What Are We Teaching Kids?

Kids are great reflectors.

Yes, I realize that statement isn't rocket science.  In fact, there are a number of websites exploring the relationship between adolescent brain development and environment.  No seriously.  I Googled it (side note- the English teacher in me loves the fact that we took a proper noun and made it into a verb).  Anyhow, there are over 27,000,000 sites about this idea.  Add my blog post, and now we have 27,000,001 sites examining why middle schoolers act they way they do.  Neat.

Kids are products of their environments.  Spend even a small amount of time with a middle school student, and within minutes, you can deduct whether or not their parents are present or absent in their lives.  You can ascertain whether the father figure is honorable or cowardly.  You can even tell if a kid is feeling the pressure of financial stress, or if they're being raised to naively believe that the money supply is infinite.  To those kids, I chuckle.  Infinite money supply. Haha, yeah, good luck, buddy. 

Anyhow, I'm realizing that middle school students reflect their upbringing in how they think and how they behave.  And this goes for ALL kids, not just the gems sitting in front of me in English class.

Exhibit A:  I have a 7th grade student.  We'll call him Isaac*.  From the moment Isaac stepped foot into our school, he has struggled.  Fighting, bullying, incessant eye rolling.  He has perfected it all.  He was immediately labeled a "real middle school kid," and I'm going to be honest, my first thoughts about him were, Ugh, really? Which, of course, was followed by my own eye roll.
       Isaac has been suspended countless times, is behind in every academic area, and speaks openly about how he hates his life.
       Enter his parents.  

       Earlier this semester, I had to sit in on a meeting about Isaac with all of his teachers, my principal, Isaac, and his mother.  His mother openly said, "I've given up on him.  I'm waiting for the police to come and take him away."  Yup, right in front of her son.  Heart breaking, right?
       I realized that day that Isaac's behavior, lack of self-control, and overall demeanor was not his fault.  Up until that point, he had no one, myself included, telling him that he was valuable, that he was uniquely created for a purpose bigger than I or anyone else could see.  He mattered.  He just didn't know it.
       From that point on, my colleagues and I took him on as our "project".  We vowed that we would not give up on him.  He WILL graduate from high school.  He WILL get out of his destructive home environment.
      Well, a few weeks ago, he stole a master key to our school.  Yeah, if that's not a kick to the stomach, I don't know what is.  After weeks of "working on him" and extending him grace, he pulled this. Really, Isaac? Really?!?
       Of course, we had no proof that he stole it, except for other students' testimonies.  He continually denied it, frustrating us even further.  Finally, after several conversations telling him that if "it just shows up," he wouldn't get into any trouble, he proudly returned the key on Monday.
       Later on in the day, he went up to the main office.  He asked my principal, "Um...are you proud of me for turning it in?"
       She responded, "Isaac, yes.  You did the right thing, but I'm very hurt and disappointed that you lied to us and stole the key in the first place."
       His head lowered, feeling ashamed.  And then softly, he said again, "But I did the right thing, right?  You're proud of me?"
       Hearing this broke my heart.  He was crying out to be validated and praised.  He desperately wants to be told he is good, that he has so much to offer this world.
     
      And yet, the people who really get to shape him into the man he needs to be aren't stepping up.

      Kids reflect the instability, chaos, and pain that encompasses their world.  But they also reflect the good, the love, and the respect they see.  It's a scale.  Show a kid that they matter, and they will start to believe it and act that way.  Show a kid dysfunction, and they become dysfunctional.  It's that simple.

     So God, today I ask, please grant me patience to deal with my students who act out.  Help me extend them grace when they mess up.  Let my words and actions show them they matter.  

Reading Should Change You

If my 6th and 7th graders learn only one thing while in my English class, I hope it's this: Reading should change you.  Yes, I would be relieved if they could learn the difference between your and you're or that 'cuz isn't a word, much less a reason. If after our eight months together, they can spell definitely or does correctly, I would be happy, and I think the world would thank me. But this is not why I teach.  It's not why I love reading and writing.

I love being an English teacher because I get to show 100 angst-ridden, hormonal 6th and 7th graders that there is a world outside of text messaging, Facebook posts, and YouTube clips.  Like teenagers everywhere, my students are consumed with drama.  Their friendships and romantic relationships are short-lived and not fulfilling.  They hate their parents one minute, love and admire them the next.  They don't know who they are, or what they want.  They simply can't see beyond themselves to appreciate the life they have been given. I'm not criticizing them.  I went through this stage.  It is why I'm not too worried about them.  They'll grow out of it, eventually.

However, when I am granted a small window of opportunity to get them to be moved by literature, I get to go home, hang my "teacher" coat up, and breathe a sigh of relief.  I did it.  They were affected.  Someone else's story caused them to see themselves and the world differently.

I had such a moment on Friday.

My 7th graders are in the midst of a Holocaust unit.  It's been the hardest and most rewarding unit I have ever taught.  I can unabashedly say they have learned more the last four weeks than they have this whole year.

Don't tell my district, but gasp, I read aloud to them.  A whole book.  Everyday.  Together, we read Yellow Star, a true account of a little girl who survived in the Lodz, Poland ghetto.  She was one of 12 children to walk out on Liberation Day.  270,000 Jews were forced to live in this ghetto over a six year time period, and only 800 people survived.  Of that, 12 were children. 12.

There were several times while reading this book that I got goosebumps or teary- eyed.  Again, I'm admittedly a tender-heart who loves reading.  You shouldn't be shocked that this book would affect me.

But the real thing to be celebrated is that I had 50 7th graders along for the ride.  When we finished the story on Friday, silence filled my classroom.  Eyes stared down at the tables.  One student had to quickly find the tissue box.  Words were unnecessary.  I knew what their silence meant- they had been moved.  Reading had affected them.

I had them write personal responses anonymously just so I could see what they were thinking. Here are some that validate that I am exactly where God needs me to be:

-"I take things for granted. I know I should value everything because they had nothing and they were just content with family." 
-"Through it all, they had hope.  They had each other and that was enough."
-"To be honest, I thought the Holocaust was just a tough part in history, but I realize that it was much more than a rough patch in someone's life.  It was real." 
-"Horrifying.  The feelings, thoughts of this unspeakable madness.  It made sorrow rise up from my aching heart.  Tears of respect flow down from my soul." 
-"I think many of us take life for granted.  I got chills throughout this book.  If we think our life is hard, just imagine being in the shoes of a Holocaust victim."
-"Jews went through so much pain seeing the Nazis kill their loved ones, but they still managed to hold onto hope. "


This is why I teach.

He is Why

Crossroads.  Junctions.  Intersections.

Call it what you will, but each is referencing those big life moments where "from this point on, things were never the same."

Our current series at church titled,"Changed Life...Changed Community...Changed World," is exploring these turning-point moments, most notably Jesus's triumph over death and how it literally changed everything.  When he conquered death, he paved a way for every person to have an intimate, personal relationship with his father.  His ultimate sacrifice allows me to sit here on my patio smiling because I know a freedom that is rooted entirely in grace and mercy.  My Father loves me, has always loved me, and will always love me.  My limited human experience will never fully appreciate or understand the gravity of that statement.  And I don't have to.  I just know it's true.

Jesus describes in Matthew 16:13-19 how nothing will be able to stop his church, his mission in having every person know the freedom that comes with God's grace and love.  In Acts 1:8, he describes how his church will spread first to "Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth."  2000 years later, and his promise hold true.  His church has spread to the ends of the earth.  I am living proof of that.

Today's service talked about Stephen, a preacher who accused the Jews of persecuting Jesus.  He is ultimately stoned to death for his sermon.  Upon seeing this, believers scattered. To where?  Judea and Samaria, ultimately fulfilling Jesus's own promise about how his church will spread.

Our God is so masterful.  He equipped Stephen to be exactly who He needed him to be.  Eloquence, intelligence, and position- all used so that one day, he could deliver this pivotal, life- changing sermon.  Stephen's death was for His purpose of spreading the great news of Jesus.

So here I am, thinking about God's purpose for each of us.  I am reminded of a quote that states, "The purpose of my life is far greater than my own personal fulfillment, peace of mind, or even my happiness.  It is far greater than my own family, career, or wildest dreams.  I was born BY His purpose FOR His purpose" (Beth Moore).

Stephen was wonderfully and intricately crafted by God to be used by God.

And I'm realizing, so am I.  He has entrusted me with this small amount of time on earth to live abundantly, fearlessly, and effectively.  My geographical location in the world, my passions, my disposition, my career choice- are all a part of God's plan. So it is with this in mind that I ask, "God...what do you want to do today? And how can I be a part of it?"

Goodnight, Dear Lily

Note: I wrote this from a point of sheer emotional and physical exhaustion.  It is what it is. 

So after a wonderfully relaxing spring break with my mom, I walked into my house, ready for the week to come, ready to end this year on a strong note.  I was ready to be an adult again.

My respite came to a jarring halt as soon as I walked upstairs to check on my dog, Lily.  My roommate had been watching her this week, so I was not alarmed when silence greeted me as I opened my bedroom door.  She was sleeping.  I quietly peered over the baby gate, watching her sleep peacefully under my vanity.  I knew calling her would be pointless- she had lost her hearing long ago. So I slowly climbed over the gate and bent down to her. Still, she did not move.  I put my hand on her head, and instead of startling her to her feet which was my usual greeting, she slowly, groggily lifted her head. She saw me, and almost anti-climatically, put her head back down.

To save you the graphic details, I have spent the entire day laying in my bed holding her. Where there was once a spark of life, now there is only a vacant stare.  Her eyes tell all- she is leaving me. She is tired.  She is ready.

This little dog has been a constant in my life for the past 15 years.  She has been exactly who I needed her to be when I needed it.  She was the one who listened to all of my middle school secrets- the drama, the boys, the teachers who "hated me."  She was the one who cuddled with me as I cried at the news of my mom's upcoming marriage and move to Indiana.  She was the one who licked my hand and nuzzled close when I experienced my first heartbreak.  She was there when I slept alone in my house for the first time.  Even though her small stature and measly four pounds would barely startle an intruder much less protect me, her mere presence brought me peace that first night.  She has been there for me through it all.

And now it seems I'll have to do this part alone. For her. Because she has done so much for me.

Sweet Dreams, Little One.

March 30, 2012

A Quiet Break from It All

"Life is rough.  It's also beautiful, but if we can't get some respite from its cruelty, we will never have the healthy vision to savor its tender beauty." (Beth Moore)


My restful reprieve after a very turbulent week and arguably an exhausting few months, came in the form of an afternoon wrapped in my grandmother's knitted blanket, listening to the harmonic blend of instrumental music, children laughing in a neighboring backyard, and lawn mowers and weed trimmers.  Yes, this simplistic day has renewed my spirit.  It was the "respite from [life's] cruelty" that Beth Moore describes. 


My life over the past few months can be characterized by a lack of sleep, an endless series of commitments and obligations, and a feeling of utter exhaustion.  All of this culminated with me sitting in my classroom on a Friday afternoon before break, crying.  I was crying for the hurting kids I am blessed to know and do life with.  I was crying at my own feelings of futility at not being able to do more for them.  I was crying because I am unreservedly sensitive, a tender-heart who struggles with the pain of others.  In fact, I blogged about it all on Friday afternoon, but for the purpose of self-preservation, I have decided not to post it. 


Life was getting me down.  


So my peaceful corner in this world- the enclosed porch of my parents' house on our lake in Indiana, was God's gift of peace and respite.  Psalm 29:11 states, "The Lord gives strength to His people; the Lord blesses His people with peace." I am thankful for a God who loves me enough to gift me with a day like today.  He knew how I desperately I needed it. 


The calm of a good book and a cup of coffee have rejuvenated my spirit.  It is in this time of quiet that I feel most connected to God.  It is so easy to get wrapped up in the appointments, the to-do lists of the day-to-day, that sometimes, God inadvertently takes a backseat.  As much as I try to keep Him centered in everything I do, if I were to be honest, when I get overwhelmed with my schedule, He becomes another thing to check off of my "master list." Guilt-ridden from missing the boat yet again, I fervently try even harder to make Him my ultimate priority.  I do well for a day or so, but life eventually gets busier, and my quiet time with God becomes sporadic.  I end up feeling even more disappointed in myself.


But, this day has been a simple reminder that God loves me.  My earnest and childish attempts to "do better" make Him laugh.  He loves me so completely, so entirely, that while I know He loves spending time with me on these quiet afternoons, He also loves me on my busy, stress-filled days, the days when a simple, "I need You," is all I can mutter.  He is walking with me through it all.  Days like today should be cherished and remembered because I know that my life will inevitably get crazy again. Life will get rough.  But God is there, loving me through it all. 


So Lord, thank you for this break from the hurting, the exhaustion, and the tears.  It is with new vision that I am savoring the beauty of this life. 

A Blog Post about a Race...creative, right?

I have heard, "Chase after Jesus" or "Set your sights on Jesus," more times than I can count.  These bumper sticker slogans are tossed around so often in the Christian community, that to be honest, I've never really thought much about them.  I mean obviously, if we claim to be Christ's followers, we should be chasing after him.  It's a given.  Done.  Moving on.

But a string of events this weekend has made me think twice about these cliche phrases.  Life is a marathon race.  Ok, I admit it, this is not a profound analogy. It's not original, and I'd even venture to say, it's just as trite as the previously mentioned slogans.  In fact, you're probably sitting there thinking...Great, another blog about how someone has "figured" out life.  Haha, nope. I have not figured out anything.  But this weekend has left me so emotionally drained, and I need to process.  So I blog.  Feel free, of course, to stop reading this and switch to a blog with creative recipes that use olive oil and ricotta cheese instead of butter (it's possible...Google it). 

Anyhow, my late night rant presses on.

I believe that God is good and His promises are true.  I also know that He has me on an incredible journey that will be undoubtedly hard and relentlessly frustrating, but the reward at the end is going to make all the tears and sweat worth it. 

And here's where my ridiculously cliche analogy stems from:

Tonight, one of my dearest and closest friends, who I should mention started running my race with me over 15 years ago, told me some incredible, life-changing news.  My heart leaped out of my chest for her.  I have been running life with her for so long that her celebrations are my celebrations, and equally, her failures and disappointments are my own.  I have seen her fall.  I have seen her quit.  I have seen her literally sit down, pouting that she wouldn't take one more step forward.  But I have also seen her press on, fully living in a peace and joy only explained by God's grace and love for her.  So her news is something that I feel blessed to get to share with her.

But it also struck a painful chord in me, a chord I didn't know I had.  Tonight, I realized that she is at a different mile marker than I am.  Her road blocks and speed bumps are no longer ones I will be able to relate to.  She is so far ahead of me that our struggles are not comparable anymore.  I realized tonight that a friend I had started running with so long ago had paced herself very differently than I had, and as a result, our races are no longer the same.

So, confused by my sudden change in emotional state, I called another dear friend of mine.  She and I have only been running side by side for a little less than a year, but her friendship is no less important to me.  She told me that when running a marathon, "Someone will always show up at mile 24 to encourage you to keep going."  She is my mile 24 pep talk.  Her words made me laugh.  They made me feel normal again.  She told me I wasn't crazy and that it was possible, expected even, to feel such juxtaposing emotions.  I stopped crying. Win. 

But here's what I really learned.  God is using my running buddies for His purpose.  He is using my old friend to show me where I ultimately want to go in my life, that if I keep running after Jesus the way she has, then eventually, I'll be on the same path as her again (*fingers crossed).  And He's also using my mile 24 friend (who I confidently know will not be a small blip on my "life radar." She is stuck with me. Sorry, Friend), to show me I'm not alone. There are people running right beside me, encouraging me not to quit, not to stop hoping.

I believe God has a great road ahead of me.  And with Jesus as my coach, I know I'll reach the end.  I might just have a ridiculously slower pace than everyone else.

There Are Some Decent Ones Left...

There are some days in a teacher's career where when the final bell rings and students scurry home, or in my case, to the local park to engage in delinquent behavior (Aurora- enough said), that a teacher will question the very reason she entered this profession.  These days leave us exhausted, frustrated, bitter, or worse yet, indifferent.  Unfortunately, I admit that this profession has left me a little jaded.  


Apathetic and broken students, who are just trying to survive life, much less, learn standard English conventions, break my heart.  I know the future that awaits them if they continue on their path. It's pretty bleak. 


Coworkers, who seemingly hate kids, break students' confidence, love for learning, and willingness to work on their issues.  They negate any strides I could have made with the students mentioned above.  


Then, there are parents- parents who have done nothing for their child, except set them up for imminent failure.  Unexcused absences, no accountability, selfishness- whatever the reason, they single-handedly shatter their child's self-esteem and ability to succeed.  It is these parents that make my heart hurt.  These people are supposed to be their child's advocate.  Instead of cheering their child on, I am seeing more and more parents who are simply failing them.  


But today is a day of celebration, not frustration.


Today restored my faith in parents, specifically fathers.  I have a student, we'll call him John*, who moved here from another state.  He was living with his mother in a severely unstable home.  His wrap sheet from his previous school was a mile long, and truthfully, my first thought when I saw my "New Student Email" was pure terror.  This kid is going to be tough.  As a last ditch effort to help John, the courts sent him to live with his father here in Aurora.  He had not seen his father in about 10 years.  Nervously willing, Bill* agreed to take custody of his troubled son.  


It's been tough.  Real tough. On all of us.  


But today, as John, his teachers, his principal, and his father sat conferencing about his recent infraction, tears began to well inside.  As I watched Bill sternly talk to his son, I realized This father was a real man.  Yes, he's been absent from John's life for 10 years.  Yes, he should have been there all along.  And yes, he carries some of the responsibility in John being the way he is, but man, has this father stepped up to the plate now.  He is leading his son in the right direction.  He is not backing down when John challenges him.  He is loving his son, despite his temper and aggression.  He is single-handedly giving his son a chance to make-it.  I do what I can, and I'm not belittling what I or any other teacher do, but he, this father, recognized his own legacy on his son and as a result, is changing the course of history.  Now, with utmost confidence and conviction, I know John is going to make-it.   


Today, I am proud to be a teacher and get to work alongside fathers, and mothers, and any other adult who steps up and advocates for a child.  They are challenging my jadedness with this profession.  


As Bill walked out of the principal's office, his son in tote, I said a silent prayer.  


God- Give him and every other parent who is doing it the right way, the strength and wisdom to lead their kids.  Bless them, Father.