Milestones

It’s 7^th period on a testing day. For you normal citizens who don’t spend your days with pre-teens, that’s code talk for “I’ve been sitting at my desk all day grading papers, checking emails, writing lesson plans, and keeping an eye on students that are high-risk snoozers and I’m bored out of my mind because I’ve run out of things I need to do.” This is precisely why I’m writing a blog during the school day rather than filling young minds to the brim with knowledge (or something like that). So don’t think I’m slacking off here. I need to do something to keep my sanity intact.

Anyways, there have been several milestones in my blossoming career over the past week. Oh, you want to hear all about them? I’m so glad you asked.

Extra Nugget #5

Rap music is always cool.

On Friday my students did a test review using QR codes and iPads. (If you don’t know what a QR code is, check this out. If you don’t know what an iPad is, it’s time to move off the farm.) It turned out to be a pretty cool activity. I made a bunch of QR codes that the kids could scan with an iPad and it would show a question for them to work out or a video to watch. This was my first venture into using interactive technology with my kiddos, which is something that’s becoming more commonplace in the classroom and is a valuable skill to acquire. One of the codes was linked to this video: (Please notice that someone decided to make the Order of Operations mascot a floating Afro-Space Man in a pink speedo. Thank you, graphic designer.)

It was a big hit. My favorite response came from one of my girls with plenty of swag: “Dang Miss B., this song go hard.” Word.

Extra Nugget #6

It’s the thought that counts.

I received my very first “I think you’re an awesome teacher” gift from a student! One of my girls walked up to me and said, “I need your wrist.” Sounded shady to me, especially since this sweet darling in particular has a pretty volatile temper and seems to hold grudges. Had I made her mad recently? Probably. Did she seem to like me? She always says I’m her favorite. I took the risk and stuck my hand out. She proceeded to put a silver A&M bracelet on my arm. “Oh wow, thanks! Did you buy this for me?” She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” My mentor teacher and I aren’t entirely convinced it’s not stolen. Either way, I’m touched.

Extra Nugget #7

God provides. Always.

I’ve known this to be true most of my life, but every time the Lord blindsides me with unwarranted blessings I’m absolutely astounded.  Most of you know I’m graduating in December with a degree and desire to be a teacher. What you may not have considered is the difficulty of getting a teaching job when the school year is one semester underway. This is something I’ve been nervous/concerned about ever since I realized I would be graduating a semester late (one of the many perks of adding a minor to my degree), and I’ve been praying that the Lord would make it abundantly clear where I’m supposed to go after graduation. I assumed I would end up subbing for the spring semester and then get a full-time job next fall. When I heard about a long-term sub position opening up in a nearby town I was intrigued. When I sought more details and discovered it would last most of next semester and was a 6^th & 7^th grade math class I was hopeful. And when I landed an interview I was ecstatic. I was humbled by God’s provision and excited about the opportunity.

I didn’t get the job. I know, total buzz-kill. But here’s where my Jesus gets crazy: the very same day I found out I didn’t get that position another one of the math teachers where I’m student teaching informed me that she had recommended me for a 5^th grade science position.  SCIENCE, PEOPLE. If you weren’t aware, I love science. LOVE. IT. Probably because my favorite educator ever is a science teacher (I’m sure you’ve heard of Miss Frizzle… you know, from The Magic School Bus). I interviewed the next day and found out I got the job the day after that! You know what’s even crazier? It’s not a long-term sub position. Nope, my God delights in blessing me as a daddy delights in buying his little girl jewelry just to see her smile, so He took it a step further. I now have a full-time teaching job lined up to begin as soon as I finish student teaching in two weeks!

I cannot begin to express how overwhelmed with gratitude and joy I am at this moment. Yes, I have a real-life job waiting for me on the other side of Thanksgiving. And yes, my Jesus knew this is exactly where I needed to be. I don’t know what the rest of the year holds, but I do know who is holding it.  I can’t wait to meet you, sweet 5^th graders. He has amazing plans for us, my darlings.

Weezy

It's that time of year. The time when the weather starts slowly changing. Unexpected rain and temperatures in the 60's ninja their way into the forecast. Cardigans become a wardrobe staple. Pumpkin Spice Latte season. Fall.

Along with Fall, unfortunately, comes allergies for some of us. I'm steadily losing the ability to breath through my nose and beginning to punctuate sentences with sneezes and sniffles. One morning last week I woke up with Pink Puffy Nasty-Eye syndrome. I attempted to put in my contacts. Tears. Burning. Bad idea. So I wore my super trendy hipster glasses instead. I think they make me look smarter and more Pinteresty, but apparently my students didn't think so. More on this later.

Last week my kids learned how to subtract mixed numbers. On the Fun-O-Meter, 11-year-olds rank this somewhere between "Talking Politics with Elmo" and "Walking on Thumbtacks." I was scurrying from desk to desk helping students with their homework when one of my sweet girls stopped me.

"Miss B, you look like someone in your glasses but I can't think of who."

"Really? Well if you remember let me know..." *I continue helping another student*

"OH!! Miss B!! I know who it is! You look like Lil' Wayne!"

Let's pause for a moment of comparison, shall we? This is me:

And this is Lil' Wayne (I made the same face as him to make for a more accurate assessment):

What do you think? I can see her point. He is wearing glasses similar to mine. And we both have a nose. I’m pretty sure that’s where the comparison stops, though. So now I must ask myself, was this a compliment? Some twisted form of flattery? Is she saying I’m super swagged-out? Perhaps she’s suggesting that she believes I can drop some sick rhymes about mixed numbers (or should I say Myxed Numb3rs? Seems more hip that way).  On the other hand, I’m thinking I should be slightly concerned that she made this mental connection.

The rest of the class fell silent as they waited to see how I would react to this accusation. I could hear stifled snickers in the background. My mentor teacher was sitting at her desk making a “Did I hear that correctly?” face. My reaction was one of those moments when what was happening in my brain spilled out of my mouth, which is not always a good thing…

“Lil’ Wayne? I look like Lil’ Wayne? But he’s a man… and he’s black!”

*More stifled giggles. Mentor teacher loses composure and laughs hysterically.*

“Well if I look like Lil’ Wayne, then you look like Abraham Lincoln.”

“Naw Miss B, you be trippin’.”

Ah.  I be trippin’.  I hate it when that happens.

Dimples

Extra Nugget #4

Translating kid-speak into normal English is a valuable talent.

One of my students approached me before class this afternoon: "Miss B, can I ask you a question?"

How joyous! I must have motivated this dear student to ponder the mystery of integers outside of class. Surely his mind was consumed all day with such thoughts.  Of course he has a question for me, he's finally thinking about math independently and loving every minute of it. I silently celebrated this small victory, making a mental note to do my Happy Dance when no one was looking, and prepared to answer the math question that had been plaguing his thoughts all day. "Yes, of course! What can I help you with?"

He gave me the biggest smile he could possible fit across his little face and pointed to his cheeks. "Miss B, do I have nipples on my face?"

Yup. I love my job.

My Persian Palace

Student (and one teacher) quotes of the week thus far:

“Miss B, just so we’re on the same page… I AM your favorite, right?”

“Ahh man, it feels like Africa in here!” (apparently the room was hot)

“Of course I drink coffee, Miss B! I’m country!!!” –Diva #2 (Of Divas 1,2, and 3… who all sit together)

And lastly, from  7^th grade math teacher Mrs. C: “I tried to draw a thermometer to illustrate a real-life number line, but all the kids started laughing. I took a step back and looked at what I had drawn to see what the issue was, and that’s when I saw it: Wiener. I had drawn a giant wiener. Lesson of the day: don’t draw thermometers.”

This is my life.  And thank goodness for these moments that make me cry because I’m laughing so hard, because there are certainly other moments that just make me want to cry.  I discovered today that I can teach my heart out and explain a concept a hundred different ways, but if my students are already convinced they’re going to fail then I might as well be speaking Latin to them.  I love my students.  Yes, I adore my kids.  But today when that last bell rang I felt defeated.  I was struck by the realization that it doesn’t matter how great of a math teacher I become, some of these kids just refuse to try.  Why? Because their whole life they’ve heard nothing but the message that they’re a failure, they will always be a failure, and they will never be anything greater than what they are right now.  I found myself trying to figure out how on earth I could get these kids to understand how to simplify fractions when they gave up trying to understand fractions three years ago, and I couldn’t find an answer.  I had lost.  I had no way of making them understand.  You can’t build a house on a crumbling foundation, and some of my students didn’t have a foundation to begin with.  What am I supposed to do with that?

That was my mindset when I left school…. but then I went to Bible study.  It was on a whim, really.  I hadn’t planned on joining a women’s study because I’m leading a college girls’ study this semester, but I just kept feeling the whispers of the Spirit sending me in that direction. Turns out we’ll be studying Nehemiah. Cool. Who is that again? Well, let me tell ya: Nehemiah was the cupbearer of the King of Persia.  He was living a pretty swanky life, kicking it in the palace.  He was literally living in a Persian resort.  Now I’ve never been to a Persian resort, but it sounds rather enticing, doesn’t it? At this time Jerusalem was in a state of disrepair, to say the least.  It had been passed from one ruler to the next, and the city was almost completely destroyed.  The Jewish people who survived were suffering unimaginable loss and pain.  Nehemiah heard of this and was overwhelmed with emotions:

“When I heard these things, I sat down and wept. For some days I mourned and fasted and prayed before the God of heaven.” Nehemiah 1:4

He wept. I don’t think I’ve ever wept and mourned because someone else was suffering.  Sure, I’ll weep when two lovebirds profess their feelings for one another in a romantic comedy (thanks a lot, estrogen), but I’ve never been moved to such emotions because I’ve heard of someone’s unfortunate reality.  What strikes me as most unbelievable is that Nehemiah had everything he could ever ask for.  He had never experienced that kind of loss, yet he was still heartbroken for those people… and chose to do something about it.

This struck me to the core.  What I thought was frustration that my students couldn’t grasp math concepts was actually unwarranted arrogance on my part.  Here I am, living comfortable in my Persian palace, and before me in those desks sit people who are broken victims of their circumstances.  If my next meal wasn’t guaranteed I probably wouldn’t be too concerned about writing decimals properly either.  I have no way of knowing if my kids are receiving love outside of those school walls, and every day for the past 2 weeks I’ve trampled over countless opportunities to address the misguided truths that have taken root in their hearts.  I have done nothing to address the lies they believe.  Some world changer I’ve been.  It’s time for new perspective.

Tomorrow I enter the classroom with a new goal.  I know my students are hurting and it breaks my heart.  But that pain they feel just points to the fact that their hearts are longing for the paradise they were created for by a God who desperately wants to fill their empty souls with a love that never fails.  The world tells me it'll be too hard to make them understand that.  The Spirit tells me they're worth it...

Challenge accepted.

Love the Process

Extra Nugget #3

It takes time.

I completed my first week of student teaching and still seem to be functional. I’ll take that as a small victory. I’ve been trying to come up with an eloquent and emotionally charged statement that could somehow sum up what my first week in a classroom full-time has taught me, but I keep coming back to the same thing: It takes time.

It takes time for those nervous/anxious butterflies in my stomach to settle into nothing but steady excitement.

It takes time to get ready in the morning due to actually having to put a decent effort forward in order to look professional.

It takes time to get used to waking up early enough to see the sunrise on my drive to work.

It takes time for 11-year-olds to set up a Math Journal. Probably too much time.

It takes time to truly see every child, even the difficult ones, as a gift.

It takes time for some kids to realize that it’s okay to speak in an audible voice around adults.

It takes time for others to understand that disrespect is never acceptable… be it toward their teachers, their peers, or themselves. Oh goodness, especially themselves.

It takes time for some students to grasp that the reason we push their limits is so they can discover that they have none.

It just takes time.

And you know what? It honestly excites me.  One of my favorite quotes (from a trainer on The Biggest Loser, of course) is, “Don’t fall in love with the result. Fall in love with the process.”  Yes. The process. Of course I haven’t been in the classroom long enough for many of the above listed items to come to fruition… but I’m confident they will.  It’s certainly going to be a process on all accounts.  I don’t expect to show up to school Monday morning and find that all my students have unearthed their intrinsic motivation to reach their highest potential. Shoot, I don’t even expect half of my kids to call me by the right name. But I do anticipate that I will see one of my shy kiddos smile.  I expect to witness an “Aha!” moment.  And I pray that I will take another step toward seeing every single child the same way my Jesus sees them: as helpless captives in need of His love.

It all takes time, but the process will be magnificent.  Just as every sunrise is a masterpiece of new beginnings, the moment a child grasps that they were created with purpose is truly something to behold.  I can’t begin to comprehend why, but this is what I’ve been called to.  As the Lord was shaping my heart, he crafted it to be burdened for His kids. And I cannot believe that I actually have the opportunity to spend 7 hours a day shining His love into the darkness of their realities.  That very idea overwhelms me, but my prayer is that I would be able to lay aside every ounce of myself and give everything I am to that purpose. I’m not there yet. No, not even close.  But one day I will be.

It just takes time.

Destination: Somewhere?

I hate packing. All of my possessions are currently scattered between three different houses: my parents' house in Southeast Texas (home base, if you will), the house I've been living in for the past two years with my college roommates, and the house I'm in the process of moving into just down the street with a new set of girls. I reached a point earlier today where I considered just throwing everything out and starting completely over. That way I could avoid packing things. I pondered this thought and a wave of relief gently rolled over me... and then I was struck by the hurricane of reality. Stop being ridiculous, Lyns. Pull yourself together.

I promise I'm not being a  prissy-faced packing diva who hates doing any sort of work for fear of ruining a manicure. The issue is not only that all of my clothes seemed to have taken fertility drugs and sprouted offspring, but this move symbolizes quite a significant shift in my life. I've spent two years with the ladies of the Janky House (as we so fondly call our humble abode... and it is, indeed, janky) and that's a lot of time to invest in a roommateship to just pack up and leave. Literally. That's roughly 9% of my life I've spent with these ladies.  And don't get it twisted, I'm not moving out because we don't get along or I'm just fed up with their quirks. I love Fay's corduroys and trendy music and have come to anticipate Kristen's hysterical nursing stories and spontaneous choreographing. Molly, our old roommate who left in December, was an integral part in the founding of Boots & Skirts (the Janky House a cappella band) and our newest roomie, Brie, can actually sing in real life and is the only person whose love language is abbreviations.  No, we aren't leaving on bad terms at all. 

In reality it seems that we have come to the point in our lives where we are all being cast into open waters aboard vessels with varying destinations. Fay is off to love inner-city students in Tennessee that the rest of the world has deemed unlovable. Kristen will soon be saving lives in Haiti and bringing hope to people who are all too familiar with hurt. Molly is well on her way to making her first million in Austin and building relationships with people who are enslaved by their pursuit of corporate success. Brie will be fighting for social justice through providing an education to students in Houston. And I... well, I'm moving down the street.

Ok, so I'm feeling a little stuck. It overjoys me to see my dear sister-friends following the calling of the Lord all over the world. I cannot wait to hear of His faithfulness in their lives, truly. But in the back of my head, as much as I hate to admit it, there's a small voice whispering, "But what about me?" I know my God has not forgotten me. He promises he won't in Isaiah 49:15. I also know that He knew all my days before I was even born (Psalm 139:16). So if these things are true (and I believe that they are... you know, that whole inerrant thing the Bible has going on), then I know that the place I find myself in tonight is by design. I know I have purpose in being here.  

One night after we had just started living together I was dealing with something that I was distraught over. Honestly, I can't even remember what the issue was any more. What I do remember, however, is sitting in our living room seeking wisdom from Kristen with tears running down my face. Her advice was simple, yet remarkably profound: "Pray. Seek His face." Now, two years later, I find myself still living by those four words. I have prayed. I have sought Him. And this is where He has brought me. The same hands that shaped galaxies took hold of mine and gently guided me to this place. Because, honestly, here's the truth: the Gospel brings life to anyone who is shackled by death, and regardless of where we go we will find ourselves walking amongst corpses. I pray that He uses each of us to spread everywhere the knowledge of Him, bringing with it the sweet fragrance of life. He is still leading, and I will still follow.

So here I sit, neglecting the much needed packing in order to reflect on what exactly is going on in my life, and I do believe I will leave this couch with more confidence than when I plopped down here 45 minutes ago. Perhaps this new nugget of knowledge will be the motivation I need to finish:

Extra Nugget #2

Even if you aren't going anywhere, it doesn't mean God isn't leading you somewhere.

Extra Nuggets

"Why does God send people to Hell?"

My jaw dropped open. "Umm... excuse me?"

"Why does God send people to Hell? I mean, people always say He loves everybody and stuff, so why does He send people to Hell?"

I stared back at the wide-eyed look of innocent confusion on her face. It struck me that this was not some ploy to get out of doing her math homework--this child truly wanted me to address the conflicting notions of a God of endless love who would also supposedly cast anyone of his choosing into the pit of eternal darkness.

No wonder she was struggling to focus on finding the perimeter of Farmer John's carrot patch.

These are the moments that no amount of formal training can prepare you for.  I have yet to see "Sharing the Gospel with 10-year-olds" on a single syllabus as a discussion topic in any of my numerous education courses.  And seeing that I'm in my last semester of such classes, it isn't looking too hopeful. Well, I suppose the best lessons are seldom anticipated (at least, that's what a fortune cookie told me once) so I plopped down on the floor next to her and attempted to explain that God doesn't "send people to Hell," but rather he sent Jesus so we don't ever have to be away from him.  She proceeded to shower me with a slew of surprisingly thought-provoking questions:

"Who made God?"
"If he loves us so much, why doesn't he ever come visit us?"
"Why do you talk to God but I don't?"
"When you go home and I go home, how does God choose who he listens to?"
"If Jesus is God's son, is Mother Nature God's daughter?"

And all this from a child who struggles on a daily basis to figure out where to write her name on her paper.

We all have deficits. But one thing I know is true: none of us are lacking in a desire for the Gospel. This sweet girl struggles through five math problems probably as much as I would struggle through running a marathon, but she still craves to know a Truth that none of our minds can fully comprehend. Job seemed to be on the same page:

"Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know." (Job 42:3)

I'm a senior education student and am currently interning in a fourth grade classroom before student teaching in the fall. My teaching career hasn't even started yet, but I can already tell that I will never stop being a student. There is SO MUCH to learn.  You know when you go to Chick-Fil-A and order an 8 piece nugget meal, but then you open the box and you discover they actually gave you 9 nuggets? Best day ever, right?!? Those extra nuggets are unexpected, but such a wonderful blessing! I'm slowly discovering that teaching is pretty similar to eating at Chick-Fil-A (I could get creative with this comparison, but this post is already long so I'll just get to the point and let your imagination run wild on its own). Each day my students open my eyes to something totally unanticipated that immensely blesses my heart. And today was no different.

Extra Nugget #1

We are never too young for the Gospel.