Today is my last full day here in NC.
Although I know i am leaving a place that has blessed me in ways I never suspected, I also feel much peace about going home.
I know I go back a different person. This does not scare me. It makes me proud. I feel a little bit more grown-up and ready to tackle a bigger piece of life. I want to go back to the church where I came from and see if I still fit there.
It's funny how many things can change in four years. I was reminiscing with a friend I met in college about how we've known each other through some tough times. I am glad I have someone like that in my life because when we talk about different topics there is a mutual understanding of where that other person has been. They will always be there for me. In the same way, I know I will always be there for them. Our kids will probably be friends! (ha. well, once can always hope).
Four years ago I was a scared college freshmen who didn't talk to anyone. I always ate alone in the dining center because I wasn't all that outgoing. I had a really fun neighbor who came into my room and asked me for homework advice. We still remain good friends. I also played and marched in the marching band.
The beginning of my sophomore year began in turmoil and tragedy with my mom's death. I lost myself to a world of grief and tried very hard to keep busy with all my classes. I didn't want to think about anything. I also began learning guitar that year and had the very painful experience of learning guitar right-handed only to have to switch to playing left-handed. Sigh. I think I cried the night my guitar teacher told me I would have to start over.
My junior year started out OK but got really emotional as I moved into my own apartment quite against my own wishes or desires. It was a very lonely yet beautiful semester. I wrestled with feeling unloved, unwanted, and unbeautiful. In this darkness I also found rescue. I learned to deal with some of the grief that had built up since my mom's death. I couldn't run from it anymore.
My senior year I was very happy. I came back to school after experiencing a truly amazing summer. I was feeling confident and ready for the world. Then that fall Paul came into my life. A blessing that I did not ask for, did not expect, and in some ways was overwhelmed by. It was a sweet beautiful time of learning what it was like to love and be loved in a more intimate way.
Now here I sit. Technically graduated I suppose. I feel just in the last four years I have lived a lifetime.
This semester has only added to the beauty and fullness of my life.
I find my life stream a river mixed with joy and sorrow, with pain and temptation, with love, and with life. I am all these things at once. As I continue to live, I can only hope that life has more in store for me. I look forward to this next stage even as I fear it.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
It was Worth It
I know sometimes I feel like ranting and raving about the church. About how sometimes they get things so wrong.
But in truth, I was reminded today of how much of a blessing it is to have a community of people with which to wrestle through life. As I attended my last church here, I felt so very blessed. These people have made a huge impact on me and I am so grateful for their acceptance of me.
I came here with a lot of questions and a lot of frustrations about the church in general. Here, I found a community focused on reaching out instead of judging. It was and is about love.
I know I have a family here.
Today I realized that these people. The people in my lifegroup, the coffee shop, the Friday night music....they made it all worth it. This semester was hard, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I met and got to know some beautiful souls. They made me laugh, they sometimes came so weary about life, but we were there together. It was beautiful.
Thank you Confluence and the River Church.
You will always be part of who I am and have written unforgettable lessons on my heart.
The church can be an easy thing to run from. This place made it hard to be determined to walk away.
But in truth, I was reminded today of how much of a blessing it is to have a community of people with which to wrestle through life. As I attended my last church here, I felt so very blessed. These people have made a huge impact on me and I am so grateful for their acceptance of me.
I came here with a lot of questions and a lot of frustrations about the church in general. Here, I found a community focused on reaching out instead of judging. It was and is about love.
I know I have a family here.
Today I realized that these people. The people in my lifegroup, the coffee shop, the Friday night music....they made it all worth it. This semester was hard, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I met and got to know some beautiful souls. They made me laugh, they sometimes came so weary about life, but we were there together. It was beautiful.
Thank you Confluence and the River Church.
You will always be part of who I am and have written unforgettable lessons on my heart.
The church can be an easy thing to run from. This place made it hard to be determined to walk away.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Beginnings
I was reading through my old text messages today (mostly because my inbox was 80% full) and the ones I found most interesting were the ones between Paul and I when we first started dating.
Ha. I mean, there are ALL levels of cheesiness in those first texts. We didn't have a care in the world. We just thought each other was the best thing ever since sliced bread!
Even since August when I came out here, our relationship has changed. It's not all fluff. It's hard to have fluff and sweetness when you don't see each other very often. I mean, you can't really be cute together when you aren't together.
Yet we have deepened and grown together, BECAUSE it's not all fluff. Paul and I have many many deep conversations on the phone that we would never have had six months ago. With the time that has passed, we have grown. I always tell paul different situations, like, what would you do if I did this or that, how would you react? And he does the same.
I can't really say if I yearn for those times when we just loved each other and didn't have any serious things between us. There are benefits to both.
However, I like that he knows me deeper and that he can see what's all behind the fluff and still love me. And I like that I can do the same for him.
In other news: I am done with my student teaching. Perhaps I will write more about this later but for now that's all I have to say about that.
Ha. I mean, there are ALL levels of cheesiness in those first texts. We didn't have a care in the world. We just thought each other was the best thing ever since sliced bread!
Even since August when I came out here, our relationship has changed. It's not all fluff. It's hard to have fluff and sweetness when you don't see each other very often. I mean, you can't really be cute together when you aren't together.
Yet we have deepened and grown together, BECAUSE it's not all fluff. Paul and I have many many deep conversations on the phone that we would never have had six months ago. With the time that has passed, we have grown. I always tell paul different situations, like, what would you do if I did this or that, how would you react? And he does the same.
I can't really say if I yearn for those times when we just loved each other and didn't have any serious things between us. There are benefits to both.
However, I like that he knows me deeper and that he can see what's all behind the fluff and still love me. And I like that I can do the same for him.
In other news: I am done with my student teaching. Perhaps I will write more about this later but for now that's all I have to say about that.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Pieces
We are all over the place
Our blood is spilling out
We see who we are
And we want to only walk away.
I've cried a thousand tears
And am destined to cry a thousand more
My heart is cut in two
As you are cut in two.
O God
Must you leave us like this?
In this empty painful place?
I am weary.
My heart grows heavier
With the pain of others.
I weep with the tears of the prophets
Who looked upon their people.
And experienced the sorrow of a thousand hearts.
Who am I that you have even looked my way?
Broken.
It's all broken.
Wholeness is a tale of heaven.
I am
Broken.
Who am I that you have even looked my way?
Our lives are just broken pieces.
And so we take the broom
As our tears wet the floor
We sweep up the pieces
And we stare at our lives in our hands.
The pieces slip through our fingers and into the past.
The cracks in the glass
Cause it to shatter
We are in the corner,
Cut and bleeding.
These are Your children.
Maybe we just weren't meant to be
This way
Broken.
Bleeding.
I cry out with the shouts of a thousand broken hearts.
Our tears run over as the pieces float away.
And again wholeness seems to be a tale of heaven.
Our blood is spilling out
We see who we are
And we want to only walk away.
I've cried a thousand tears
And am destined to cry a thousand more
My heart is cut in two
As you are cut in two.
O God
Must you leave us like this?
In this empty painful place?
I am weary.
My heart grows heavier
With the pain of others.
I weep with the tears of the prophets
Who looked upon their people.
And experienced the sorrow of a thousand hearts.
Who am I that you have even looked my way?
Broken.
It's all broken.
Wholeness is a tale of heaven.
I am
Broken.
Who am I that you have even looked my way?
Our lives are just broken pieces.
And so we take the broom
As our tears wet the floor
We sweep up the pieces
And we stare at our lives in our hands.
The pieces slip through our fingers and into the past.
The cracks in the glass
Cause it to shatter
We are in the corner,
Cut and bleeding.
These are Your children.
Maybe we just weren't meant to be
This way
Broken.
Bleeding.
I cry out with the shouts of a thousand broken hearts.
Our tears run over as the pieces float away.
And again wholeness seems to be a tale of heaven.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Seeker
She wonders down the road
Knocking on the doors she comes to
She is an endless seeker
Never content with what she finds
Each door brings more
Pain and wrinkles to her eyes
Who will take her in?
The doors she tries
Are either locked,
Or condemned.
She remembers
Once she went down a path
And she was loved.
Yet now she feels there is nowhere to call home
Nowhere safe.
If only she could find that path again.
Maybe she could find her way back
To those who love her.
Instead of seeing criticism and disregard,
She would see love.
She has been called beloved
But that voice gets harder and harder to hear
Those other things she hears about herself,
She may soon begin to believe.
And maybe the voice will be silenced.
Love will be behind one of the many locked doors
She can't get into.
She is running now.
Running past the houses and the doors
The rain begins and her own tears fall.
Soon she is out of breath
She sinks into a heap of sobs.
Love whispers.
It does not pick her up but sinks down with her.
Arms are wrapped around.
She isn't alone.
Love reminds her that though flawed
She is beautiful.
She may be stubborn, hard to live with sometimes,
And messy,
But Love says,
You are beautiful.
Let no one tell you no less. May lovers of all kinds remember to remind each other of their beauty. Despite differences and frustrations.
Knocking on the doors she comes to
She is an endless seeker
Never content with what she finds
Each door brings more
Pain and wrinkles to her eyes
Who will take her in?
The doors she tries
Are either locked,
Or condemned.
She remembers
Once she went down a path
And she was loved.
Yet now she feels there is nowhere to call home
Nowhere safe.
If only she could find that path again.
Maybe she could find her way back
To those who love her.
Instead of seeing criticism and disregard,
She would see love.
She has been called beloved
But that voice gets harder and harder to hear
Those other things she hears about herself,
She may soon begin to believe.
And maybe the voice will be silenced.
Love will be behind one of the many locked doors
She can't get into.
She is running now.
Running past the houses and the doors
The rain begins and her own tears fall.
Soon she is out of breath
She sinks into a heap of sobs.
Love whispers.
It does not pick her up but sinks down with her.
Arms are wrapped around.
She isn't alone.
Love reminds her that though flawed
She is beautiful.
She may be stubborn, hard to live with sometimes,
And messy,
But Love says,
You are beautiful.
Let no one tell you no less. May lovers of all kinds remember to remind each other of their beauty. Despite differences and frustrations.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Thoughts on Professionalism.
Why is it that when a teen wears all black clothes, black lipstick, mascara, or has many piercings it is sometimes called self-expression and when an adult does the same it might be called "unprofessional"?
Perhaps growing up is so hard because we let our young people slide by with "self-expression". How does this prepare them for a world in which conformity seems to be necessary, especially in the working world?
Of course, there are jobs where you can wear all-black and have a lot of piercings.
I suppose sometimes it seems we have certain expectations of different age-groups. This is acceptable and developmentally we need those expectations, but shouldn't our expectations of teenagers be more closely aligned with those of adults?
I can't wear whatever I want to my job, but I could wear whatever I wanted to my college classes. I could wear almost anything I wanted to wear in high school. Shouldn't we have higher expectations of our young people and people in general? Perhaps if we treated them like the young adults they are, they would act like young adults. They wouldn't feel the need to get everyone's attention by wearing "different clothes" or by being "goth" or anything. Maybe.
I guess sometimes I get frustrated by the gap between young adulthood and adulthood. People have all sorts of expectations for you once you are an "adult" and suddenly how you were or who you were is no longer good enough. Your jeans and t-shirts must be put away and only worn on Saturdays. (PS I'm mostly talking about the professional world). Suddenly I "should" (though I don't) blow-dry my hair every morning to look professional. Sometimes it irks me because no one told me these things in high school. We could be whoever we wanted to be and mostly everyone just called it "self-expression" or "identity". I don't mind looking professional, I just wish sometimes that I didn't feel like I was playing someone else's role in these clothes. I'm just not that kinda girly girl.
Sigh. Just my soapbox for the day.
Perhaps growing up is so hard because we let our young people slide by with "self-expression". How does this prepare them for a world in which conformity seems to be necessary, especially in the working world?
Of course, there are jobs where you can wear all-black and have a lot of piercings.
I suppose sometimes it seems we have certain expectations of different age-groups. This is acceptable and developmentally we need those expectations, but shouldn't our expectations of teenagers be more closely aligned with those of adults?
I can't wear whatever I want to my job, but I could wear whatever I wanted to my college classes. I could wear almost anything I wanted to wear in high school. Shouldn't we have higher expectations of our young people and people in general? Perhaps if we treated them like the young adults they are, they would act like young adults. They wouldn't feel the need to get everyone's attention by wearing "different clothes" or by being "goth" or anything. Maybe.
I guess sometimes I get frustrated by the gap between young adulthood and adulthood. People have all sorts of expectations for you once you are an "adult" and suddenly how you were or who you were is no longer good enough. Your jeans and t-shirts must be put away and only worn on Saturdays. (PS I'm mostly talking about the professional world). Suddenly I "should" (though I don't) blow-dry my hair every morning to look professional. Sometimes it irks me because no one told me these things in high school. We could be whoever we wanted to be and mostly everyone just called it "self-expression" or "identity". I don't mind looking professional, I just wish sometimes that I didn't feel like I was playing someone else's role in these clothes. I'm just not that kinda girly girl.
Sigh. Just my soapbox for the day.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Love
I was watching the show called the "Secret Lives of Women" last night. It was very interesting.
It was about a man who was like 40 and was undergoing hormone shots and some major surgeries to change his sex to female. He said that he wanted his outside to match what he felt inside.
Paul and I sometimes joke around about gender and sexuality. I always find it interesting to think about gender, sexuality, and our society.
As I watched, I tried to understand where he soon to be she was coming from and I tried to think about what it would be like to feel like a man on the inside but be a woman on the inside. Would I also feel the need to undergo operations and shots? I don't know. The show was kind of like a mini-documentary about this man's journey. The most engaging parts to me were the reactions of his friends and family as he began the process. Some of them said, "I don't have to understand, but I love Chris and I'm here to support him."
In the final moments of the show, Chris now Christine was returning from overseas and his operations to introduce herself to family and friends as the woman he had become.
I have to admit, I cried. Because as soon as she walked in her mom hugged her and told her how precious she was. And this mom looked like the traditional no funny business type. But when I saw her mother's love overwhelm all other things, I couldn't help but be reminded of the power of love. Here her son had undergone all of these things and changed himself completely, and she welcomed him now her into her arms. I couldn't help but think. See. Love. It's about love. Not about gender or sexuality or who loves who.
Love.
The greatest of these is love.
Will you choose love?
It was about a man who was like 40 and was undergoing hormone shots and some major surgeries to change his sex to female. He said that he wanted his outside to match what he felt inside.
Paul and I sometimes joke around about gender and sexuality. I always find it interesting to think about gender, sexuality, and our society.
As I watched, I tried to understand where he soon to be she was coming from and I tried to think about what it would be like to feel like a man on the inside but be a woman on the inside. Would I also feel the need to undergo operations and shots? I don't know. The show was kind of like a mini-documentary about this man's journey. The most engaging parts to me were the reactions of his friends and family as he began the process. Some of them said, "I don't have to understand, but I love Chris and I'm here to support him."
In the final moments of the show, Chris now Christine was returning from overseas and his operations to introduce herself to family and friends as the woman he had become.
I have to admit, I cried. Because as soon as she walked in her mom hugged her and told her how precious she was. And this mom looked like the traditional no funny business type. But when I saw her mother's love overwhelm all other things, I couldn't help but be reminded of the power of love. Here her son had undergone all of these things and changed himself completely, and she welcomed him now her into her arms. I couldn't help but think. See. Love. It's about love. Not about gender or sexuality or who loves who.
Love.
The greatest of these is love.
Will you choose love?
Sunday, November 30, 2008
questions
It's funny how something you look forward to for so long comes and goes before you even remembered to pause and breath.
The longings in my heart speak against what I feel others would want for me and I' m caught in a battle between making sure others are satisfied and making sure I am following my own heart.
I know what I feel. I know what I want.
I have been duly warned.
I suppose there are many questions that come along with commitment. Lately I have been questioning everything but my relationship. This seems backwards or different than what I "should" be doing. By the way - I did see a counselor once and we talked a lot about the words "should" and "want". So often we feel we "should" do certain things, but those things aren't what we "want" to do. Perhaps it is wise to find a balance between the two. The shoulds and the wants.
Most of all, I have spent the last months questioning the church and at the base of that my faith. I questioned God a lot when my mom died. It was very frustrating sometimes. Lung cancer doesn't tend to have an explanation when someone has never smoked or anything.
My mom took the religious route in her life. She was a youth director for a while and had always been active with the church and her faith. I wonder what would have happened if one of her good friends had come out to her. I wonder if she wouldn't have questioned her faith or religion. I wish I could ask her about that. I sat in church today and listened to a sermon about the "word becoming flesh" similar to one of the Bible studies I taught each week at camp. Who is right?
I feel often a God-given peace. I feel a yearning to be "home" and away from the mess of this world. I feel a Presence. Spirit. Yet I haven't journaled or anything. I still pray sometimes. I am not keeping this God updated on my life or constantly interacting with him. I feel this is a wandering time. I think He understands.
In the meantime. I find myself questioning my faith but not my relationship. It's easy to trust someone who is there. Someone who will deal with your shortcomings by looking you in the eye and telling you how it is. Someone who loves you even as they see a full picture of your shortcomings. I don't question that love. Because it speaks to me. I feel it and it surrounds me. This love doesn't fix everything, it doesn't lessen our sinfulness, but it is there. God is supposed to love us with a perfect love. Unmatched by anything. I don't exactly doubt God's love. I doubt the Church's interpretation of this love. I think the church and God get all mixed up. I have interacted with God. I don't believe that it was just my imagination or something I ate. His peace and presence have spoken into my life to help me deal with my mom's death. Yet. He has to be so much more than all those words on the pages of that book. It's like if I tried to write a book about Paul. I could perhaps tell you how he is or what he is like. I can tell you how he makes me feel. Yet you could not "know" Paul until you interacted with him. With his spirit. God is the same.
If you ONLY read all those words but never ask God to BE there, you will only know words and never spirit. If you only go to church and hear what people say about God, and never seek out His spirit outside of that, you only know what they say. (Like you would only know what I said about Paul if you never bothered to meet him.)
I have so many questions.
The longings in my heart speak against what I feel others would want for me and I' m caught in a battle between making sure others are satisfied and making sure I am following my own heart.
I know what I feel. I know what I want.
I have been duly warned.
I suppose there are many questions that come along with commitment. Lately I have been questioning everything but my relationship. This seems backwards or different than what I "should" be doing. By the way - I did see a counselor once and we talked a lot about the words "should" and "want". So often we feel we "should" do certain things, but those things aren't what we "want" to do. Perhaps it is wise to find a balance between the two. The shoulds and the wants.
Most of all, I have spent the last months questioning the church and at the base of that my faith. I questioned God a lot when my mom died. It was very frustrating sometimes. Lung cancer doesn't tend to have an explanation when someone has never smoked or anything.
My mom took the religious route in her life. She was a youth director for a while and had always been active with the church and her faith. I wonder what would have happened if one of her good friends had come out to her. I wonder if she wouldn't have questioned her faith or religion. I wish I could ask her about that. I sat in church today and listened to a sermon about the "word becoming flesh" similar to one of the Bible studies I taught each week at camp. Who is right?
I feel often a God-given peace. I feel a yearning to be "home" and away from the mess of this world. I feel a Presence. Spirit. Yet I haven't journaled or anything. I still pray sometimes. I am not keeping this God updated on my life or constantly interacting with him. I feel this is a wandering time. I think He understands.
In the meantime. I find myself questioning my faith but not my relationship. It's easy to trust someone who is there. Someone who will deal with your shortcomings by looking you in the eye and telling you how it is. Someone who loves you even as they see a full picture of your shortcomings. I don't question that love. Because it speaks to me. I feel it and it surrounds me. This love doesn't fix everything, it doesn't lessen our sinfulness, but it is there. God is supposed to love us with a perfect love. Unmatched by anything. I don't exactly doubt God's love. I doubt the Church's interpretation of this love. I think the church and God get all mixed up. I have interacted with God. I don't believe that it was just my imagination or something I ate. His peace and presence have spoken into my life to help me deal with my mom's death. Yet. He has to be so much more than all those words on the pages of that book. It's like if I tried to write a book about Paul. I could perhaps tell you how he is or what he is like. I can tell you how he makes me feel. Yet you could not "know" Paul until you interacted with him. With his spirit. God is the same.
If you ONLY read all those words but never ask God to BE there, you will only know words and never spirit. If you only go to church and hear what people say about God, and never seek out His spirit outside of that, you only know what they say. (Like you would only know what I said about Paul if you never bothered to meet him.)
I have so many questions.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Inside
Paul is coming! Paul is coming!
I am really excited to see him.
It is a really great blessing to be able to see him. Being able to go home and see him was a really great blessing, but it made talking on the phone all that much harder. Instead of just hearing him laugh, I got to see him laugh. And I was reminded of all the reasons why I love him.
Paul was telling me about this documentary he watched during a film discussion (I LOVE watching strange movies and talking about them! I like thinking about things I normally wouldn't come into contact with). Anyways, in this documentary there was a couple who had been married a really long time when the woman up and died.
Her family went through all the journals she had kept during her married life only to discover she had had an affair! Bad news for all journalers! One downfall of being introverted and containing thoughts and feelings to paper is that sometimes things between two people aren't always expressed and dealt with. It's good for us introverts to have extroverts around us. AKA people who won't let those thoughts and feelings stay on the paper but who will ask and prod us about them. Don't worry extroverted people, we like when others press into our souls hard enough to care about our inner thoughts. Yet, if we retreat, don't feel you are entitled to our souls. Let us show you who we are. And never assume.
Because some of us are rockstar rollerbladers and have hidden talents that may quite surprise you. We show only as much of us as we feel comfortable with. And sometimes we only show as much of ourselves as we think you can handle.
I am glad that I feel Paul can handle seeing a lot of who I am. I often remain unhidden with him.
Anyways, case in point, I don't want to be the person who journals her life away only to have her family and closest friends discover she was living a life they knew nothing about. I am glad for those who also press in to be sure I remain unhidden. (AKA Paul and a few other close friends).
I am really excited to see him.
It is a really great blessing to be able to see him. Being able to go home and see him was a really great blessing, but it made talking on the phone all that much harder. Instead of just hearing him laugh, I got to see him laugh. And I was reminded of all the reasons why I love him.
Paul was telling me about this documentary he watched during a film discussion (I LOVE watching strange movies and talking about them! I like thinking about things I normally wouldn't come into contact with). Anyways, in this documentary there was a couple who had been married a really long time when the woman up and died.
Her family went through all the journals she had kept during her married life only to discover she had had an affair! Bad news for all journalers! One downfall of being introverted and containing thoughts and feelings to paper is that sometimes things between two people aren't always expressed and dealt with. It's good for us introverts to have extroverts around us. AKA people who won't let those thoughts and feelings stay on the paper but who will ask and prod us about them. Don't worry extroverted people, we like when others press into our souls hard enough to care about our inner thoughts. Yet, if we retreat, don't feel you are entitled to our souls. Let us show you who we are. And never assume.
Because some of us are rockstar rollerbladers and have hidden talents that may quite surprise you. We show only as much of us as we feel comfortable with. And sometimes we only show as much of ourselves as we think you can handle.
I am glad that I feel Paul can handle seeing a lot of who I am. I often remain unhidden with him.
Anyways, case in point, I don't want to be the person who journals her life away only to have her family and closest friends discover she was living a life they knew nothing about. I am glad for those who also press in to be sure I remain unhidden. (AKA Paul and a few other close friends).
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Sorrow
The puddles of rainwater
Flow into the river
The water is made up of salt and sorrow
The river is a steady current.
Our tears fill it up.
Our broken hearts leaking
Out piece by piece.
Slowly we are left to stand
By the side of the river
And beg.
Beg for comfort.
The grief we carry leaks out.
I grieve with you.
Your pain reaches into mine and I am left to again
Add my tears to the never ceasing river.
My pain touches those I know.
And its ripples leave
Frustrated and sometimes angry hearts behind.
Sometimes it still hurts.
And I forget how to deal.
O brothers.
Be patient with us.
O sisters
Be patient with us.
Our pain still echoes in our souls.
We cry it out.
But the wound is never healed.
We are never healed.
Only comforted.
Only surrounded.
Some days the wound is leaking.
Some days it is salved.
We are sometimes not ourselves.
Don't leave us by the side of the river to simply leak out our tears.
Invite us into your arms.
Invite us into your homes.
If we refuse to come in
Stand beside us and cry with us.
Add your sorrow to the river.
We will feel comforted.
To know we are not the only ones to let our
Sorrow drip down one tear after the other.
We won't have to say,
If only you knew.
Our tears fill the river named
Sorrow.
Its flow is never stopped
Our tears will always flow.
We will always flow into the river of sorrow.
We are begging for comfort.
Invite.
Flow into the river
The water is made up of salt and sorrow
The river is a steady current.
Our tears fill it up.
Our broken hearts leaking
Out piece by piece.
Slowly we are left to stand
By the side of the river
And beg.
Beg for comfort.
The grief we carry leaks out.
I grieve with you.
Your pain reaches into mine and I am left to again
Add my tears to the never ceasing river.
My pain touches those I know.
And its ripples leave
Frustrated and sometimes angry hearts behind.
Sometimes it still hurts.
And I forget how to deal.
O brothers.
Be patient with us.
O sisters
Be patient with us.
Our pain still echoes in our souls.
We cry it out.
But the wound is never healed.
We are never healed.
Only comforted.
Only surrounded.
Some days the wound is leaking.
Some days it is salved.
We are sometimes not ourselves.
Don't leave us by the side of the river to simply leak out our tears.
Invite us into your arms.
Invite us into your homes.
If we refuse to come in
Stand beside us and cry with us.
Add your sorrow to the river.
We will feel comforted.
To know we are not the only ones to let our
Sorrow drip down one tear after the other.
We won't have to say,
If only you knew.
Our tears fill the river named
Sorrow.
Its flow is never stopped
Our tears will always flow.
We will always flow into the river of sorrow.
We are begging for comfort.
Invite.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Here and Now
It's funny how easily you get used to something.
I remember how hard it was. For me to be here.
Now. It's where I am. NC is in my blood and will forever be a part of my life. It surprises me to think that I will be sad to leave this place.
It has been generous to me. I think of it as the growing up place. The fighting through the desert place. The streams of new life and new things place.
The questions have gone from "how long are you going to be here" to "when are you leaving?" as those who have come to know me a bit know that my time is running out in this place.
The questions bubble up in my own heart. What if I'm not done being in this place? What if I feel the need to come back? What if?
I think back and find myself startled at how I've actually made it. I came out here all on my own without knowing anyone too well and managed to find myself a place here. It took a long time, but I feel comfortable here now. I like that. And it makes me think that the hard stuff was def. worth it. It no longer feels strange and uncomfortable.
I will treasure this time and this place.
I remember how hard it was. For me to be here.
Now. It's where I am. NC is in my blood and will forever be a part of my life. It surprises me to think that I will be sad to leave this place.
It has been generous to me. I think of it as the growing up place. The fighting through the desert place. The streams of new life and new things place.
The questions have gone from "how long are you going to be here" to "when are you leaving?" as those who have come to know me a bit know that my time is running out in this place.
The questions bubble up in my own heart. What if I'm not done being in this place? What if I feel the need to come back? What if?
I think back and find myself startled at how I've actually made it. I came out here all on my own without knowing anyone too well and managed to find myself a place here. It took a long time, but I feel comfortable here now. I like that. And it makes me think that the hard stuff was def. worth it. It no longer feels strange and uncomfortable.
I will treasure this time and this place.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Lone
It's sometimes strange how being alone can feel so strange.
Normally I would be preparing for school. Yet we have it off tomorrow. This weird time alone has left me realizing how much purpose my future job will hold for me. I like making preparations. Feeling like there is purpose to my nights when my aunt is working.
I made brownies and relaxed. I think I will play some guitar.
I am reminded of why "it's not good for man to be alone."
The roads of loneliness can be many. Some of my most alone times were spent when living in my own apartment on campus my junior year. It was at that time that I felt unwanted and unacceptable. Certain things fell through because of circumstances and I was left alone with my grief and my thoughts. Sometimes it's a very scary place to be. Those things you were running from suddenly catch up to you. I couldn't run anymore. Those tears that year were many and I often asked the question, "where are You?" "Do You see me here?" Others tried to reach in and I tried very hard to make sure they stayed out. I suppose, sometimes, grief and loss is a very private thing. I wanted to handle it on my own, yet the pain and holes in my heart were so many that it was the best I could do to get through each day. Yet, how do you explain to your friends pain that has no words? And how can they even begin to speak to it? I am thankful that sometimes I was blessed to be able to briefly see through the darkness that hovered and hope. Hope that sometimes sprung from their encouragement as well as their rebuke. I wish I had been older. Wiser at that time. I wish I could have accepted the help they were trying to give. I only knew it hurt. I didn't know how to let anyone soothe it.
I have really come to appreciate the beauty of my aunt's heart. She is one of those people who is just....man....excited about life. She finds joy in things that are so ironic and funny. Even though I know she suffers at the same time. Her zest and passion to seek and embrace joy have come to inspire me. She also is a reacher-inner in my life. Her willingness to talk about my mom and to confront me about how I'm really doing have found me comforted in her tears for others and for me. She is a person who is rooting for me. A very unexpected blessing. I was telling Paul the other day, "sometimes I just think I have to do everything on my own and then I realize I can't and that I'm not supposed to and that that's OK."
I think that has been a really good lesson out here. I'm learning that it's OK to allow others in. It's alright to allow people who care about you to see who you really are, even if it's messy. Most especially, it's OK to ask for help and to say, "i'm just having a really hard time."
These are random thoughts.
Normally I would be preparing for school. Yet we have it off tomorrow. This weird time alone has left me realizing how much purpose my future job will hold for me. I like making preparations. Feeling like there is purpose to my nights when my aunt is working.
I made brownies and relaxed. I think I will play some guitar.
I am reminded of why "it's not good for man to be alone."
The roads of loneliness can be many. Some of my most alone times were spent when living in my own apartment on campus my junior year. It was at that time that I felt unwanted and unacceptable. Certain things fell through because of circumstances and I was left alone with my grief and my thoughts. Sometimes it's a very scary place to be. Those things you were running from suddenly catch up to you. I couldn't run anymore. Those tears that year were many and I often asked the question, "where are You?" "Do You see me here?" Others tried to reach in and I tried very hard to make sure they stayed out. I suppose, sometimes, grief and loss is a very private thing. I wanted to handle it on my own, yet the pain and holes in my heart were so many that it was the best I could do to get through each day. Yet, how do you explain to your friends pain that has no words? And how can they even begin to speak to it? I am thankful that sometimes I was blessed to be able to briefly see through the darkness that hovered and hope. Hope that sometimes sprung from their encouragement as well as their rebuke. I wish I had been older. Wiser at that time. I wish I could have accepted the help they were trying to give. I only knew it hurt. I didn't know how to let anyone soothe it.
I have really come to appreciate the beauty of my aunt's heart. She is one of those people who is just....man....excited about life. She finds joy in things that are so ironic and funny. Even though I know she suffers at the same time. Her zest and passion to seek and embrace joy have come to inspire me. She also is a reacher-inner in my life. Her willingness to talk about my mom and to confront me about how I'm really doing have found me comforted in her tears for others and for me. She is a person who is rooting for me. A very unexpected blessing. I was telling Paul the other day, "sometimes I just think I have to do everything on my own and then I realize I can't and that I'm not supposed to and that that's OK."
I think that has been a really good lesson out here. I'm learning that it's OK to allow others in. It's alright to allow people who care about you to see who you really are, even if it's messy. Most especially, it's OK to ask for help and to say, "i'm just having a really hard time."
These are random thoughts.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Weary + Candles
I am not ready for this weekend to be over. I feel like I could sleep for three more days!
After finally turning in my Teacher Work Sample, I felt a big load come off, but now I still have to push through about another six more weeks in this classroom. It's not that I can't do it, it's that today I feel like I can't do it.
I miss Paul already. The time we had together was like precious gold and each minute dripped away like sand through an hour-glass. We held hands. We went on a walk. We went to church together. We ate out together. We even got each other all grumpy and didn't talk for one meal! All in the brief weekend I was in Cedar Falls. It was like warm sunshine which broke through the mundane. I think that is how relationships are.
You both have mundane lives sometimes and it's hard to really connect with every conversation or even with every touch. Sometimes the conversations grow dull or similar and you find yourselves lost in the day to day stuff that happens. Then, maybe once or twice a month, you have this really great awesome conversation. Suddenly the warmth and the romance, the joy which brought you together is reflected like a million candles lighting up a dark room and that smile which you couldn't get off your face when you first fell in love comes back full-throttle. I think I would live a million mundane moments to have just a few of those flashes of warmth and pure joy.
It's tough now. We are both back to the mundaneness of day to day. We get annoyed at each other and trying to have conversations about planning and weddings becomes once again a hard thing to talk about as so much so far has fallen through. I also am wanting to finish strong out here, leaving little time to think or plan for anything.
It's not enough to say I miss him. Sure, not every moment is going to be amazing, but I think for me, it's more about learning to love and be loved. Letting him gently teach me as I humbly teach him. Letting him point out those things that I don't always like being pointed out and realizing he loves me anyways. And not being afraid to do the same for him.
I know a couple that is going through like a million different transitions right now and that's gotta be so tough. Yet I am pulling for them because sometime soon I might need someone to tell me, "we're pulling for you and Paul".
After finally turning in my Teacher Work Sample, I felt a big load come off, but now I still have to push through about another six more weeks in this classroom. It's not that I can't do it, it's that today I feel like I can't do it.
I miss Paul already. The time we had together was like precious gold and each minute dripped away like sand through an hour-glass. We held hands. We went on a walk. We went to church together. We ate out together. We even got each other all grumpy and didn't talk for one meal! All in the brief weekend I was in Cedar Falls. It was like warm sunshine which broke through the mundane. I think that is how relationships are.
You both have mundane lives sometimes and it's hard to really connect with every conversation or even with every touch. Sometimes the conversations grow dull or similar and you find yourselves lost in the day to day stuff that happens. Then, maybe once or twice a month, you have this really great awesome conversation. Suddenly the warmth and the romance, the joy which brought you together is reflected like a million candles lighting up a dark room and that smile which you couldn't get off your face when you first fell in love comes back full-throttle. I think I would live a million mundane moments to have just a few of those flashes of warmth and pure joy.
It's tough now. We are both back to the mundaneness of day to day. We get annoyed at each other and trying to have conversations about planning and weddings becomes once again a hard thing to talk about as so much so far has fallen through. I also am wanting to finish strong out here, leaving little time to think or plan for anything.
It's not enough to say I miss him. Sure, not every moment is going to be amazing, but I think for me, it's more about learning to love and be loved. Letting him gently teach me as I humbly teach him. Letting him point out those things that I don't always like being pointed out and realizing he loves me anyways. And not being afraid to do the same for him.
I know a couple that is going through like a million different transitions right now and that's gotta be so tough. Yet I am pulling for them because sometime soon I might need someone to tell me, "we're pulling for you and Paul".
Monday, October 27, 2008
Ghosts
I thought I had lain you aside.
You were boxed in, put away, and out of my mind.
I set sail on a new course and new life.
Now I'm stuck in the past
And I can't get past.
The memories I most want to forget
Are those I have been delving into.
I hate them.
I hate how I remember you last.
I hate how you died.
You know I wasn't ready for you to go?
Now I am regretting time spent at school instead of
Your deathbed.
I again am feeling so angry that you left.
I feel like I need you now.
And you're just not here.
The hurt inside is causing me desperate for someone to blame.
There's no one.
It just hurts.
I know I'm being pruned.
That this go-round of sorrow and bitterness is a road I have to walk.
I don't like it.
It's hard to grow up.
It's even harder when you aren't here.
I know it wasn't your fault.
But I still hate that you're gone.
I'm not trying to make up excuses for my misdeeds and
Wrong actions.
Only writing in words the pain in my heart.
My Comforter will hold me tight.
He sees.
He knows.
I am a sheep in my Shepard's arms.
Hoping for warmth in the cold.
He is a candle in the darkness.
I live on because He has given me life.
I will try and move on.
From here.
I will acknowledge that I miss you.
But I will not stay here.
The past is the past.
I want to leave it behind.
I cannot change it.
So I must lay it aside.
I will do the best I can.
To honor your memory.
But I refuse to let this bitterness.
Hold onto me.
Set me free.
Let me live as I am meant to be.
And I will let you rest in peace.
Remembering you for how you would want me to.
You were boxed in, put away, and out of my mind.
I set sail on a new course and new life.
Now I'm stuck in the past
And I can't get past.
The memories I most want to forget
Are those I have been delving into.
I hate them.
I hate how I remember you last.
I hate how you died.
You know I wasn't ready for you to go?
Now I am regretting time spent at school instead of
Your deathbed.
I again am feeling so angry that you left.
I feel like I need you now.
And you're just not here.
The hurt inside is causing me desperate for someone to blame.
There's no one.
It just hurts.
I know I'm being pruned.
That this go-round of sorrow and bitterness is a road I have to walk.
I don't like it.
It's hard to grow up.
It's even harder when you aren't here.
I know it wasn't your fault.
But I still hate that you're gone.
I'm not trying to make up excuses for my misdeeds and
Wrong actions.
Only writing in words the pain in my heart.
My Comforter will hold me tight.
He sees.
He knows.
I am a sheep in my Shepard's arms.
Hoping for warmth in the cold.
He is a candle in the darkness.
I live on because He has given me life.
I will try and move on.
From here.
I will acknowledge that I miss you.
But I will not stay here.
The past is the past.
I want to leave it behind.
I cannot change it.
So I must lay it aside.
I will do the best I can.
To honor your memory.
But I refuse to let this bitterness.
Hold onto me.
Set me free.
Let me live as I am meant to be.
And I will let you rest in peace.
Remembering you for how you would want me to.
Friday, October 24, 2008
IMpact.
There are some people you meet and they pass by unnoticed by you. Then there are others. You see them, meet them, and you pause. It is in that brief pause that a friendship can be formed and a relationship established.
I can pinpoint a few times in my life when I met someone, paused, and was impacted by their friendship and personality. They touched my life and because they did, my life is different. Impacted.
I remember when one person I passed by and met hugged me. I thought she was very strange for just...hugging me when I barely knew her. It turned out to be that she is one of those people. An Impact.
There are other people too. My freshmen awkward year of college my neighbor asked me for some help on some homework. I paused. We talked. And we are both now Impacted by each other and still fast friends.
It's funny how things like that work.
This year I have met my Impact. My teacher. She is the one I have been student teaching with. I'll admit, this student teaching thing has turned out to be much tougher than I first thought it would be.
Yet I would do it all again to meet and pause and not let her friendship and care pass me by. No one has loved me in such a motherly, yet unassuming way since my mom died. It's very very strange to feel the warmth of a mother's love again. She herself raised three kids. And she has come to seeing me as her own. I can tell. I feel I have been adopted. Without even knowing that I needed to be or wanted to be, there is a warmth inside of me that comes when she says, "I want you to be the best teacher you can be." It's such a undeserved sort of love. Unconditional. It humbles me because I did not ask for or expect for her to love me. She even told me one day that she worries about me. I cried really hard that day because, it's such a mom thing to say! It makes me think about what my mom would say to me. I'm not used to feeling entitled for people to worry about me. And no one worries more than a mother.
The surprising thing for me is that I don't feel like she's trying to be my mother. She's not. She's just....loving me.
How undeserving I am for this mentor, this friend, and this older woman to love and care for me. Her Impact on my life, I know, will echo through the rest of my days. I would have missed this time. This being loved time. And this growing up time. I think, for some reason, I needed to be reminded of this unconditional love. Not only because I need it, but because we all need it. We all need that person in our lives that says, "I love you, I will always love you, no matter what". Whether that be a friend, spouse, father, brother, sister, mother, God. We need to hear it and believe it. The kids I will teach will also need this love. What an Impact a teacher has. It is very profound. I am still trying to understand.
I can pinpoint a few times in my life when I met someone, paused, and was impacted by their friendship and personality. They touched my life and because they did, my life is different. Impacted.
I remember when one person I passed by and met hugged me. I thought she was very strange for just...hugging me when I barely knew her. It turned out to be that she is one of those people. An Impact.
There are other people too. My freshmen awkward year of college my neighbor asked me for some help on some homework. I paused. We talked. And we are both now Impacted by each other and still fast friends.
It's funny how things like that work.
This year I have met my Impact. My teacher. She is the one I have been student teaching with. I'll admit, this student teaching thing has turned out to be much tougher than I first thought it would be.
Yet I would do it all again to meet and pause and not let her friendship and care pass me by. No one has loved me in such a motherly, yet unassuming way since my mom died. It's very very strange to feel the warmth of a mother's love again. She herself raised three kids. And she has come to seeing me as her own. I can tell. I feel I have been adopted. Without even knowing that I needed to be or wanted to be, there is a warmth inside of me that comes when she says, "I want you to be the best teacher you can be." It's such a undeserved sort of love. Unconditional. It humbles me because I did not ask for or expect for her to love me. She even told me one day that she worries about me. I cried really hard that day because, it's such a mom thing to say! It makes me think about what my mom would say to me. I'm not used to feeling entitled for people to worry about me. And no one worries more than a mother.
The surprising thing for me is that I don't feel like she's trying to be my mother. She's not. She's just....loving me.
How undeserving I am for this mentor, this friend, and this older woman to love and care for me. Her Impact on my life, I know, will echo through the rest of my days. I would have missed this time. This being loved time. And this growing up time. I think, for some reason, I needed to be reminded of this unconditional love. Not only because I need it, but because we all need it. We all need that person in our lives that says, "I love you, I will always love you, no matter what". Whether that be a friend, spouse, father, brother, sister, mother, God. We need to hear it and believe it. The kids I will teach will also need this love. What an Impact a teacher has. It is very profound. I am still trying to understand.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Mirror to My Sin
OK so I was totally going to write this tomorrow, but words keep flowing into my head and I wanted to get it out.
A friend mentioned to me a couple days ago how marriage and being married and having a spouse can be like a mirror to your sin. You mess up. They get hurt. You see the consequences blatantly in how your relationship is affected. I never thought about this until today.
You see, when I am student teaching, there is ALWAYS another adult in the room, and if they are not in the room, they have the right to walk in ANYTIME. In other words, if I make a mistake, this other person knows it. And calls me out on it. Because they want me to be the best teacher I can be.
Yet. It is NOT easy. It's not easy feeling like every time you do or say something wrong, that other person is going to know about it. And most likely say something about it.
The worst has been unintentionally hurting that other person with careless words. And having that other person have to pull me aside and talk to me about it. I don't mind that they pulled me aside or talked to me about it, what is hard is seeing how my sin affects them. How it affects my relationship to them.
I can't help but think that marriage is like that. If you come home to that person every night and are with them a lot and they know you well, then they are going to know you in your most sinful moments. They are going to be hurt by you. They might cry because you say something in a careless moment that completely hurt them. And you didn't even mean to hurt them. I've also heard it said that those we hurt most are those closest to us.
Perhaps this is preparation. It's practice of how to see someone every day and learn to accept their correction and their advice. As well as learning how much my words can affect someone else in ways I didn't even intend. I know I'm learning this the hard way. Think before you speak in all situations. If you need time. Take that time and go back to it. Think about how it might affect others.
If it's already said, apologize once, no excuses, and pray that your relationship might be healed. And learn.
Yup. Mirrors are not always fun things to have around, but they do make me grateful for the grace that I am daily given.
A friend mentioned to me a couple days ago how marriage and being married and having a spouse can be like a mirror to your sin. You mess up. They get hurt. You see the consequences blatantly in how your relationship is affected. I never thought about this until today.
You see, when I am student teaching, there is ALWAYS another adult in the room, and if they are not in the room, they have the right to walk in ANYTIME. In other words, if I make a mistake, this other person knows it. And calls me out on it. Because they want me to be the best teacher I can be.
Yet. It is NOT easy. It's not easy feeling like every time you do or say something wrong, that other person is going to know about it. And most likely say something about it.
The worst has been unintentionally hurting that other person with careless words. And having that other person have to pull me aside and talk to me about it. I don't mind that they pulled me aside or talked to me about it, what is hard is seeing how my sin affects them. How it affects my relationship to them.
I can't help but think that marriage is like that. If you come home to that person every night and are with them a lot and they know you well, then they are going to know you in your most sinful moments. They are going to be hurt by you. They might cry because you say something in a careless moment that completely hurt them. And you didn't even mean to hurt them. I've also heard it said that those we hurt most are those closest to us.
Perhaps this is preparation. It's practice of how to see someone every day and learn to accept their correction and their advice. As well as learning how much my words can affect someone else in ways I didn't even intend. I know I'm learning this the hard way. Think before you speak in all situations. If you need time. Take that time and go back to it. Think about how it might affect others.
If it's already said, apologize once, no excuses, and pray that your relationship might be healed. And learn.
Yup. Mirrors are not always fun things to have around, but they do make me grateful for the grace that I am daily given.
Seasons of Grief.
Every time I have to move on from something, I always feel sad. Sometimes it's hard for me to figure out why.
Today I feel sad.
I am student teaching. It's been tough. And I feel like it's making me grow up job-wise a lot.
I am also scared and nervous to graduate. Not the usual reasons, I'm not scared of looking for a job, I'm not worried about the "real world".
This has been one of the toughest college transitions. In the back of my mind, part of me knows that graduating college is taking another step away from the girl my mom knew me as. It's one more step I have to take without her.
I can't explain how that feels.
It only feels like a weight. Like a missing spot. It feels empty. And sometimes lonely. It sometimes feels strange. Sometimes I feel guilty for moving on because I don't want anyone to think that I'm forgetting her. I just....don't want to "grow up" without her to stand by the sidelines and cheer me on.
I know, believe me, I know that a lot of these thoughts are....thoughts that I need to express and then lay aside. They are not things to hold onto or think over. Just things to feel, experience, and move on from.
It seems that this is another season of grief come at a strange time in my life. Perhaps in living with my aunt who still has her parents, I am seeing even more sharply how a parent-child relationship can grow and mature into something profoundly beautiful. Perhaps part of me is just now realizing this and grieving the fact that I won't have that with my mom. It's strange how your heart can always find something more to grieve. It's never a finished process.
Psalm 23 is one of my favorite passages to read when I feel this grief coming on. I often want comfort during these seasons that no other person can really give me and so I must seek my comfort in His word. in His arms. John 10 is another favorite. I like being called a sheep. It means I don't have to have everything figured out and that I have a Shepard who isn't going to leave me alone in my sorrow nor judge me for that sorrow.
It's funny because in this season of grief, I have also had moments of complete joy. I love that I can feel sorrow, and yet also rejoice. In grieving, I find the simplicity of joy. I once read something about how grief deepens the soul. It makes us more open to sorrow, but also much more open to joy than we were before.
I didn't think I would go through so much emotionally here as I have been going through lately. Yet I know that this is again a deepening of my character and I can't help but feel I will be forever changed through my time here. Despite the toughness of everything, I am encouraged when I think that this season will one day pass and I will look back and praise God for how He grew and changed me through it.
Today I feel sad.
I am student teaching. It's been tough. And I feel like it's making me grow up job-wise a lot.
I am also scared and nervous to graduate. Not the usual reasons, I'm not scared of looking for a job, I'm not worried about the "real world".
This has been one of the toughest college transitions. In the back of my mind, part of me knows that graduating college is taking another step away from the girl my mom knew me as. It's one more step I have to take without her.
I can't explain how that feels.
It only feels like a weight. Like a missing spot. It feels empty. And sometimes lonely. It sometimes feels strange. Sometimes I feel guilty for moving on because I don't want anyone to think that I'm forgetting her. I just....don't want to "grow up" without her to stand by the sidelines and cheer me on.
I know, believe me, I know that a lot of these thoughts are....thoughts that I need to express and then lay aside. They are not things to hold onto or think over. Just things to feel, experience, and move on from.
It seems that this is another season of grief come at a strange time in my life. Perhaps in living with my aunt who still has her parents, I am seeing even more sharply how a parent-child relationship can grow and mature into something profoundly beautiful. Perhaps part of me is just now realizing this and grieving the fact that I won't have that with my mom. It's strange how your heart can always find something more to grieve. It's never a finished process.
Psalm 23 is one of my favorite passages to read when I feel this grief coming on. I often want comfort during these seasons that no other person can really give me and so I must seek my comfort in His word. in His arms. John 10 is another favorite. I like being called a sheep. It means I don't have to have everything figured out and that I have a Shepard who isn't going to leave me alone in my sorrow nor judge me for that sorrow.
It's funny because in this season of grief, I have also had moments of complete joy. I love that I can feel sorrow, and yet also rejoice. In grieving, I find the simplicity of joy. I once read something about how grief deepens the soul. It makes us more open to sorrow, but also much more open to joy than we were before.
I didn't think I would go through so much emotionally here as I have been going through lately. Yet I know that this is again a deepening of my character and I can't help but feel I will be forever changed through my time here. Despite the toughness of everything, I am encouraged when I think that this season will one day pass and I will look back and praise God for how He grew and changed me through it.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
The C word.
It's funny how your life can be touched by something and yet, you forget to think of how many other people's lives are affected by the same thing.
Tonight my aunt and I watched a movie on the Lifetime channel about a man who found a successful drug for treating breast cancer, a drug which has saved many lives. As I watched, I was reminded of the many families, children, parents, sisters, brothers, etc. have been affected by cancer.
Sometimes, it seems strange that my mom died of lung cancer. I don't think about it as much as I used to. I mean, I wasn't there when she came home from the chemo. I wasn't there when she was getting sicker and sicker. I wasn't the one who had to take care of her. Sometimes, it's easy for me to forget how she died. I was at school. she TOLD me to stay at school. She didn't want me to quit school, not even for her. Not even when she might have suspected the limited amount of time she had left. She asked me to stay in school. So I did.
I went to Relay for Life the year she died. During the victory lap, when all those people who have beaten cancer get to walk around, I cried. Why. Why couldn't my mom have been one of them? I went the year after that. And the year after that. Even though my mom didn't beat cancer, I don't want to forget, I don't want to forget those many other people who have. I want to be joyful for their families and for the time they were given back.
Sometimes when I think about cancer, I think of it as a death sentence. It was such for my mom. I always am skeptical of people who give money to fighting for "the cure" and for giving money to breast cancer research. To me, it's unbeatable. I don't understand their fight.
Yet. People have beaten cancer. They have become cancer free. They have been able to live after cancer. Sometimes, this makes me confused. Why are some condemned to die? What is it that causes some to live and some to die? All life is a chance. Every day there is a chance that we could die. I suppose cancer simply increases that chance. These thoughts add to my confusion.
I called cancer the C word, because it's one of those words that automatically triggers a response in each of us. I know it should comfort me that others have walked a similar road. I know I shouldn't complain too much because death is in fact, a part of life and we will all lose someone we love. I know that even on a hard road, I have been richly and amazingly blessed.
I will never understand in this lifetime. I will never understand why my mom died before I graduated college. I will never understand why she won't be here on my wedding day. Or why she couldn't have been here to see her son graduate high school. I won't ever understand.
The blessing that I have been given is life. I know she would want me to live it fully and richly. She wouldn't want me to stop living just because she couldn't be here. I know that life can be full of joy even while walking roads of sorrow. I hope that as I continue to get older, I will do her well.
If I could send you words:
Miss you. Love you.
End.
Tonight my aunt and I watched a movie on the Lifetime channel about a man who found a successful drug for treating breast cancer, a drug which has saved many lives. As I watched, I was reminded of the many families, children, parents, sisters, brothers, etc. have been affected by cancer.
Sometimes, it seems strange that my mom died of lung cancer. I don't think about it as much as I used to. I mean, I wasn't there when she came home from the chemo. I wasn't there when she was getting sicker and sicker. I wasn't the one who had to take care of her. Sometimes, it's easy for me to forget how she died. I was at school. she TOLD me to stay at school. She didn't want me to quit school, not even for her. Not even when she might have suspected the limited amount of time she had left. She asked me to stay in school. So I did.
I went to Relay for Life the year she died. During the victory lap, when all those people who have beaten cancer get to walk around, I cried. Why. Why couldn't my mom have been one of them? I went the year after that. And the year after that. Even though my mom didn't beat cancer, I don't want to forget, I don't want to forget those many other people who have. I want to be joyful for their families and for the time they were given back.
Sometimes when I think about cancer, I think of it as a death sentence. It was such for my mom. I always am skeptical of people who give money to fighting for "the cure" and for giving money to breast cancer research. To me, it's unbeatable. I don't understand their fight.
Yet. People have beaten cancer. They have become cancer free. They have been able to live after cancer. Sometimes, this makes me confused. Why are some condemned to die? What is it that causes some to live and some to die? All life is a chance. Every day there is a chance that we could die. I suppose cancer simply increases that chance. These thoughts add to my confusion.
I called cancer the C word, because it's one of those words that automatically triggers a response in each of us. I know it should comfort me that others have walked a similar road. I know I shouldn't complain too much because death is in fact, a part of life and we will all lose someone we love. I know that even on a hard road, I have been richly and amazingly blessed.
I will never understand in this lifetime. I will never understand why my mom died before I graduated college. I will never understand why she won't be here on my wedding day. Or why she couldn't have been here to see her son graduate high school. I won't ever understand.
The blessing that I have been given is life. I know she would want me to live it fully and richly. She wouldn't want me to stop living just because she couldn't be here. I know that life can be full of joy even while walking roads of sorrow. I hope that as I continue to get older, I will do her well.
If I could send you words:
Miss you. Love you.
End.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Perspective
Before Paul started his new job we talked every night for at least an hour.
That was great!
Then. He got this job. 4-midnight.
And we don't talk as much. It is strange!
Yet. I think I am learning that even in long-distance relationships, it's OK and even healthy to take time away from each other. Not as in. Don't talk at all. But as in. Focus on what you need to do, and we will catch up on the weekend.
To me. It was RElearning the blessing that my relationship is to me, because I could feel myself getting to that point, where I was just trying to rely on him and I Know I was beginning to take him for granted. There comes a point when you feel that change in yourself - and don't like it.
When I don't get a chance to talk to him, I have to fend for myself emotionally and spiritually. I have to be the adult and be my own person and do what I have to do, without any support or encouragement. At first, I complain. I whine to God a little bit. Sit. And move on with life. Eventually I find myself in a place where I am reminded that my relationship is not nor has ever been a need, but is simply a blessing. Then, when I do get the chance to talk to Paul, I can GIVE. I can GIVE encouragement and support to him. I can laugh with him. We can freely talk. Neither feeling drained and both feeling blessed. Those good days make it all worth it.
Those days when I smile just because I hear his voice. The love God continues to grow in me overflows into our relationship. In His strength, I become stronger and so in my strength our relationship becomes firmer. I always used to think it was weak people who entered relationships - because i thought they think they NEED someone all the time, they need someone to depend on (weak) - YET. To have a truly Christ-centered relationship, BOTH sides must be strong in who they are and in God's love. It is a strong person who can fully love someone and yet remain true to themselves. It is a strong person who remembers the most important key word in a relationship - selflessness - and yet remembers God's grace abounds when either their spouse or significant other fails or when they themselves fail. God is our strength. That is what I am relearning. That's the way it has to be. If God is not our strength, we will surely fail each other and be utterly disappointed. With the strength of His truth, mercy, compassion, grace, sacrifice, and love - we can love each other. Without Him. We only love ourselves.
That was great!
Then. He got this job. 4-midnight.
And we don't talk as much. It is strange!
Yet. I think I am learning that even in long-distance relationships, it's OK and even healthy to take time away from each other. Not as in. Don't talk at all. But as in. Focus on what you need to do, and we will catch up on the weekend.
To me. It was RElearning the blessing that my relationship is to me, because I could feel myself getting to that point, where I was just trying to rely on him and I Know I was beginning to take him for granted. There comes a point when you feel that change in yourself - and don't like it.
When I don't get a chance to talk to him, I have to fend for myself emotionally and spiritually. I have to be the adult and be my own person and do what I have to do, without any support or encouragement. At first, I complain. I whine to God a little bit. Sit. And move on with life. Eventually I find myself in a place where I am reminded that my relationship is not nor has ever been a need, but is simply a blessing. Then, when I do get the chance to talk to Paul, I can GIVE. I can GIVE encouragement and support to him. I can laugh with him. We can freely talk. Neither feeling drained and both feeling blessed. Those good days make it all worth it.
Those days when I smile just because I hear his voice. The love God continues to grow in me overflows into our relationship. In His strength, I become stronger and so in my strength our relationship becomes firmer. I always used to think it was weak people who entered relationships - because i thought they think they NEED someone all the time, they need someone to depend on (weak) - YET. To have a truly Christ-centered relationship, BOTH sides must be strong in who they are and in God's love. It is a strong person who can fully love someone and yet remain true to themselves. It is a strong person who remembers the most important key word in a relationship - selflessness - and yet remembers God's grace abounds when either their spouse or significant other fails or when they themselves fail. God is our strength. That is what I am relearning. That's the way it has to be. If God is not our strength, we will surely fail each other and be utterly disappointed. With the strength of His truth, mercy, compassion, grace, sacrifice, and love - we can love each other. Without Him. We only love ourselves.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Silence
I wish to be understood and to
speak.
My voice is very hoarse and I can barely talk. I went to school today anyways, ya gotta do what ya gotta do. But it was challenging.
It can be so annoying having something to say and having the words in my mouth and heart and yet there they stay because my throat is in disagreement.
It's also humbling. You realize that without being able to effectively speak, you must depend on others to be patient with you, to help you say what you need to say, and to be willing to put up with really yucky sounds. Yikes.
All in all though. that's how it goes. your body gives out on you and sometimes all the heart in the world will still leave you whispering when you want to yell. hm. ironic.
Paul even called me last night when he was on break. I tried so hard to talk to him, but he couldn't understand. Sad day. Yet, it was enough that he called. And told me he loves me. Even though he couldn't understand me! Sometimes it feels like we are required to understand someone to love them. I am beginning to learn this is false. There are certain things and values and beliefs other people hold and I will not be able to understand. Sometimes that's frustrating, but in a way, it's completely OK. Last time I checked love is not based on completely understanding someone else, but is more about loving someone else even when you don't quite understand them. Perhaps even especially when you don't understand them.
I am glad for that. I think I'd be overwhelmed if I was supposed to understand everything.
Last thoughts:
Today I realized how in-between I am. Those older than me that I have met here still see me as young with many opportunities before me. The kids I teach see me as an older adult. One they must respect and listen too, but, to them, I'm old. I suppose sometimes I feel frustrated because, I just want people to see me as me.
Like- I like to play frisbee. I like to go bike riding. I love roller blading. I love being outside. I really enjoy coffee shops that serve ice cream and hot chocolate. I love coffee shops that are a refuge from the storm. Confluence, amazingly, reminds me of the Lampost in that way. It is a place I can go where I know I will see someone I know. I like that. I really enjoy fast food. I find much joy in hearing stories of how God works in people's lives. I love watching the love that happens between others (NOT just couples). I enjoy walks. I like when people don't take themselves too seriously. I like seeing joy in other people's eyes and seeing the reflection of Christ. I like singing at church. I love to play. Games, Card games, word games, outside games with anyone I know. I hate small talk because I feel like it's just people pretending to care (it's not always, but I feel like that's what I do when I have to make small talk). I love long deep conversations. I have learned life is indeed short and half the plans we have will fall through. No one knows how long they have. No one. I have walked the valley of the shadow of death and seen its cold hands reach through the depths of me and claim my mortality, for in learning that one you love is mortal, you realize that you yourself are also destined to die. life is short.
Some people learn to keep a house early on because of circumstances. Some people learn to be angry and bitter. Others learn to reach out. Some learn to love. Others learn all of these things and some learn none. Sometimes, I just want to make sure that others know that I am not ignorant of long dark lonely nights and that I am not completely naive when it comes to sorrow.
Yet for the joy set before me, I push on and wait for the light of day. This is what I do. And how I react. I am young and I am old. At a strange place. Yet yearning for acceptance. I am thankful that God sees us and accepts us. That His grace overcomes all this confusion about if I should feel young or old. If I should be this or that. Let me be content to remain His child. One in need of His grace, love, and mercy on a day to day basis. I hope to find myself here. I hope I can demonstrate who He is by being who He made me to be. I hope others reach beyond the small talk and ask me about my story. Even if they don't, I hope they come away blessed.
End.
speak.
My voice is very hoarse and I can barely talk. I went to school today anyways, ya gotta do what ya gotta do. But it was challenging.
It can be so annoying having something to say and having the words in my mouth and heart and yet there they stay because my throat is in disagreement.
It's also humbling. You realize that without being able to effectively speak, you must depend on others to be patient with you, to help you say what you need to say, and to be willing to put up with really yucky sounds. Yikes.
All in all though. that's how it goes. your body gives out on you and sometimes all the heart in the world will still leave you whispering when you want to yell. hm. ironic.
Paul even called me last night when he was on break. I tried so hard to talk to him, but he couldn't understand. Sad day. Yet, it was enough that he called. And told me he loves me. Even though he couldn't understand me! Sometimes it feels like we are required to understand someone to love them. I am beginning to learn this is false. There are certain things and values and beliefs other people hold and I will not be able to understand. Sometimes that's frustrating, but in a way, it's completely OK. Last time I checked love is not based on completely understanding someone else, but is more about loving someone else even when you don't quite understand them. Perhaps even especially when you don't understand them.
I am glad for that. I think I'd be overwhelmed if I was supposed to understand everything.
Last thoughts:
Today I realized how in-between I am. Those older than me that I have met here still see me as young with many opportunities before me. The kids I teach see me as an older adult. One they must respect and listen too, but, to them, I'm old. I suppose sometimes I feel frustrated because, I just want people to see me as me.
Like- I like to play frisbee. I like to go bike riding. I love roller blading. I love being outside. I really enjoy coffee shops that serve ice cream and hot chocolate. I love coffee shops that are a refuge from the storm. Confluence, amazingly, reminds me of the Lampost in that way. It is a place I can go where I know I will see someone I know. I like that. I really enjoy fast food. I find much joy in hearing stories of how God works in people's lives. I love watching the love that happens between others (NOT just couples). I enjoy walks. I like when people don't take themselves too seriously. I like seeing joy in other people's eyes and seeing the reflection of Christ. I like singing at church. I love to play. Games, Card games, word games, outside games with anyone I know. I hate small talk because I feel like it's just people pretending to care (it's not always, but I feel like that's what I do when I have to make small talk). I love long deep conversations. I have learned life is indeed short and half the plans we have will fall through. No one knows how long they have. No one. I have walked the valley of the shadow of death and seen its cold hands reach through the depths of me and claim my mortality, for in learning that one you love is mortal, you realize that you yourself are also destined to die. life is short.
Some people learn to keep a house early on because of circumstances. Some people learn to be angry and bitter. Others learn to reach out. Some learn to love. Others learn all of these things and some learn none. Sometimes, I just want to make sure that others know that I am not ignorant of long dark lonely nights and that I am not completely naive when it comes to sorrow.
Yet for the joy set before me, I push on and wait for the light of day. This is what I do. And how I react. I am young and I am old. At a strange place. Yet yearning for acceptance. I am thankful that God sees us and accepts us. That His grace overcomes all this confusion about if I should feel young or old. If I should be this or that. Let me be content to remain His child. One in need of His grace, love, and mercy on a day to day basis. I hope to find myself here. I hope I can demonstrate who He is by being who He made me to be. I hope others reach beyond the small talk and ask me about my story. Even if they don't, I hope they come away blessed.
End.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Love and ENcouraged
The love between us is made of fiery passion
A passion that draws us to each other
Even more so our love is made up of a gentle glow
It's warmth is like the sun
Inspiring and life giving.
We wake up to it and
Worship.
It is the gentle glow of a deep
Friendship.
Of knowing
One another.
It's the feeling of meeting each other's eyes
When out with friends
And finding a mutual
Understanding.
It is saying something silly
And laughing together.
It is long conversations about how
God brought us here.
And how He is teaching each of us.
It's the realization that you are
Truly blessed.
The gentle glow is what brings us through this time apart
Our friendship stretches the miles.
And the memories I go back to are
Not those moments filled with desire or
Passion,
But are those soft gentle moments of friendship.
The glow of love.
Which is the foundation.
I was so encouraged last night. I talked with a woman who got married at age 18. She's been married 30 years, and guess what....she's still in love.
She asked me about how Paul and I met. And we talked about getting married young and how people tend to feel about it. She told me. Not to worry.
Here is a woman whose example I wish to follow. To be bold in doing what is right for me.
We talked about how, I wasn't even looking for it, I hadn't asked God for someone in a very long time. I was very content to live sharing love with my friends and family around me. And Paul was in about the same place. Love was given to each of us as a gift.
I felt encouraged and uplifted to speak with someone older than me who not only has a successful marriage, but got married young. It was truly a blessing. A light in the darkness of trying to fight for what I believe to be right for me.
A passion that draws us to each other
Even more so our love is made up of a gentle glow
It's warmth is like the sun
Inspiring and life giving.
We wake up to it and
Worship.
It is the gentle glow of a deep
Friendship.
Of knowing
One another.
It's the feeling of meeting each other's eyes
When out with friends
And finding a mutual
Understanding.
It is saying something silly
And laughing together.
It is long conversations about how
God brought us here.
And how He is teaching each of us.
It's the realization that you are
Truly blessed.
The gentle glow is what brings us through this time apart
Our friendship stretches the miles.
And the memories I go back to are
Not those moments filled with desire or
Passion,
But are those soft gentle moments of friendship.
The glow of love.
Which is the foundation.
I was so encouraged last night. I talked with a woman who got married at age 18. She's been married 30 years, and guess what....she's still in love.
She asked me about how Paul and I met. And we talked about getting married young and how people tend to feel about it. She told me. Not to worry.
Here is a woman whose example I wish to follow. To be bold in doing what is right for me.
We talked about how, I wasn't even looking for it, I hadn't asked God for someone in a very long time. I was very content to live sharing love with my friends and family around me. And Paul was in about the same place. Love was given to each of us as a gift.
I felt encouraged and uplifted to speak with someone older than me who not only has a successful marriage, but got married young. It was truly a blessing. A light in the darkness of trying to fight for what I believe to be right for me.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Dream and Marriage
I dreamed.
And in my dream, I saw him again. I had my school bag on and we were at a wedding reception, not ours, someone else's. I dreamed we sat and laughed. I didn't know what to say, I hadn't seen him in so long.
After eating I dreamed that I told him to wait for me and I went to put my school bag away. But I couldn't find where my car was parked and it took many and much wandering about to shed my baggage. All the while I was nervous, would he really wait for me? Was I taking too long to release this burden?
Finally I got rid of my burden. And I went back to where I thought he was waiting. Yet I woke up. I don't know if he was still waiting for me or not. School is between us now. I feel the burden of distance and the questions in my mind. Will he wait for me? I already know the answers.
What a strange dream. I loved the symbolism I sensed in it though.
That was the dream I had about Paul.
To change the subject. Marriage is a beautiful commitment. Yet it's never easy to truly fully one-hundred percent commit to something or someone. I can only say I look forward to it.
I can't think of the ways that marriage will call me to be responsible. I think I will learn even more so how to keep my house up a bit better. I think that I will be responsible for supporting Paul. I will be responsible for confronting him when I feel it's necessary, even if the issue is not between us. I will be responsible for accepting his family as well as somewhat leaving my own, not entirely, but somewhat. I will be responsible for telling him when I need help with something or when I'm having a hard day. I will be responsible for listening to him and caring about him when he has a hard day. Some nights maybe I will be exhausted. Yet still have to do a load of laundry or dishes or make supper. I will be responsible for completing school work in a timely manner so that him and I have time to spend together, building on our relationship.
I can't picture all I will be faced with when it comes to marriage. Yet some part of me, while a little scared, is confident that we will work it out. Trust and communication have thus far been cornerstones of our relationship, causing little drama and a productive manner of working through conflicts and problems. He never hesitates to ask and can sense when I need to talk. Which is def. a blessing. He doesn't force me to explain myself, but stays and waits long enough until it is naturally brought up by me. In the same way, i always ask "what do you mean by that?", especially if I sense anger or frustration.
Although I feel I don't know everything about marriage, I also don't feel that I am totally unaware of what marriage is. I feel I have a realistic view, as realistic as I can without having done it.
It's hard to explain to people sometimes why I know this is right.
Yet it is.
And in my dream, I saw him again. I had my school bag on and we were at a wedding reception, not ours, someone else's. I dreamed we sat and laughed. I didn't know what to say, I hadn't seen him in so long.
After eating I dreamed that I told him to wait for me and I went to put my school bag away. But I couldn't find where my car was parked and it took many and much wandering about to shed my baggage. All the while I was nervous, would he really wait for me? Was I taking too long to release this burden?
Finally I got rid of my burden. And I went back to where I thought he was waiting. Yet I woke up. I don't know if he was still waiting for me or not. School is between us now. I feel the burden of distance and the questions in my mind. Will he wait for me? I already know the answers.
What a strange dream. I loved the symbolism I sensed in it though.
That was the dream I had about Paul.
To change the subject. Marriage is a beautiful commitment. Yet it's never easy to truly fully one-hundred percent commit to something or someone. I can only say I look forward to it.
I can't think of the ways that marriage will call me to be responsible. I think I will learn even more so how to keep my house up a bit better. I think that I will be responsible for supporting Paul. I will be responsible for confronting him when I feel it's necessary, even if the issue is not between us. I will be responsible for accepting his family as well as somewhat leaving my own, not entirely, but somewhat. I will be responsible for telling him when I need help with something or when I'm having a hard day. I will be responsible for listening to him and caring about him when he has a hard day. Some nights maybe I will be exhausted. Yet still have to do a load of laundry or dishes or make supper. I will be responsible for completing school work in a timely manner so that him and I have time to spend together, building on our relationship.
I can't picture all I will be faced with when it comes to marriage. Yet some part of me, while a little scared, is confident that we will work it out. Trust and communication have thus far been cornerstones of our relationship, causing little drama and a productive manner of working through conflicts and problems. He never hesitates to ask and can sense when I need to talk. Which is def. a blessing. He doesn't force me to explain myself, but stays and waits long enough until it is naturally brought up by me. In the same way, i always ask "what do you mean by that?", especially if I sense anger or frustration.
Although I feel I don't know everything about marriage, I also don't feel that I am totally unaware of what marriage is. I feel I have a realistic view, as realistic as I can without having done it.
It's hard to explain to people sometimes why I know this is right.
Yet it is.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Lesson Plans + Growing Up
The administrative side of me gets so tickled when planning for teaching.
I really like planning my lessons and then teaching them.
It's neat.
To work so hard to plan in detail and then see my students benefiting from that planning. I really do enjoy seeing things come together.
Last week for whole class reading (when you read a book from a collection of stories and focus on a skill or particular thing with reading) the students really did not grasp the vocabulary. When it came time to test, they got all the questions about the story right, but the vocab. aye aye aye.
So this week, and I'm really excited to see, I focused more on the vocabulary. I took more time to plan it in detail. I had students go look through the story to find the words and use the "clues" in the story to define the words. I'm really hoping this helps their vocabulary improve. I'm excited to see if it worked.
Next week I start teaching math. AH. NOT my strongest subject. Math makes me very anxious and trying to do math in front of the kids really makes me extra nervous. YET. in planning my math lessons I have to think through the problems and how to explain them. I think in planning and teaching math, I will overcome my anxiety and become more able to do the math and not worry about it.
In other news: I am having a great time working with my teacher. As I take over more of the classroom, her role changes from teacher of me, to more of an equal. I feel like as I grow, the more able both she and I are able to view me as a fellow professional instead of weird teacher-college studentness. Of course - she's still an amazing teacher and I am still a learning teacher.
I see myself changing too. At first, I really was resisting this whole "grown-up" thing - I REALLY wanted to be grown-up, BUT at the same time, I didn't want the roles and the responsibility that came with it. Now, I like the responsibility. I appreciate that I go to "work" each day and feel that my day was productive. I don't mind sitting down and writing my lesson plans - because I know that the quality of my planning will reflect the quality of my teaching. I like feeling myself toughen up to becoming more responsible and disciplined.
I bet, one could apply this to marriage or a committed relationship as well. - aka - i really want to be married, but perhaps once I get there will realize that there are a lot of responsibilities that go along with it. I will have the choice to face those responsibilities and grow, or give up. Talk about a crossroads!
I really like planning my lessons and then teaching them.
It's neat.
To work so hard to plan in detail and then see my students benefiting from that planning. I really do enjoy seeing things come together.
Last week for whole class reading (when you read a book from a collection of stories and focus on a skill or particular thing with reading) the students really did not grasp the vocabulary. When it came time to test, they got all the questions about the story right, but the vocab. aye aye aye.
So this week, and I'm really excited to see, I focused more on the vocabulary. I took more time to plan it in detail. I had students go look through the story to find the words and use the "clues" in the story to define the words. I'm really hoping this helps their vocabulary improve. I'm excited to see if it worked.
Next week I start teaching math. AH. NOT my strongest subject. Math makes me very anxious and trying to do math in front of the kids really makes me extra nervous. YET. in planning my math lessons I have to think through the problems and how to explain them. I think in planning and teaching math, I will overcome my anxiety and become more able to do the math and not worry about it.
In other news: I am having a great time working with my teacher. As I take over more of the classroom, her role changes from teacher of me, to more of an equal. I feel like as I grow, the more able both she and I are able to view me as a fellow professional instead of weird teacher-college studentness. Of course - she's still an amazing teacher and I am still a learning teacher.
I see myself changing too. At first, I really was resisting this whole "grown-up" thing - I REALLY wanted to be grown-up, BUT at the same time, I didn't want the roles and the responsibility that came with it. Now, I like the responsibility. I appreciate that I go to "work" each day and feel that my day was productive. I don't mind sitting down and writing my lesson plans - because I know that the quality of my planning will reflect the quality of my teaching. I like feeling myself toughen up to becoming more responsible and disciplined.
I bet, one could apply this to marriage or a committed relationship as well. - aka - i really want to be married, but perhaps once I get there will realize that there are a lot of responsibilities that go along with it. I will have the choice to face those responsibilities and grow, or give up. Talk about a crossroads!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Combination
Next year the school that I am student teaching at will begin a transition. They are going to be combined with another small school in the area.
Many many many teachers at my current school are going to be putting their names in for a transfer. Not simply because of the combining, but mostly because the other school's principal has more years than ours and so therefore automatically will become the principal of our school next year.
Our school is mostly Hispanic and theirs is mostly African American.
Each group of teachers, students, and staff, I'm sure, has something to say about the other.
The school I'm working at now is going to look very different in the coming years. It's so strange to think about.
In other news, I overheard another younger teacher, about four or five years older than me, commenting on my hair. I'm almost positive this was the case- when I asked to join them, the subject was AUTOMATICALLY changed. Awkward. Yup. my hair is thick, messy, and bushy. Gees. It kind of reminded me of HIGH SCHOOL! ha. whatever. The funny thing is, I didn't care then and I don't really care now. PS- I don't mind if you GIVE me advice on my hair/clothes/make-up, but just TELL me if you have something to say about it. It really won't hurt my feelings. My hair is dead anyways! Beauty is not something I work hard for. haha. no way.
Many many many teachers at my current school are going to be putting their names in for a transfer. Not simply because of the combining, but mostly because the other school's principal has more years than ours and so therefore automatically will become the principal of our school next year.
Our school is mostly Hispanic and theirs is mostly African American.
Each group of teachers, students, and staff, I'm sure, has something to say about the other.
The school I'm working at now is going to look very different in the coming years. It's so strange to think about.
In other news, I overheard another younger teacher, about four or five years older than me, commenting on my hair. I'm almost positive this was the case- when I asked to join them, the subject was AUTOMATICALLY changed. Awkward. Yup. my hair is thick, messy, and bushy. Gees. It kind of reminded me of HIGH SCHOOL! ha. whatever. The funny thing is, I didn't care then and I don't really care now. PS- I don't mind if you GIVE me advice on my hair/clothes/make-up, but just TELL me if you have something to say about it. It really won't hurt my feelings. My hair is dead anyways! Beauty is not something I work hard for. haha. no way.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
"Aint I a Woman?"
This phrase is known by many.
Recently, I've been considering what it means to be a woman.
I didn't shave my legs until about my junior year in high school - I'm sure some girls start as soon as fifth grade
I didn't wear make-up until I started student teaching.
I never wore anything but jeans and t-shirts until this fall.
I never put anything in my hair until last year.
Notice a pattern?
While I am attempting to begin to prepare myself to be a professional woman in the world, part of me wonders if the girl I was will get left behind.
The one that knew she didn't have to dress up, make-up, or worry about excessive leg hairs. ha. Yet I never felt unwomanly.
I recently was talking to a friend, about how girls have brought into so many things that they think they need to be "beautiful." I watched an old episode of "America's Next Top Model" last night. Just think, if a girl asked to be photographed without make-up, what would happen?
Who are we trying to impress? We all know that under the make-up every woman has flaws.
Do men think we need it too? I know my fiance def. doesn't think I need it.
I mean, our skin probably gets so messed up and wrinkly because we put so many weird things on it.
Anyways, thinking about this sometimes makes me annoyed that certain things are required. I do not think that make-up makes us more or less beautiful. Nor do I think skirts and dresses and high heels make us more or less feminine.
I hope my man, if we ever have a daughter together, will tell his babies they are beautiful.
There is a book called "Captivating". It's about women. It's a really girly book about what it is to be a woman.
I tried to read it, but, honestly, if you already feel like you are beautiful, the words the author writes can seem silly. Of course a woman is beautiful. Of course I am beautiful. (Secret: I am not beautiful because of how I look).
The most beautiful souls are sometimes covered in the strangest of skin. I have met so many beautiful people here. I once thought of people's spirits as "eternal souls". Getting down to people's souls is really amazing.
just some thoughts.
Recently, I've been considering what it means to be a woman.
I didn't shave my legs until about my junior year in high school - I'm sure some girls start as soon as fifth grade
I didn't wear make-up until I started student teaching.
I never wore anything but jeans and t-shirts until this fall.
I never put anything in my hair until last year.
Notice a pattern?
While I am attempting to begin to prepare myself to be a professional woman in the world, part of me wonders if the girl I was will get left behind.
The one that knew she didn't have to dress up, make-up, or worry about excessive leg hairs. ha. Yet I never felt unwomanly.
I recently was talking to a friend, about how girls have brought into so many things that they think they need to be "beautiful." I watched an old episode of "America's Next Top Model" last night. Just think, if a girl asked to be photographed without make-up, what would happen?
Who are we trying to impress? We all know that under the make-up every woman has flaws.
Do men think we need it too? I know my fiance def. doesn't think I need it.
I mean, our skin probably gets so messed up and wrinkly because we put so many weird things on it.
Anyways, thinking about this sometimes makes me annoyed that certain things are required. I do not think that make-up makes us more or less beautiful. Nor do I think skirts and dresses and high heels make us more or less feminine.
I hope my man, if we ever have a daughter together, will tell his babies they are beautiful.
There is a book called "Captivating". It's about women. It's a really girly book about what it is to be a woman.
I tried to read it, but, honestly, if you already feel like you are beautiful, the words the author writes can seem silly. Of course a woman is beautiful. Of course I am beautiful. (Secret: I am not beautiful because of how I look).
The most beautiful souls are sometimes covered in the strangest of skin. I have met so many beautiful people here. I once thought of people's spirits as "eternal souls". Getting down to people's souls is really amazing.
just some thoughts.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
I miss you.
I miss your touch.
It's been so hard these last few days.
I can't even tell you why.
I simply know that
I miss you.
It's hard sometimes,
To find joy here.
When I feel half my heart is there.
I feel so at home in this church that I've found.
I'm so welcomed here.
Open arms and hearts.
Yet each time I go somewhere,
I feel my heart looks for you.
My hand looks for yours to hold.
How else can I describe,
This ache?
Yesterday I thought about the last time I saw you.
And I remember just driving away.
I thought about that first time you got angry at me,
Because I wouldn't sumo wrestle you.
I remember us making up.
Honestly and openly.
I came out loving you more.
I don't want this ache for you to go away,
Yet it's sometimes hard to live with.
I miss you.
I miss your touch.
It's been so hard these last few days.
I can't even tell you why.
I simply know that
I miss you.
It's hard sometimes,
To find joy here.
When I feel half my heart is there.
I feel so at home in this church that I've found.
I'm so welcomed here.
Open arms and hearts.
Yet each time I go somewhere,
I feel my heart looks for you.
My hand looks for yours to hold.
How else can I describe,
This ache?
Yesterday I thought about the last time I saw you.
And I remember just driving away.
I thought about that first time you got angry at me,
Because I wouldn't sumo wrestle you.
I remember us making up.
Honestly and openly.
I came out loving you more.
I don't want this ache for you to go away,
Yet it's sometimes hard to live with.
I miss you.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Job.
This week i really came into myself.
I am the teacher.
This is MY class.
Yes, I share it, but these are my students.
I spend time with them everyday.
Something really great:
I've not once done something as in a job, where I didn't mind going. I LIKE this job! I like going to school everyday and leading a class. I like teaching students to be responsible and how to think. It's great. We have a great group of kids!
I am totally pumped to be a teacher for the rest of my life. It's going to be great. I feel this itch already to interview for jobs and talk to principals and explain to them why I AM the best candidate for the job.
I will start out by saying, I learned from the best! So true. First I learned from an amazing teacher at Price Lab School, and now I'm learning so many great management ideas from this teacher I am working with. I see everyday how the kids respect her, and I'm also seeing that with my push to become more assertive, the kids are learning to respect me too. They don't mind me teaching them things and doing lessons.
I am looking forward to taking over the class. I feel so comfortable with these kids after my teacher gave me more and more responsibility in the classroom. She has made it SO easy for both me and the kids to transition into me leading the class. I know I will teach my next classroom using many of her phrases...I can hear it now:
"Once you put your backpack away for the day, you can't go back to it because the "mini-hoonies" come take it away"
"I'm on page 55, I hope you are"
"Neon Flashing Sign" aka this is going to be on a test
"I like how you are getting right to work"
"I'm going to use the magical popsicle sticks to choose someone to answer this question" - pulling sticks with kids' names on them so you are sure to call on each of them.
"Oh, now I have to tell you a Ms. Olson story"
haha. This semester is tough, but it's been my favorite semester of college because I am finally, finally, finally doing what I enjoy doing, working with a great group of kids, and learning from a great teacher.
The only thing I miss in Iowa are the people. Just the people. Not going to class, not at all.
I am going to have a great job.
Teaching.
I am the teacher.
This is MY class.
Yes, I share it, but these are my students.
I spend time with them everyday.
Something really great:
I've not once done something as in a job, where I didn't mind going. I LIKE this job! I like going to school everyday and leading a class. I like teaching students to be responsible and how to think. It's great. We have a great group of kids!
I am totally pumped to be a teacher for the rest of my life. It's going to be great. I feel this itch already to interview for jobs and talk to principals and explain to them why I AM the best candidate for the job.
I will start out by saying, I learned from the best! So true. First I learned from an amazing teacher at Price Lab School, and now I'm learning so many great management ideas from this teacher I am working with. I see everyday how the kids respect her, and I'm also seeing that with my push to become more assertive, the kids are learning to respect me too. They don't mind me teaching them things and doing lessons.
I am looking forward to taking over the class. I feel so comfortable with these kids after my teacher gave me more and more responsibility in the classroom. She has made it SO easy for both me and the kids to transition into me leading the class. I know I will teach my next classroom using many of her phrases...I can hear it now:
"Once you put your backpack away for the day, you can't go back to it because the "mini-hoonies" come take it away"
"I'm on page 55, I hope you are"
"Neon Flashing Sign" aka this is going to be on a test
"I like how you are getting right to work"
"I'm going to use the magical popsicle sticks to choose someone to answer this question" - pulling sticks with kids' names on them so you are sure to call on each of them.
"Oh, now I have to tell you a Ms. Olson story"
haha. This semester is tough, but it's been my favorite semester of college because I am finally, finally, finally doing what I enjoy doing, working with a great group of kids, and learning from a great teacher.
The only thing I miss in Iowa are the people. Just the people. Not going to class, not at all.
I am going to have a great job.
Teaching.
Monday, September 15, 2008
The Curse of Youth.
Today I started thinking
Because my teacher said when I was present and we were interacting with another student teacher, "well, jill hasn't had a job, so I think this would be good...." (Speaking of attending a seminar on interviewing with principals).
Sigh.
How does one become "adult"?
I have worked the last three and a half years of my life.
hm.
I want to be perceived as a professional. As someone who can go into a classroom and do a good job. Yet because of my status:
"college student" "inexperienced" "young"
I am not considered a professional. Part of me wants to be like "HEY! didn't you start out like this too?!"
I think I am learning how young people are perceived in the professional world. I've been content to be a college student and haven't thought about being employed in the real world or how the real world would perceive me.
Yet this I am learning.
Sigh.
"I just want to grow up!"
Maybe it's OK though.
To have a semester to adjust to certain responsibilities. I will at least know all that is expected of me as a teacher after this. Maybe THEN
I'll be
A "professional" !
Because my teacher said when I was present and we were interacting with another student teacher, "well, jill hasn't had a job, so I think this would be good...." (Speaking of attending a seminar on interviewing with principals).
Sigh.
How does one become "adult"?
I have worked the last three and a half years of my life.
hm.
I want to be perceived as a professional. As someone who can go into a classroom and do a good job. Yet because of my status:
"college student" "inexperienced" "young"
I am not considered a professional. Part of me wants to be like "HEY! didn't you start out like this too?!"
I think I am learning how young people are perceived in the professional world. I've been content to be a college student and haven't thought about being employed in the real world or how the real world would perceive me.
Yet this I am learning.
Sigh.
"I just want to grow up!"
Maybe it's OK though.
To have a semester to adjust to certain responsibilities. I will at least know all that is expected of me as a teacher after this. Maybe THEN
I'll be
A "professional" !
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Chocolate
Today is a come home and eat chocolate kind of day.
All morning I watched little children take a long standardized test. It was not very interesting.
Then, I did a lesson plan for my teacher, but hadn't realized I was also expected to do another lesson plan. So, I felt really bad for not having it done. I'm still getting used to the come home and plan lessons every night thing.
My teacher told me I need to be more assertive. I KNOW she's right. She has been pushing me a lot lately. I don't really like being pushed, but it IS actually really good for me. Through pushing me, she is teaching me to be on top of my lesson plans and on what is going on in the classroom. Good skills I will need as a first year teacher.
I think I'm going to work on being assertive. Ha. I think she just kind of scares me (she's really a good teacher, but also is really good at keeping the kids in line). Her boldness and teaching style sometimes make me worried that I am not good enough so sometimes I am timid and hesitant when it comes to doing what I do know how to do.
Today marks three years since my mom died. It seems like.....it was not that long ago, but it also seems like much has happened since then. It's weird how things like that feel.
I tried to get a library card today, but, apparently you have to have proof that you live in town. My driver's license says Iowa. Doesn't really work to get a library card. I have to go back later and bring a piece of mail to prove I'm good.
Yup. A eating chocolate kind of day.
All morning I watched little children take a long standardized test. It was not very interesting.
Then, I did a lesson plan for my teacher, but hadn't realized I was also expected to do another lesson plan. So, I felt really bad for not having it done. I'm still getting used to the come home and plan lessons every night thing.
My teacher told me I need to be more assertive. I KNOW she's right. She has been pushing me a lot lately. I don't really like being pushed, but it IS actually really good for me. Through pushing me, she is teaching me to be on top of my lesson plans and on what is going on in the classroom. Good skills I will need as a first year teacher.
I think I'm going to work on being assertive. Ha. I think she just kind of scares me (she's really a good teacher, but also is really good at keeping the kids in line). Her boldness and teaching style sometimes make me worried that I am not good enough so sometimes I am timid and hesitant when it comes to doing what I do know how to do.
Today marks three years since my mom died. It seems like.....it was not that long ago, but it also seems like much has happened since then. It's weird how things like that feel.
I tried to get a library card today, but, apparently you have to have proof that you live in town. My driver's license says Iowa. Doesn't really work to get a library card. I have to go back later and bring a piece of mail to prove I'm good.
Yup. A eating chocolate kind of day.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
ahhhh...
as my comfort with this particular group of students increases, I find myself squealing with joy on the insides.
Even though it's been hard to adjust to being in a classroom EVERY day, and it's been difficult to know my co teacher's expectations, today I finally felt myself in the groove.
And I LOVE it. Love it. I love being a teacher.
Absolutely.
It's great.
I taught a lesson today and the kids were so quiet and listened well. I also LOVE third grade. Because it is so heavy with real learning. No cutesy stuff. Which is so good because, I just don't do cute. Third grade is all about responsibility. I can definitely handle that! These kids are just starting to become who they will be. They are starting to develop strengths and weaknesses that will be a part of them the rest of their lives. It's so cool to be able to be a part of that. To help students learn. I LOVE it.
I translated today! I'm sure it was mediocre Spanish, but still! It was great to be able to use it. LOVE it.
Today I love what I'm doing this semester.
I find myself finally feeling OK with being here and I am getting used to the fact that I live in a whole different place. It doesn't feel so strange which I am so glad for. It's good to be adjusting and adjusted. To feel like I belong and am accepted here, even if it's simply acceptance with other teachers and my aunt.
LOVE it.
Even though it's been hard to adjust to being in a classroom EVERY day, and it's been difficult to know my co teacher's expectations, today I finally felt myself in the groove.
And I LOVE it. Love it. I love being a teacher.
Absolutely.
It's great.
I taught a lesson today and the kids were so quiet and listened well. I also LOVE third grade. Because it is so heavy with real learning. No cutesy stuff. Which is so good because, I just don't do cute. Third grade is all about responsibility. I can definitely handle that! These kids are just starting to become who they will be. They are starting to develop strengths and weaknesses that will be a part of them the rest of their lives. It's so cool to be able to be a part of that. To help students learn. I LOVE it.
I translated today! I'm sure it was mediocre Spanish, but still! It was great to be able to use it. LOVE it.
Today I love what I'm doing this semester.
I find myself finally feeling OK with being here and I am getting used to the fact that I live in a whole different place. It doesn't feel so strange which I am so glad for. It's good to be adjusting and adjusted. To feel like I belong and am accepted here, even if it's simply acceptance with other teachers and my aunt.
LOVE it.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Week Two of Ninos.
Whew. Welcome to September everyone.
It's odd how a particular month can hold certain associations. For me, September is the month I met, giggle, the man to whom I'm engaged.
It's also the month my mother died. Three years ago this month. Time has passed by and I feel like my life has been anything but uneventful.
This year it signifies me finding my comfort level as I am in a third grade classroom. I am starting to see and think of myself as "teacher". This is hard work considering I've thought of myself for the last four years as "college student".
Yet, in watching my teacher and in adapting her response to the students, I find the students respecting me alongside her. That could also be because they know she will come down on them if they don't listen to me. It's nice to have a back-up while I'm still learning.
Today we were attempting to master the art of bubble-in tests. You know, those ones you had to take all through high school and college if you went. Well, bubbling in answers is quite a feat for third graders. I asked many times "Why do you have two answers for the first letter of your name? You only fill in ONE bubble for each letter!" ha. That was just the name part!
All in all. It's going well. I am adjusting to the role a teacher plays and fighting myself to feel and be confident while I am still uncertain. Such is life.
It's odd how a particular month can hold certain associations. For me, September is the month I met, giggle, the man to whom I'm engaged.
It's also the month my mother died. Three years ago this month. Time has passed by and I feel like my life has been anything but uneventful.
This year it signifies me finding my comfort level as I am in a third grade classroom. I am starting to see and think of myself as "teacher". This is hard work considering I've thought of myself for the last four years as "college student".
Yet, in watching my teacher and in adapting her response to the students, I find the students respecting me alongside her. That could also be because they know she will come down on them if they don't listen to me. It's nice to have a back-up while I'm still learning.
Today we were attempting to master the art of bubble-in tests. You know, those ones you had to take all through high school and college if you went. Well, bubbling in answers is quite a feat for third graders. I asked many times "Why do you have two answers for the first letter of your name? You only fill in ONE bubble for each letter!" ha. That was just the name part!
All in all. It's going well. I am adjusting to the role a teacher plays and fighting myself to feel and be confident while I am still uncertain. Such is life.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Friday
Big Sigh.
Friday has arrived.
The weekend. A break. Whew.
I have decided that I am not so ready to be a full-time teacher. haha. It looks a lot easier than it is!
All morning Wed. and Thurs. I directed the class. I went through their math homework with them, taught them how to do a different worksheet, read from their reading books with them and helped them do some work, worked on cursive. and more.
Also, lines. Grade school is about having the best most perfect quiet line of students in the halls. My teacher has had me take the kids to the bathroom by myself. A prime time for students to mess around and generally make noise. It's so painful. I would rather send kids one at a time to the bathroom. Yet teaching in a trailer makes going to the bathroom as a class a necessity. "Sos it goes" - a phrase my teacher always uses.
Well. I am excited to have a little more time to watch the teacher teach, after jumping in, I am eager for some better strategies to lead a classroom. I mean, I haven't ever had to be in a classroom for this long. So it's good to be there EVERY day.
All for now. Happy Labor Day everyone!
Friday has arrived.
The weekend. A break. Whew.
I have decided that I am not so ready to be a full-time teacher. haha. It looks a lot easier than it is!
All morning Wed. and Thurs. I directed the class. I went through their math homework with them, taught them how to do a different worksheet, read from their reading books with them and helped them do some work, worked on cursive. and more.
Also, lines. Grade school is about having the best most perfect quiet line of students in the halls. My teacher has had me take the kids to the bathroom by myself. A prime time for students to mess around and generally make noise. It's so painful. I would rather send kids one at a time to the bathroom. Yet teaching in a trailer makes going to the bathroom as a class a necessity. "Sos it goes" - a phrase my teacher always uses.
Well. I am excited to have a little more time to watch the teacher teach, after jumping in, I am eager for some better strategies to lead a classroom. I mean, I haven't ever had to be in a classroom for this long. So it's good to be there EVERY day.
All for now. Happy Labor Day everyone!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The Children Have Arrived!
The kids came yesterday.
Awe. I loved them right away. Many of them have a wonderful Hispanic accent, a reflection of the beauty of other tongues and tribes.
I got to read aloud to them today and found myself sad that I wasn't scheduled to teach the rest of the day.
I can't wait to teach them all day long! In watching my teacher I have been learning so much, but at the same time so much of it is what I already know.
Although I am loving this experience, a part of me wants to push the fast forward button. Where I am married and teaching full-time, man. It's so close I can almost taste this period of my life riding on the edge of this semester.
Yet, there's something about living with my aunt. Because my mom died a few years ago, it's been hard to struggle through those things that come with moving on without a mother. And I am beginning to see that in my relationship with my aunt, I am able to get just a tiny picture of what it would be like with my mom. These things tell me this is an important time for me.
My passion to love and teach children has been ignited full force and each day I get excited all over again about being a teacher. I've been preparing for this time for four years. It's so great to be actually so close to doing it.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Church Day
People who are passionate about going....
Who are passionate about those other churches choose to avoid..or see on skewed terms
Who are passionate about loving, rather than hating
People who are determined to GO into their community, rather than drag other people into a church building.
I didn't realize how thirsty my soul was for living to love those others label as worth less, and worthless. I drank deep from the well of passion today from a pastor who was honest with us and himself about how strands of stereotypes slip into his judgments of others. His words ran over me and I realized I had found the people, the Christians, I have been looking for. Those who choose to love. Because Christ first loved.
Who are passionate about those other churches choose to avoid..or see on skewed terms
Who are passionate about loving, rather than hating
People who are determined to GO into their community, rather than drag other people into a church building.
I didn't realize how thirsty my soul was for living to love those others label as worth less, and worthless. I drank deep from the well of passion today from a pastor who was honest with us and himself about how strands of stereotypes slip into his judgments of others. His words ran over me and I realized I had found the people, the Christians, I have been looking for. Those who choose to love. Because Christ first loved.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Day Three: Have and Have Nots
Some schools, as my teacher said, are have and other schools are have nots.
Our school is a have not school. The school does not have a lot of money. If any teacher wants to copy something, they carry their paper to the media center, put it in the copy machine, and remove any leftover paper when the job is done.
It makes me realize how spoiled I was at UNI. Apparently universities are have schools. I guess it's a welcome to the real world sort of thing. Buy your own paper and make sure you don't share.
Today was also translation Wed. It was open house and I got to meet some of our students. I also translated for many Spanish speakers out in front of the school while welcoming their children. I translated for the parents of my students. Many of my students are bilingual. They have to be. They grow up in a world caught between home and school. Between English and Spanish. Right or wrong, that's how life goes.
It was fun to actually see some of the kids. I am eager to begin.
Our school is a have not school. The school does not have a lot of money. If any teacher wants to copy something, they carry their paper to the media center, put it in the copy machine, and remove any leftover paper when the job is done.
It makes me realize how spoiled I was at UNI. Apparently universities are have schools. I guess it's a welcome to the real world sort of thing. Buy your own paper and make sure you don't share.
Today was also translation Wed. It was open house and I got to meet some of our students. I also translated for many Spanish speakers out in front of the school while welcoming their children. I translated for the parents of my students. Many of my students are bilingual. They have to be. They grow up in a world caught between home and school. Between English and Spanish. Right or wrong, that's how life goes.
It was fun to actually see some of the kids. I am eager to begin.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Day Two
Today:
Teachers are blessed to have machines that laminate. My teacher, the one I'm working with, enjoys laminating things. I get the job of cutting away the extra plastic. All you have to do is stick papers into this laminating roller and ...da da da...out comes plastic coverage over everything!
Also,
Labels. Very important to the teaching profession! A kid's name must be on every space they will use. This includes coat hooks, desks, folders, and lunch boxes. The mighty label is a blessing.
Tomorrow is open house! Finally I get to see some of these children whose names I've seen many times over. It will be fun to put the names with the faces.
In other events I am finding that every school has a certain cast of characters,
These include the reading teachers, the special education teachers, the classroom teachers, the janitors, the administration.
I say characters because they are mostly odd people. Each one has their own quirks and to me, it seems their southern accents cover over all the nuances I would usually hear or miss in people's tones and voices.
I am going to throw, ha, my pizza in the oven and watch a soap opera on UNIVSION!
Teachers are blessed to have machines that laminate. My teacher, the one I'm working with, enjoys laminating things. I get the job of cutting away the extra plastic. All you have to do is stick papers into this laminating roller and ...da da da...out comes plastic coverage over everything!
Also,
Labels. Very important to the teaching profession! A kid's name must be on every space they will use. This includes coat hooks, desks, folders, and lunch boxes. The mighty label is a blessing.
Tomorrow is open house! Finally I get to see some of these children whose names I've seen many times over. It will be fun to put the names with the faces.
In other events I am finding that every school has a certain cast of characters,
These include the reading teachers, the special education teachers, the classroom teachers, the janitors, the administration.
I say characters because they are mostly odd people. Each one has their own quirks and to me, it seems their southern accents cover over all the nuances I would usually hear or miss in people's tones and voices.
I am going to throw, ha, my pizza in the oven and watch a soap opera on UNIVSION!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Day One
The Low Down:
Teacher in-service Day One
Where: North Carolina
What: Student Teaching
Who: Me
I met my cooperating teacher. She is the lady that I will dutifully and respectfully work with in our classroom.
She is awesome. A lovely scatter-brained but amazing teacher. She already rocks!
Lunchtime the other student teachers came and asked if I wanted to go to lunch with them! YES! Of course I want to hang out with people my age! We went to KFC!
Today I wrote names on things, met a lot of people, and was praised by everyone for knowing Spanish. Let's hope that Spanish comes back!
Teacher in-service Day One
Where: North Carolina
What: Student Teaching
Who: Me
I met my cooperating teacher. She is the lady that I will dutifully and respectfully work with in our classroom.
She is awesome. A lovely scatter-brained but amazing teacher. She already rocks!
Lunchtime the other student teachers came and asked if I wanted to go to lunch with them! YES! Of course I want to hang out with people my age! We went to KFC!
Today I wrote names on things, met a lot of people, and was praised by everyone for knowing Spanish. Let's hope that Spanish comes back!
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