I think that I was so idealistic going into teaching. Like I'd be the next Erin Gruwell or something. Like I was a missionary going to a foreign land and I'd be the instrument of salvation for each student. As if love alone could do all that.
These kids are tough. And they come from tough situations. Sure, I love them. I can find something to love in all of them. But the actual loving part . . . well, these kids sometimes do not act in lovely ways. Like when they are throwing markers at my head when my back is turned. Like when they are trying to make me angry by disrupting class in the middle of a test. Like when they tell me that they hate my class and want to be transferred to so-and-so's class.
I know it all comes from somewhere, but when it's me against them - and there are a lot of them - and when they are being cruel just to be cruel, it gets hard to love sometimes. I have to remember Who loves them more than me. I have to remember Who prepared that classroom for me ahead of time. I have to try to think about what kinds of situations they leave when they walk out the door each morning. Oh, yeah, and I also have to teach them some English.
Today was a good day. A great day. It was one of those days where all the students were smiling and happy. It's homecoming week, as I'd mentioned before, so there's lots of excitement and anticipation this week. There's a bonfire and a parade tonight. The students were talking about it all day.
The students were friendly and talkative today. Talkative can be bad; today it was good. One of my football guys had a t-shirt over his regular shirt. The t-shirt had been painted by one of his friends, and it had his football number and nicknames all over it in the school colors. He took it off and said, "Here, Miss, I want you to wear my shirt today."
This may sound silly or petty, but really, it was a big deal. I was beyond flattered, and I was more than happy to wear that kid's shirt today. Everyone else who came to class for the rest of the day knew who he was and talked about the shirt. It was a fun thing, and something special.
It's things like that that I have to remember and hang onto when the students are being unlovely. And also to remember to check my attitude and remind myself how unlovely I often am. And I have a great life, great family, a lot to look forward to. I know the situations of some of these kids, and truly, if they make it to the 12th grade, they'll have accomplished a great feat. I'm not making light of this. One of my students has already stopped going to all of his classes, and he's only a junior, and it's only October.
Anyway, I'm thankful for the blessing that today was.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Look Familiar?
Boss and CBB may remember these well. The purple Chuck Taylors.
I still have them. I still wear them. They do not look as fresh and new as the ones pictured above, however.
Boss, do you remember the two of us passing those things back and forth between the two of us?
This week at school is homecoming week. There's dress-up days, spirit ribbons, you know the drill. Monday was Crazy Day. I wore some non-matching shirts (layered) and on my feet, the Converse. I didn't realize how much attention those things would generate, even though of course I know that they are cool.
Well, now I'm cool. Because I wore my Chucks. Every single class that day made a HUGE deal about my shoes at the beginning of the hour. We had to stop and talk about it. I had to tell them how long I've had them. It was out of control!
I feel I have arrived. :o)
Thursday, October 23, 2008
This Isn't About the Government
Politics ruin most everything. I might be talking about the American government in regard to politics in this political post, but probably I'm not.*
Lobbyists can be really stupid. Sometimes the lobbyists think that they are lobbying for something real, when truly, it is something that is false. But if that lobbyist sees that thing (for which they are lobbying) on a piece of paper, then it makes them feel like it's real. I'd rather have something that is real, but you can't tell the lobbyists that. Not when they say they can sue you, and have threatened to in the past. I hate it when people become so fearful or so worn out that they do something that is unethical, which in this case, of course, means bowing to the lobbyists.
Then you have people who are like the runners in Congress. Those people get really dirty and smelly running around all day. They feel like they are doing something important, but really they're not. They're just getting coffee spilled on them and delivering papers and doing what all the runnees tell them to. The runners think that they can make a difference, because they have big ideas and good hearts, but until they are a runnee (like a congressman or a representative), then they will never really make a difference. I might be talking about an actual runner in the government here, but probably I'm not.**
Then there's the President, Vice President, Speaker of the House, and so on. Sometimes they are so hard to respect because they do things that they know are not right, but they don't want to be reprimanded. They are afraid of the people. They are afraid of stepping on the people's toes. They don't stop to think that sometimes, by not stepping on the people's toes, they are not doing the people any favors. One of these days, the people are going to get into some kind of situation that the higher-ups can't get them out of, and then what will they do? But no one wants to think about the future. They only want to be comfortable for the moment.
And that's the problem with the government.
*I'm totally not.
**Again, not at all.
Lobbyists can be really stupid. Sometimes the lobbyists think that they are lobbying for something real, when truly, it is something that is false. But if that lobbyist sees that thing (for which they are lobbying) on a piece of paper, then it makes them feel like it's real. I'd rather have something that is real, but you can't tell the lobbyists that. Not when they say they can sue you, and have threatened to in the past. I hate it when people become so fearful or so worn out that they do something that is unethical, which in this case, of course, means bowing to the lobbyists.
Then you have people who are like the runners in Congress. Those people get really dirty and smelly running around all day. They feel like they are doing something important, but really they're not. They're just getting coffee spilled on them and delivering papers and doing what all the runnees tell them to. The runners think that they can make a difference, because they have big ideas and good hearts, but until they are a runnee (like a congressman or a representative), then they will never really make a difference. I might be talking about an actual runner in the government here, but probably I'm not.**
Then there's the President, Vice President, Speaker of the House, and so on. Sometimes they are so hard to respect because they do things that they know are not right, but they don't want to be reprimanded. They are afraid of the people. They are afraid of stepping on the people's toes. They don't stop to think that sometimes, by not stepping on the people's toes, they are not doing the people any favors. One of these days, the people are going to get into some kind of situation that the higher-ups can't get them out of, and then what will they do? But no one wants to think about the future. They only want to be comfortable for the moment.
And that's the problem with the government.
*I'm totally not.
**Again, not at all.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Week Three, and YAY for Starbucks!
Well, I'm almost finished with my third week of teaching. It has been great so far.
One NOT great thing - we lost our babysitter! HELP!!!! We love her. She's a great lady with five of her own children. But, something happened to her last week which left her unable to care for as many children as before. Our family was one of the families whose children she had to let go. We are very sad! We're muddling through and trying to find some new child care. We've had lots of help from friends until we find someone permanent. This is a VERY stressful situation! Who wants to move to Texas to be our nanny? You know you want to!!!!!
Yesterday in class, the discussion was about the evolution of the American language from the time of the British colonists. It was very interesting. We discussed the way that not only words have evolved, but how we communicate as well. Namely, the cell phone. And Internet. E-mail, texting, im, you name it, we talked about it. We talked about how dependent the students are on their cell phones. I asked if it was more comfortable to send a text or to have a face-to-face conversation; by and large, they said texting. Interesting stuff. I asked them if they'd ever received a letter in the mail. Faces lit up, hands went up. They said they love getting snail mail. I told them about the "good old days" when we had to use pay phones or the office phone at school, and about getting and mailing several letters a week sometimes. At any rate, this digital age is here to stay. We talked about how even more advanced things may become. Some of my students suggested devices that will eliminate the need for face-to-face talking altogether. Perhaps it will be some type of telepathy sensor. One of my students blurted out, "Yeah, and it'll be like, 'Man, I can't believe you just thought that to me!' "
My students are fun!
Starbucks is awesome. Expensive, but awesome. This morning, I needed some coffee. In the worst way. And since there's a Starbucks on the way to work . . .
As the barista was handing me my tall, nonfat, decaff white chocolate mocha, she asked if I knew anybody who would like a tazo tea. They'd made one by mistake and didn't want to throw it out. I said, "I'll bet I could find somebody!" (and I did, one of the other English teachers) It's like Starbucks just lives to give me free stuff!!!!!
One NOT great thing - we lost our babysitter! HELP!!!! We love her. She's a great lady with five of her own children. But, something happened to her last week which left her unable to care for as many children as before. Our family was one of the families whose children she had to let go. We are very sad! We're muddling through and trying to find some new child care. We've had lots of help from friends until we find someone permanent. This is a VERY stressful situation! Who wants to move to Texas to be our nanny? You know you want to!!!!!
Yesterday in class, the discussion was about the evolution of the American language from the time of the British colonists. It was very interesting. We discussed the way that not only words have evolved, but how we communicate as well. Namely, the cell phone. And Internet. E-mail, texting, im, you name it, we talked about it. We talked about how dependent the students are on their cell phones. I asked if it was more comfortable to send a text or to have a face-to-face conversation; by and large, they said texting. Interesting stuff. I asked them if they'd ever received a letter in the mail. Faces lit up, hands went up. They said they love getting snail mail. I told them about the "good old days" when we had to use pay phones or the office phone at school, and about getting and mailing several letters a week sometimes. At any rate, this digital age is here to stay. We talked about how even more advanced things may become. Some of my students suggested devices that will eliminate the need for face-to-face talking altogether. Perhaps it will be some type of telepathy sensor. One of my students blurted out, "Yeah, and it'll be like, 'Man, I can't believe you just thought that to me!' "
My students are fun!
Starbucks is awesome. Expensive, but awesome. This morning, I needed some coffee. In the worst way. And since there's a Starbucks on the way to work . . .
As the barista was handing me my tall, nonfat, decaff white chocolate mocha, she asked if I knew anybody who would like a tazo tea. They'd made one by mistake and didn't want to throw it out. I said, "I'll bet I could find somebody!" (and I did, one of the other English teachers) It's like Starbucks just lives to give me free stuff!!!!!
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Destruction and Beauty
I've only ever seen one sunset. It was on a beach in Oregon. I was on a Spring Break trip with my friend, and we were driving along the coast, back to San Francisco. She said we should stop and watch the sunset on the beach. I'm so glad we did. Not that I'd never seen the earth turn hazy red, orange, and purple, then dark. It's just that I'd never seen that exact moment when the sun disappears. It was such a thrilling thing, knowing that there's this second, something you can calculate, when the sun goes away for the night. I couldn't believe I was actually watching a movement of that gigantic glowing ball as it sank lower and lower and lower. There was something - a shudder, maybe a chill - when the last tiny brilliant drop of light disappeared into the Pacific. I will never forget that.
I took the kids to the park the other night. It was in the late afternoon, when all the lovely shadows of the last bits of light mix with the colors of the coming evening. I tried to watch, to really pay attention, and see if there was some kind of line that separated the last light from the first darkness. But, like so many other things in life, there wasn't anything definite I could see in those two enteties. Just a kind of magnificent mixture.
I drove around a little bit before we went to the park. I wanted to take pictures of some of the destruction that Hurrican Ike left behind. Those things weren't pretty. There were uprooted trees, damaged homes, and piles of debris. But that magnificent mixture of opposites is still around. It's in my town - in the people, in the work being done, in the lives that have been changed.
Our church has been a central location during the aftermath of Hurrican Ike. It's been home for 300 some volunteers from the Red Cross and North Carolina Baptist Men. The volunteers (or heroes, as our church members have been calling them) have been sleeping, showering, eating, and just living in our church since Ike hit. They take a little rest - sometimes a very little - before going back down the street to the abondoned K-Mart parking lot to serve meals, or back into the community to serve meals, clean up debris, and repair home damage. We church members haven't minded all the air mattresses and cots lined up in the hallways, scattered among the atrium and in classrooms; we've been joyful to assist with laundry and prepare meals for the workers. It has really felt like church. I felt a little bit sad last night, when I went to church and saw a lot fewer air mattresses and cots in the atrium and in the halls. The work is coming to a close. The volunteers are going home. The magnificent mixture is slowly becoming more homogeneus. The destruction - homes lost, sometimes everything people owned - was met by the beauty of helping hearts and hands.
Destruction and beauty. The Bible talks about the refiner's fire. Destruction takes place so that beauty can come out of it. One of my dear professors (I've told this story many times) once called me an ugly pot. He said that I could remain an ugly pot, useless, or I could allow God to break me and remake me and then I would become something beautiful and useful. Would it be painful? Very much so.
I still feel pain when I think about the wreck. It's been almost three months now, but I'm still haunted. And still, in the midst of all the destruction - broken bodies, torn emotions - there was beauty. The beauty of so many prayers lifted up for my family. The beauty of a new sister-in-law who held me while I cried as my baby was being taken away on a helicopter. The beauty of a God who is close to the brokenhearted. The beauty of phone calls from friends, offering love and encouragement.
And even the journey that I've been on since the wreck, the questions about God and faith and Truth . . . even that has had its beautiful moments. As I've been walking on a road that seemed, to me, littered with debris of its own, others have walked beside me. They've girded me up. They've offered their own stories. They've prayed. They still are. Beauty along that road on which I'm tripping over broken stones and fallen trees. Destruction . . . and beauty.
The kids and I stayed at the park the other evening until it was just not enough light to really play. The sky was so beautifully dark with a heavy blue color. The thumbnail moon shone above craggly branches that had been stripped clean and broken in the storm. I took a picture of the scraggly black and broken trees with the thumbnail moon behind. Destruction and beauty all in one place, making something that just should never be forgotten.
I took the kids to the park the other night. It was in the late afternoon, when all the lovely shadows of the last bits of light mix with the colors of the coming evening. I tried to watch, to really pay attention, and see if there was some kind of line that separated the last light from the first darkness. But, like so many other things in life, there wasn't anything definite I could see in those two enteties. Just a kind of magnificent mixture.
I drove around a little bit before we went to the park. I wanted to take pictures of some of the destruction that Hurrican Ike left behind. Those things weren't pretty. There were uprooted trees, damaged homes, and piles of debris. But that magnificent mixture of opposites is still around. It's in my town - in the people, in the work being done, in the lives that have been changed.
Our church has been a central location during the aftermath of Hurrican Ike. It's been home for 300 some volunteers from the Red Cross and North Carolina Baptist Men. The volunteers (or heroes, as our church members have been calling them) have been sleeping, showering, eating, and just living in our church since Ike hit. They take a little rest - sometimes a very little - before going back down the street to the abondoned K-Mart parking lot to serve meals, or back into the community to serve meals, clean up debris, and repair home damage. We church members haven't minded all the air mattresses and cots lined up in the hallways, scattered among the atrium and in classrooms; we've been joyful to assist with laundry and prepare meals for the workers. It has really felt like church. I felt a little bit sad last night, when I went to church and saw a lot fewer air mattresses and cots in the atrium and in the halls. The work is coming to a close. The volunteers are going home. The magnificent mixture is slowly becoming more homogeneus. The destruction - homes lost, sometimes everything people owned - was met by the beauty of helping hearts and hands.
Destruction and beauty. The Bible talks about the refiner's fire. Destruction takes place so that beauty can come out of it. One of my dear professors (I've told this story many times) once called me an ugly pot. He said that I could remain an ugly pot, useless, or I could allow God to break me and remake me and then I would become something beautiful and useful. Would it be painful? Very much so.
I still feel pain when I think about the wreck. It's been almost three months now, but I'm still haunted. And still, in the midst of all the destruction - broken bodies, torn emotions - there was beauty. The beauty of so many prayers lifted up for my family. The beauty of a new sister-in-law who held me while I cried as my baby was being taken away on a helicopter. The beauty of a God who is close to the brokenhearted. The beauty of phone calls from friends, offering love and encouragement.
And even the journey that I've been on since the wreck, the questions about God and faith and Truth . . . even that has had its beautiful moments. As I've been walking on a road that seemed, to me, littered with debris of its own, others have walked beside me. They've girded me up. They've offered their own stories. They've prayed. They still are. Beauty along that road on which I'm tripping over broken stones and fallen trees. Destruction . . . and beauty.
The kids and I stayed at the park the other evening until it was just not enough light to really play. The sky was so beautifully dark with a heavy blue color. The thumbnail moon shone above craggly branches that had been stripped clean and broken in the storm. I took a picture of the scraggly black and broken trees with the thumbnail moon behind. Destruction and beauty all in one place, making something that just should never be forgotten.
Better
Charlie's doing a lot better. The breathing treatments and antibiotics have helped so much. He's really like a different baby. Much more content and happy. So Scott's home with him today, and after that it is business as usual. Just wanted to let everyone know!
Friday, October 03, 2008
My Fifth Day of Work . . .
. . . didn't happen!
Charlie is sick. :o(
He's been sick for awhile. At his two-month checkup, the doctor thought he may have had pneumonia because he was retracting and had a little fever. The next day, we were sent to Children's Hospital of Texas and waited about six hours to be told that there was nothing wrong with him. Not long after that, we evacuated for Ike and spent some time in Arkansas, where I again made a trip with Charlie to the doctor. I didn't like the sound of his breathing and he had developed a cough. The doctor in Arkansas said it was nothing serious, and prescribed a cough medicine.
One night this week, as I was giving Charlie his bath, I noticed that his retractions were getting worse, and were in the middle of his chest instead of under his ribs. He was working really, really hard to suck in some air. I was so alarmed that I started looking up information about asthma. Scott and I found a doctor in Houston, the doctor that saw Charlie just after he was born, and made an appointment right away.
Yesterday, Scott took Charlie in and this new doctor immediately diagnosed Charlie with RSV. He also told us that the medication perscribed by the doctor in Arkansas should be given to no child under the age of two and could have killed him! Now we are giving Charlie breathing treatments every four hours and antibiotics every six.
We have to take him to the doctor again tomorrow (most likely we'll have a follow-up chest x-ray) for reassessment. Though Charlie's case is pretty severe, it's not severe enough to require hospitalization, which is such a blessing.
So . . . I had a really fun day planned for my students. We were going to write a Puritan style sermon about a topic of their own choosing. We were going to write it in class and everything. We've been talking about it all week and the kids were sharing with me all kinds of topics they wanted to write about.
I didn't realize how responsible I'd feel for my class. After only four days, having to be absent today made me feel like I was abandoning them! But they've had a rough six weeks with both their regular teacher and long-term sub leaving before the term had ended, as well as the hurricane to deal with.
If I hadn't been so exhausted today (I got about three hours' sleep with Charlie last night), I'd have called every class period.
Scott and I have worked out our split schedule for next week. He had to go in today, because his grades were due by the end of the day. Next week, I'll stay home the first part of the week and he'll take Wed. and Thurs., and Charlie is released to go back to the babysitter's on Friday (provided all goes well).
Please say a prayer for Charlie! Those breathing treatments are all for the best, but they make him cough so much. It's pitiful. I hate seeing one of my kids sick. I just want to take it away from him and have my happy, bouncy, kicking and smiling little boy back. Poor guy.
So ends my first week of being a teacher while learning to balance family, work, and housecleaning, as well as trying to figure out organizational skills that are helpful to a teaching career! What a week!
Charlie is sick. :o(
He's been sick for awhile. At his two-month checkup, the doctor thought he may have had pneumonia because he was retracting and had a little fever. The next day, we were sent to Children's Hospital of Texas and waited about six hours to be told that there was nothing wrong with him. Not long after that, we evacuated for Ike and spent some time in Arkansas, where I again made a trip with Charlie to the doctor. I didn't like the sound of his breathing and he had developed a cough. The doctor in Arkansas said it was nothing serious, and prescribed a cough medicine.
One night this week, as I was giving Charlie his bath, I noticed that his retractions were getting worse, and were in the middle of his chest instead of under his ribs. He was working really, really hard to suck in some air. I was so alarmed that I started looking up information about asthma. Scott and I found a doctor in Houston, the doctor that saw Charlie just after he was born, and made an appointment right away.
Yesterday, Scott took Charlie in and this new doctor immediately diagnosed Charlie with RSV. He also told us that the medication perscribed by the doctor in Arkansas should be given to no child under the age of two and could have killed him! Now we are giving Charlie breathing treatments every four hours and antibiotics every six.
We have to take him to the doctor again tomorrow (most likely we'll have a follow-up chest x-ray) for reassessment. Though Charlie's case is pretty severe, it's not severe enough to require hospitalization, which is such a blessing.
So . . . I had a really fun day planned for my students. We were going to write a Puritan style sermon about a topic of their own choosing. We were going to write it in class and everything. We've been talking about it all week and the kids were sharing with me all kinds of topics they wanted to write about.
I didn't realize how responsible I'd feel for my class. After only four days, having to be absent today made me feel like I was abandoning them! But they've had a rough six weeks with both their regular teacher and long-term sub leaving before the term had ended, as well as the hurricane to deal with.
If I hadn't been so exhausted today (I got about three hours' sleep with Charlie last night), I'd have called every class period.
Scott and I have worked out our split schedule for next week. He had to go in today, because his grades were due by the end of the day. Next week, I'll stay home the first part of the week and he'll take Wed. and Thurs., and Charlie is released to go back to the babysitter's on Friday (provided all goes well).
Please say a prayer for Charlie! Those breathing treatments are all for the best, but they make him cough so much. It's pitiful. I hate seeing one of my kids sick. I just want to take it away from him and have my happy, bouncy, kicking and smiling little boy back. Poor guy.
So ends my first week of being a teacher while learning to balance family, work, and housecleaning, as well as trying to figure out organizational skills that are helpful to a teaching career! What a week!
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Jessie's Girl
"Where can I find a woman like that . . ."
One of my students brought his pregnant girlfriend by my room. I talked to her about WIC and Zofran. So far, that makes four of my students that are expecting babies. The other three are girls. So I may have more students that are expecting babies with their girlfriends, and I just don't know about it. One of the teachers yesterday called the pregnancy rate in our school an epidemic.
Teenagers are awesome. They just are. It's better than anything. One minute they're hilarious; the next, they're like some ominous funnel cloud, ready to plow down anything in its path. One minute they're confident and outgoing; the next, they are as insecure as newborn kittens. It can make for quite a stage show at times.
How do I get them to understand how much I care about them? How do I get them to understand how important this is? They've got a great chance. They can use this opportunity to do and be anything. The students are labeled according to a system. There's an icon for certain students. I was kind of shocked when I finally realized that the icons meant something, and what they meant. I wish they knew that I did't see an icon stamped on their shirts or anything.
I've got to learn not to compare myself to other teachers. I talked with one teacher today; she's brilliant. She is well-read and scary smart and knows the content and methods backwards and forwards. She is awesome. She is younger than me, skinnier than me, prettier than me. I was like, man, I better get skinny and pretty and smart. But then I thought . . . I'd better just cool it. I'm the kind of teacher that I am. I'm not going to be like any other teacher. I can't. I just have to learn the content and methods and do what I'm wired to do. That's all.
In one of my classes, four of the students speak no English.
I have felt a real weight about being salt and light to the students. I think God is giving me some insight into their great needs.
I miss my babies during the day. It's hard being away from them. Noodle is in preschool at our church now, even. But if I have to do something to make money, I really don't think I'd rather be doing anything else.
One of my students brought his pregnant girlfriend by my room. I talked to her about WIC and Zofran. So far, that makes four of my students that are expecting babies. The other three are girls. So I may have more students that are expecting babies with their girlfriends, and I just don't know about it. One of the teachers yesterday called the pregnancy rate in our school an epidemic.
Teenagers are awesome. They just are. It's better than anything. One minute they're hilarious; the next, they're like some ominous funnel cloud, ready to plow down anything in its path. One minute they're confident and outgoing; the next, they are as insecure as newborn kittens. It can make for quite a stage show at times.
How do I get them to understand how much I care about them? How do I get them to understand how important this is? They've got a great chance. They can use this opportunity to do and be anything. The students are labeled according to a system. There's an icon for certain students. I was kind of shocked when I finally realized that the icons meant something, and what they meant. I wish they knew that I did't see an icon stamped on their shirts or anything.
I've got to learn not to compare myself to other teachers. I talked with one teacher today; she's brilliant. She is well-read and scary smart and knows the content and methods backwards and forwards. She is awesome. She is younger than me, skinnier than me, prettier than me. I was like, man, I better get skinny and pretty and smart. But then I thought . . . I'd better just cool it. I'm the kind of teacher that I am. I'm not going to be like any other teacher. I can't. I just have to learn the content and methods and do what I'm wired to do. That's all.
In one of my classes, four of the students speak no English.
I have felt a real weight about being salt and light to the students. I think God is giving me some insight into their great needs.
I miss my babies during the day. It's hard being away from them. Noodle is in preschool at our church now, even. But if I have to do something to make money, I really don't think I'd rather be doing anything else.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Day Three
I have the alarm set for 4:45. School starts at 7:10, but I have to be here before that. This morning, the alarm went off and I feel asleep. By the grace of God, I woke up again at 5:12. Already running behind by half an hour . . .
I made it to school on time, but not in time to make copies before class. I had to get my ID made today. That took a long time, because the computer wasn't working right. It took up most of my prep period, but I managed to get all my copies made anyway.
My students are fun. I wish I had more time to talk and joke with them, but business is business. I told them all on the first day that I am here for them. I told them that I am here to make sure they succeed and that I really want them to succeed. And I do. I'm finding that to be true more and more each day. I had to tell them several times today, because they were complaining about how much work I'd given them. I told them it was all for their benefit, and that I don't go home at night and plot their demise. I give them work to help them. I hope they heard me. Really heard me.
One of my students has been asking me lots of questions about God. Those questions come up when we read the sermon, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." He kept asking me, was it true? Is God like that? Yesterday, the students were working and talking, I crept over to him, stood beside him, and said quietly, "I don't believe that God is like that." One sentence, but that's all he wanted to know at the time, and it satisfied him.
I am realizing all the things that most non-abstract-random teachers already know. Make a spot for makeup work. Keep account of your absent students so you know what they missed. All this while still not knowing most of their names.
I have a real problem being professional sometimes. It's not a good thing. The kids crack me up. I'm trying to be serious, and they are trying to be disruptive, and I need to maintain my seriousness. But one of the students can make his voice sound just like Andy Dick. It is hilarious. Please ask God to fill me with composure.
So far, so good. Test tomorrow over the elements of a plot and basic literary terms. I'm ready for a week of some group work and not so much lecturing. Lecturing gets so tired. The students need to interact.
I have felt lots of affirmation this week. I feel like I'm doing the right thing here.
I made it to school on time, but not in time to make copies before class. I had to get my ID made today. That took a long time, because the computer wasn't working right. It took up most of my prep period, but I managed to get all my copies made anyway.
My students are fun. I wish I had more time to talk and joke with them, but business is business. I told them all on the first day that I am here for them. I told them that I am here to make sure they succeed and that I really want them to succeed. And I do. I'm finding that to be true more and more each day. I had to tell them several times today, because they were complaining about how much work I'd given them. I told them it was all for their benefit, and that I don't go home at night and plot their demise. I give them work to help them. I hope they heard me. Really heard me.
One of my students has been asking me lots of questions about God. Those questions come up when we read the sermon, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." He kept asking me, was it true? Is God like that? Yesterday, the students were working and talking, I crept over to him, stood beside him, and said quietly, "I don't believe that God is like that." One sentence, but that's all he wanted to know at the time, and it satisfied him.
I am realizing all the things that most non-abstract-random teachers already know. Make a spot for makeup work. Keep account of your absent students so you know what they missed. All this while still not knowing most of their names.
I have a real problem being professional sometimes. It's not a good thing. The kids crack me up. I'm trying to be serious, and they are trying to be disruptive, and I need to maintain my seriousness. But one of the students can make his voice sound just like Andy Dick. It is hilarious. Please ask God to fill me with composure.
So far, so good. Test tomorrow over the elements of a plot and basic literary terms. I'm ready for a week of some group work and not so much lecturing. Lecturing gets so tired. The students need to interact.
I have felt lots of affirmation this week. I feel like I'm doing the right thing here.
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