The Wall

Over the past week I've been in the process of moving my whole life from this beautiful little Pilsen world over to our new apartment that Brian and I will live in after the wedding. This is a bittersweet process. This apartment has been the site for my coming of age years, it saw me through TFA ups and downs, and introduced me to some fabulous roommates. I love this place so, so, so much. One of the things that I love about it is a little tradition I started on the first weekend there. It was July of 2012, I had just finished TFA Institute training, and was painfully nervous about entering adulthood, meeting people at my school, and starting to work at this crazy job on August 1st. I decided that a little inspiration and encouragement was just the right thing to focus on, so I took a note from a friend with particularly kind words and taped it to the wall. And the Wall of Kindness was born. 

As any Teach For America teacher knows, one little note of encouragement is surely not enough to help you last through the year :) My Wall of Kindness kept growing; with each wonderful note from a wonderful person I had another artifact of goodness to keep me going. I got notes from cousins, sisters-in-law, friends, students, roommates, people from my hometown, and then even a few notes from that Brian Whartnaby guy started showing up in the summer of 2013. Handwritten notes are something that I value deeply, and I loved the daily reminder of the love I have in my life. 

So, as I had to move on and clean out my room, the Wall of Kindness of course had to be dismantled. It was sad. But it was also great. As I peeled each one down, I remembered the person who wrote it, pondered the sweet words on it, and each one brought a smile to my face. It reminded me to add to other people's Wall of Kindness too. So if you were one of my featured favorites, thank you for helping me wake up and face each day for these past two hectic, crazy, and wonderful years. 

Good ol' Lew.

In my opinion, one of the most quotable people on this planet was C.S. Lewis. He finds the right nuance to say things in a simple and profound way such that it tells the truth. I hope that I can be a truth-teller like him as I grow up. I suppose I'm thinking a lot about being real and being fake these days (here are my thoughts on how to fake it 'til you make it, and here are my two cents on being real when you're struggling) and so this particular quote caught my eye.

It's resonated with me because lately I've had some issues genuinely feeling like I love some people. It's usually very, very easy for me to gush happiness towards my friends, family, students, coworkers, and even strangers. I love people in general and interacting with them is usually fun for me. But for some reason, with the end-of-the-year-I'm-going-to-lose-my-mind pressure going on, it's not a natural feeling for me to be kind, patient, and sweet to everyone. I hate it. But it's just not there sometimes. And here, of course, is where good ol' Lew chimes in. He says:

On the human level, you know, there are two kinds of pretending. There is a bad kind, where pretense is there instead of the real thing: as when a man pretends he is going to help you instead of really helping you. But there is also a good kind, where the pretense leads up to the real thing. When you're not feeling particularly friendly but know you ought to be, the best thing you can do, very often, is to put on a friendlier manner and behave as if you were a nicer person than you actually are. And in a few minutes, as we have all noticed, you will be really feeling friendlier than you were. 

Brilliant.

This so strikes me because last week, during my (too short) of a prep period that was occupied by a million things, I got a phone call from a number I didn't recognize. Since a lot of kids' parents call me with a lot of changing phone numbers, I picked up. It turned out to just be a simple mistake of a wrong number. My impulse was to talk over the lady and blurt out SORRYWRONGNUMBER and immediately hang up. But I felt like, in front of all the other 2nd grade teachers in the teachers lounge who were also prepping, I should try to pretend to be a kind and helpful adult. I followed C.S.'s advice and just chose the kindness route in spite of my instinct otherwise. And, of course, it paid off as always. I had a nice little two minute conversation with the lady on the other end, actually smiled afterward, and had one of the other teachers say, "Woah, that was really nice of you." I felt good. The prep period wasn't so negative and busy and annoying and hurried anymore.

Now this is a dumb example. And I'm not writing it down because I'm trying to brag about the fact that I wasn't completely rude to a stranger for two minutes. That's no accomplishment at all. It was, however, a lesson in obedience.

If my heart doesn't feel like being a loving, kind person, that's no excuse. My job (if you're someone with beliefs and convictions in this department you can relate) is to obey with my actions, and my heart will follow. People are entitled to my kindness whether I feel like it or not; I'm not allowed to just follow my own changing, human moods as I leave a trail of negativity in my wake. It's not faking kindness, it's being kind in spite of yourself. I think that's almost more genuine and real anyway. When you're not really feeling like it, you follow through anyway. I think a lot of being good to people has to do with that kind of love. That's when you really know. Because there are people who do this. There was one person in particular who laid everything down for me when he didn't really feel like doing it either. But he did it anyway. Because he loved me.

These are wonderful things to think about on a Monday after school. As I think about my kids. As I think about my family. As I think about my friends. Keep it up, C.S., because I'll keep reading. 

Small Town

Yesterday, I had the privilege of being on the receiving end of a random act of kindness. It is absolutely wonderful when that happens. Although I've been fortunate enough to experience this kind of a thing before (here's the story of one of my favorite instances), each time a stranger goes out of their way to do something kind, it shocks me. It was especially cool this time because it happened in a big place like the city of Chicago, where people (like myself) tend to expect it the least. 

This weekend, one of my favorites, Ashley Wisz, came to visit me (more on that in an upcoming post) and I took her around my neighborhood and favorite places to show her a little bit of my life in the city. This, of course, includes Simone's, my favorite bar. Ashley is too nice for her own good and treated me to my drink and would not take no for an answer. I should invite friends like her over more often. But then, that meant that I didn't have to check my wallet for the rest of the night. This means that my purse stayed on the bench for the duration of my meal. And this also means, of course, that when I left the bar, I was so happy and thankful for Ashley's generosity that I left my purse right there where I set it down in the first place. 

Bad move, Anna. The prognosis on leaving a purse behind anywhere in public is not a good one. If I left my purse out in Cedar Grove, Wisconsin, I wouldn't be too hopeful about getting it back. Chicago, I thought, must be hopeless. Who knows who's walking past that bench? I figured it was a goner. 

On Sunday morning, I was rushing around looking for my purse so I could drive us to church. Alas, I figured it out. Crap. I'm an idiot. That thing is never to be found again. 

So we continued on to church and went about our morning, waiting until Simone's opened so I could give them a call. I'll admit to you readers (this is not a proud moment) that instead of confessing my sins during the silent prayer, I was asking God to PLEASE let that brown purse and all of its contents to be safely nestled behind the bar on the corner of Morgan and 18th. I know, not cool. All I could think about was calling my parents to tell them about my stupidity as I asked for what the next logical steps were to reclaiming my life. I was facing identity theft, a trip to the DMV for a new license, new credit cards, and, of course, and maybe most painful of all, a long, long sermon from my father about the importance of situational awareness. This is what was on my mind at church.

But then - as you've probably already figured out by now - I made the call and found to my delight that I did not have to face any of that at all. "Yes, we are so happy to tell you that we have your purse for you!" said the voice on the other end of the phone. I stopped by Simone's on my way home from church, ran inside, thanked the lady profusely, and promised my undying loyalty and support of her local business (pretty sure she doesn't own the place and that she is just a bartender, but hey...I was excited) for as long as I live. Every last dollar, card, and check was still in my wallet. It was a great moment in humanity. 

I guess stuff like this happens all the time. People really do help other people out. Just because it's a big city doesn't mean that Chicago is an evil place. I'm starting to realize the great thing about this city is that Chicago is just a very, very, large small town. If I can help someone else feel like they're on main street just a little bit like that bartender did for me, I think that would be a great thing. 

Make My Day

Anyone else get the reference from Technotronic? Hello 1990!

Today was a rainy, dreary, gray day. Things just weren't going in the Anna Gesch kind of way. I wasn't feeling the vibe of February 21, 2012. Hey, it happens to us all, right? So I did what every logical person would do to combat the gray day blues: Go to Starbucks. I get so much homework done there that I'm now wondering why I don't go there everyday. Anyway, the remedy worked. And in a bigger way than I thought. This trip to Starbucks reaffirmed my faith in human beings. (Okay not THAT dramatic of a Starbucks experience, but still. I'm trying to hook you into the story here so cut me some slack.)

My matching hot chocolates

It all started after lunch when I pack-muled my way into Starbucks with all my books, backpack, purse, laptop, and big puffy coat in tow.  I ordered the usual tall hot chocolate, and clumsily threw all my cargo on a chair. After about 15 minutes, I finally got organized, settled in, and got to work, sipping on my chocolate goodness. My mood was already on the mend. I had sugar in my system along with a productive three hour homework session in full swing.

At about 4:15, I saw the Starbucks worker guy (I believe that's his official title) walking up to me saying something and I was a little worried. I took off my headphones and said, "I'm sorry, could you repeat what you just said?", secretly expecting him to ask me to leave and stop hogging all the mini tables in my corner of the coffee shop.

Instead, he handed me a new cup and said, "Hey, here's another hot chocolate, on us. You've been here awhile so I figured you needed another boost."

Oh my goodness. My jaw could have hit the ground. All I could say was, "You made my day!" in an obnoxiously loud, abrupt, and awkward fashion. This teeny tiny gesture by a complete stranger absolutely changed my disposition in a matter of 4 seconds. He really did make my day. Which is sort of a weird term, to make one's day, but that's what happened. My day was made. That's just what you say.

While I sat there, headphones back on, reflecting on the goodness of a person I don't even know, it made me realize two things: First, while I know everyone has that whole total depravity thing going on, it is pretty special to be present for a moment when a person shows grace to another. Second, it is REALLY easy to make someone's day.

It was a reminder to me that everyone has this potential to do so much good for others. Just think of the possibilities! Not only for strangers, like this guy did, but even also for people you already know and love! I realized that I could go forth and make SO many days. For my dad, all it takes is saying I love him and singing an embarrassing song on a voicemail. For my classmate, all it takes is quickly asking how her mom is doing after a long and tricky sickness. For my roommate Lauren, all it takes is posting a picture of a furry little kitten on her Facebook wall. Karley makes my days on a regular basis by leaving me the leftover frosting from her many baking endeavors. That's it. So simple. All these things take just a few seconds and BAM. You've just made someone's day.

That's taking 4 seconds of your time to improve the following 86,400 seconds for someone else. I'm not the most savvy financial analyst out there, but I'd say that's got to be the best return on an investment, ever. And thanks to the investment of some Starbucks worker out there in the universe, February 21, 2012 turned into an Anna Gesch kind of day after all.

Bob the Great

I'm going to take this moment to recognize someone who just made my day. Trinity people will understand who this is, and if you aren't from Trinity, take this moment to learn about a fabulous person. Let me set this up for you:

I was running errands all afternoon after class, very flustered (as usual - I wish that wasn't my default setting during the weeks before exam time), and I finally got home to check my million e-mail messages, only to read that I had to drive back to Trinity's campus (I live in a house a few minutes away) to pick up a book from the English department offices before everyone leaves, usually around 4:30. It was 4:28. Whew. I had to write a large chunk of a paper today, so this was kind of important. So I got back into Remy and zipped back over to school, where I ran (yes, I ran. I was that kid who runs on campus) to get to the faculty secretary's office where the books were waiting for me. I get to the building, run upstairs, knocked on the office door, and alas...

The door was locked. Ugh.

So I'm thinking to myself, "Anna, it's totally fine, you got this...get down what you can on paper...you can get the books tomorrow morning and somehow squeeze in time to work on it before your class...yada yada yada," knowing full well that I really did kind of need them tonight. Enter the hero of the story...

Bob Rice, Dr. Bob Rice. History professor and human being extraordinaire.

I don't even have him in class this semester, but he had noticed that I had knocked on the secretary's door and heard that there was no answer from inside. He took the time to ask me what I needed, and I explained how I had books waiting for me inside the office "but that's totally fine, I'll come back tomorrow morning!" Nope, he wouldn't let me leave without getting those books. He stopped what he was doing to help me out. He knew my name right away, told me he was excited to have me in class next semester (he had already checked and remembered that I was registered for his Russian History class in the spring), and joked that he would not want to be involved with hindering a student's reading. He went back to his office, retrieved his spare key to the office, and unlocked the door for me. I got the books, thanked him obnoxiously, and he smiled and said to have a great week. Now, instead of leaving the building completely frustrated and sans books...

I am loving life. First, I have the books I needed. Secondly, and most importantly, when someone takes a moment to cut through the hustle and bustle to help a sister out, dang it, it just gives you hope for humanity.

Did I mention that Bob Rice is blind? Oh yeah, that too. He did the whole shebang (remembering my name by my voice, my schedule, the keys, the office doors, etc.) like the pro that he is. But that's not the important part. The important part is that I now learned a little lesson that the books I'm reading tonight probably won't teach me. People like Dr. Rice have taught me that people matter and that no matter how busy you are, you always have the time to be kind.