My Life on a Shelf (or, LOOK AT HOW MANY JOURNALS I HAVE!)

For the last couple of days, I have been sitting down with my journal and my copy of “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.”  Sipping my usual gourd of yerba mate’, I’ve been waiting for inspiration for my New Years Resolutions to come.  It hasn’t happened yet.  However, I have been rediscovering some passages from Donald Miller’s book that did not exactly apply when I was still a college student.

“I looked at the definition for a second, wondering how simple it really was.  He was right.  ’A character who wants something and overcomes a conflict to get it” is the basic structure of a good story” (Miller 48).  

A lot of my friends know that I keep paper journals.  Over the years, I have amassed quite collection:

You may notice a large black binder on the end against the wall.  My dad kept a journal of my sister and my everyday activities since we were young up through high school.  I began seriously journaling when I went to college, slowly evolving to the leather-bound editions farther down the line.  So, I quite literally have most of my life on paper.

I think that my New Years Resolutions are not coming as easily this year because because they hold so much more weight as they did in the past.  We spend so much of college freaking out about the future. Future job.  Future spouse.  Christian college students have the added stress of “What is God’s will for my life?”  Now, I am LIVING that future I spend so much time brooding over.  One question has been coming up in my mind since I graduated:

“Younger me, am I living up to  your dreams?”

Or, more specifically, am I choosing to build a good story for my life?

Yes, my resolutions hold so much more weight this year.  I am in that weird transition between young adulthood and adulthood.  Will my next chapter be about jobs and cars and bank accounts?  Or, will I seek out meaning and continued growth?

An English Teacher in Math Land

There is so much creativity to be had through my new teaching experiences.  However, because of professionalism I cannot write an everything that gets my pen going. After an arduous student teaching stint (which brought out more tears than I thought I had in my body,) I have my own classroom for 12 whole weeks while a colleague is spending time with her new baby.  The other day, I had to substitute for a directed study class during my prep period, and I wrote this little reflection to pass time (there were only four students.)  I took some liberties with the setting, but I thought I’d share:

 

 

There is nothing scarier for an English teacher than to sub for a math class.  No lesson on symbolism can decipher the mystery that is “x.”  Why is it that a newly graduated college student can feel so small that even a decimal couldn’t quantify?  I can do math.  I can add up my GPA: 3.63.  A good palindromic figure.  It equals smart, right?  You know, I rejoiced at my last math exam.  My last math class, FOREVER!  Four years later, I can truly say that “I’ll never use this” was a prophetic mantra.

 Until now. 

Now I sit at the front of an unfamiliar classroom, tools of my trade in hand as I nervously glace at the boy with the calculator and twisted eyebrows by the window.

“Please don’t call on me” I think.

Adventures of a Carrot Dangler

There are many things that they don’t teach you during your educational experiences.  In high school, the golden carrot of “college” is dangled in front of your face by well-meaning educators.  When you’re in college, your resume is your ticket to a good life.  Join those clubs, take that extra minor, the good life awaits.  Fail to finish here, and you’ll live on the streets with all your worldly possessions tied sloppily in your trusty hobo bindle.

That part may be true to a point.  However, with unemployment rampant in our state, and a good percentage of my close friends nowhere near where they wanted to be job-wise many months after graduation, my dad still ensures me that college grads make up a much lower percentage of the unemployed.

Now, I am at the end of my student teaching experience.  I started my long-term substitute position for a woman who had a baby last Thursday.  Tomorrow, I get my own classroom.  I am teaching 9th grade English, World Literature, and Yearbook.  One interesting thing about this school, compared to where I went to high school, is that the college carrot does not work.  These kids live in a culture where kids who go to college are in the minority.  Despite this, I have found myself in the position of the “carrot dangler.”  I noticed this unfortunate aspect of my job a couple of weeks ago.  ”You have to learn this if you want to do well in college!”  Why am I doing this, when I know that having a college degree is not all that it’s cracked up to be?

Fast forward to this weekend’s campus visit.  Let’s face it, I miss college.  I miss campus.  I miss my friends.  I have found myself actually letting myself say out loud that there are times when I HATE teaching.  A good portion of teaching is not the “reach for the stars, changing lives” pie-in-the-sky stuff.  A lot of it is business.  Administering 120 kids who could care less that you had big ideas for your life.

What am I left with?

Well, I am left with a heaping pile of gratitude.  Not for the piece of paper that I will be handed at graduation with a “Welcome to the CMU Alumni Society (hold tight while we send your your diploma)” printed on it.  I am grateful for the experiences I’ve had.  I am thankful for the friends I’ve made.  For the people I’ve met.  For the places I’ve gone. For a place that gave me the love of my life.  For how my faith has been built up and shattered and rebuilt again.  I can’t really tell you what I learned from my second final in the Fall semester of my Sophomore year (probably something about Astronomy,) but I can say that I survived it.  I have a  tougher skin now.  I have some life skills.  And, yes, sprinkled in there are some professional skills.

I do not aspire to be a carrot dangler.  I aspire to be a life-builder.  That is why I am going to try my hardest to dangle life in the faces of my students, instead of college.   Education is great, but knowledge is such a small part.  If it doesn’t give you tools to “do life,” what good is it?  Are the we sum of our resume?

If all educators become carrot danglers, we’ll end up with a generation running in circles.

 

Heel Spurs Aren’t Just for Cowboys!

Apparently they are for walking enthusiasts, too!

As you may have noticed, there has been a huge lack of walks since the spring.  I finally got to the doctor today for what I thought was plantar fasciitis (inflammation of a tendon on the bottom of the foot.)   Turns out it is, plus more.

I have one of these…

It’s a heel spur.  Yeah, mine looks just like that.  I was really surprised.  ”Heel spurs are caused by the inflammation caused by the plantar fasciitis,” the doctor explained.  The bone forms a sort of callous made out of bone.

So, I have been prescribed inserts and a heel stretcher for night time.  Going to pick those up this weekend.

Oh, and I have been on a few walks!

I really love this picture.  Fall in all its glory!

Adventures in Appendectomies!

Today we read a short story in class called “The First Appendectomy.”   To begin the class, my host teacher decided (upon the insistence of another teacher,) to show a Youtube of an appendectomy.   He urged students who were squeamish to put their heads on their desks or step outside.  None did.  The video went well, and I even learned a thing or two about the appendix.  However, five minutes after the video, whist reading the story, a students scoots to the floor next the to podium. “I feel like I am going to pass out.” He proceeds to put his feet over his head, because “that’s what my mom told me to do.”  I sit with the student while my teacher proceeds to get him water, then takes him to the office.  ”Take over,” he says.  Now, I have not yet started to lead this class, so I have to improvise some reading questions as I skim.  During the semi-coherent fumbling, another student comes up to me: “I feel sick.”  He is clutching his stomach.  ”Are you going to puke?” I ask.  ”Yes,” he says” still holding his stomach.  I urge him to get to the restroom as quickly as possible, skipping the sign-out-hall-pass mumbo jumbo.   To recap: one kid almost passes out, another kid is hurling in the bathroom, and on top of this, no one is picking up their phones in the office when I call about, and I am still managing to lead class.

The kids got the reading done.  Everyone ended up okay, and I lived to see another day of teaching.  A day in the life!

In other news:

Today was the weigh in.  Drum roll please!  :::brbrbdbrbrbrbrrrrrdddrrr::  (Yeah, that’s my drum roll noise.)

I’ve lost 3 pounds!

I am very happy to have something motivating me right now, especially while I am easing into student teaching.  I am a three-day dieter, usually.  The first day is awesome, the second day is rough, the third day is torture, and sometime that night I give in.  Well, I’ve made it a week, and I am very happy with the results.  Time to gear up for NEXT Wednesday!

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

Thanks, David Bowie, for a perfect title opportunity (and a chance to get a good song stuck in my reader’s heads!)

At a lovely dinner with old youth group friends, Mike and Jacqueline (check out her blog here,) I was reminded that I have not blogged in a little while.

Let me just say, the last three weeks have been a whirlwind of change.

I moved home.

I started student teaching.

My boyfriend and I broke up.

God kicked my ass changing my entire life view on love, marriage, and family (more on this later, mayhaps.)

My boyfriend and I got back together.

Now I am settling into a life of going to school, writing lesson plans, reading school books, going to student teaching seminars, and building skills for my future.  Despite my fears, I’ve been more than blessed to have a full life right now, and I’ve gotten to spend a lot of time with friends, family, and building a renewed relationship with someone I love dearly.

(My friend Sarah and I at the Renaissance Festival!)

In other news, I have joined a fitness challenge at my gym, Fitzone for Women.    I will be doing it for six weeks, complete with a weekly weigh in, work out classes, and PRIZES!  So, I will keep you all informed of how I do, and what I win.  One thing that people may not know about me is my competitive side.  When I know that I can be the best, I go for it.  So, I fully intend to whip the pants off of everyone.   But, more importantly, I am excited to add another welcomed change into my life.  Check back for more soon!

Sunrise, Sunset

Today, my father and I practiced the song “Sunrise, Sunset” from Fiddler on the Roof (my favorite musical) for a friend’s wedding.

Tonight I went on a walk and got to see a beautiful sunset.

Sunsets are often used as a metaphor for endings.  ”The sun set on (fill in random relationship or event.)”  As I was walking in the glow of the pink-blue-purple sky, a thought came to me:

The sun may set, but it always comes back ’round the other side.

It may be poetic to use a sunset as representative of an ending.  But, for the sun, there is no finite ending (at least there won’t be as long as I live.)  I think that is like life.  Life may seem to end.  Darkness falls.  However, nothing can stop the dawning of a new day.  Not the same day.  But a new one.

Sometimes, endings are painted with glorious expectancy of a new day.  There are no clouds, no rain, no haze.  Only color and light.

The sun needs to set in order for it to rise.  You need the ending metaphor for the beginning metaphor.

My life may be dark right now, but I anticipate a breathtaking sunrise.