Friday was by far the worst day I have ever had as a teacher. The cliff notes version goes like this...started out the day by putting out a fire in the boys' bathroom across from my room.
Then I found out that there is a good possibility that I could be switched to 6th grade special education because of licensing issues for the other teacher. Now I know that i have not made any progress academically or socially or behaviorally or anything, but...I am beyond attached. I see so much hope and potential in these students of mine and I don't know how I plan to reach them or teach them, but I'm not done with them yet. I need more time.
Later in the day, I was told that it was one of my babies who started the fire and I just melted into a puddle. Education is literally the only way out for these kiddos and if that is taken from them, their future equals jail or alcohol or drugs. They need to stay in school so they can have a chance of choosing the lives they want that could actually benefit society instead of always being told what life will be for them. But they need to first choose goodness. (long story short, his name was cleared and I get to keep him!)
But the real drama occurred during 4th period when (long story short) the officer discovered that one of my other boys brought a mini bb gun to school and hid it under my table!!! No one got hurt. The gun was wrapped up by the officer and taken away. But still...a gun! On Friday it looked like my boy would just be suspended but today I was told that he would definitely not be coming back. My heart broke. Yes he messed up. Yes he should be punished. But he, of all people, neeeeeeds to stay in school.
My heart breaks for T because he has had such a hard and unfair life for a 13 year old boy. I think that he is at the place now where so much ash and dust has been piled upon him that all he knows how to do now is to pile on more dirt. It's not his fault that the initial dust was thrown on him, but he needs to learn to start wiping it off instead of adding more on. My hope and prayer for this year was that I would get to be one of the people who wipes a bit of the dust off and shines some lit through. But now he is gone. And my time with him is up. It feels like I had one of my own children taken from me before he was 18 and ready to move on. He's not ready. I needed more time.
So now my job is to pray. I pray that this would be the time in his life where God presses down the clay and begins to form it again. To form it into something with less chips and cracks and dust. I pray that this would be a time when God's bigness overpowers the small box of "possibilities". I pray that there was some lesson that I taught him over these last 10 weeks that actually sunk in and that will have a positive influence on his life. I pray that she knows he is loved. I pray that he will learn to choose goodness.
Please pray for the rest of my kiddos. And for our school. Pray for healing and light through dust. (and please pray that my job is not switched...)
Thank you,
Em
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Dinner Parties
Sorry I fail at the whole blogging thing. When I first decided to get a blog, I was sure that I would write in it at least one a week, very faithfully. I wanted to have a way to communicate with those I love from home without having to commit to hour long phone calls with 30+ people every week. But as you can tell, I have not done a very good job at that. I wish I could tell you that I'll do better, but I probably won't. This life is just so hard to explain via phone/skype/email/blog. But I appreciate you asking and texting and calling and wanting to know. So here is my very brief, non-eloquent way of describing my experience here in Mississppi:
School is hard, but life is good.
I am still a horrible teacher. My planning is highly inadequate, my execution is awful, and my students are therefore not successful. I have been teaching these precious babies for over 2 months now and have seen very little growth. My kindergarten roommates talk about the fact that they have to teach their students how to be human because they really know nothing. Sadly, it's still the same in 7th and 8th grade. I want my students to experience the fullness of life. I want them to have choices and hopes and dreams. But they need to learn to read. And more importantly, they need to learn how to care about one another and how to respect themselves. These kids have so much potential dwelling inside of them, but there are all of these heavy layers of dust that have been piled on top of them. Sometimes the dust is a result of actions that they have chosen to make on their own, but sometimes the dust is an unavoidable consequence thrown on them from other broken people in a messy world. I don't know how to teach through the dust.
With that said, the hours between 6am and 4pm are pretty rough. But then we come home. And we love our home. Really and truly. Our house is our safe place. It is the place where our friends gather and let us feed them. Where my roommates and I dance around the house, laugh together, cry together, cook together, clean together, and pray together. The hours from 4pm-12am are the hours when I am reminded of who I am and how I have learned to live, especially over the last 4 years. I have spent so much of my last few years learning about how to live in a community. My job for the last 3 years was to foster and develop events and relationships that would lend themselves to moments of praise, vulnerability, hospitality, and grace. I was certain that I would never experience that type of community after I left APU. And while that is definitely true in many ways, I have slowly been finding ways to incorporate that life into this one. One of my favorite days occurred about 3 weeks ago when my roommates and I decided to throw an open house party. We created, printed, and hand-delivered personal invitations to our 50 closest friends, neighbors, and fellow teachers who have been a part of our crazy lives here. Most people think that the party was a "just because" type of party because it was so out of the blue. But for my roommates and me, this party was filled with the purpose of celebration. We get so bogged down with the heaviness of school that we forget the fact that we are people. We are people who have lives. And our lives are good. We want to remember that and to make sure that our friends realize it too.
These are my beautiful roommates and our favorite 88 year old neighbor, Jigger!
If I wasn't so committed to my beloved children and to this job, I think I would love to become a party planner. Or maybe just a professional dinner party hostess. We have a lot of dinner parties at our home. The food is never fancy (except that one time that Dave cooked!) and our table is much too small, but it forces us to slow down. When we eat, we are reminded that we are human. We are not the superheroes that we sometimes pretend to be. We are fragile, and we need to be nourished. It might seem easier to feed yourself or to just grab dinner from Wendy's, but I think that we are able to nourish a lot more than just our physical hunger when we can learn to cook and eat together.
I'm starting to feel more like myself here in this place. My hope and prayer now is that I will begin to feel as joyful and passionate about the hours between 6am and 4pm. I have to believe that I'll get there. It will take time to sift through all the dust, but I will not give up and I will not quit.
School is hard (but hopeful) and life is (excessively) good. even in the hard moments, i am thankful to be here. this is absolutely what i would choose.
love y'all.
School is hard, but life is good.
I am still a horrible teacher. My planning is highly inadequate, my execution is awful, and my students are therefore not successful. I have been teaching these precious babies for over 2 months now and have seen very little growth. My kindergarten roommates talk about the fact that they have to teach their students how to be human because they really know nothing. Sadly, it's still the same in 7th and 8th grade. I want my students to experience the fullness of life. I want them to have choices and hopes and dreams. But they need to learn to read. And more importantly, they need to learn how to care about one another and how to respect themselves. These kids have so much potential dwelling inside of them, but there are all of these heavy layers of dust that have been piled on top of them. Sometimes the dust is a result of actions that they have chosen to make on their own, but sometimes the dust is an unavoidable consequence thrown on them from other broken people in a messy world. I don't know how to teach through the dust.
With that said, the hours between 6am and 4pm are pretty rough. But then we come home. And we love our home. Really and truly. Our house is our safe place. It is the place where our friends gather and let us feed them. Where my roommates and I dance around the house, laugh together, cry together, cook together, clean together, and pray together. The hours from 4pm-12am are the hours when I am reminded of who I am and how I have learned to live, especially over the last 4 years. I have spent so much of my last few years learning about how to live in a community. My job for the last 3 years was to foster and develop events and relationships that would lend themselves to moments of praise, vulnerability, hospitality, and grace. I was certain that I would never experience that type of community after I left APU. And while that is definitely true in many ways, I have slowly been finding ways to incorporate that life into this one. One of my favorite days occurred about 3 weeks ago when my roommates and I decided to throw an open house party. We created, printed, and hand-delivered personal invitations to our 50 closest friends, neighbors, and fellow teachers who have been a part of our crazy lives here. Most people think that the party was a "just because" type of party because it was so out of the blue. But for my roommates and me, this party was filled with the purpose of celebration. We get so bogged down with the heaviness of school that we forget the fact that we are people. We are people who have lives. And our lives are good. We want to remember that and to make sure that our friends realize it too.
These are my beautiful roommates and our favorite 88 year old neighbor, Jigger!
If I wasn't so committed to my beloved children and to this job, I think I would love to become a party planner. Or maybe just a professional dinner party hostess. We have a lot of dinner parties at our home. The food is never fancy (except that one time that Dave cooked!) and our table is much too small, but it forces us to slow down. When we eat, we are reminded that we are human. We are not the superheroes that we sometimes pretend to be. We are fragile, and we need to be nourished. It might seem easier to feed yourself or to just grab dinner from Wendy's, but I think that we are able to nourish a lot more than just our physical hunger when we can learn to cook and eat together.
I'm starting to feel more like myself here in this place. My hope and prayer now is that I will begin to feel as joyful and passionate about the hours between 6am and 4pm. I have to believe that I'll get there. It will take time to sift through all the dust, but I will not give up and I will not quit.
School is hard (but hopeful) and life is (excessively) good. even in the hard moments, i am thankful to be here. this is absolutely what i would choose.
love y'all.
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