Category Archives: Teaching

All the life in between…

The beginning of the school year always feels like a whirlwind. For at least six weeks; beginning in mid-August, there is no way to catch your breath until the first week of October. And then that breath is usually more of a gasp for air than a steady intake of the life-giving stuff. And I LOVE my students and I love what I do and this is not about all the time I don’t have—rather, it is about all the time I don’t want to miss.

As summer comes to an end, I am always filled with a sense that all the fun is coming to an end. And, in a sense, many of the things I love about summer simply can’t continue year-long. Leisurely breakfasts with my boys, spontaneous mid-day trips to the zoo, luxuriously quiet mid-morning trips to the grocery store, and spur of the moment trips to visit a friend need to make way for structures and schedules and school. In our house, two teachers and two little scholars (preschool and first grade) mean school nights are serious and school mornings are no joke! Our summers are luxurious and afford us endless times together as a family—the school year cuts that down to about two hours a day in which we need to eat, do homework, and accomplish  all the other chores and joys of life. I am grateful for our summers and aware of how blessed we are to have them—but I still mourn the loss of my family time each fall.

And every year, I try to remind myself that school starting doesn’t mean our family time needs to end: that following my life’s calling by day doesn’t mean I need to abandon my life’s calling by night.

I am always looking to document the joy in my journey: I am constantly photographing this adventure called life. And last Monday I took a pic of my boys mid a hectic post-school grocery run and thought: “There it is! These are the moments that make our life together ours. We might only have a few hours together as a family today, but these are the hours we’ll remember.” So this past week, I decided to intentionally document proof of my life outside of the school day.  I kept taking a picture a day for perspective—and I found that I had a lot of living and loving to do outside of my work days.


I recognize that I have the luxury of spending my summers and weekends with my family, but I also get to live the exhausted realities of every day life with them as well.

Tuesday’s image, enjoying a popsicle while wrapped in a blanket, made me smile and is not unlike the daily work-life balancing act. It can be a balancing act and a challenge to find enjoyment in the little things (like a popsicle on the porch); especially if the moment comes with logistical challenges (such as wrapping a blanket around you to make the night a bit less autumnal and a bit more reminiscent of summer). But it is worth the work to find that balance. And, often, the challenge isn’t in the work of manipulating logistics but rather it is in the art of perception: in simply acknowledging the joys that are already there and in the moments waiting to be found good.

A Collection of Joy

My husband has always mocked me for being a collector.  It’s true. I collect things.  And, I’ll admit, some of my collections do nothing for my “cool” factor.  For instance, not many people respect a clown collection.  And even though most people had a rock collection at some point in their lives, I’ll admit that mine may have been one of the few where each rock was labeled with his/her own name….

Since childhood, my collections have changed.  I have less things laying around, but I am obsessed with collecting  less tangible things; such as memories.  While the memories themselves are intangible, I am also a big fan of collecting ways to make them more concrete; more tangible.  The number of pictures that I have taken of my children, for instance, is just a tad bit embarrassing.  But when I look back at the things I have done over the years, I have never regretted taking too many pictures.  And there have been a few times, where I have regretted not taking enough.

I started this blog as a place to collect moments of joy…so that I could return to them when I needed a reminder of  all the joy I have found in my journey; and to challenge myself to keep collecting moments of joy rather than passing them by in the self-centered oblivion that we all fall victim to from time to time.

One of my greatest sources of joy is my children.  My boys are a constant source of sleep-deprivation, challenge, exhaustion, worry, and PURE JOY.  But even before my boys were born, I had hundreds of children go through my classroom over the years who also brought me joy.  And then there is my little brother; who has been a great source of joy to me and my family from the moment he was born.  Children are wonderful.

Children are challenging and exhausting; and wonderful.  They are FULL of honesty and insight, and as an elementary school teacher, I can assure you that little goes unnoticed by a child.  Children know MUCH about what goes on at their homes, and they aren’t afraid to share what they know.  Just this year, I had a first grader tell me that I could call his mom on her cell phone because: “She never goes to work.  She just shops all day and spends my dad’s money.”

I’m serious.  You can’t make this stuff up.

Earlier this week, I pulled a student aside to have a conversation about a situation that had happened earlier in the day.  While I will spare you the details, I will share that when asked what had happened, his opening statement was: “Well, I was over by Daisy because she didn’t think I was a werewolf.  See? I was showing Daisy my werewolf moves.  You know, because I’m a real werewolf…”

Again.  I’m serious.  You can’t make this stuff up.

As I suppressed my giggles, and summoned all my teacher-strength to maintain a straight face; I thought about the joy his ridiculous proclamation brought me. And I realized that it was time for me to be a better steward of these amazing moments of joy that have been given to me.  This blog is perfect for reflection about my quest for finding joy in my journey, but I need a place to capture those daily one-liners that the children in my life so freely give.

So the next time I find joy in something my three-year-old says or in a ridiculous statement that a first grader of mine declares, I am going to collect them carefully in a new place: in my kid-speak treasury.  You are welcome to read, to laugh, to enjoy, to share…and you can let me know if there is a great kid-speak moment that needs to be remembered there that hasn’t been already.  Kid’s say funny things.  But they also say insightful things that will challenge your perspectives and will challenge you to be a better you.  So this is a place where I can collect those kid-speak moments and allow myself  to be challenged by the honesty and insight that they bring.

My brother and Keilan...just two of the "kids" that make my life sweet!

My brother and Keilan… two of the amazing “kids” that make my life sweet!

The Power of Perception

Life with an almost-three year old and a soon-to-be-one year old is exhausting. Life as a first grade teacher can be pretty arduous as well.  However, living life with all these little people has taught me a lot about perspective and has challenged me to remember how frequently I am wrong…and how great being wrong can be.

A few weeks ago, I gave my students a math task, and as they set to work, I reminded them to: “Show your thinking.”  We have been practicing this for weeks: I have modeled how to “show your thinking” through equations, simple math drawings, etc. and my students have had many opportunities to practice these skills as well.  However, my students are still six and seven year olds sitting with white boards in their hands, and the temptation to use this time for “free choice” drawing is often still more than they can bear.

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This particular day, I happened to notice a student drawing a self-portrait on her white board rather than settling in to the task at hand.  I approached her and attempted to redirect her with a simple: “Remember, we are doing our math work now.”  She briefly met my eyes with a somewhat questioning expression and then silently got back to work on her drawing.  I could feel my frustration rise as I tried again: “It isn’t time to be drawing pictures now. We are doing our math work.”  She looked up again, and this time she audibly questioned me: “But teacher; you said to show your thinking?”  I was ready with a standard, “Yes, and we need to be doing that right now. Where is your equation?” but as I opened with a, “Yes…” I caught myself, and quickly fell silent, as I actually took the time to see what she had been drawing on her board.  There on her self-portrait, she had erased the spot where her white board hair had once been, and she was busy writing in just exactly what she was thinking.  While I had been busy reminding her to show her thinking, that’s exactly what she had been trying to do. Granted, she wasn’t using one of the methods we had practiced, but she was, in the most literal way possible, illustrating for me just exactly what her thinking “looked” like.  I managed to acknowledge her thinking, and hopefully validate it too, before giving the whole class a reminder as to what, “Show your thinking,” means in our classroom.

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I’m grateful for moments like that with my students. Sometimes it is good to be reminded of just how wrong I can be; even when I’m certain that I’m “right.”  I think that’s the power of perception: sometimes I take comfort in knowing that my perception of any situation doesn’t tell the whole story.

The year after Patrick and I were married, we both worked long days, and we often didn’t see each other until late at night. After one particularly long December day, we decided that we were going to set aside our exhaustion and decorate a Christmas tree.  Though we didn’t have much money to spend on our decorating endeavor, we were determined as we set out in search of the “perfect” tree. We ended up at the only store still open, and we bought the cheapest tree we could find: a $20 artificial tree from Wal-Mart.  Needless to say, this was no winsome pine; and from the beginning we made fun of our silly, bargain tree.  But as we assembled and decorated our tree, it made our first apartment feel even more like a home as we celebrated our first Christmas together.  When our second Christmas rolled around, we decided that we needed to keep our silly tree another year. But as we decorated; we dreamed about, and planned for, the  grand tree we would one day afford.

Last week, we pulled out that same bargain tree and began decorating it again.  This is the 12th time we have decorated our silly tree, and each year we continue to dream about the day when we can justify purchasing a new one.  This year we laughed extra hard as we traumatized our poor two-year old with this “pretend tree” that we pulled out of its box and began to assemble.  Though he was skeptical at first, as he “helped” us assemble the tree, his appreciation for the tree appeared to grow as his excitement for Christmas swelled.  He sat by the tree with his little brother sharing, in the way that only a two-year old can, about all of the wonders that this tree would soon hold.

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He bounced all over the living room as we placed our star on the top of the tree. I had wanted to buy a new one because I knew the “star on top” was a big deal to his two-year-old heart, but we couldn’t afford one this year and he quickly accepted our old, tacky topper as the perfect star for the top. I gratefully acknowledged that Keilan’s excitement for Christmas allowed him to overlook the flaws of our “tend tree;” even while his dad and I tried to strategically place lights and ornaments to create the illusion of a full, verdurous tree.

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A few days after putting up our tree, I noticed that the giant Christmas tree was lit in front of the shopping mall near our home, and I suggested that we drive by to give Keilan a thrill.  We were not disappointed in our son’s reaction; his giggles and shouting showed his wonder at the brilliance and height of the tree. And as I turned around to catch his expression, I asked, “Isn’t it beautiful?!?”

I, myself, was impressed by the beauty and height of the tree, and I was shocked by his answer: “No, mom. The big, mall tree is not my favorite tree.”

“It’s not?” I asked, while scanning the other tress that twinkled around the tall center tree, “Which tree is your favorite?”

“My beautiful star tree. The tree at Kei’s house.” was his earnest reply. And I, once again, was challenged by the power of perception.  That old tree of ours is no longer just a silly, cheap tree.  Patrick and I were wrong; that tree has great value because it is “ours.”  A few tears caught in my throat as I heard the sweetness of his voice and considered his thoughtful answer.  What a relief that the best we had to offer was the stuff his Christmas dreams were made of; for him, our tree was perfection, and it was his “favorite.”

How often do we hesitate to offer what we have because we assume that it can’t possibly be enough?  And how powerful would it be if we could only keep reminding ourselves of how often our perceptions are “wrong.”  And maybe when a situation feels a bit hopeless or things are starting to feel “off-task,” we need to remember that we are only seeing things with a limited perception: our own. So, today I will find joy in my journey by accepting that very often my perceptions are “wrong” and by choosing to accept the perception of “hope” instead.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

 

Diggers, Laryngitis, and Joy

The route that I take to and from work each day has been under construction for months, and each day on the way to and from work, it has caused me delays. At first, I was very tempted to complain about the inconvenience. But each time I have felt the temptation to complain, I have heard my Keilan-boy in the back seat cheering on the “Diggers!” and “Cranes!” and “Work trucks!” and I am challenged to once again find joy in my journey: even when it is under construction.  This morning on our drive to childcare and work, we were able to avoid a messy looking stretch, and while I let out a sigh of relief, Keilan let out a moan of disappointment as we turned away: “Mom, no! Not turn. This way: diggers!” I assured him that there would be more road construction ahead, that delays were still coming; and I laughed to myself as I determined that he was the only one in all of rush hour traffic who would be appeased by such an assurance.

It is the beginning of another school year; and along with a classroom full of rambunctious first graders, I was also gifted with their germs. Though I thought I had built up a decent immunity to elementary-age illness over my career in education, my year away must have weakened my immunities because after only three days with students I came down with a horrible sore throat and headache. I am currently on day 5 of this particular bug, and while I am actually starting to feel a bit better, I have no voice. When I got up this morning, I didn’t think much of it. I assumed that it would get better as the day progressed. However, by the time I dropped the boys off at their childcare provider’s home, I was barely able to tell her about their early morning antics. At school, the decision was made to find me a guest teacher and to send me home. It took a little while to get things settled, but I had my lesson plans pulled together and was handing my class off to another teacher a little before 10:00.

As I left the building, I was feeling irritated that the day was working out the way it had: it is never easy to miss a day of school, and it seems there is a potential for an absence to be particularly detrimental this early in the year. But as I started my drive home, I could picture a certain little two-year old of mine in the backseat cheering on the construction crews, and I decided that I could choose to admire the “diggers and cranes” of an unplanned day “off” instead of getting caught up in the inconveniences and discomfort of laryngitis.

So, today, I am finding joy in laryngitis and road construction.  Maybe laryngitis is God’s way of telling me to slow down and rest for a day; maybe this is a little  scheduled maintenance, some construction that was necessary to the successful completion of my journey.  But in spite of questioning “why” I have laryngitis, I will choose instead to find joy in this time. Rather than simply wish the inconvenience and discomfort away, I will choose to enjoy the rest and to be grateful I can pick my boys up a little bit early today for some extra family time tonight.  Maybe we can even take advantage of the extra time by driving through a little more road construction than we need to on the drive home tonight 😉

This Guy Inspires Joy :)

This Guy Inspires Joy 🙂

Diapers, Dissertations, and Dreams

When I first thought about this blog, I thought about titling it: “Diapers, Dissertations, and Dreams” …because I like alliteration 😉 But also because it captured two of my dreams for this year, two pieces to my current journey: being a mom and being a student. Today is the last day of this school year.  This means it is the last day of my sabbatical leave from my teaching job: the last day of my “rest” from the “usual” to complete my dissertation. This makes today a day of reflection.

When I think about this year, my emotions are overwhelming.  I feel so blessed to have had this opportunity to take a year of “rest.”  I feel entirely frustrated that I was not more productive: my dissertation, my reason for this break, is still a long way from completion. And my principal internships went well, but I still have not met with the licensing board to attain my principal’s license.  However, alongside that frustration, there are also immense feelings of gratitude.  I am so grateful to have had this time with my boys. Though this year did not bring a new degree, it did bring a new, miraculous baby boy into our family. And not only did it bring us a healthy baby boy, this year provided me with time to be at home with Kai in these first few months of his life.

To be perfectly honest, today is a difficult day: reflection often is.  I find myself crying through much of today. I have cried tears of regret over things not finished followed by tears of gratitude for the blessing of things so much better than I could have ever imagined.  There have been tears over things lost and things gained.

I feel regret that not only was I unable to finish my dissertation during this sabbatical leave, I was also rather unsuccessful at improving my house-making skills with the additional time: unfortunately the laundry still isn’t finished and the house is only moderately clean. And at the same time, I feel exhausted; as though keeping up with two boys every day was challenge enough in itself.

However, in the midst of the regrets and exhaustion, there is joy and blessing too. Each time Keilan says something adorable (which is ALL the time), I am flooded with joy at this amazing little guy who God chose to bless our family with. I remember all the good times we have had this year: fingerpainting, reading, snuggling on the couch after nap time, taking trips to Target, sharing sweet lunch conversations, building forts, and knocking down towers; and I am overjoyed to have had this time to enjoy everyday life with this little boy and his brother.

I feel I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t confess that I also find myself suppressing feelings of dread; knowing that I will soon return to my teaching job full-time and will miss out on some of these precious, everyday moments.  But, with that confession stated, I will actively choose to remember all that I have to be grateful for.  I am, once again, so grateful to have had this extra time with my boys; and I am also so grateful to have an opportunity to return to teaching: a calling I feel honored to answer.

So, today, my journey finds me in a time of reflection. This is the end of my sabbatical year, but it is not the end of my work, nor is it the end of my dreams. My dissertation may not be finished yet, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be eventually. Those diapers? I’m changing oh so many of those…and I’m oh so glad to do it 😉  I’m a mom. I’m a student. I’m an educator. I’m many other things as well, and I’m on a journey.

I have challenged myself to keep this blog as a place to record my search for joy on that journey. Merrian-Webster defines joy as, “The emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires.”

I may not yet possess all of my “desires” (i.e. this degree or 8 hours of sleep a night), but if I continue to trust that God’s plans are greater than mine (Proverbs 3:5,6; Jeremiah 29:11) and if I align my desires with His, than I can certainly find hope and joy in the “prospect” of attaining those desires (Psalm 37:4).  And I will move forward from this sabbatical year joyfully: grateful for all of the times of “well-being, success, and good fortune” that I have already experienced and hopeful about the “prospect” of good things to come.

This picture was not posed: one day I watched my little man climb into a tub to read...and his book of choice? The Dissertation Journey :)

This picture was not posed: one day I watched my little man climb into a tub to read…and his book of choice?
The Dissertation Journey
🙂

Joy in the journey of a teacher…

Today is the end of the school year for a number of people that I know.  Most people recognize the end of the year as an exciting time for students and families. But what they may not realize, is that the end of the school year is a really hard time for most teachers.  I did not have a “typical” teaching year this year, but I still feel the weight of this season. And I offer my fellow teachers a virtual high-five and a great big hug too.  There is certainly joy in the journey of a teacher, but that joy is often complicated at the close of the school year.

“You’re lucky you’re a teacher. I wish I had the summers off.”  Is a common phrase uttered by the family members and friends of teachers at this time of year. And while I understand that there is a great freedom that comes from having a few weeks off each summer, those who are quick to profess these feelings of envy clearly do not understand what makes one “lucky” to be a teacher.

What few people understand is that the end of the school year is hard on teachers.  When the last bus has left and the halls are empty, you might expect to see teachers dancing down the halls, doing cartwheels of relief and joy over the successful completion of yet another year.  However, in my experience, the hallways are often eerily quiet and teachers’ faces are solemn and puffy from a day full of good-byes and tears. Our students are important to us; we know what they are passionate about, what triggers can upset their day, and we know more “technical” details about their ability to learn than most people will ever begin to understand.

Although I typically feel a multitude of emotions on the last day of school, one of the strongest is a sense of loss. In the best of cases, there are the students who you know are headed home to summers full of fun and learning with their family and friends.  You know they will be happy, but they will be missed: you just spent somewhere in the vicinity of 1,000 hours with their smiling faces and their spunky personalities over the last nine months, and now you might never see them again. All students will be missed, but in some cases, there is more felt than just a desire to watch their futures unfold: there is the complication of concerns for children you care so deeply about. In some cases, you are filled with concern over the learning that might be lost as students spend much of their time alone or with their video games for enrichment.  In the worst of cases, you send some students home not knowing what their summers will bring.  Sometimes you know they might go hungry or you know each day will be a struggle to survive any number of tumultuous experiences over those summer months until the regularity of the school year begins again.  Sometimes you receive the promise of a social worker that regular wellness checks will be done, but that is rare.  Most of the time, you are helpless to do more than send them off with your prayers, a backpack full of snacks, and a new pair of flip flops you hope will remind them that they are important to you as they journey into their future; wherever that might be.

Tonight, many teachers will cry themselves to sleep because they didn’t become teachers for the summers off. They became teachers because they had a passion for teaching and for students; for the students they have loved and protected and taught for the past nine months. The ones who are now out of their care for the summer.

Tomorrow morning, teachers will wake up with headaches from crying themselves to sleep and from sleep deprivation brought on by the past week of late nights: finishing report cards, making memory books for their students, and planning the last field trip of the year.  They will feel exhausted both physically and emotionally as they head to their classrooms to pack up another year of memories.  They will leave the school building late in the day, many will return next week to finish packing and cleaning, and they will meet their friends to celebrate another year.  There will be reason to celebrate. There will be joy at the accomplishments of the year, there will be the hope of a summer to heal, and there will also be gratitude for the opportunity to begin all over again in the fall.

So, if you know a teacher who is finishing up the school year, offer him or her an extra hug this week…and, in my experience, gifts of caffeine are always appreciated as well.  As a teacher, I know that I am “lucky” but I also know that it isn’t because of the summers off.  We aren’t paid over the summer, and consequently, many teachers are forced to find work over the summer; either teaching summer school or at other seasonal or part-time jobs.  And for those who don’t work, there will certainly be work to do: researching ways to improve our teaching and searching Pinterest for great new bulletin board ideas and literacy center work.  Summers are great, but our students are great-er 🙂  They are the reason we do the work we do.  We are lucky because we have the awesome, humbling opportunity to impact the future by impacting these little lives entrusted to us. Teachers, today, hang on to the joy in your journey: in your calling and your work. And allow yourself to feel joy in the gift of a summer to rest and repair.

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