Cuddling

I just wish that our camera didn't make all the pictures come out all orangey. I can't wait till Christmas, when we will get a NEW camera! Yay! Orange or not, I thought these were cute:

Just Lots of Stuff

So my long-term sub job came to an end two weeks ago. The first week after it ended was difficult. I missed my kids so much (boy, did they send me off in a grand way. One class even threw a party for me) and I found out that I did not get the 9th grade position for which I'd interviewed. But things are getting better, and I'm still subbing. Also, the manager at Palais Royal called me in to work again. This was my first week back, and I'm having a blast so far. The new manager is so great and we have the same fun crew, with a few new fun people. We really all do mix well as co-workers. It is a blessing.

Halloween was fun. It was a long time ago, and I didn't get any pictures, but it was fun. Noodle was a dalmation. Chicken Nugget was a bat, this being the third year running. Banana was Thomas the Tank Engine. He is WAY into Thomas these days. But he didn't really keep his costume on during the Halloween carnival. We always take the kids to the festival at the church up the street, rather than trick-or-treating. It's because they have free dinner (hot dogs and stuff), lots of games, tons of candy and cookies, bounce houses, etc. etc., and most of our neighbors go too. It's always lots of fun. Oh, and if you're wondering what Baby Butterbean was . . . well, he was a baby. And he stayed home with me while Dad took the big kids to the carnival.

My dad recently had his bladder removed. About nine or so years ago, it was discovered that he had some small cancerous tumors in his bladder. They were recurring, every couple of years or so, but always very, very small and easily removed. His last surgery to remove some tumors was back in July. Daddy never really bounced back from that surgery, as he had always bounced back and recovered well from previous surgeries. The cancer had become too difficult to remove and the doctor said that the bladder needed to come out. So just after we left my parents' house to return to Somewhere Near Houston after Hurricane Ike, Daddy had the surgery. He also had some lymph nodes removed, and because microscopic cancer cells were found in the lymph nodes, Daddy is taking chemo once a week. He is only getting one chemical, and he's been handling everything like a champ. Before his bladder removal surgery, he had been feeling really sick and was losing weight. Now he's feeling much better, is recovering from his surgery well, doing great with the chemo, and is back to his old eating habits :o)! Yay, Daddy!

Mission trip stuff is going great. We'll be buying plane tickets to go to the Czech Republic very soon! I'll write some more detailed information about the mission trip soon. In the meantime, I am raising money for the trip. I'll be sending fundraising e-mails and letters soon, too. Look for yours in the mail!

I had a great birthday. My sweetie hubby got me some great gifts, including a beautiful new comforter set and roses that he sent me at school. He also let me get away to Conroe to spend the weekend with Kelly and her sister, Nikki. We had a great time with each other, Baby Butterbean, and Kelly's nephew, whom she was taking care of while her other sister was out of town. They baby boys are just about two weeks apart in age, and we were in baby heaven. And when they were sleeping, we were in girl-talk heaven. We also went shopping at Sam Moon (AWESOME!!!!) and ate at Macaroni Grill. It was so much fun.

Our Thanksgiving was nice and relaxing, just us. But it was sandwiched between ER visits! Crazy. Wednesday night, Baby Butterbean had such a hard time sleeping. He'd had a little cold, but it had turned into wheezing and coughing and he just couldn't sleep or eat. By midnight, I knew he needed to be seen. So I took him on in to the hospital in our town. He was seen pretty quickly and got some prescriptions, and even including the trip to the pharmacy, we were home within three hours.

Banana had been running a temp since Wednesday night, but it was nothing alarming, and he had no more symptoms. He ran a temp all day Thanksgiving, but was still eating and playing and had no other symptoms. By yesterday morning, his temp had risen to 105.8, and I was in a panic. Our PCP was in Dallas for the holiday, but after calling him, he told me to go to Texas Children's Hospital in Houston right away. I was hesitant, because I'd had Baby Butterbean there once before for suspected pneumonia and waited six hours to see a doctor. I told this to Dr. G, but he insisted I had to go there and that he would call the hospital for me if he had to. After waiting three hours and having Banana's temp checked twice and getting one dose of Motrin, we were finally taken to a room. Two doctors examined him and found nothing wrong (lungs clear, ears and throat looked fine . . .) and they were ready to send us home with the diagnosis of "virus." I told them that Dr. G wanted them to call, and I could tell that they weren't crazy about having to call him, but I'm so glad they did. Long story short, Dr. G ordered bloodwork, and the bloodwork indicated more than just a virus. The white count was really elevated, alarmingly so, so Banana got a chest x-ray (which showed no problems) and a shot of super-antibiotics and a prescription for more antibiotics. His fever was still 105 this morning at about 4AM. We follow up with Dr. G on Monday. By the way, I got to the ER in Houston at 11:15AM yesterday and left at 8:30PM. I felt sorry for those waiting after we left, because the nurse told me there were 85 patients waiting for to be seen.

Whew! I think that's everything for now! I'll get back to everyone after all my laundry is washed, folded, and put away . . . on second thought, no I won't. Ya'll might never hear from me again if I did that!

Thank You So Much, Boss!

I love the fish so much! And even before I read the note, I knew in my heart why you'd picked them . . .

But you may not have known how much I needed the encouragement.

I love you, Boss. Thank you!

Photo Shoot

Post #316

Hey, there!

It's interesting that this is post ends with a 16. 16 years ago today I was almost 16. Now I teach 16-year-olds for a living. And I look at them and think . . . has it really been 16 years? REALLY? Crazy. It doesn't feel like it.

So here's the deal:

When I got the job that I now have, it was as a long-term sub position with the prospect of becoming a contracted position. The teacher for whom I've been subbing was out on medical leave.

Yesterday, that teacher showed up. No warning, nothing. I walk into my (her) room yesterday and she was waiting for me so that she could talk to me about taking over on Monday. Though I was taken by surprise (my last meeting with my boss was one in which I was assured I'd have this job till the end of the year, and maybe longer!), I tried to smile through it and work to figure out some times that I could meet with her and bring her up to speed.

It's not so bad, though. I may be getting a new job - a contracted position! I had an interview yesterday for a 9th grade position, at the 9th grade campus of the same district. So, I wouldn't really be going anywhere - just next door. If I get that job. And I hope I do. Subbing is great and all, and I wish this had turned into a contracted position, and I really love these 11th-graders, but . . . see, in my house we have this habit of eating. And sub pay don't pay so good. Doesn't pay so well. Whatever.

So, I'll keep ya'll posted about all that stuff. In the meantime, I need to post some pictures. My blog is so BLAH without pics of my kids! My kids are cute. They just are. And I love them. It works out well like that in my house.

And I love all of you! And ya'll need to come down to balmy Texas and visit us. We not only love you, we miss you terribly. And you are very good-looking . . . do I need to keep going, or are you packing your bags already?

Right on, CBB

I love my friend CBB so much.

She's trying to help a friend with some questions and wrote this post as a result. I loved reading it. I wanted to share it. I hope you enjoy reading it, too.

I May As Well Out Myself

It feels like a really great day.

My guy won.

Yep, I voted for Obama. I never in my life thought I'd be labeled as a bleeding-heart liberal. I feel like I've been running a gauntlet. It would have been really easy to vote for McCain. I mean, it would have been easy to go with the crowd so that I wouldn't have to tell people that I didn't vote for the "right guy." But I couldn't deny my convictions. And I wouldn't have had an easy time living with myself if I hadn't voted my convictions.

As far as who the "right guy" is, that was each person's decision according to his or her conscience. The only reason I mention it here has to do with a meeting I attended recently. Upon entering the meeting, the conversation began to center around the election and the need to pray. I didn't disagree. But then it became clear that there was a sweeping assumption that everyone in that room was voting for McCain. In my naivete, I hadn't realized what a big deal it was not to vote for McCain. I just thought that everybody was voting for the man they thought was best, and that they had their reasons, and that they were adult enough to make that decision. I only had myself to worry about. It was apparent in the meeting that I was the only one there not voting for the "right guy."

The climate in that room scared me just a bit. But, I got over it. As I have gotten over people telling me they will pray for me if I were to vote for Obama. Hm . . . I won't get prayed for if I vote for McCain? I could really use the prayer either way.

So . . . because I suck at rhetoric, I'm just going to post links to articles that say what I want to say better than I can say it.

Love to you all. I'm so thankful that we live in a place that allows us to make these decisions, and then to freely disagree with one another, or even with our government, if we so choose. I hope that if you disagree with me, we'll be able to have some good discussions (even though I suck at discussions about politics) and come out on the other side even better friends than we were before.

Voting is Cool

My mom told me about her dad and his voting practices. He would say to my mom and grandma, "Ya'll need to go vote." Or, "Did ya'll vote yet?" Probably before or after work, over morning coffee or afternoon coffee. I don't know that it happened like that, but I'd like to think so. Pappa sipping his early morning coffee, before he was off to do whatever errand or job he had that day (he was a plumber). Before my mom was 23 and married to my dad. Grandma in the kitchen, frying some eggs and bacon.

"Ya'll be sure and go vote today," Pappa would say. Never demanding. Just reminding.

And never, my mother said, sharing his political views. Politics were a private issue for Pappa. Mamma said he never talked about them and never told anyone how they should vote.

I loved my Pappa. I always looked forward to seeing him. He died in 1996. He would be surprised, I think, by the way that politics has changed in just the short years since he passed.

Politics, anymore, is definitely NOT a private issue.

Not that it should be. I don't know. You share, I'll share, we can talk about it. But I wonder about Pappa's motives for not sharing. Was it that he was trusting enough of his friends and family to vote their heart, their conscience, and to vote for the right person, so far as they could figure, anyway? Or, could be, that he just didn't want to talk about it. I don't know. But that was his right. Talk about it or don't.

I'm not going to talk about politics. But what I am going to say is, how cool that we live in a place that allows us to vote as we choose. That allows us to vote AT ALL. Not only that, that allows us to stand around the polling area, or sit around in Sunday school or at work or at Wal-Mart or wherever, and discuss our vote. Even disagree with one another! Freely, openly. And when the man is elected, if we don't like him, we can say that! Out loud! Not all places in the world have this freedom.

I trust you to vote for the right guy, so far as you figure who would be the right guy. If we disagree, that's OK. I may not vote for the same guy, after all. But we can stand around somewhere and discuss it later.

Bad Days, Good Days

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.

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)

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.

Week Four, Day One

Had a bad day teaching today.

It was bound to happen.

Oh, well.

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!!!!!

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.

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!

Rock Star!

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!

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.

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.

Chuck Taylors

Kids still wear their Chuck Taylors the same way I did in high school, with the laces tied in a knot on each side instead of tied in a bow.

Something I learned in school today: always make more copies than you actually think you will need.