year. And I still do, but something happened this past week that has made me realize how great I have it at my school.

I have a very small class size this year, 23 students showed up at the beginning of the year, as one student decided to attend Amish school instead of Westview. Knowing that I had the smallest class size, it was inevitable that when a new student arrived, they would be placed (most likely) in my class. And low and behold, on Tuesday, my principal entered my room to inform me that this was to be the case starting the following day, Wednesday.

Great, turns out it is a female student who has moved in from another state. So I grab a desk, write out a name tag and laminate it at the end of school, and then pull together all of the materials my new ward would need.

My class was so excited when I told them that we were to get a new student. I was excited too, until the next day, when reality hit. My new student entered the room.

I know I have it good, the students in my class are great workers, no complaining, just minimal management issues. Sure I have one or two who have a little attitude, but we're working on that, and they're willing to work with me. I was nervous when the first few words out of the new student's mouth were, "I don't like to read."

It wasn't the fact that she said it, it was how she said it. With wide eyes, boisterous enough for the rest of the class to hear, and a little giggle under her breath. I knew I was going to have my hands full when she continued to shout out at times that were completely inappropriate, and even my not-so-socially-aware kids were looking at her in puzzlement. But I could handle this, a little out of the ordinary, a little rough around the edges, but I can get through this... right?

Day two: Wardrobe Mishaps.

Like most schools, we have a dress code. My little girl, decided to ignore these and wear her halter-top dress. Thankfully the principal caught this before I did, and gave her own jacket to my new girl to help her cover up. Though her justification for wearing such an outfit to school was that her bra straps were not showing as she was not wearing one. Great.

Day three: Money for Exchange of Services.

On the third day of school, my new girl arrives with five dollars. I see her playing around with it, and I inform her to either keep it in her pocket or her backpack. Later on, I see her messing with it again, and tell her one last time to put it away. Then I check my e-mail. Apparently, she had informed another teacher that she had earned this five dollar bill from accepting a dare from another student to kiss a boy on the bus. She and the other boy did so (but didn't ever really kiss, they just got close enough to make it look like they were...), and she earned five bucks. After reading the e-mail, I confront my girl about the matter, to which she informs me that this is true, through her giggles, and that she just doesn't know what to tell people about her boyfriends, since she's had so many already. Nine, to be exact. Whoa buddy.

In the course of three days, I have had more to deal with than I have the previous nine weeks. I've forgotten how easy I have it with the school I'm at, with the students that have been placed in my class, it truly is remarkable that my biggest issue lies within smart alack comments. Now I realize, those days might be over. And I find myself wishing that this little girl would move again sometime so that way I could have my old class back.

And here's where I have to stop myself. Because I know that this girl's life, has been so different from my own. It's the students like her that need teachers the most. Teachers who truly do care about them, whether or not they succeed. Teachers who provide a place that helps students like her realize that they are worth something. That they don't need to resort to accepting bribes to get the attention they desire. That there's more to life than what they have experienced so far. I know that I will probably not turn this girl's life around. But maybe, if I watch my words and actions, I might be able to turn her day around. And even though it's a lot more work for me in the long run, and my patience will be tried, I hope I get to see just one more day with her in my class.

Big Girls Don't Cry: But What About Boys?

Before I started teaching sixth grade, I had a skewed veiw of this particular age group. When I thought of sixth grade students, I thought of students with gigantic stature. I thought of kids with attitudes bigger than Texas. I thought of pupils with textbooks bigger than my repertoire of knowledge.

But then I started teaching sixth grade.

I learned that these giants with major attitudes with a lot to learn, were actually just little guys who have just as much attitude as any kindergartner I've ever met, and... well their textbooks are still bigger than my repertoire of knowledge, but I'm working on that!

However, there was one paradigm that has proved to be true. Sixth graders are emotional. The hormones, the friendships that are in constant change, and the emotional roller coaster of sixth grade relationships, it's a wonder we all make it through a day without ending up in tears! Well, at least most of us don't end up in tears.

This year, I've encountered something that I've never seen before, and am a little bit flabbergasted over. Several times throughout the course of this school year one of my boys, who is fairly high maintenance, has ended up in tears!

First it was over several kids in my class getting on his case about popping his popcorn on the wrong day. I let my kids bring in popcorn if they want, but I limit who can pop and when through a schedule. My kid wasn't paying attention to details (as usual), and the other kids in my class were all to willing to point out his mistake. Before I could respond to the other kids, he was in tears. Everyone in the class stopped, none of us knew what to do! Never have I seen a sixth grader cry without blood or a broken bone. I could understand if it was a sensitive girl, but a boy?

Is this normal?

Since then he's teared up two more times. A phone call to mom is going to happen tomorrow, just to see if there's more to this going on at home. But I get a feeling, that this is just the way the kid operates. Which, that's fine, the kid can be sensitive... but he's gonna get beat up emotionally if he continues to cry in front of his classmates.

The first time that it happened, I thought maybe it was a bad day. The second time it happened was in front of the music teacher, and I wasn't there. The third time it happened was during play practice (we're doing a play!), and I couldn't address everything right then and there. The next time it happens, I'm stopping everything, and the kid and I are going to go out to talk away from everyone.

But I'm not the only teacher who has had to deal with criers this year. I've heard of several other sixth grade teachers in my building who have had both boys and girls cry over ridiculous things. A lost pencil. He pinched me. You looked at me. I remember being ridiculous in sixth grade due to hormonal emotions... but never in public, and NEVER in front of my peers.

Are we raising babies? What will the long term effects be of kids who cry at the drop of a hat? Is this the continuation of degenerative competitiveness, where everyone is a winner, and if you whine or cry long enough, we'll give you what you want if you'll just shut up?

I tell you what I want to say to the kid, but am too afraid of getting sued.

Suck it up kid.

It's what my dad said to me, what his dad told him, and it's what I'll tell my kids (if and when I ever have any). Sometimes you just have to get over it, and deal with it. And you know what, somethings are just not worth crying over. Toughen up kid. You've got a long life in front of you.

Mistakes in Teaching... What's a Teacher to Do?

The day had gone just fine. Many of the lessons I taught were decent, and I was pleased with the results I got from my kids. Until math. Sadly many of them were confused with mean, mode, and median. I was not expecting this, as both the Title I teacher and myself (who work as a team in teaching math) thought that they would remember what they had learned in 5th grade. Some did, but the majority, just plain old confused.

Ok, so maybe I did one good thing in math, I had them write what they knew about measures of central tendency... which let me know that they knew nothing.

Anyways, I proceeded through the lesson, explaining, showing examples, having the kids practice, and moving at a decent pace. Then came the homework assignment. I should have known this would get me in trouble.

Technically, the textbook we use has split up the concepts, teaching the mean in one lesson, and mode, median, and range in the other. Since I was somewhat banking on the kids knowing these concepts already, and merely using this as a review... I grouped the lessons together. Maybe my first mistake.

Next mistake. I assigned a ton of the problems. And hard ones. But I really wanted them to practice and do it multiple times to make sure they got it. It wasn't until after I had listed which problems they were to do did I realize how massive the assignment was. And this is where I sucked as a teacher, and as a person. Instead of trying to fix my mistake, I stuck with it. I didn't alter or change my plan. I was too proud to admit that maybe I had messed up big time.

On the other hand, my kids hardly ever, and I mean ever, have homework. A little extra math won't kill them. Right?

That measly amount of justification just doesn't cut it with me. I made a mistake, and I need to move on with my new found lesson in not letting my pride get in the way of my kids being successful.

From Kindergarten to Sixth Grade: How my Job Hasn't Really Changed.

There are certain things in my life that I will never do. One of them being sky diving. Considering my extreme fear of roller coasters, jumping out of a plane is probably not ever going to happen for me. Another item on my never list: a tattoo. I think they're great if you have one, and it's tasteful, but if I ever found myself in the position to get one, well, let's just say that I would be regretting it in the morning. Over a year ago, I said yes to something I never imagined I would ever say yes to. Teaching sixth grade.

I knew that I could probably do it, if I brushed up on my algebra, reread some of my notes on physical science from DeYoung, and figured out a good management system, I would be fine... right? Well, I'm still trying to figure that out, if I'm teaching these kids anything, or just barking out information at them to regurgitate back at me in time for a test. But one thing I have noticed, that in a lot of ways, my job of working with 11-13 year olds, isn't that much different from working with 5-6 year olds.

Now, those of you out there who do teach in the wonderful world of kindergarten may be thinking there's no way 6th graders are comparable to 6 year olds, but allow me a moment to point out a number of similarities.

1. When the temperature has dropped to less than 10 degrees, 6 year olds and 6th graders believe their skin is coated with 20 tons of blubber to keep them warm. No need for a winter coat! Yes, I still have to remind my ever so bright students that only polar bears should embark in such wintry weather without a coat, hat, scarf, gloves, and heated brick or two.
2. When it's time for PE, inevitably there are shoe laces just waiting to be tied. Granted, I generally do not have to tie my 6th graders' shoes as I did back in the day with a 6 year old, but either way, there are shoes that seem to refuse to remain tied.
3. No matter how old you get in school, a silly book read in a silly voice is fun. I love reading to my kids Pigeon books by Mo Willems, and also anything by Doreen Cronin. I start talking in my elmo voice and, WaLah! A captivated audience, and no noise for at least five minutes. Bliss for any teacher.
4. Silly sounds or motions can get kids to shut up fast. I have two ways that I get my 6th graders to quiet down, but my favorite is using one that I used with the 6 year olds. I simply reach my hand up above my head, pretend to grab something (it's a marshmallow from a marshmallow cloud, in case you were wondering), and then shove it into my mouth making my cheeks bulge out. I don't know why it works, but it does. My class and I may get made fun of by the others, but hey... at least my kids are quiet.
5. Kids love to get messy when they learn. I mean, who doesn't love to get messy in school! Whether it be measuring substances to learn about their density compared to one another, or spreading shaving cream on your desk to practice high frequency words, kids love getting hands on in their learning! And that's one of my favorite parts of teaching, coming up with new and exciting ways to make the learning come to life for the kids.

And so you see, my job hasn't really changed. Sure the kids are taller in 6th grade, and now I teacher ABCs in math instead of reading, but in the end, kids are still kids, and as I was reminded when I took the job as a 6th grade teacher, a good teacher is a good teacher, no matter what grade they teach. And I've come to believe that as I've continued my career in 6th grade. Who knows where I'll go next, but for right now I'm happy that I get to teach.

New Year's Comes Twice

It's about this point in the year that I want to watch "You've Got Mail" with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. The opening scene is set in early autumn, when kids just wait on the end of summer vacation to jump into yet another school year. In one of the e-mails Hanks writes to Ryan he pens the letter with quirky mentions of back to school gear... such as a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils, which I will admit, I would love one as I'm getting my classroom ready again for my second year.

I love this time of the year. When the days shorten just slightly. The trees begin to partake of other hues on the color pallet of nature. And Wal-Mart has two huge center isles erected as a monument to remind America that their young ones need new sharpies, post-it-notes, and Lisa Frank notebooks. Back to school time is here!

There's something to be said about that bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils. It gives individuals ages five to eighteen a sense of hope, that this year will be a fresh start for their lives. And being a school teacher, it gives me the same sense of hope. That this year will be a fresh start, something different, something more... and I'm so stinkin' excited about it!!!

It's like New Year's, but a few months early. The excitement of something new starting, an adventure all waiting to happen in 180 school days. The wondering of what new alliances or long lasting relationships will be formed. What enemies or obstacles will stand in your way, and how you will become stronger by overcoming them. Then of course there's the promise of self-reform, that the old ways of the prior year will go out the door along with the questions and doubts. You see, for those of us "lucky" (and I mean that!) enough to go back to school, it's like New Year's comes twice. And I can't wait for the "New Year" to begin!!!

Where is this going?

I'm not sure where exactly this post is going to go... I've been thinking a lot recently, about where I'm going, where I've been, and where I'm at right now.

I almost moved this summer. I almost changed jobs. I almost gave myself a big headache. But, in the end, logic won out and my emotions were put on the back burner. I accepted an interivew for a school back in Warsaw (or Meca, as my roommate likes to tease me). I was offered the opportunity to go back and teach a different grade than the one I taught the previous year. My heart beat a little faster while I was there, excited about coming back to a place I considered my second home for so many years. Knowing that I would be only a few minutes away from many of my friends and mentors, instead of the many miles that separate us currently. I would know many of the kids in the area, have opportunities to reconnect with families I had babysat for over the years. And hey, I could actually wear that T-shirt I won as a prize for the Grace Senior Superlative "Most Likely to Raise a Family in Warsaw."

In the days before the interview, and even after now, I felt a peace from God come over me. Not one that told me what to do by any means... my heart and mind were torn over making the decision to leave, that I would find myself wrestling with the decision and (as most feelers do) wound up with my eyes overflowing with tears. But in the midst of all of that, I felt as if I had been rescued, and after all that this past year has taken out of me, I felt myself being restored. I actually found myself thinking, I'm back.

As many of my other posts have mentioned, God and I, were not on the best of terms this year. In fact, I think there were a couple of months that we didn't talk to each other. Which is absolutely ridiculous, and all I can think of is how much reverence and awe the Old Testament stories project when they speak of Him, and here I am, a spoiled teenager throwing a fit because life got a little rough. But, there it is, the plain truth of how I've been acting this past year.

But now, I feel myself coming back around... the questions that hounded me for so many months, on where God was, what he was doing with my life, and why none of my dreams seemed to be coming true, are answered with a "Shhh... will you stop complaining and realize that this is actually a fun ride? Enjoy it please! I'm right next to you!" And so, on faith, I'm making myself shut-up. Stop complaining. And take a deep breath.

God and I are almost on speaking terms. I have a hard time still, as with most relationships that go through extended periods of silence, talking does not come a naturally as it used to. There are awkward pauses, and moments where I find myself incapable of saying anything authentic to Him. So even though I'm back, there's still some restoring to be done.

I ultimately had to turn down the job that I so wanted to say yes to... but surprisingly, I'm excited about staying. I'm actually looking forward to this upcoming year! I almost can't wait for it to start! Whether or not I end up staying in Middle-of-No-Where is yet to be seen, but for this year, it's the right move. I don't know where I will be taken next, but I'm excited that I might actually give myself the chance to enjoy the ride.

A New Perspective

So here you see me, my crazy roommate, and of course my class. We're walking down the streets of Chicago on our way to the next stop of the field trip, a boat tour of the river and lake. My kids are obviously taking in as much as they can as we sprint down the sidewalk, trying not to run over other people passing by. For so many of my kids, I know this is a new experience, providing them with a new perspective. And I feel that I too have received a new perspective.

I'm almost done! I'm so close to being done with my first year of teaching. As it's coming to a close, I look back, and I see that behind me are memories, learning experiences, and people I will never forget. This year has not only been one of the most challenging, but one of the most rewarding years as well. I know that I can feel proud that I have done something that I formerly had feared. I challenged myself, and came out alright in the end. This is not to say that there won't be more challenges this next year. The Lord knows there will be! What with the portfolio I get to do, a new class to get to know, and come alongside to help them reach the goals laid out before them as sixth graders, not to mention the relationships outside of the classroom that will need to be continually nurtured!

This upcoming year I hope to see myself establishing myself more as a teacher. I hope to see friendships grow and new ones take root. I hope that I will know where to go from this point next year and that God will do a number on my heart. Some big things are going to happen this next year, that is for certain, but what I cannot say. I can only let my imagination wander through the various possibilities that my mind allows, and I keep my heart open to what God's imagination has already plotted out for my life.

The Future: It's always there.

There's always a future, something that's going to happen next for everyone. Last year after graduating from Grace, I found myself wondering what my future looked like, and I wanted very concrete answers. I wanted to know where I would be teaching, where I would be living, and who I would meet along the way. Thankfully, those things have all come true for me, and now I find myself wondering about a more abstract future, one that causes me to ask the all too predictable question of "where do you see yourself in five years?"

Do I see myself teaching at the same school? Do I see myself teaching the same grade? Do I see myself teaching forever? What type of an education do I want for myself? MA? PHD? Do I want to teach teachers? What kind of a life do I really want for myself? How do I go about achieving that? It's a very overwhelming feeling, to ask all of the questions, especially knowing that I have very few answers.

This I do know, that wherever I find myself in the future, I want to be near those who care. Those who care about me, and those I care about. I think about my family, and wonder if I should go back to Ohio. I think about my independence, and how much I enjoy where I am at, and I think about what God's plan are for my life and if He'll ever let me know what He has in store. The future is always there, it's true, and with the future comes the excitement, fear, and faith everyone needs to live their lives. I hope mine is strong enough.

I have a blister.

Being a girl sucks sometimes. Now, I'm not talking about the emotional roller coaster that women deal with, or the fact that we have to shave our legs, no I'm talking about the feeling of failure that fills your being when you can't start a lawnmower.

I today, experienced failure. I got up, pulled the hair back, and put on my tennis shoes hoping to show the lawn who's boss. Technically the upstairs neighbor said that he would take care of the mowing, but as the last time he did so, all that got cut was the outer ring of the lawn, making it appear to have a mo-hawk. Ever since then it's been up to me to cut the grass. Which is fine, I enjoy pushing a mower and taking care of our house, working hard, these are all things I enjoy doing. Today, however, I wasn't able to enjoy them.

After moving the ever growing pile of brush (branches that have fallen from our tree in the back yard) that is located next to the door of our fence that surrounds our back lawn, I pushed the lawn mower into the back yard. I realize now, that placing fallen limbs next to the fence was not a good idea as it took me a good five minutes to scoot and shuffle the sticks out of the way so I could crack the fence gate open, I guess that will be another yard project for another day...

Anyways, once I got the mower into the yard, I started the process of starting the mower. I pulled, I tugged, I pulled some more. I made sure that I held the bar back on the mower while I pulled, I primed the engine and pumped the little button 3x's, not more than that for fear I would flood the engine, and still, I could not start that stupid mower!

I called out my roommate, who is currently recovering from being sick, and made her try to start it. Nothing. I tried in one last attempt to try to start the stupid thing, wondering to myself why I moved so far away from my dad, my heart pumping, and my arm now aching. All of this, led to nothing. I muttered under my breath my personal thoughts towards the mower, and rolled the darn thing back to the shed where I got it from.

And now I have a blister. Yes, from pulling that darn cord so many times, there's a nice swollen welt at the base of my fingers. And as I keep accidentally aggravating it by bumping it, the whole scenario makes me mad. Mad that I could not get the dumb thing started. I mean, with all my infinite wisdom on lawn care and machine maintenance (haha), I could not do it. I felt like a loser of a girl, who has to rely on someone stronger to get some things done. It also made me mad that I do not have anyone nearby to call on for help when I need it, granted it being something as dumb as starting a mower.

I don't know what this means, if it means anything at all. Probably, there is very little significance to this, but it is still what I am experiencing today. Such problems cause me to reflect, and to see if other problems exist, in my life and in others' lives. For not mowing the lawn is not the problem I have, it's the fact that I could not, cannot, do it on my own. And I wonder, who will help me when such problems arise.

Graduation Speech

I was asked by my Aunt Debbie a few months ago, if I would be willing to serve as the motivational speaker at my alma mater. I accepted, and so now I will be speaking to approximately a record breaking graduating class of 17. Yes, we were all home schooled.

And so, I find myself thinking about what I should say to these starry-eyed soon to be graduates. This, is attempt number one, of what I will say that evening.


There's a point in every life, where change is eminent, looming ahead. It is here that you find yourselves tonight. You have finished a significant chapter in your lives, and life as you have known it, will change. You are not the only ones who have faced the challenge of change, in fact there is an excellent example of a person who had spent a lifetime preparing for one significant moment, and when that moment had passed, was forced to face the future. This person comes from a very enlightening and thought provoking story, The Princess Bride.

All good examples for speeches can come from this movie, and tonight is no exception. For it is in the character of Inigo Montoya. For twenty years, Inigo had studied the craft of swordsmanship. He studied this for a purpose, to avenge the death of his father. And at the climax of the movie, Inigo slays the six fingered man who wrongfully executed his father. But I want to fast forward to a few scenes later, where Inigo, having fulfilled his purpose at that time, stands in a tower of the castle looking out a window. He is faced with a question, "Where do I go from here?"

You, yourselves, will be continually asking such a question as each significant chapter in your life closes. There is a crossroads in your life, and you must decide where to go. But this is the exciting moment, it's not one to be feared, it's not one to be worried over, for you have been given a gift. It's where you've come from. It's your heritage. You, were home schooled.

Not many in this world can say such things, not many have parents who cared enough to not only go over that algebra problem once, twice, but thirty-three times! Not many can boast that they have had the guidance of Christ in their learning. And it is in these significant factors, you will find guidance. It is from these significant factors, you will be able to make a choice that leads you on the path less traveled.

Inigo's studies had prepared him for meeting the challenge of the six fingered man, but it had prepared him for so much more than this one moment. Could it be that there was something bigger waiting out there for Mr. Montoya? As the scene continues to play out, Inigo voices this question to Westley, the hero of the story. He tells him that after spending so many years training, he does not know where to go from here. Westley then extends an invitation to Inigo to try something bigger, that will allow Inigo to use his skills, piracy.

Now, I am not suggesting that you take your education and try your hand at criminal activities, but I am suggesting that there will be opportunities extended to you from a much bigger character in the story of life. God is taking you on a journey, but he is a gracious guide. He extends invitations to go to exciting and new places. He continually provides a chance for you to exercise your gifts, talents, and abilities, though they may be something you never even imagined.

Back in the tower, you see Inigo take in the information Westley has presented before him as Westley dives out of the window and onto the back of a horse. It is at this moment that I want to freeze the frame. Inigo has a choice, he can either choose to jump down onto a horse and ride away to his new future, or he could choose to stay where he is at. The choice is his. He has studied, accomplished a great goal, and now could comfortably walk away. Or, he could choose to accept the challenge of becoming a part of something even bigger. It is in this moment that he will answer the question, "where do I go from here?"

Colleges, Universities, and jobs are out there waiting for your answer. Will you choose to take your skills and abilities, your hard work instilled in you from your parents and accept the challenge to become a part something bigger? Or will you allow yourself to slip quite comfortably into the familiar and supposedly safe life you've always known? God has offered you opportunities, He longs to walk down that narrow path together with you, are you up for such an adventure?

Inigo's choice is quickly made, with a shrug of his shoulders, he plunges out of the tower window and rides off with the rest on a journey of a lifetime. Though the movie is over at this point, we all know that in reality, the story is only beginning. May God bless your stories as you face the decision of where to go from here.

Thoughts? Do you think home schoolers will appreciate this? Is the challenge strong enough? Is it motivational enough? Feedback is always appreciated. =)

Mr. GC?

So, I like to snoop around my former campus by reading all of the Grace publications. Today I read that this year's SAB blowout is having a Mr. GC competition, and he will be crowned at the blowout. As I read this, I started to think about what the requirements for Mr. GC would be...

1.) Must be in every picture Scott Feather takes.
2.) Date every girl on campus.
3.) Be engaged within three months after dating and spending every moment at the Tree.
4.) Sit on some sort of panel for Student Development (I mean Affairs).
5.) Have a secret relationship with a staff or faculty member.
6.) Be a Biblical Studies Major (What? They don't offer that any more?)
7.) Or a Behavior Studies Major (I know they still have that!)
8.) Mentor moronic Freshman.
9.) Have picture posted in some prominent publication.
10.) Play a sport that allows drinking... water (right...).

And right there, I can think of several graduates who probably could have won this award. Too bad we didn't have this back in the good old days of ABJ and eating at the Grill for Lunch and Dinner with regular scans. Mr. GC, I wish you the best of luck. I hope you find real life out there somewhere. It's waiting for you to arrive.

Lonely: The First Year of Teaching.

So I'm approaching the end of my first year of teaching, though there's still a ways to go, I'm not going to lie, I'm counting down the days and I know it's going to whiz by! And so, as this year has brought about so many changes in my life, and my thoughts on where my life is going to go from here, I think there's one word to sum it all up. Lonely.

I had heard it before, a friend of mine said the same thing when I asked her how her first year of teaching had gone. I was surprised, for here was a girl who was just as extroverted as myself, living near her family, and highly involved in her church. And yet, she told me she was lonely.

Something else that I have struggled with, and every first year teacher I've talked to this year has said something along the same lines, is a feeling that I, as a teacher, am inadequate to do the job I have been hired to do. This, coupled with fear of failure, has made my heart cold, like an icicle driving the feeling loneliness deep into my heart.

I look around, and I really shouldn't complain. I'm at a school where teachers are more than helpful, they have their issues, but overall, I shouldn't complain. I have a roommate who puts up with all my quirkiness. I have friends who are still in the area, and new ones too. And yet, I can't seem to shake this feeling of loneliness. It was as if my self-assured, warming nature went into hibernation, just waiting for the days of sunshine to return.

I don't know when this will be, I'm hoping that it will come as the weather turns warmer, and I'm given a chance to reflect more thoroughly on my first year and able to see things in a clearer light. I know that recently, as my prayers have become more persistent on finding the people in my life who will help me grow, God has been providing. Whether it be through small notes, or e-mails, or even a smile from one of my kids, the loneliness is starting to melt away, ever so slowly.

The Office, and Other Addictions

There are several things in life that I am addicted to. I think that it is important that I take the time to describe each of them so that I may understand myself and to help others in that endeavor as well. =)

First of all, I am addicted to milk. Seriously, I could drink a gallon a week, and I probably do. The source of this addiction may be traced back to a dear friend of mine, Miss Hood, who always enjoyed a glass of milk with her meals. And as I often frequented her family's dinner table, I would join her in partaking of the deliciousness. Another source where the addiction may have originated from would be my father's own addiction to milk. He suffers from this addiction even more so than myself as he owns not one, but three glass milk bottles. That's right, milk bottles, the old school, leave your bottle outside the door and the milkman will fill it in the morning bottles. Personally, I think that I'm addicted because it compliments so many important food groups so well, especially the Oreo.

Another thing I am addicted to is collecting stories. Hence why my library is so extensive and movie collection so obscene. This no doubt comes from my father (or father's family) as well. I love sitting down and diving into a good story about, well, anything! As long as it's told well. =)

And of course, I have a slight addiction to The Office. It's back on TV tonight, and though I made a fool of myself laughing, it felt good to see some of my favorite characters back where they belong (on my TV screen at 9:00). I will admit that I felt somewhat foolish laughing, as those around me were 6 years my junior. My brother is having a party at the moment, and so me and a dozen high schoolers enjoyed Michael Scott in all his glory. Interesting to say the least.

Overall, I felt that tonight's episode was marvelous! Everything I was hoping it would be (babe). However, I know that soon I will have to make a choice (or rather a choice will be made for me) between my addiction, and another great TV show, LOST. Alas, I fear that my roommate might hogtie me and take the remote from my hands so that we may enjoy LOST, and The Office will have to be viewed the following evening. =( Not ideal, but living with another means making compromises, and for the good of our rooming relationship, I will give up my "night of" Office viewings. =)

Ok, so it's really not a compromise, I would probably vote for watching LOST over the office if it were up to me.

Struck

Break has been so good this time around. Even though I was sorely disappointed that I would not be throwing the shower for my sister, I'm pleased with how things have unfolded. I've been able to spend some much needed quality time with each of the family members (minus the youngest as she's off serving Jesus in New Orleans). Yesterday I went to my brother's track meet, where I met up with my sister and we headed out to the "bea's" from there.

I sat there, listening to her ideas of what she wants to do at her wedding, things that will definitely be different, and things that will be very much the same as any other wedding. Then she started a different topic of conversation, one that struck a chord in my heart.

She talked about the mentoring program she has recently launched at Northside for the female youth leaders. As she told me which leader she had matched with different women in the church (yes, I did ask if she did so on all 29 dimensions of compatibility), and then she related to me how she would like a mentor as well. The dilemma being, however, that she needs one who will not only scratch the surface of life, but one that will be willing to dig into the deeper issues of life and how to live it with Christ.

It sounded funny to me, especially because I find myself at a somewhat similar place. I really do long for someone to talk to about my questions, someone who will help guide me back to the truth that is in my heart, but is clouded over with emotion. Someone removed from my situation, and yet who has been there themselves.

It struck me that during my formative years, I always had someone to talk to... my first Boss (who I call Boss), my RDs from Grace, and my hall mom, there was always someone there. But now that I'm graduated, moved away from many who I would feel comfortable approaching, and not connected to a church like I used to be, I wonder if finding a mentor for "life" is possible.

Maybe this point of my life is to point out the importance of having another, of having someone, someone who serves as a guide. I find these figures all throughout scripture (Eli to Samuel, Elizabeth to Mary, Moses to Joshua, etc.) and so I find myself asking, where is Eli? Where is Elizabeth? Where is my guide to help me navigate through the waves that crash and sweep across this life of mine? Or am I left only to appreciate my past and travel alone? Dr. Forbes was right, the longer you live, the less answers you have.

Smelling the Fragrance

I sometimes wonder if I'm weird. Not the kind of weird that is said jokingly, or in a way to brush off the last embarrassing moment that just passed, but the kind that makes you wonder if there's something missing, that maybe there's something wrong?



Now I haven't convinced myself just yet that I am completely off the deep end, but there are moments.



For example,



This past week I finally got up enough courage to tie my tennis shoes, don an old baggy sweatshirt, and took myself for a (*gulp*) run. This is not something that I enjoy by any means. My stomach ties itself into knots and wishes that I could just be invisible for the 45 minutes I spend making the big bad wolf's huffing and puffing seem like a gentle breeze compared to gusts that come out of my lungs. Anyways, this is the first time that I've ventured outside to exercise in Middlebury. I still haven't figured out the lay of the land, and so I start trotting down sidewalks, not really knowing where I'm going. And then I hear it, footsteps, not just one set, but multiple, and then I hear giggling... it's the girls track team. At this point I've already exhausted myself from actually running, and I'm just panting along as I continue my walk. I pull over to one side, and let them pass. I smile to myself, thinking of my brother who also runs track, and how I wish I could run for more than block. Eventually my self-conscious mind quiets down, and this is where things start to get... different.



The path that I've taken is a bike trail, and it leads past picnic tables, pavilions, and even a giant mushroom that has to be at least 30 feet tall. I smile to myself, wondering who made such a mushroom, and who decided that it would be a good edition to the local park. The path continues past these things and becomes a bridge. I stop. I just listen. The birds are back. It's raining, and the creek is playing a symphony of sound as each drop causes the slightest disturbance in the water's path. I become part of the sound, it fills me, and I drink it in. As the rain beats harder and my face is dripping, I head towards the pavilion and lie on one of the benches.

There the rain makes a different sound, and I close my eyes, and pray.

I'm filled with wonder, and I know that I've come back to a place that I have not visited in a while. There's peace here, I'm here. The real me, the one that acts like a little child and accepts things without hesitance. I breathe in the aroma of something bigger than me, and delight in its fragrance.

Giggles. Quieted voices.

I bolt up, hearing something not so new. It was the track girls and their trainer. I smile a goofy smile, like a little girl who's just been caught putting on her mom's make-up. I roll my eyes to myself as they run by, and I make my way home wondering if I'm weird.

A New Start

For a while now, I have been hopping around from blog spot to blog spot... and I've found myself here, a new blog, and hopefully, a new start. I've been in search for the perfect place to record my thoughts, my musings (if you will) on life, and how mine is unfolding and turning out to be not quite what I expected.

There are advantages and draw backs to living an unexpected life. Some of the obvious advantages is that life is lived with a sense of excitement and adventure. I never know what new predicament I will find myself in. From mufflers falling off, to talking to sixth graders on why they shouldn't research the word "vagina" on school computers, my life is as unpredictable as they come. However, these humorous situations I sometimes find myself in, leave me wanting something more. Something more stable, something closer to my family, something that allows me to feel at peace with where God has sent me to serve.

I'm still searching for that peace, and I haven't quite found it yet. It perplexes me, as I know that there is purpose behind my placement, and yet I still question everything. This is something new to me. Never before have I questioned my life choices. Never have I called into question the character of God and his presence in my life. Never have I been in such a place as this. This perplexity disturbs me, and I want the wrestling match between my heart and head to stop. I want he bell to ring and have my head declared the winner. Then maybe, I will be able to hit the reset button on my grown up life and have everything play out the way it was meant to from the start.

I want a new start. One where my faith is strong, my mind is clear, and my heart full. This is the life I long for, this is the person I long to be, and yet the wrestling continues and I am left to question everything.