Letter to My 8th Graders...

Here's my feeble attempt to say thank you to the young men and women who unknowingly changed my heart forever- my 8th graders. 

I treasure you.  

I treasure your hearts, your convictions, your sense of self.  I treasure your beauty, your vulnerability, your sense of adventure.  I treasure how you readily opened your hearts to me, inviting me to see the joy, the pain, and the wonder you have from our world.  What I see before me is truly captivating.  

I treasure you.

To my ladies:

Before me, I see a group of young ladies that have affirmed my belief that young women today are growing up strong, confident, and smart.  I look at you, ladies, and see a zest for life that permeates every inch of your being, and I can't help but wish I had known you when I was in 8th grade.  Maybe if I had, your vibrancy would have rubbed off on me, and I wouldn't have felt so insecure with who I was.  Ladies, you have captured my heart.  Don't let anyone tell you that you're not good enough.  You are.  You are valued and loved.  You are beautiful and smart.  I sit here with eager anticipation, waiting to see the women you will become, and yet, I am also content with knowing you just as you are this very moment. 

There are ladies in this room who break my heart, not for anything you have done, but for what the world has done to you.  The world has lied to you.  It has told you that you aren't pretty enough, skinny enough, or valuable enough.  And you believed it.  You swallowed the harsh and bitter lies as truth, and the ramifications are devastating.  I see you making choices that you aren't ready to make.  I see the paths you are taking, the mistakes you are making, and it breaks my heart.  How do you not see what I see? How do you not look in the mirror and see the beauty and wisdom I see?  When I look at the young women you have become, I see tender hearts behind sullen eyes.  I know those eyes. I used to see them in my reflection too.  To you, dear ladies, I reiterate- you are beautiful.  You are captivating.  You are worth it. 

To my gentlemen:

Then, there are my ridiculously hilarious and often inappropriate gentlemen that have unreservedly welcomed me to do life with them the past four years.  I have seen you, gentlemen, transition from young boys, bustling with exuberance and untamed energy, into reflective young men who own your shortcomings and promise to do right the next time.  Some days, you are mature for your years; others, you are still the young boys I knew not long ago.  The only difference is now you look down at me, instead of the other way around.  You, boys, have an unparalleled sense of humor.  I laugh endlessly, all while wishing I could match your humor and wit.  I can't. You are funnier than me.  

You are unashamed of nerding out, you shuffle with the best of them, you let me teach you about crop dusting (potential teacher fail...).  You understand when I am being hard on you, and why I need to pull you into the hallway for "a talk".  You don't like it, I know, but you listen, usually head hung low, and you apologize.  You, gentlemen, have reaffirmed my hope in young men.  I believe wholeheartedly that you will become responsible, wise men that will make this place better.  Actually, I take that back. You already are responsible, wise men making this place better.  Please don't stop.  I anxiously await the day when I get to see you become the honorable husbands, fathers, and leaders our country so desperately needs.

8th Graders: the past four years have been such a privilege for me, an unearned gift, that has forever changed my reality and perception of teaching.  Yes, I teach synonyms and proper spelling and how to find writing topics. Yes, I have taught you to analyze a character's motives, recognize figurative language in texts, and applauded you when you actually finished a book in my class (*cough, Jesus*).  But you have taught me so much more about my profession than any college class or professional development could.  You have taught me to see the students in my class as people first, students second.  You have stories, lives, and pasts that matter.  You have inside jokes with your friends, bad hair days that ruin everything, fights with your best friends that leave you feeling lonely.  You are people, and me trying to teach you a comma rule or the meaning of a hard poem is futile if I don't "see" you first.  Because of you, I am a better teacher and a better person. Words cannot express my gratitude for this.

Never in my life will I get a class like yours, a group of students that I get to travel with for five years straight.  I don't know what it's like to teach and not see your faces looking back at me.  The thought alone make my heart swell with bitter anticipation of next April, when you leave.  I don't know what it's like to start class every August and have to learn 30 new names.  I have always had the pleasure of seeing my favorite faces every August, my kids who are so eager to share their summer stories with me, that not having that is foreign and uncomfortable.

Ladies and Gentlemen, you have set the bar high.  I feel sorry for the next group of kids who must fill your shoes, the shoes that have made a lasting imprint on my heart. 

I Am Who I Am...On His Purpose

Sometimes working in a low-income, urban school district makes me feel like I'm emptying the ocean with an eye dropper.  And just when I feel like I am making gains, filling my cup slowly one drop at a time, someone comes and knocks it over.

I am left staring at my spilled cup and the vast ocean of hurting kids in front of me wondering, What's the point?


Today, God graciously and probably humorously answered me.

The point is, He loves these kids.  And I was purposely created to love them too.  Despite all of their flaws, their energy, their incessant back-talking, the eye rolling, the held-back tears, and eventually their crumbling walls, I am called to love them because He loves them.

I believe I was created BY His purpose, FOR His purpose, meaning my behavioral quirks, personality, physical appearance, background, and life experiences make me uniquely talented and fitted for the work He demands of me.

Here's what I mean.  Get ready! You're going to learn more about me than you'd probably care to know. Sorry.... except I'm really not.

• For YEARS, I was the awkwardly cliche middle school girl. I was uncomfortable in my own skin, jealous of the "pretty" girls, too shy to put myself out there.  The introvert in me kept my heart closed, hiding my anxiety and unhappiness from the world.  I, like every other girl on the planet, suffered from body image issues.  I was the poster child for "Middle School is the Worst Three Years of Your Life."  Unfortunately for me, my awkward followed me years after I left 8th grade.
• I was raised by a strong-willed, confident, single mother.  I don't know my dad, apart from a name on a birth certificate and a handful of sporadic memories that make me grimace.  I was the typical "day-care kid," who felt more comfortable around childcare providers than my own extended family.  I resented my friends who had dads and even to this day, I feel a pang of hurt when I see a Father-Daughter Dance at a wedding.
• I am sarcastic. Almost to a fault.  I love making people laugh, and sometimes I'm even good at it (not according to this blog, however. This blog is 100% stoic. All.The.Time).
• I am young-ish.  I am old enough to see the repercussions of the mistakes I made in my early 20's, and I am young enough to understand when the next generation makes the same ones.  I look younger than I am. I vividly remember meeting my students' parents the first couple of years teaching. I felt their eyes scanning me up and down, wondering "Is she even old enough to be a teacher?"

Now...why would a self-proclaimed introvert who guards her heart fiercely be so vulnerable today (aside from this is her blog and she can)?  It's because I realized this: I am the way I am on purpose.  Don't get me wrong. I am flawed. Seriously flawed.  Some days I even try working at it.  But I realized that God is using me EXACTLY the way I am to serve His purpose.


I speak fluent middle school. I know how to get my troublesome 7th and 8th graders to care.  Believe me, I'm not gloating.  I have no idea what the magic formula is for getting through to these kids, but something is working.  My kids know they can come to me. They know I've invested my everything into their success. After 4 years of pouring into their lives, I've finally started to see a transformation in them.  Their walls are beginning to fall. 


I attribute this all to God.  He has fully and graciously equipped a very flawed person like myself to handle the daily battles of working with hormonal middle school kids. 

So here's where I leave off.  Luke 12:48 says, "From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked."

I have been given my life for a purpose.  I have been given my personality, every strength and vice, every inappropriate sarcastic comment or thought, for a reason.

And because of this, I let out a huge sigh of relief.

Eyes Wide... Closed

I recently read this quote by Norman Douglas, "To find a friend, one must close one eye.  To keep him...two."

It took me a few reads to truly appreciate the beauty of this idea.  Douglas is suggesting that finding community takes a certain act of faith, as well as an extension of grace.  We must have faith that the person we "see" before us is who they say they are, and we must extend them grace when perhaps that's not the case.  We don't enter relationships blindly, but once we're knee-deep in them, we are called to love and accept our friends where they are.

Recently, I was over-whelmed with life. Yes, yes, I know, this is a common theme when I blog. I'm working on it.  I write when I'm stressed. I write when I'm emotional.  I am neither of these today.  Be shocked.

Instead, I just felt like sharing a story as my act of gratitude towards a dear friend.

A couple of weeks ago, I was failing at life.  One of the first things that seems to go when I lose control of life is the orderliness of my house. It was bad.  I needed help.

My best friend and I had made plans to spend time in community with one another, but I texted her the morning of asking for a rain check.  I wanted to clean my house.  I assumed she'd happily comply.  But hours passed, and I heard nothing from her.  She called me after school and said she would not extend me my rain check, but instead would come help me clean.  Ouch.  She was a better person than me.  My best friend, who I've canceled on countless times, was coming to help me clean my house...while pregnant.  Yeah, it wasn't my proudest moment.

She was so gracious and perky, asking "What now?" and "Let's tackle this area next."  I was humbled and guilt-stricken for her act of service.  As she cleaned my upstairs bathroom, I sat on my kitchen floor and cried.  She doesn't know this, well, not until now, at least.

I had let my life get so crazy, so busy, that I had hurt the people around me.  My circle was wide, but it certainly was not deep.  I cried because I realized that I had failed at keeping up much more than just my house.

1 John 4:20 says, "If someone says, 'I love God,' but hates a Christian brother or sister, that person is a liar; for if we don't love people we can see, how can we love God, whom we cannot see?"

She was loving me when I certainly hadn't earned it.

I hope she knows how much I love her heart. She loves me unconditionally, but still holds me accountable for my lousy decisions.  She extends me grace when I need it and challenges me to do the same.  I said at her wedding that she was a woman that I looked to for advice and for approval, someone who so clearly embodied a strong woman of Christ.  Everything I said about her character and her heart is still true today.

She has a been a friend who has kept both eyes closed with me. And for that, I am grateful.

With your loved ones, are your eyes open or closed?