When Everyone Gets Picked

Something so awesome happened in my classroom this month. I really can't take credit for it, since I didn't really have all that much to do with it. It was one of those golden moments of teaching when you realize that kids have so much more to offer than we give them credit for.

We do this project at Timothy in second grade where the kids make a model of a community. We look into the differences and similarities between places that are rural, urban, and suburban. The kids bring in recycled materials to think up and build their own skyscrapers, subdivisions, and silos. Then we have a painting day in the art room and all hell breaks loose. It's an adorable, fun, messy, and wonderful project that I had no hand in planning: my team just told me how to do the whole thing and I followed suit. It's great.

One of the elements, though, of the unit, is a questionnaire that we give the students about what kind of project they would prefer to create. It's good to have a variety of models in one classroom, so we try to see if at least a few kids want to make one of the three types of communities. I'm all for this. One element of this questionnaire, though, of which I was skeptical, was the part where each student could choose three friends that they would prefer to have in their group. I hate stuff like that. As an elementary teacher, one of my personal goals for my classroom is that it is a place where no long-term emotional scarring takes place. I've heard too many stories from people my age and older who still remember the time they were shamed for X, Y, or Z by the teacher, or remember examples of pure human evil in the form of recess time and dodgeball. I'd really rather not have my kids talking to their therapist as twenty-somethings, saying "Well, that one time, we did this group project in Mrs. Whartnaby's class and nobody picked me! I've felt isolated and alone ever since!" 

So, before I passed out the questionnaires, my class and I had a long, serious talk about how we show love in this classroom and that anybody's name we choose to write down needs to stay anonymous. (We defined anonymous first, though, obvi.) Because, you know, of the feelings. And the therapy.

So we filled out the questionnaires and I collected them and then it was the weekend. I finally got to my stack of papers on Sunday afternoon, as I am often want to do, and was pretty stinking pumped when I read the results. Can I tell you what I saw? EVERY KID IN MY CLASS HAD THEIR NAME CHOSEN FOR A GROUP. Not one kid in the room was lacking for a group member who picked him or her. Now, I know that all of God's children are precious, but don't you dare tell me that His children aren't quirky. And just like any class of kids, we definitely have our quirks. We have the socially different, the caller-outers. the aggressive, the passive, the shy, the dominators, and the clumsy. And yet each child, in spite of their inevitable quirks, had another in the room who deemed them worthy of being chosen.

On Monday morning, when I told them about their group assignments, I couldn't wait to tell them. GUESS WHAT SCHOLARS! YOU WERE ALL PICKED! Each and every kid had a sheepish smile creep along their face as they glanced around the room, wondering who had picked them, and then the glorious grin that occurred when it doesn't make a difference who wrote whose name down: the point remained that it was written! When everyone gets picked, everyone wins.

I just couldn't help but mentally draw all the delicious parallels to the other, most important way that all kids are picked and chosen: by their creator, long ago, to be fearfully and wonderfully made, for a real and significant reason. They've all already been chosen in a way so important that it doesn't matter all that much if they had a bad day at school when nobody put their names on a group project questionnaire. But for now, in an effort to avoid the therapists office for this issue one day, I consider it a sweet, sweet victory. Not one that I orchestrated, but one that I had the privilege to watch as it came to be.

I know I'm far from being a veteran teacher, and sometimes, in the thick of spring testing season, when I'd hear those wise reflections from seasoned colleagues about kids being more than test scores and the like, I'd take their word for it, but I didn't totally feel it yet. I was still being evaluated as if my kids were test scores, I was still sort of teaching as if my kids were test scores, so it was hard to separate what I knew in my heart to be true and what I saw in my own practice to be happening. I'm still getting there even now as I try to internalize it during each instructional day. But the other day, when everyone was picked, another piece of that truth hit my heart. When everyone gets picked, that's when the magic happens.

Writing and God and Peanut Butter Sandwiches

Summer has been full of trips and family for the first part of June, and then it went full swing into summer-job-mode. I'm nannying this summer, which means my days are full of pool time, tennis lessons, and summer tutoring. Not to mention all of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich making, sock matching, and fort building.

It's sort of funny to me that most all of my life's earnings have centered around helping parents raise their children. From nannying through the summers, to babysitting in college, to teaching primary-aged kids for the past three years, I spend most of my time with little people. I wouldn't have predicted this for myself, though. I have friends for whom this kind of path would make sense. You know those girls? The ones that swoon and put out their hands the second a baby enters the room? Yeah, not me. Or at least it used to not be me. I still have anxiety about holding teeny tiny babies and am convinced they're allergic to me, but I am so fascinated with the people God made around me. When you love people, you can't help but absolutely love kids. I love that kids can handle so much responsibility, are so capable of deep thoughts and understandings, and that kids remind me to put my whole heart into everything I do. They are such whole-hearted people (thanks, Brene Brown, for your phrase!) and I learn so much from that mindset of living every day. Teaching has given me such a respect for the field of education, and nannying has given me such a respect for stay-at-home-moms. Heck, for moms of any variety. You people are amazing!

Even with all of the learning experiences and work opportunities, I'm finding that this summer has been a little bit more hectic than I thought it would be. My head starts to absolutely spin when I think of the prospect of teaching next year: it will be my fourth classroom in four years, and my third school in four years. I'm really thankful for the open doors, but also exhausted with the changes. I know it takes over 40 hours of logged time in my classroom for me to set it up, and I'm looking ahead on the calendar with disbelief at when that is going to happen.


Yesterday I had about seventeen different tabs open, all looking at possible classroom layouts, unit plans, teaching blogs, Teachers Pay Teachers (bless it!), and Pinterest. It got to the point where I started to whimper out loud in an actual panicked whine. I had to stop. So I shut my computer and walked away for 24 hours. And here I am again. A little less scatter brained. As I type Brian is YouTubing funny Domingo Ayala baseball videos, so I suppose that's a little distracting, but that's nothing compared to the beginning-of-school-year-anxiety that was hitting me last night. But that's cleared now, and here I am. At this page.

I love this blog, simply because it's mine. I'm pretty sure my mom is its most faithful follower (hey Mom!) followed with my Auntie Lee as a close second (hey there!), but it's not making me any money, sponsorship deals, or popularity in any way. I love it because it's a space for me to speak, to practice this thing I love so much called writing, and it just never goes away. I love that this blog is here whether I update it once a week, once a month, or once a day. Sometimes, though, when I let it go for a few days or weeks without coming here, I get itchy. Do you have that too? Do you have that thing that you know takes effort but is really good for you? Something that, neglected for a few days, starts to make you itch? Writing is that for me. Running, to a lesser extent, is that for me too, but writing is my thing.

Ever since I was a Christian (we're talking from about age 10 or so) I would journal down my thoughts about God every few days. As I grew up, and wanted to appear to be a stronger Christian to myself (ha!), I would set these rules for myself to write in my journal daily. Every day.  It began really well, and then it turned into a weird self-imposed legalism where I would lose every time. I would put the date at the top of each entry, which only compounded my guilt, since each time I opened up the journal I would face the affront of the previous entry's date. Each new entry's writing started something like this: "Oh my goodness. It's been 3 whole days since I've written or thought about you, God. I'm so ashamed." Shame and guilt as you begin your talk with Jesus? Hmmm. Not the best.

Then, my mentor at church told me to stop writing the date at the top. She said that God was less concerned with the regularity of entries and more concerned with my heart. Was I involving Him in my daily life? God just wants to be made known to me, that's all, and so you know what? I took a break from journaling altogether. It's been about 5 months and I think it's been really good for me. No more fake laws to break, and no more fake laws to grit my teeth trying to uphold so that I could feel good about myself. Just one more way that I try to earn my own ticket, to believe the lie that I'm pulling my own weight on this ride. Silly me :)

After these past months, I think I'm ready to start writing about God again. I think I'll mostly do so in my journal as usual, and maybe sometimes I'll transfer those thoughts to this space here so my mom and great aunt can read them (or maybe a few other people too!). I process best through writing things down; words are the way I forage through this world. Words are why I'm an immediate over-sharer, why I have a steady book addiction growing on my nightstand this summer, and why the best thing Brian has ever given me was a handwritten note on yellow legal paper on the morning of our wedding day. I think words are how God relates to the world (Jesus is, in fact, The Word incarnate), how he created the world, and how He speaks to me. I've heard His words lately, in the middle of my spinning brain about things going on, things to come, and the anticipation (always) of what's next.

In the middle of this hectic summer, I really have felt that pull to get back to my words and my God. I've been reading a lot about the other ways people connect, guilt-free (that's key), to their faith lately and it makes me stand in awe at all the ways we grow and learn with this sovereign, compassionate God. Nannying this summer has allowed my brain a change of pace, so that in between the pool and the peanut butter sandwiches I've started to feel that itch again, so I'm back here again at this place. The more I write, the more I want to write. It feels good. I hope you find your place this summer too.

Overwhelmed

Today is the official first day of my summer! Last year, on the first day of my summer, I was exhausted and SO SO SO relieved to be done with the school year. If I recall it accurately, I scheduled a facial and massage for myself and then slept the rest of the day. I was worn down to the bone and could hardly make it to the end. I had my wedding to look forward to as well, so I really was itching for that checkout and last drive home. This year was different. This year I got to teach at Calvin Christian School in the community of South Holland, and it has been the best year of my life.

For one thing, the year is so much better because Brian is in it. Our first year of marriage together. I love living life with him, trusting him, learning from him, and growing with him through all the excitement and lulls of life. So he is a big factor in this year. Another thing happened, though, too. This was the year I found out that I was a good teacher. 

I said this to my kids and families gathered in my classroom on the last day of school, amid ridiculous sloppy tears (as per usual). I always I knew that I was passionate about kids, equality, and achievement. I knew I loved people and I knew that it challenged me immensely to help kids learn in all kinds of ways. But...I didn't know if I was good at it. In fact, I felt like I sucked at it. I was so weighed down in the muck of a broken system, overwhelmed with the responsibility of carrying my kids' burdens with them. My principal and coworkers, also passionate about kids and their achievement, had to bear way more than they should have been given, too. I couldn't handle the responsibility. I would cry and say to God all the time, "I can't do this on my own, so help me!" I loved my kids so much but never had a feeling that I was really good at this whole teaching gig. I didn't see my impact and felt defeated by the end of the year. As a school we would crawl our way to the last day of school. I felt like a total failure.

Then I went to Calvin. I figured I would give this teaching thing one more year, just to make sure. Then, something amazing happened: my kids showed up! They are kind, hilarious, outgoing, joyful, obedient, thoughtful, sensitive, talkative, brilliant, cooperative, and just all-around wonderful. Suddenly, I looked around and saw that all of the weight wasn't just on my shoulders. I stood with my coworkers, with my students' families, with my principal, with the local churches and we all took on this job of raising and teaching kids together. Of course it isn't a perfect system, but let me tell you, it's beautiful.  My kids grew together and ate up everything I had for them to learn. I could just feel the difference in the air. Our end of year tests confirmed what I saw in the classroom: that we had learned a lot together. The same kind of growth was going on all over the school too. I finally felt like I was a good fit for this teaching profession and I have my students to thank for it. They are such a special class of kids.

Now, for next year, I am leaving Calvin. Timothy Christian School, a school three miles from us where Brian also teaches, had an opening in second grade that I will be filling to be closer to home. The nearly 2 hours in the car each day was wearing on me, and it makes sense for where Brian and I will be in the future. I was overwhelmed at the prospect of leaving Calvin, my coworkers, and my kids. With the past few weeks though, it's been okay. It's been a bittersweet but good time of wrapping up the year and saying goodbye. There is a veteran teacher (who is so great!) taking my place. Calvin will continue to be awesome and grow as the family that it is. I'll be joining another great family, with a slightly different flavor, but still one that serves the same powerful and good God.    I am overwhelmed with the blessing of doors opened and faithful people that were put into my life this year.

As wonderful and sad and joyful and emotional as it was to say goodbye to my kids, I am looking forward to a little bit more peace. This will be my fourth classroom in four years of teaching, and the prospect of stability and routine sounds divine to my mind right now. A little less time in the car. A little more time with Brian. I'm looking forward to ending school years with a little bit less drama, because I want to find my spot and settle down. I am all done with tears because this past year has been so incredibly good. This was the year I discovered that I was good at teaching.

Do you know how it feels to discover what you're good at? Completely overwhelming. 

Beer and Hymns? Please and Thanks.

I just have to tell you guys about this amazing experience I had on Friday night. I wasn't feeling too hot after a long week and this was just the thing I needed. Our friends Danny and Reese included us in their work friends' plans at a great spot in Glen Ellyn called Blackberry Market. Go visit, Chicagoans. I've moved its name to the top of my Saturday-afternoon-coffee-date list. 

Beyond the beautiful setting was this amazing idea that someone had to reclaim that old tradition of living out faith in the pubs (holla C.S. Lewis!!), and decided to have a Beer and Hymn night. It was wonderful. The place was packed, the beer was cold, and I just couldn't stop smiling. I think I said "I LOVE THIS" to Brian 47 times throughout the night like the nerd I am. There were a few times where I just stood in awe and had to catch the magic on film. Watch the clips below to get a feel for the atmosphere.  

You guys, I felt like I was in a holy place during these songs. I'm not the best at feeling the tangible presence of God. I like writing about Him, reading about Him, or thinking and discussing Him, but I'm not well practiced in always feeling His presence. In moments like these, it was undeniable: God showed up. And you could feel it.  

Unshakable

About a month ago, I had the privilege to be a guest at Beth's (my mother-in-law!) ministry group's retreat. She started a women's ministry, called Woven, with two of her best friends. They are the cutest three ladies ever and also some of the smartest. I was never the "women's ministry" kind of person in the past, not for any reason in particular other than ignorance. I've never actually been on a retreat with any church in my adulthood since high school, so I had no idea what this weekend would be like. I'm so thankful I was able to go.

I was invited there along with Rachel and Michal, two of my favorites, as we listened to Beth and her friends, Julie and Kim, lead us in thinking and praying and sharing. (Two years ago, I didn't know any of the three people in the picture below. Now, I consider them all to be my family. How cool is that?!) It was so good to be alongside of them.

The weekend's theme was Unshakable. The whole idea, or at least what I took away from it, was to ponder the times in life when we are shaken, even in those first-world-problem ways like anxiety and discontent (because those are extremely real storms to weather nonetheless!), and how to position ourselves spiritually in a posture of readiness and gratefulness for any storm we experience, in light of the reality of who God is. I think it is a beautiful thing to talk about. Anyone can list off the Proverbs 31 cliches, call it a Women's Bible study, and make us feel endlessly guilty about not measuring up. I think it is incredible when someone can drop the fronts and get honest about the hard things. The things that suck. The things we can't explain or don't want to explain or can't face. I love that our God is concerned with flailing, struggling, shaken people. It's kind of awesome to acknowledge that not measuring up is sort of part of the gig of all human beings, and that the only one who can fix anything happens to be the one who endlessly loves us and holds the world in his hands.

One of the coolest parts of the whole shebang was the feature of a Prayer Room. The room was centered around Psalm 46 (...which was read at our wedding! ...and one of my all time favorites!) and was so timely for me. I think it was timely for our world too. The mountains can be shaking, nations can be in uproar, kingdoms can be falling, and we, little old us? We need only to be still. We need only to know who God is. In the end, it seems, knowing God is what this is all about. Knowing God helps us orient ourselves to understand who we are, why we're here, and allows us a small view into redemption beyond terrible things like cancer, depression, fights, hurt, death, and sorrows.

Beth said herself that this weekend, though titled Unshakable, does not mean you actually won't be shaken, as if you could rise above emotion or experience. In fact, we are all guaranteed that we'll be shaken in this life. To me, being unshakable is knowing that outward chaos does not mean God can't grant me a peaceful heart.

You guys? These days, when we're hearing news about armies taking over, lives cut short, kids going hungry, and hate and evil gaining ground on every side, isn't it is so, so good to know where you stand? And on whose rock you stand? You stand with the one who will break every bow, shatter every spear, and end every war. All conflict melts away at his voice.

I know the One on whom I stand. I am so thankful to have people in my life that remind me of Him.