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.

School vs. Sports: The Winner is...

"Where's Miss Williams?"

"Here?"

Raising my hand, I waved to the large and rather intimidating man who had just welcomed a bus load of us to Michigan. We came to watch a student of mine play hockey, and the man who called my name was the assistant coach. This former NHL player proceeded then to thank me for allowing my student the privileges I and the school grant him so that he can travel from Indiana to Michigan in order to play for the team.

I have to admit, I was greatly taken aback by this. And my astonishment continued throughout the course of the day. The quality of the playing at these games was truly phenomenal. Traveling up to Troy, Michigan and watching my student in what appeared to me to be, another world, opened my eyes all the more to truly understanding the child beneath the label of "student."

Sports, whether it be one where you travel over 200 miles to play every weekend, or the local basketball team, hold a significant role in the lives of students across the nation. Our culture promotes athleticism and idolizes those who show great proficiency. And there's a part of me that thinks that this obsession is justified. We're all looking for a hero, and maybe, just maybe, this guy who shows us week after week the meaning of the word "great", will be our hero. The one who will make a difference. The one we're unable to be on our own. But I digress.

Sports, when cultivated in a way that promotes discipline and hard work, comes alongside academics and each accentuates the other. On their own, neither can fully meet the needs of the student. This could also be said of just about any extra-curricular program, from drama to chess, these programs depend on students doing well not only in the program, but also in the classroom. For it is in the classroom the student will gain skills in and out of their interests and natural abilities. Overcoming the fear of failure in an area the student may not excel at, as well as developing discipline in the day to day monotony of routine, will aid them when it comes time to practice their skills outside the classroom. And it is outside the classroom that students will be free to perfect their areas of expertise, to practice and compete to determine how great a skill they themselves possess when compared to the skill of another.

Sports and school will be intertwined for years to come. The way I see it, if you were to pit school vs. sports, it would end up being a tie. Which, if you ask me, is the way it should be.

Presently Missing the Past...

I miss my family. I miss the way things once were. Where I used to love being home all by myself, curled up with a good book or engrossed in a new movie on TCM. I miss having my own schedule, that changed daily based off of the needs of that particular day. I miss being able to go over to visit my friend and being able to spend the night, chatting about our dreams for the future and giggling into the late hours about things we still giggle about today. Things certainly have changed.

And yet I love the present. I love that I have a classroom of my own. That there are students who come every week to see me, hear what I have to tell them, and hopefully gain something from being under my tutelage. I love that I live an unconventional life with roommates in all different phases of life. I love that my friends are here, there, and everywhere. My only wish is I could have them near me all the time...

I miss how things once were, but I also know that my life today depended on those moments and events from the past to make me the person I am presently, and if I remained there, in the past with things as they once were, my life would be stunted. Instead, I grow. I stretch. And I take time to miss the things of the past, so that I might enjoy all the more my life in the present.

Marriage: What I think it's all about, Part II

Mirrors fascinate me. I could spend hours looking in them, and not because of the image staring back at me(!), but rather because of their ability to reflect things so clearly. Things may be slightly distorted, and the image flipped, but overall, what is seen by gazing at a looking glass allows for a image to be retained in one's mind.

Marriage is all about love. A love that is not self-serving, but continually seeking out ways to offer itself in word and deed, and so by giving of itself, receiving all the more. This is a choice made everyday, in every circumstance and situation that is presented in the course of life lived with another. And it's far from easy. Believe me, I know.

I know, not because I'm married, I know because of what marriage is a mirror image of; Christ, and His love for the Church. Please note that this is Church with a capital C, not a lowercase. Capital C Church is for all those who believe in Christ and who have accepted him, it's not divided into denominations or sects, or any other splitting ourselves apart over the small stuff.

Christ loves the Church, and the Church in return should love Christ. And it's here I'm left with several interesting questions, the first of which is what exactly is meant by loving Christ?

I can get loving a person, another human being... I can do this through word and deed and present them directly to them. A wife loves her husband by showing him respect, and a husband loves his wife by continuing to pursue her heart. But what does it look like to love Christ? He's not even "really" here anymore. He left another in his place... so how do I show love to him?

There's this scene of Jesus talking to his disciples, it's a personal dinner discussion between him and the 12 of them. He's breaking the news to them that he's not going to be around forever, he's going to have to leave them. It's in this in this discussion that Christ spells out what it would look like to really love him. So he tells them, if you truly love me, you'll show it by doing what I've told you.

Huh, so... to love Christ, is to obey all the rules and regulations that are in the Bible, right? Err. That's what I used to think, and is where I got lost in legalism for years. It's not about being able to say that you don't do such and such, or that you do this and that. It's about being able to say at the end of the day that you loved on someone else. It's about being able to know that instead of picking yourself in such and such situation, you picked someone else. To love Christ is to love someone else.

That's the beauty of it, marriage between man and woman and that which happens metaphorically between Christ and the Church is shown by denying yourself to benefit the other. They are mirror images of each other, and serve to be a reminder of what love looks like.

Marriage, and what I think it's all about: Part I

With weddings on the brain as of late, I find myself contemplating what it's all about and question my own reasons for holding out hope that I too might find myself in the middle of matrimony.

I've heard it said that marriage is a commitment between two people to be the witnesses of each other's lives, a promise that each life will not go unnoticed for the other is there to notice it. I like the idea of being a living story watcher and teller, both, at the same time.

I've heard that marriage is covenant, a word that isn't used very often in the modern vernacular. When it is, the word is most often tossed around and thrown into the wedding ceremony itself. It's a term used by ancient middle-eastern cultures, and it's from a certain middle-eastern culture that many of our own ideas about marriage originate from.

I've heard that marriage is not having to say goodbye at the end of the day, but finding out that there's a part of you you didn't realize was missing.

And yet, I know marriage is full of things that disprove each of the above statements, that couples aren't always paying attention to witness the other's life, that covenants and promises can be broken, and that it's a whole lot easier to just think about yourself and forget the other part.

Through all of these mixed messages, here's what I have learned about what marriage all boils down to in the end. It's about a choice. Marriage (and all healthy relationships, if you ask me) is about choosing to love someone over yourself. Which is WAY easier said than done. All people are naturally and instinctual selfish. I the worst of them all.

And so in a sense, marriage, goes against what we are naturally programmed to do. It goes against who we instinctually are. So how in the world is a marriage actually work? How could it possibly work? Here's where that choice part comes in, the choice is to love.

The kind of love that makes marriage work, is not the self-serving kind, it's the self-giving kind. The kind that doesn't expect anything in return, the kind that can be taken advantage of, the kind that can be taken for granted. Love, is the choice. Love, is a choice.

I think that people forget this... thanks to the sexual revolution and the I-want-it-now generation, love has gotten lost and confused with being solely a feeling or emotion. But ask any pregnant woman and she'll tell you emotions change, and in a hurry! That's not what TRUE love is. Love, withstands the passing of feelings, and in the end, becomes a choice. Even though I may not feel like loving a person, I choose to do so. Marriage, is about choosing to love a certain person every day, no matter what, more than you love yourself.

That's marriage, and what I think it's all about. It's all about giving up the rights to thinking about yourself first, it's about choosing the other person, it's about: love.

I've been rather teary eyed lately. Throughout the past several weeks, I've been melancholy and listless. Let me begin to unpack why.

The school year is in full swing, and it's around this time of the year that I begin to wonder if I have too much going on at once. Our school's fund raiser for the year is selling Nelson's chicken so that the classes can go on their field trips. It's a lot of work on the teacher's end, what with tabulating how many tickets different students were given, correctly accounting for each day's sales and moneys (I feel like Scrooge when I'm behind my desk counting a pile of crinkled ones or pile of coins) brought in, and recording all of this information. I'm grateful for everyone contributing to our school by buying the chicken, but it's very frustrating that I am left to count the money piled on my desk when I should be spending time instructing students. There's no easy solution to this problem, and so I am thankful that chicken sales ended this past Friday.

It's also at this time of the year when I create a video promo for the Young Hoosier books. Indiana has a book program where there are 20 selected texts for various age levels, and at my school we offer prizes for students who complete a certain number of books and show their competency by passing a computer generated comprehension test. For each one of the 20 texts, I created a script and, with the help of my students, included summaries of each of the books intermediate Hoosier students will read this year. It's a lot of fun, but trying to fit in a time to tape students each day is somewhat difficult. Thank the Lord for cadet teachers! Without mine, the taping would yet to be complete! Filming has ended, and so I was left with the raw footage for me to sift through and edit. This was not difficult, only time consuming... and this year I found myself with fewer days to complete my project.

This was due to the wonderful even that took place this past Saturday. My cousin Emily got married! And to a wonderful man I might add! I loved being able to be a part of the wedding, and being able to share in their day. I also enjoyed their wedding because it gave my friends and I an excuse to get together, which doesn't happen often as we all live so far away from each other. Karen in LA, Emily in Kansas, Abbey in Ohio, and me in Indiana. The Lord has taken us to such different places in our lives, and yet, despite this fact, we all have remained close to each other.

These three major events all happened to fall upon the same time frame, the end of September/beginning of October. These three major events have left me very, very tired. When I get to these points, I become like a tea kettle and have to let out my steam. Thankfully for those in earshot, it's not through an ear piercing scream (I hate that about tea kettles), but through tears. I cry.

It's at these points that I am forced to remember that it's not on my own strength that allows me to continue on through each day... and maybe that's what I'm supposed to learn from these experiences. There's more, and I'll share that later, but for now I rely not on my own understanding.

Singularly Content.

So I made my mom cry this weekend. For those of you who know my mother, you know that it's not a very hard task, and yet I must admit that I have a sense of pride over the matter. This is how I did it.

I was in Ohio this past weekend, my cousin Emily is getting married in October, and I threw her a shower Sunday to celebrate with family and friends. We had finally come home after spending time at church (surprise, surprise, my family lives there!) and were sitting on the couch. Well, to be more precise, I was lying down on the couch with my head in mom's lap (it's more conducive to pouring one's heart out you see). And I told her my thoughts on the whole marriage thing... you know, how I'd like to be there one day too, and wouldn't it be great if it was soon so that Grandparents could be there with me... things like that.

yet again I heard the same advice: don't deny the feelings you hold, yet don't allow them to embitter the heart. Instead, recognize youth, and be thankful for the time given.

Easier said than done.

I'm trying my best to hold onto those truths. For I do see how easy it is to fall into the pattern of thinking the next stage of life holds the happiness I must be missing out on... the right guy, the right house, the right number of kids, the right school, it never ends.

I do desire the house, husband, and however many kids there may someday be in my life, but this isn't my time yet... and very well may never be. Deep down (though I don't want this to be the case) my heart knows that this may not be what's in store. However, my heart holds onto the hope in the knowledge that there's more to my life than these desires, there's more to do and be done than even I can now imagine.

What an adventure life can be, if you choose to let it be. And so I choose to be singularly content. At least until the next adventure begins.

Read if you will...

My blog (I have blog on the brain after seeing Julie and Julia) is entitled An Educator's Guess, partly because many of the posts I include deal with education and my experiences as a teacher. But there is another part, a reflection of my life, where I make an educated guess at what's going on. The majority of the time I honestly have no clue, but hope that within the time I spend writing the words which flow from my fingers and make their way to the world wide web, some clarity will be found within and make its way into my heart. This, however, does not always happen.

I often find the need to place a positive spin at the end of my thoughts, for it is how I view life, as messy, complicated, and insane as it can be, I still think there's a silver lining to be found whatever the situation.

And I wonder, I wonder about those who read these random and sometimes pathetic thoughts. I wonder why I feel compelled to put these series of posts out there for so many (or so few) to read. I wonder if I should stop. I wonder if it is truly worthwhile.

Despite these wonderings, I comply with the compulsion which calls me to write. I enjoy the process and reading the results of my perceptions on life as an educator. And I the freedom a blog gives to a writer. An audience who has the chance to respond, disguised anonymity, and an new topic every time. And so I will continue, for now, to blog my thoughts away. Read if you will, enjoy when possible, and allow me to explain a little more of myself to you.

Year Three, How Can it Be?

I find myself saying a phrase repeatedly these days, one that expresses astonishment coupled with bewilderment: How can it be? How can it be that I've been out of college for this long? How can it be that I have friends living across the country and outside of it!? How can it be that this year will be my third in teaching?

Things have definitely changed since my first experience in the teaching profession. A little less naivete, a little more sarcasm, the same amount of fervor and passion for doing the best I can for the students entering my classroom. How can it be that I'm still a little nervous?

The reality of the fact that one never stops questioning their abilities in teaching is starting to sink in a little deeper... and I am beginning to see it painted in a positive shade. This is a distinguishing feature in the aptitude of a teacher. Without the questioning and self-evaluating, there would be no purpose in striving for improvement. I find this to be true, whatever profession one has taken.

My third year of teaching is a chapter I am eager to enter into and explore. There will be plenty of new challenges and ways for me to stretch myself in my profession. I am glad I do not feel as alone this year. I find myself more and more comfortable with life post graduation. The friends that have come along and those who have remained near are a source of great comfort, and I am ever thankful for their presence. How can it be that I got to be so lucky?

How can it be is a phrase that I will continue to repeat throughout year three... ranging from marrying off another dear friend and family member, to visiting the ones who live far from my home, to the fact that I will be completing yet another year of teaching. Amazing!

How can it be...

Sending Sour on it's Way.

When I was a kid (I think I'm old enough now to say that) my friends and I loved to go roller skating. Roller skating was fun, not just because you got to wear shoes with wheels on them and attempt to go round and round in circles without falling flat on your face, roller skating was fun because when you're at the roller skating rink, there was a concession stand selling only the best sweetness could offer. You could buy Fun Dips, Ring Pops, and Pop Rocks. And if you were exceptionally daring and brave, you would try a War-head.

War-heads were the kind of candy that started out plain awful. It was sour and would cause your lips to pucker together in a way that made your face look like it would collapse in on itself, and then your mom would tell you that if you kept it up your face would stay that way. They were the most bitter candy on the outside, and most kids spit them out after only a few seconds of sucking.

However, War-heads are not sour. At least not at their core. War-heads are actually very sweet, once you get past the sour layer, at the center lies a hard candy similar to the Ring Pop you've been thinking of since I mentioned it in the first paragraph.

I have a confession to make. I am a War-head. Or at least, for the last two years, I've struggled with having a hard, bitter outer core. I've hidden it well, or at least I like to think I have, keeping on that smiling face making you believe that I'm as jolly as a Jolly Rancher. Life is great! I'm doing fine! How often do we use these words to hide from others (not to mention ourselves) the truth of the matter, life feels like it's going to collapse in on itself.

Some days I feel as if my life has no direction, purpose, or value. I teach, but do I love it still? Why was I offered a job teaching sixth grade? Me? The Kindergarten Queen!? I live in Indiana for independence, and yet I am dependant on those in my "family". So many dreams of the future hang like limp balloons waiting to be inflated, and I'm ready to let go the string of hope tied to them. For the past two years, these questions and doubts have soured my spirit.

But wait Billy Mays, there's more! This War-head isn't dissolved yet. I don't know when exactly, but I have a couple of guesses how it happened(ask me sometime), the sourness around my core, it's starting to wear away. I've rediscovered the sweet center and remembered how good it is there. That goodness, it doesn't come from me. Nope, it's so much more. It's not perfect, at least not yet. I can still taste the bitterness at times, but I am hopeful that this next season of my life will be sweet.

BTLC, PBL, and what it all boils down to.

Entry Document
New Tech
Web 2.0

These are just some of the new terms I learned today at my PBL (Project Based Learning)training at the BTLC (Buddy Training Learning Center (no, it's not a teacher rehab center)).

I will admit, I was nervous as all get out last night as I was alone... in Indy... having survived various creepers throughout my day. The first was a truck driver who wouldn't let me pass him and kept honking his horn, which always makes me nervous when any vehicle honks a horn at me as I'm afraid there's something wrong with my car (a valid concern for me if you know my history with cars functioning properly). Needless to say, there wasn't anything wrong with my car.

The second creeper experience was dealing with the conartists who were working the stopped traffic for cash for their "broken down car", a man with a gas can and a woman with pigtails (the pigtails aren't important, just a bad fashion choice in my oppinion). I hate it when people come up to my car and knock on my window... especially when I'm by myself stuck at a red light. The woman approached me first and asked if I had any cash as I was on my way to grab some Chipotle for dinner. Then, on my way back from grabbing my burrito, the man approached my car with his still empty gas can... which is surprising since I saw at least 3 cars give him money as I was on my way to Chipotle... Again, I hate it when people come up to my car and knock on my window... when I'm by myself stuck at a red light. >:(

Thankfully, my training session today had no creepers, just friendly educators who want to reach and teach their students. =)

Let me tell you a little about PBL, this training I'm receiving. Project Based Learning is just another way to describe inquiry based/discovery learning, the very things the lovely and talented Professor Owen hammered away into my little brain during my Methods of Teaching Elementary Science course at Grace. Already, from just today, I have been reaffirmed in my beliefs that hands-on, experiential learning engages students in a way that no other teaching method can. Be forewarned, I'm not afraid to throw around names of others who share my beliefs. That's right, Vygotsky, Piaget, they're with me.

I have to admit, this stuff gets me very excited about school and learning. I am a complete nerd. I realized this as Mozart serenaded me (via Pandora) while I gripped my highlighters and pen, scratching up the chapter that was assigned for homework from today's training. Reading about research done in the field of education, bringing my own unique perspective to the text, and interacting with it as I write down the connections and questions my brain formulates gives me a rush of adrenaline. I'm serious, my heart beats faster when I read stuff like this!

Here are a few thoughts I have from my reading:

Project Based Learning promotes community and collaboration not only with those in the classroom. I need to find ways to connect my students with those who actually use the knowledge I want them to gain so that they may see real life application of the subjects.

I would love to have my fellow teachers perform a peer evaluation of my teaching techniques. Students are not the only learners in the classroom. And just as I have my students evaluate and provide feedback to their peers, I wonder how I would be challenged in my teaching if my peers did the same for me.

These are the two biggest things I gathered from my reading. At the end of this week I will be presenting my own PBL unit which I will build over the course of the next several days. In addition to building a unit, I will develop my first ever podcast, continue to add tabs to my new Delicious account, and access BTLC's moodle to find more resources.

And what it all boils down to is this, I love learning about learning!

The Third Act...

I'm going to be leaving soon for Indiana. I'm torn between just going ahead and leaving tomorrow as opposed to leaving on Wednesday when I planned. I've been in Ohio for a while now... since the 11th to be exact. And there's a part of me, a small part of me, that's hesitant to go back.

To be honest, these are the exact same feelings I had when leaving Indiana just a few weeks ago. Hesitant. Unsure. Melancholy.

In my attempt to try and understand myself, I believe that this strange potion of emotion comes not from a strange elixir, but from the fact that my character, who I am, plays out in such different acts on each of the stages I stand.

On stage in Ohio, Act One: I play the devoted daughter, serving my parents in order to please them and make them proud. I play the older onlooking sister, who has advice to dole out reproachfully to any younger sibling nearby. I play the admired and respected "successful" home schooler, who didn't turn out so bad after all.

On stage in Indiana, Act Two: I play the young and with-it teacher, who knows what's-what in the world of educational trends and the most recently published state standards. I play the friend to all, never wanting to ruffle a feather. I play the independent, self-sufficient woman that I am (or at least like to think... sometimes).

Yet, no matter where I am, which stage I stand, or what act I'm in, I am all of these things. This is my character, not yet fully developed, but well on its way. The struggle I find myself in, as I hesitate to leave one act for another, is that I cannot seem to find the balance of being both who I am in Ohio, and who I am in Indiana. And so the sadness stems not from leaving those I love behind (which would make clearer sense), but rather leaving a part of myself behind, of knowing that I will not be able to accurately portray who I fully am to those around me. For they have either entered and left before the second, or arrived later and missed the first.

And so I wonder, wonder what it will take to bring my two acts together. A move? A marriage? A death? Or is this the way life is always lived, compartmentalized into mostly neat and tidy roles for each of us to play? Yet again, I find myself waiting for time to pass, wisdom to grow, and for my heart to learn. What do You have in store for me?

I hold my breath, awaiting the third act...

My Life, and Dreams for the Future.

I've been thinking about my life recently. About how it's not what I envisioned it at all... and now, after it not being what I thought it would be, I can't imagine my life the way I originally wanted it! What I mean is this, that I used to see myself as a college grad, working, but maybe not as a full fledged teacher. Maybe something more along the lines of an aide, or a preschool teacher. I have to admit, I saw myself with someone at this point, potentially working on buying a house, kids? Who knows...

And yet when I sat down with a friend today and talked about how we ended up where we are today, I didn't even think about these long lost dreams. Instead I envisioned my future, the blurry picture that it is.


I don't intend to scare my co-workers or family members when I talk about the future, but I think that is what I end up doing when I start to verbalize what I envision. For though I'm not sure where my life will take me next, I know that I don't want to stop learning. I don't want to stop loving others. I don't want to stop challenging myself. And so, I don't see myself sticking with the same position year after year, nor do I see myself moving back to my Ohio home on my own.

I want to use my teaching license to the fullest potential that I can, which means that I just may end up teaching kindergarten yet again! Beyond this, I would like to potentially see myself teaching others to do what it is I love to do, teach. Professor Williams? I kinda like the sound of that...


My life is not what I thought it would be, that's for sure. If it was, I wouldn't be the person I am now. I hope that through all of the life I've lived I have been continuing to accomplish my goals of learning and challenging myself. I know that I have not been perfect at this, but I continue to try.

This is my life. And surprisingly enough, I like it.

Thankful Thoughts

For the past several months, I have been attending a church in the greater Goshen/Elkhart area. It's a larger church, with most likely a thousand to fifteen hundred members. Today they were in the midst of renovating their worship center. And so, without a large room to gather in, the service was instead held outside. I loved it! It was so neat to be able to look up at the expanse of sky and be caught up in the beauty of its blueness. I loved being able to contrast that color with the green of trees, met by the green carpet of grass. Though it was a bit damp to sit on (I didn't bring my lawn chair), it was an amazing experience.

Something struck me today as the pastor recapped the series on Colossians. It's struck me before, and sadly most likely will strike me again later in life, and that is the importance of being grateful.

How often do people (I, most of all) complain? How often do we wish and wait around for the next best thing? How often do we grumble over the hand we were dealt? All of these leave me with a wanting and impatient heart, one that is bitter to the taste.

The remedy? Don't wait until Thanksgiving to be thankful! We're halfway to Thanksgiving (at least that's what Tim Rowland told us all today), only six more months to go!

There is so much for me to be thankful for, from the beautiful weather that I can enjoy with all of my senses, to the amazing life I am able to live with friends and family. The mere fact that I have a job at all (though it causes me heartache at times) is reason enough to give thanks! And so I will end my day with thankful thoughts in order that I may become a little bit more the person I was created to be.

Empty

I have to admit, I left this school year unsatisfied. My students changed throughout the course of the year, and not for the better. Day in and day out I prayed and strove to love on them and instill in them a sense of right and wrong. And yet consistently, many of those I worked hardest with were the ones who made me shake my head by day and shed tears by night.

Even as they drove away in their buses this afternoon, I was disappointed with them. Yes, there were a few who I think learned throughout the course of the year from me in more ways than one, but now that it's all over... I feel, empty.

It's a hollow feeling, emptiness is. One that years to be taken away by being filled. My kiddoes left me feeling empty. I gave to them as much as I could give, and in return... nothing. In years past, I have not encountered this void in satisfaction over the job I have done with students. And yet this year, this year was different.

Maybe it's just like this, maybe there's years where a class leaves you feeling drained. Maybe there's years where students change from who you thought they were, who you see they could become, and instead transform into who they choose to become. Maybe... maybe.

It doesn't change the deficit that I now carry with me, but hoping that maybe next year it will be different helps. Though I may feel empty now, I am very thankful to have hope in someday being full again. So, here's to summer, and the ability to find fullness outside of school! =)

I Hope I Make It...

Let me just say to start with, I just hope I make it.

I've reached that point in the school year again. The one where I question my capabilities, my decisions, and my competencies as a teacher. And as a result, all I want to do is run and hide. All I want to do, is quit.

The good news for me is that I will be able to "quit" in a manner of speaking. The 3 reasons why many people decide to go into teaching, is just around the corner for me, namely June, July, and August (though in Indiana, having August off is a joke...). These months will soon be here, and my current classroom of students will be sent off to enjoy summer break, and I will be free from my responsibility of watching over them and helping to guide them. That role will lie with some other teacher for the following year. I hope they're ready for a challenge.

This year has left me weary. Though I did not have the constant questioning of my quality as a teacher as I did my first year, I find myself at a point that has left me beyond that, farther down a path that leaves me with questions about how I have treated my students this year.

Did I show them love?

Did I give them good counsel?

Did I make any difference at all?

As my students continue to make choices for the good and the bad, I can't help but feel a closer connection with God. I understand his heart, and how it aches for his children. As my own "children" make decisions that lead to less than pleasant results, I am able to turn the tables and see myself in their place, and Christ being the one to look down with such hurt in his eyes. I have had so many "talks" with various students this year, ones that had me pleading with them to show the rest of us the kind of person they are deep down inside, the one they are supposed to be.

I know this goes against human nature. That humans by default know what is right, and yet naturally choose to do what is wrong. I know that we do this because we are selfish beings. And I also know that some of these kids will never be taught nor learn that they should go against serving themselves. Enter Miss Williams.

Day after day this year, my job has been to continually present these young minds with choices and decisions. And day after day, I have had to redirect their attitudes, their thoughts, and their emotions. Needless to say, I'm weary, and there's a problem.

The problem? I feel. I feel so much. When my students choose poorly, I feel their pain. I feel my own disappointment in them, and my heart aches for them knowing the consequences. I cannot save them from themselves.

I understand the heart of God just a little bit more this year. I am able to see a little more clearly what happens when I choose myself over anyone else. And I'm ready to be done with it all.

Despite what I want, school will keep going and there is more life to be lived. I must carry on, taking the lessons learned with me as a guide of sorts, telling me how to handle some of what will most likely lie ahead. Hopefully I will be able to avoid the places of self-doubt and arrive at the end with a smile of accomplishment on my face, knowing that I have run the race, and fought the good fight.

I've reached that point in the school year again. But I won't run and hide. I won't quit. I've seen too much and come too far to let that happen. I just hope I make it.

Contentment I Cry

The emptiness burrows down,
deep.
the hollow pit drags the heart into despair.

Never.
Never will it be.
Never will it happen for me.

Lies.
All of them.
Or are they...

Day passes Day,
Night consumes the tears.
The "lies" become reality bit by bit.

My arms are bare.
My hands empty.
My heart hardened.

Others pass by,
My smile is slapped on.
To dam the pain and tears.

Contentment I cry,
Will you never be mine?

Why do I run after your elusive trail?
I dig my heels in.
Freezing all motion.

Is it here, where I am?
Is it there, where I am not?
Is it all in imagination?

An illusion
That all is well
That all is as it should be.

And yet,
I can't shake it.
Despair, despondent, disillusioned.

Contentment, I cry.
Will you ever be mine.

Came to be.

Have you ever wondered about how you came to be? Not in a The Bird and The Bees sort of way, but rather how you came to be in the place you are today, or how about the person you turned out to be at this very moment? I find myself in continual amazement over the series of events, the encounters with various individuals, which have so greatly influenced my life.

For instance, if it were not for my sister, I don't think I would have ever learned to control my temper. I can still travel back in my mind to a moment where I gave into my lesser-self (as I like to think of it) and was blind with overly-emotional anger. No matter how long I reflect in this memory, I cannot unearth the reason for this frustration. What I do recall is taking a small alarm clock from my bedroom and hurtling it through the hallway in an attempt to "hurt" her. Why I chose a 2x2'' purple (yes, I even remember the pastel color) alarm clock, I couldn't say other than maybe I hoped it would do the least amount of damage to the hallway. Sadly, my lack of spatial awareness was already fully developed and I missed her completely. This act however was not missed by my father, who just happened to enter the hallway at that exact same moment. Though I have lost my temper since then, it was this moment that I hold on in my mind as the example of how foolish (especially for me) acting in anger is.

My sister was not the only person to help teach me lessons in life(though she was present in many of them), my dear friend Karen has taught me many as well. Just this past week, while we talked on the phone, I was again reminded of her great loyalty to others and those lucky enough to be distinguished as her friend. How I wish I could spend more time in her presence. For it is there that I find myself comparing her great passion and care for others to my lack thereof. It is through our conversations that I am challenged to love with quality of words, time, and service.

As I continue to reflect, and remember all those who have ever entered my life, I see that this story goes much farther back and is more intricate than this post or any others could allow. I marvel at the One who mapped the web of my life into the wonder of workmanship it is winding up to be. And though there (God willing) is more to be spun in the tale of my existence, I will continue to remain in wonder over how I, like so many others, came to be.

Home Alone: Not the Movie

This past weekend I experienced something that is not totally uncommon to me, but something I distaste. I was home alone.

Now, there was a time in my life where I enjoyed this very much... after being surrounded by my family members day in and day out (which is a benefit and a downfall to being home schooled), I craved the chance to be home alone. I longed for time where I would not become annoyed or frustrated with a sibling, or have to worry about arguing with a parent. But now that I'm not surrounded by the same people I have been for years on end, I find myself in a very different place. I find myself loathing extended periods of time by myself.

Now don't get me wrong, being alone is a good thing! I think everyone needs time to just be by themselves and hear themselves think. To have time to pray and meditate, and listen to what's going on inside their heads. In fact I believe that having time alone is vital to personal health. But I also know that I am the kind of person who, when left alone for too long, becomes drained of energy as opposed to revitalized.

I was alone for only parts of the day yesterday. Which was perfect for me. It gave me a chance to contribute to the upkeep of the house, and it let me do somethings that I enjoy doing (singing loudly off key and dancing) without bothering anyone else. After spending quality "me"time, I got to go out with a friend, and I loved that. We were able to catch up on each other's lives, to enjoy each other's company, and share life together (not to mention an amazing dinner at Carrabba's!).

However, all good things must come to an end. I was content when I got home, but it got me to thinking. Thinking about what life would be like if this were the rest of my life... if sitting home, alone, on a Saturday night were all that's left for me. As I peer out through the bleary window of my future, I can't tell who's there, or even where the couch is that I'm sitting. It scares me, but it also excites me. Which is what sitting home, alone, lets me do.

Ready to Move On

It hit. I could feel it at the beginning of the month. I was certain of it by the end of last week. I had no doubt today. I am ready to move on.

I am done with winter.

Yes, today was a more mild weathered day, but in all honesty I need more than 40 degrees to warm up my toes and my heart. I need spring to come, for the new buds of life to take hold of the barren trees that line the roads I travel. I need spring to come, the sun to shine through the rain and send shimmers of light through my window. I need spring to come, for new life to break through the bleak brown world and make it gorgeously green.

Admittedly, the world is a beautiful place covered with the whiteness of snow and the perfection of frosted over glass, but in this season, life is asleep. No growth is possible.

And so I find myself in a place ready. Ready to move on. Move on to growth. To warmth. To spring. Even in this place of readiness, I find myself faltering, of not knowing what step to take next. Like a child blindfolded, trying in earnest to pin the tail on the donkey, I step with hesitation, and a goofy grin on my face, hoping that the world is not laughing at me. And if they do, I want to be the first to giggle at my folly. And I want to laugh the loudest, in hopes of drowning out the rest.

I'm ready. Ready to move on.
Spring come soon.

Write, or Fail.

I couldn't believe it. With 46 eyes staring at me, and 23 mouths set in straight lines, I couldn't believe that all but two of my kids had completed a writing assignment. 21 other students sat, looking back at me, wondering what I would do.

I couldn't believe it. The students had been busy working on the previous writing assignment, but they had also known that they were to keep writing in their writer's notebook. 30 pages were to be completed for the month of January. They had the option of taking it home over Christmas break. And yet, so many did not. Even my brightest of the bright, the ever responsible, had failed to write one measly page per day.

When one of my students approached me, to discuss why he only had 15 of the 30 done, and how he could try to weasel his way out of getting an F, I asked him when and where he could have taken five minutes to write.

"I couldn't, I was at my sister's basketball game last night!"

"And you couldn't have written in it for five minutes?"

"But then I would look like a dork, and that I actually like to write."

"Well then, it looks like you can either look like a dork, or fail."

I was so mad. I couldn't believe he actually pulled that line on me. I did calm myself down in that moment, and described to him how for the rest of his educational career, he's going to be faced with making the decision of choosing which he will value more: sports, or school. I also reminded him that if he continues to choose sports and blow off school, that it will catch up with him, as he will be unable to play if he does not work on keeping good grades.

My frustrations did not subside when it came time to address the issue with the rest of the class. Each time I asked whose responsibility it was to ensure their pages were completed, I would hear excuse after excuse.

"I have to chore when I get home!" - The common Amish boy excuse using the same phrasing.

"I was too busy after my basketball game!" - The common English boy excuse.

"I forgot my writer's notebook at home!" - The common everyone excuse.

And so my frustration grew and grew, until finally I realized that I had lectured them for a good half hour on responsibility, how they have five minutes to write a page each day, whether in school or out(!), and how even though it might be a novel concept to them, they might actually have to put forth some effort!

Thankfully for them and me, the recess bell rang. Having duty, I grabbed my coat and scarf and marched myself outside. Where, thanks to the -10 degree windchill, I cooled off.

For the rest of the day, even after I got home I was still frustrated. Frustrated with my kids and how they viewed nothing as their fault... and frustrated with myself for not being able to truly reach them. And so, lying in bed that night, I reflected on how I handled that situation. I come to the conclusion that they needed to hear what I had to say. It was their responsibility to get the assignment done, and they will have the positive or negative consequences depending on how responsible they were. However, I do not think that I was able to truly impact them through a 30 minute lecture.

The following day, at writing time, I sat with my kids on the floor in a great circle. And our writing prompt for our notebooks was to think of someone special. Someone who they appreciate. And they were to then describe that person and what they enjoyed so much about them. We wrote for 30 minutes. At the end, a few of the kids shared, and then I asked if I could share as well. The kids, always eager to hear what I have written, gave me permission, and I proceeded. I had written down each of their names, and went around the circle sharing how much I care and appreciate having them as my students.

Now whether this was wrong or not, I'm not sure. But it gave me the chance to let them know how greatly I care about them, even if I do lay into them for a half hour on responsibility. Even if I do assign homework. Even if I do get frustrated.

I viewed this as a time where I had to write, or I would fail. Fail at reaching them, and helping them see that growth in school is so vital to their development as a person. Fail at letting them know how deeply I care about making sure they succeed. Fail at being the kind of teacher I set out to be.

I had to write, or fail.

Questioning Questions.

There are certain scenarios that eat away at my mind. Eroding a groove into the recesses of my memory. One such distinct memory came as a result of a conversation had with a friend at Grace. We were in our freshman or sophomore year, sitting and enjoying the other's company. I, in my naive and ignorant bliss, and my friend sitting in confusion and doubt, went down a road of discussion having to do with questions.

Our professors in the Bible department were starting to have us consider that maybe us womb to tomb Christians needed a serious wake up, calling into question our motives for accepting Christ into our lives and asking us if we really believed what claimed.

My friend, who was not a born and bred Christian doctrine fed like many at our institution of higher learning, was commenting on her journey of questioning her faith. However, as she was talking to me, I noticed she was having a hard time being open. Until finally she said,

"Haven't you ever questioned what you believe is true?"

After looking at her a moment in somewhat disbelief, I responded piously,

"No."

After this conversation I realized my friend was a point in her journey that I was no where close to reaching. And from where I sat then, it seemed that she had a long way to catch up to where I was at. Little did I know that it was I who had the catching up to do.

Five years have passed since that conversation, and yet it still wears on my mind. Because now I realize how important of a role questions play in life. It is in questioning what we believe we see how strong of a conviction we hold. It is in questioning our actions that our character is revealed. It is in questioning our abilities that allows for growth to take place.

As I continue to read David Kinnman's book, UnChristian, I see that my former way of thinking, that questioning is a useless exercises that leads to "leaving the fold", is one of the primary reasons why people in today's society are so unattracted to Christ. In the fourth chapter, David explains how important it is for Christians to be willing to engage in questioning and thinking about faith. To not become lazy and merely accept things at face value and then expect others to do the same.

A questioning mind is an open mind. Open to new possibilities, open to change, open to others. A questioning mind is a discerning mind. Active and engaging in dialogue with others to stretch and grow itself. This is the kind of mind I am trying to cultivate, so that some day, I may reach the point my friend did those many years ago.

And in the End.

My life is not what I thought it would be. In so many ways, my perception of the future has been altered and rearranged. Earlier today I reflected with a friend of how I used to view myself in high school.

An introvert.
A homebody.
A nerd.

And then, all of that changed when I went away to school, had a chance to stretch my wings, and realized that I could fly so much higher than what I had thought before. I got used to certain things and viewed myself differently in college.

An extrovert
Independent.
A leader.

So now here I am, a professional in the business of teaching young minds. It's been a year and a half, and I'm still standing. My perception of who I am has grown in the process of being a grown up. Now I see myself as something more.

An adult.
A teacher.
A survivor(?).

My perceptions and views on myself will continue to change, this I know without a doubt. I anticipate a new chapter in my life as I make a move from Middlebury to Goshen. Who knows what will happen after that. I can only hope and pray that all of these changes in perception are the result of growth in becoming more and more aware of who it is God created me to be. In becoming more and more aware of the way God already sees me.

Because in the end, that's all that really matters.

But You Got to Have Friends...

I'm not sure if that title is a song or not... but it should be. Over the course of the past two weeks, I have been continually impressed with the quality of friends I possess. And on a day like today, I am ever so thankful for them.

I'm reading a very interesting book published by David Kinnaman of the Barna Group. This organization conducts research on society today, and how it views Christianity. The book I'm reading is UnChristian: What the New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity... and Why it Matters. In the book it describes in the first chapter how today's generation (18-30), whom they call Mosaics (I prefer Millennials), places such a high value on friendship and loyalty. As I read the statistics and various surveys that were done to conclude this data, I realized how true this is in mainstream media, and pop culture. I mean, look at some of the most popular shows on TV! Cheers? Friends? (Dare I mention)Sex and the City? Each of these shows has a great devotion to friendship, and that's a large part of what draws people to watch, to see how even though life happens all around the characters, often in messy ways, their friends are always there. Even though there are many things in these shows I disagree with, it's evident that the writer's understood Proverbs 17:17.

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity

And so I find myself, sitting in the dim glow of the computer screen, reflecting on my most recent visit to Ohio, my mind revisits all of the memories that were most recently made.

A group of girls, getting ready to turn out the lights. Enjoying giggles, sharing their hearts, and sitting in the warmth of their love for each other.

Two friends, talking late into the night, sharing thoughts, memories, and wishes
for the future.

Four friends playing cards, passing laughter around the
table as they grow up together.

A dinner after shopping, coffee after dinner, uplifting
conversation after uplifting conversation.

Playing phone tag, but never giving up, and giving in to
communicating over facebook.

Two girls getting coffee, and wondering about what will
happen next.

Two girls nervously sitting in a kitchen, not sure of
what the other will say.

A phone call over the stresses of school, and spending
time to hear what the other has to say.

There are others to be sure, but these are the ones that stand out in my mind and make me realize how grateful I am and need to be. These are the friendships that make life what it is, that helps us grasp what God wants us all to have, and that keep you going in times of hurt and loneliness. These are the memories that I will hold onto.

Friends come, and friends go.
But a true friend sticks closer than a brother.
Proverbs 18:24.