Summer Reading

 Another school year has passed, and another summer break has begun.  I've enjoyed the last week just relaxing, and though I've been semi-productive, everything I've done has been on my own time.  I didn't have to worry about what time it was, ever.  The freedom from my usually beloved schedule has been the best vacation so far.  But because my nature still needs some sort of task to accomplish, lest I slip into introversion and self-analysis that can only lead to misery, I have been devouring books like it's my job.  Here are a few snippets of my thoughts so far.

The Submission by Amy Waldman

Sometime last year the peeps revived book club after a long hiatus, and although I opted out of several selections because of the busy-ness of last winter, I have read the last few and have surprisingly enjoyed a few books that I never would have picked for myself.  The Submission was one of them, chosen by our dear friend Martha.  It is set just after the attacks of 9/11, and a jury of artists, architects, and one widow are given the task of choosing the design, and designer, of the memorial.  After an arduous process that kept all candidates anonymous until chosen, it turns out that the jury has selected a Muslim architect.  Of course, the shock of this reverberates throughout the country, and to call thought-provoking  Waldman's speculation on how a grief-stricken America might react to the idea of a person who claims the same religion as the attackers creating a memorial to the attacked is a vast understatement.

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

I had read this beautiful story once before when I was very young, too young to remember and understand the most touching and teaching parts of it.  So, when Rob and Tracy and I ventured across the country to DC in March (how appropriate), Rob and I took turns reading it in the car.  I won't tell you how many times she had to stop when she found me shamelessly sobbing in the back seat. We got about 2/3 of the way through it, but then I was back at school, and life didn't slow down, so I had to wait until early last week to pick it up again.  The story of the precious March family and the trials and victories the girls encounter while growing up is a classic masterpiece.  One can't help but fall in love with them all and rejoice when they rejoice and weep (literally) when they weep.  I haven't read the subsequent stories of these characters, Little Men and Jo's Boys, yet, but they're on my list to tackle as soon as my fragile emotions have recovered.

Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card

This was another book club selection, chosen by Becky.  The idea in iBooks' blurb (because I read nearly everything on my wonderful iPad now) of a young boy being trained as a soldier to fight off an alien invasion did not appeal to me in the least.  However, the intense struggle of Ender, a young, empathetic genius in a futuristic universal world, to overcome his circumstances, and often himself, held my interest to the end.  I am often irritated by books that begin in medias res, dropping me down in the middle of the action (especially in a world so different from my own), but the way that the characteristics of this new place were gradually revealed was exciting because I was always searching for clues in the text.  It was very well written and nearly thrilling and had me rooting for the young genius until the End(er).

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

I have been told by many people that I am perhaps the last person on the planet to read this book and its sequels.  It's been on my reading list for at least three years, but I've never been interested enough to pick it up because I feared it was another Twilight, and don't get me started on the ridiculousness of that phenomenon.  However, I had several beloved students this year who were super in love with The Hunger Games (so much so that the girls all braided their hair to be like Katniss's on our Senior High Retreat, which was the day after the movie's midnight premiere), so I had to find out what all the fuss was really about.  I didn't expect to really enjoy it, and I won't say that I'm sucked in.  But Collins did make me care about her characters, and I'll say this for her:  She knows how to sell a sequel.  The cliffhanger at the end of The Hunger Games makes me thankful I waited so long to read them because I'd be miserable if I were waiting for Mocking Jay to finally be released. 

Well those are the books I've finished this week.  Don't hold me to this high weekly standard for the rest of the summer, but I do plan to finish several more.  I'm also reading/listening to Les Miserables along the way, but I don't have the focus it takes to get through those roughly 3000 pages without several breaks.  I've seen the musical, and I have been saying I was going to read it someday for sometime.  Rob and I are planning to see the musical again in October, so I thought this was the perfect time.  I like a task I can check off of a list, and setting a goal of getting through Hugo's magnum opus by then seemed perfect.  I'll keep you updated on how it's going.  So far I'm on page 86 of 2820. 

Not all those who wander are lost

Did you miss me?  I know it's been just over a year, a long rollercoaster of a year, since I gave you some insight into the pickle jar that is my life, but I'm going to risk mixing my metaphors and get back on the horse.  I've learned so many lessons over the last year, and I miss the catharsis that regular (haha) writing used to bring.  So, no, I haven't been lost since April of 2011.  I've simply been wandering and have (no promises) made my way back to you.  The biggest part of my journey this year, other than teaching, has been purposefully being more healthy.  I have a hard time even talking about this with many people because I've been so embarrassed of my weight for as long as I can remember, but as my body continues to change, and I continue to reap the benefits that hard work has accomplished, it has become a little easier to accept the generous compliments and sweet smiles from the people around me who love and encourage.  On that note, I thought that I'd share just a few things that I've learned about lifestyle changes (because I have no plans to go back!).

1. You don't have to keep doing it just because it's who you've always been or what you've always done.

My shame and embarrassment that was developed and cultivated over the course of about 10 years or so kept me from changing my life for so long.  I would set a goal and decide I was going to really change things, but then the disappointment that came when it didn't happen as quickly as I wished would send me back to my old habits.  I'm still, daily, having to remember that I don't have to do the things I have always done.  I don't have to eat dessert just because that's what's supposed to come next.  I don't have to go back for seconds just because there's some left.  It may sound simple, or even silly, but that is an empowering revelation for me. 

2.  Your body is smarter than you think.  Listen to it.

It took such a long time for this one to really change because I didn't love or trust my body, but our perfect and amazing Creator has given us all the tools we need to be the healthy and beautiful people He created us to be. He created our bodies to know when we are full and to let our brains and hands and mouths know when to stop eating, but a lifelong habit of eating what whatever was around had corrupted my ability to do that.  When controlling when I stopped eating with my brain finally led me to a place where my stomach began to recognize it again, it was like someone turned a key in a lock and the chains fell off.  

3.  Nike was right.  Just Do It.

I have wasted a ridiculous amount of time "feeling bad" or being "tired" or just not wanting to exercise, but each time I go ahead and tough it out, I always feel better.  I can always be proud of working through that psychological mess and of doing just one more thing to get me closer to my goal.  Imagine all that I could have accomplished if I had just gotten out of my chair and done it without all the internal discussion!

4.  Enjoy the journey.

If you can't be happy with the small milestones, how can you expect to be happy at the end?  I often worry that I will work this hard for this long and still not be satisfied once that "magic" number is finally on the scale.  I am still learning this one.  I have to think about and reflect on all of the changes that have been made in me and in my life, all of the mountains I have had to overcome, just to get to this place.  I have now lost about 60% of my goal, and those numbers, ever so slowly, keep climbing.  The light at the end of the tunnel is beginning to glimmer into view.  As excited as I am to get there, I need to maintain focus on today so that I can keep moving forward, and continuing to allow myself to relish in the compliments and to smile when I look in the mirror is a huge part of that. 

I want to say thank you to all of you who have encouraged and supported me along the way, even those of you who may not even have known it.  I could never have gotten this far without you and my patient and loving Lord.  As part of my reward at the end of my weight loss journey, I have been planning a big party, and you will all be invited to share in the celebration of the success story that I know God is giddy to give me. 

Si-LENT-s

Although I'm not Catholic and have no desire for "high church," I do have many non-Catholic friends who regularly observe Lent. I'd thought about it for the last several years but have always felt that I ought to be sacrificial all year round and didn't like the idea of allowing myself to believe that my work was done at Easter. That's not to say that Lent observers feel or think this way, but only that I would be tempted to if I wasn't careful. Along the same lines, however, I have had a difficult time adjusting to my new grown-up single life in the past 8 months, and my spiritual life has taken a real beating. So this year, after some really hard conversations with good friends, I realized that a scheduled sacrifice to recenter my focus might be just what I needed.

Then came the internal conflict about what to give up. It had to be something tangible that I could feel and experience and miss regularly. It also had to be something I could actually do without for forty days. And it had to be something that would help me find and feel God again.

Finally, after a really late night of tears and trying and trembling, it came to me on my way home. I decided to give up listening to the radio in my car. It met all the criteria. With all of my driving back and forth to Beebe at least twice a week, in addition to the driving that I do around Searcy regularly, I could definitely miss it. But I also felt that I had enough self-control to make it through. I also decided that because I didn't want to sweep my house clean only to have seven more demons return, I needed to pray regularly in the car to replace listening to music. This was how I was going to find God again.

Now comes the confession and report on just how well I've done. First of all, I did stick to it. (And since my revelation came about a week too late to begin on Ash Wednesday, I've still got 3 days left.) Some car rides were harder than others, and I didn't always pray as much as I should. But practicing the self-discipline of Silence has really helped. It's helped me be more self-controlled about my eating habits and more self-disciplined about working out. It's helped me to really appreciate and almost look forward to the quiet times when I can just rest and think. I think it's helped me remember more. When I have more room and time to think, I forget fewer things. But the ultimate test is "Has it really brought me closer to my God?" I really think it has. I think the prayer and quiet time has created a way of life for me that reminds me that God is around. I am much more likely to remember to stop and pray than I was at the first of the year. I'm more content (usually). I'm more comfortable being alone and silent (most of the time).

I don't know what will change next week when I'm allowed to listen to the radio again. I hope it's like when I stopped drinking Cokes for a year and a half. Now I can't stand the taste of a regular soft drink. I hope I won't like it anymore. I hope I at least don't want it on all the time. I hope I'll still be able to remember how precious quiet can be and how calming it can be to not have a thousand different inputs in my one tiny brain.

Regardless, God is good. And I can't explain how it wonderful feels to regularly feel Him with me again. So, if the testimony of a Lent neophyte is worth anything, I'm in favor of yearly sacrifice. It's one step closer to the daily sacrifice we're all called to.

8 Questions

I have been asked several questions since becoming a teacher that have completely left me speechless. These aren't the kind of questions I don't feel qualified to answer; they're just the kind I never expected to hear.

1. Can I go out to the parking lot? I left my car running this morning.

2. Can I turn my homework in tomorrow? I got hit by a car yesterday afternoon.

3. Can I go to the office? My tooth just broke off.

4. Can I go get my book? I left it on the wrong side of my locker, so I forgot to pick it up.

5. Can you tell us about your first kiss?

6. Do you know who invented the dog whistle?

7. Where does the peace sign come from?

8. Do you know how to fold those paper chain people who all hold hands?

Needless to say, those of you who think that teachers only need to know about teaching their particular subject matter, think again. I've half a mind to write to the dean of my college and demand to know why the English Department didn't teach me who invented the dog whistle. I'm sure he'd take that into consideration and create a class designed specifically around that. In the meantime, Wikipedia is at my frequent disposal.

Sweet River Fool

When I finally moved into my first grown-up apartment, realized that my budget was still up in the air and that would mean I'd have to wait for a while before committing to a monthly cable bill, my years of studying and keeping busy in college meant that I was actually rather confident in my ability to refrain from television. I'd have movies after all, and could borrow whatever I didn't own, and this would finally give me the time I'd been craving to read whatever I wanted. Another one of those things that they never tell you about growing up is that teachers have to read a ton of stuff they wouldn't necessarily choose to read. About 80% of the material I have taught so far this year was brand new to me, so all that time I thought I'd have to read whatever books I wanted was initially taken up with planning and grading for school, and the time that remained left me so drained of energy that I'd rather sit in front of the tv than expand my literary horizons. I have consequently (yes, Senor Allen, people do use "consequently" in everyday conversations) spent the last six months watching movies and all of the tv series on DVD that I could borrow or get on Netflix. But in the past several weeks, I have finally gotten tired of tv and have returned to my once great love. I haven't read as much as I'd like, but I'm working on it, and the internet is helping me do that.

Sometime last Spring, I got an email from one of my favorite English professors at Harding, letting me know that he had just gotten his novel published. At the time, I was a poor college student, so I saved the email for a time when I'd actually be able to afford to buy it. Last week was exactly the time for it. I dug out that old email and ordered Sweet River Fool by Dr. Larry Hunt.

On Friday afternoon, when I was finally able to pick it up from the post office, I was super excited to delve into this new story. Being on Spring Break this week has given me ample opportunity to read whatever I like, so on Monday morning I finally picked up the tale of Snody (pronounced "Snow-dee"). For those of you who don't know Dr. Hunt, he's a really fun guy with a wide array of interests. (Incidentally, as the Tolkien expert on staff, he was my advisor for my Senior Symposium.) After reading only the "blurb" on the back cover, I knew that this was the perfect combination of his deep south Georgia upbringing and his delightful love of medieval literature. Snody, the protagonist, is a homeless drunk, who after a failed suicide attempt, finds an illustrated book about Saint Francis of Assisi in a dumpster and decides that he is going to model his life after Saint Francis. His story is beautifully woven through the lives of the residents of the small Georgia town of Sweet River, and it is inspiring to see the way this unlikely Christ character touches the lives of so many who are suffering and lonely. The writing has a light, yet tender feel and a subtle morality that makes it difficult to find its equal (or even its younger brother) on my bookshelves. I devoured this story in just a couple of days and slept very well on Tuesday night as I imagined being able to lay my head down in God's lap just like Snody did. I'd recommend this book without hesitation, and am hoping that this won't be the last of Dr. Hunt's books I'll be able to add to my collection. If you're interested, I'm certain that he would love for you to buy your own copy here, or I'd be happy to let you borrow mine.

Music makes words out of my soul thoughts.

"Music gives a soul to the universe,

wings to the mind,

flight to the imagination,

and life to everything."

~ Plato ~

I have long been affected by music, especially spiritually. I've often felt that worship songs were a better reflection of the deep yearnings of my heart than I could ever put into words. I have often used songs as prayers to the Lord when I could not find the words to express what I needed to tell him. Music cuts me somewhere deep. It allows my spirit to fill me up and overflow into the hearts and minds of others, especially God. I know that feelings are not everything, and they shouldn't be the basis for faith or closeness to God, but I am a primarily emotional being, and I have never felt closer to the heart of God than when I am singing, when I allow the melodic phrases to open secret passages of my heart that perhaps I didn't even know were locked. Music is a beautiful gift from the Lord.

That being said, I have been given a great gift in my opportunity to attend chapel daily. I have learned several new songs just this year that have quickly become favorites. No comment of mine can add to the beauty of these words, so I will simply share with you the lyrics of three songs that I had never heard a year ago and cannot begin to understand how my soul ever lived without. I hope that you will be blessed by them as I have been.

Still

Hide me now
Under Your wings
Cover me
Within Your mighty hand

When the oceans rise and thunders roar
I will soar with You above the storm
Father you are King over the flood
I will be still and know You are God
[
Find rest my soul
In Christ alone
Know His power
In quietness and trust

When the oceans rise and thunders roar
I will soar with You above the storm
Father You are king over the flood
I will be still and know You are God

Let God Arise

Hear the holy roar of God resound
Watch the waters part before us now
Come and see what He has done for us
Tell the world of His great love

Our God is a God who saves
Our God is a God who saves

Let God arise
Let God arise
Our God reigns now and forever
He reigns now and forever

His enemies will run for sure
The church will stand, she will endure
He holds the keys of life, our Lord
Death has no sting, no final word

I Will Rise

There's a peace I've come to know
Though my heart and flesh may fail
There's an anchor for my soul
I can say "It is well"

Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead

[Chorus:]
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise

There's a day that's drawing near
When this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear
And my faith shall be my eyes

Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead

[Chorus:]

And I hear the voice of many angels sing,
"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I hear the cry of every longing heart,
"Worthy is the Lamb"
[x2]

[Chorus:]

Living an American Century

Frank Buckles, the last American World War I veteran, passed away last night at the age of 110. Besides the fact that he deserves our gratitude and respect for defending our country in the "Great War" and for his incredible survival of a 3-year stay in a Japanese POW camp, can you imagine the stories he could tell just because he was alive to witness so much in the past century?

We Remember

My AP class is studying Hitler's propaganda ministry and the Holocaust in conjunction with a reading of Elie Wiesel's autobiography, Night. It's a heartrending story of this 15 year old Jewish boy's survival of Auschwitz. Wiesel is an incredible man. Since being liberated by American troops in 1945, he has written and published 47 books, holds several degrees (some of which are honorary), has taught at Boston University and Yale, won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986, and at the age of 82 is still alive today, shouting from the rooftops, doing all he can to ensure that the memories of so many dead will live on.

Tomorrow (assuming that the meteorologists are crazy for predicting that the blizzard of the century will arrive just after midnight) my students will watch Oprah's 2006 interview with Wiesel. This is an incredible viewing. They actually visit Auschwitz (which apparently Wiesel does on a regular basis -- Can you imagine?) over 50 years after the fact, and as if the feeling of the place isn't intense enough, he refuses to speak above a whisper in order to respect the dead.

While doing this study along with my kids, I have been moved to tears several times. This is a tragedy of mammoth proportions that no one should ever have the luxury to forget. Here in the midst of my rambling, I'm reminded of Elie Wiesel's declaration that there simply are no words. No words to describe the horror and anger and grief. No words. So here, at the risk of alluding to Thomas Bowden's "This page is left blank for you" at the end of Beebe High School yearbooks, I'm going to leave the rest of this post blank for the memories of the dead and the grief of the living. May those six million descendants of Abraham never be forgotten.

____________________________________________________________________

State of the Classroom Address: Room 2 edition

Last night at half past seven o'clock Miss Pruitt of Room 2 delivered this, the State of the Classroom address.

Students, parents, colleagues, friends, I greet you. Tonight, I will inform you all on the successes, failures, and delightfully (usually) random happenings in room 2. We'll laugh; we'll cry; oh, what a time we'll have. I hope that by the end of the address you will all feel that the future of our country is safe (ish) and that at least 50% of ignorance is regularly stamped out.

Three different classes are conducted inside room 2 four days a week, due to Harding Academy's block scheduling on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Sophomores gather to learn and discuss the forms and functions of general English, including language, writing, and reading. So far this year, we've read Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, several poetry selections, and we are currently in the middle of the beauty that is Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities. I fully enjoy my 10th grade students. We have a good time together. Last semester, I failed to thoroughly explore writing and language skills to the degree which I would like, so I plan to remedy that this Spring.

Juniors assemble in room 2 daily to discover the complexities of the history of American Literature. So far, we've read Twain's Huckleberry Finn, Hawthorne's The Scarlett Letter, Miller's The Crucible, a large collection of American short stories, poems, and historical documents, and we are currently tackling argumentative research papers on a wide variety of social issues. My regret from the fall semester was that we spent too much time on the selections I enjoyed the most, so we were forced to cram too much material into too little time. I'm hoping to be able to keep things moving at a pace consistent enough to keep that from happening again, while actually making it through all of the material we still need to cover. It's a daunting task.

Some academically excellent Junior students were chosen to participate in the Advanced Placement Language and Composition course. We read and discussed several works over the summer: The Great Gatsby, The Case for Christ, and Ecclesiastes. Since then, we've tackled Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart, as well as a number of essay selections. We used these readings as material to shape our writing. We've explored the forms, functions, and development of essays that analyze literature and those that make strong arguments, and are currently in the process of learning to synthesize the two. We've still got great strides to make before we can walk on the moon of the AP test, but these students are exceptionally bright, and I'm proud of the work they've done as well as consistently amazed at their innate abilities to make intelligent connections.

Besides the satisfaction that comes from watching students learn and grow, there is also a very special part of my job that comes from simply sharing in these kids' lives. I never cease to be amazed at their many quirks and the diversity of their many interests. At one time or another in my classroom, I have participated in conversations about what we should do if there is a school shooting, a student's chipped tooth, the disgusting details of stomach viruses, the possibilities of deodorant that smells like cheeseburgers, the fact that Will loves basketball, the details of my contract, plans to set me up on a blind date with someone who doesn't even live in this state, silverback gorillas, the man who invented the dog whistle, Publius, Captain America, yams, whether a woman's place is in the kitchen, the fact that I have two students in the same class who hate the number 4, and efforts to Save the Manatees from large ships because they're too stupid to get out of the way. There is never a dull day in room 2.

Lastly, I just want to say that even on days when I can't believe it's only number 95 because it feels like number 1095, I still can't imagine myself doing anything else. I've had friends tell me that I was born to do this job, and I am more and more convinced of that fact every day. Even when I'm exhausted from pulling teeth and herding cats (which is what my job is a considerable amount of the time), I'm still thinking about delightful conversations about the movies they think I should see and the smiles on their faces when they find out I'll be there to watch them play that game or perform on that stage. All 87 of them have captured little parts of my heart, and I know that it will simply have to grow 2 or 3 sizes in the next few years to add in all the new faces and lives that I will inevitably love.

Teaching is a very special job, and Harding Academy is a very special place. I find it a privilege and an honor to serve my Lord by leading children to new worlds and fascinating discoveries. I hope and pray that I can bless their lives in a small way because they have infinitely blessed mine.

Happy 100th Day of School, Wildcats! Here's to a fun and productive 78 more!

Announcement of State of the Classroom Address

It's 1:36 pm (6th period), and I'm reporting LIVE from Harding Academy Room 2. Today is the 100th day of the 2010-2011 school year. I've officially been a teacher for 100 days (some may think that I've been teaching for most of my life in some capacity or another, but that's a story for another day). In honor of these past 100 days, I am preparing to deliver my address on the State of the Classroom. Tonight, I'll inform you all on our successes and failures and our plans and goals for the future. Stay Tuned.

Don't forget the small things

As my last post was slightly depressing and may have left many of you concerned about me and/or reluctant to read this blog ever again in fear that you days would be darkened rather than brightened if you did, I've decided to let you all know that I've pulled myself up out of that puddle and embraced the little things in life.

Here's a list of the good things this week that I'm making a point to remember to appreciate:

1. I love my job. I get paid to do what I was created to do. How many people can truly say that?
2. I'm slowly, but surely, finding a new church home. I've been attending semi-consistently and have decided to be more deliberate. I've joined a new bible study and a Sunday morning class where I can meet new people my age and, hopefully, make some good new friends.
3. I went out to eat twice this week with friends I hadn't seen in a long time. It was a real blessing for me to remember that even when I feel the loneliest, if I trust God, he will take care of me.
4. I am currently reviving my love for reading. I've spent so much of the past few years reading for school, either as a student or as a teacher. Now, I've actually got the time to do both, and it's been wonderful to re-experience the joy that comes from visiting another life.
5. My family has been a real blessing to me in the past few weeks. We've had our ups and downs, but lately things have been really good. I've felt accepted and like I belong with them, which is something that I was really yearning for. I'm so thankful I could find that at home.

grown-up (yet single) snow days

I apologize for the lengthy hiatus all of you faithful pickle jar readers have had to endure. I can't promise that this will be the post you've been waiting for, but perhaps it will jump-start a new year of more regular blogging.

So, yesterday was a snow day. Oh, the many joys of being a teacher! It was great to have a day where I got to sleep in and relax and stay in my jimjams all day. But the sadness comes from being a grownup who lives alone. This is another one of those things nobody ever tells you about growing up. Remember snow days when you were a kid? Everybody was super excited because not only did you get to miss school, you also got to go out and play and make snow angels and forts and snow men. And then you'd come back in and slowly strip off those damp layers while your mom made soup for lunch that you got to eat in your jimjams while getting warm. And perhaps, if you were really brave, you would layer back up later in the afternoon and venture out for round two. And I know that it's still fun to do those things as a grown up. It's one of the few times in life where you get to run around and act a fool and everyone thinks it's totally normal. But, like I said, there's a catch that no one ever tells you about. Single Snow Days.
If you're single and live alone and too far away from your family to safely travel home on a snow day, you have no one to go play in the snow with. Which means that it's practically pointless to venture out because you'll just end up feeling more sorry for yourself than you already do. This is when you put on a brave face and do the next best thing. You make yourself a hot cup of tea or cocoa or coffee or whatever your hot drink of choice is and settle into a marathon of book devouring and movie consumption. And, all in all, as long as you don't spend too much time thinking about how your friends are spending their snow days (especially those who have sweet children to play with), you'll make it just fine. And you may even have a midly impressive checklist to show for it.

Here's the tally for yesterday:
3 loads of laundry washed and dried (only 1 folded)
1 + 1/2+ 75 pages of books read
2 1/2 movies watched
1 week of lesson plans finished

And while that really doesn't seem like much now that I write it out, it was a rather enjoyable way to spend my surprise day off. Especially in light of my options.

Hope that you and your families had fantastic snow days and that you only feel appropriately sorry for me in this, my time of self-pity.

Things I learned in Room 2 today

1. I learned how to make a paper doll chain, both in a straight line and in a circle.

2. I learned that there are several “causes” that have their own special colors. These are used to promote awareness for the individual situations. The odd thing is that there are a limited number of colors, but a considerable number of causes. So one color may end up representing awareness for two comically unrelated causes. For instance, a yellow ribbon is supposed to raise awareness for support of our military. Great, right? It’s also supposed to represent suicide awareness and the awareness of anal cancer. Hmmm…………

Home Improvement and Discontent

I've spent the last two weekends helping my friend Rob shop for furniture. She and her husband have been planning to makeover their living room since they got married in the spring of 2009, but this month, we all finally got around to picking things out. We've agonized over the patterns and fabrics and colors and styles of dozens of different pieces. We've measured and measured again. We've positioned and repositioned things in our minds. We've looked at catalogs and at actual furniture on the showroom floors. We've sat in every single chair and on every single couch and now, we've finally made decisions. All the furniture pieces, positions, and patterns are finally chosen and paid for. In 6-8 weeks, they'll (we'll) have a brand new living room.

I've enjoyed every minute of it. Organizing and arranging all of these things is something that I love. Interior design is one of my many future career ambitions. But the fact that I currently live in my very first single-person apartment, which isn't the most luxurious of living arrangements, means that my style and taste aren't exactly represented by the hodgepodge of hand-me-down furniture and accessories currently in my apartment. I've got lots of plans and ambitions, but my life and my private-school teacher's salary haven't yet allowed me to make the changes I'd like. Needless to say, although I've thoroughly enjoyed living vicariously through Rob and Tracy this fortnight, I can't help but think about all the things I'd like to do in my own place. Here are just a few that are in the front of my mind right now:

1. Buy or make slipcovers for my couch and chair
2. Buy a "gently-used" table and chairs
3. New curtains for the living room
4. New bedding
5. A microwave, since mine decided to quit a couple of weeks ago
6. Buy or inherit some shelves so that my beloved books can finally get out of those boxes and breathe
7. Put some sort of art on the super boring walls

Hopefully, this incredible discontent that I'm feeling will be satisfied soon. Maybe I'll even blog about my efforts in the coming weeks. Keep your eyes peeled for updates.

Illness

Today was the first day that I was sick enough to actually call in sick to a real-live job. I feel like death eating a biscuit and probably look like it too. I've got an array of symptoms that I've been fighting off for two or three weeks but lost my power over sometime yesterday morning. My throat is sore, my stomach feels queasy, and I've got a headache the size of Montana. So, I called our precious secretary this morning and asked very politely, and very pathetically, for a substitute. She was gracious and caring, but the bad news was that I had not planned to be absent today. As a first year teacher, I do almost all of my planning one day ahead. If I've got a full week planned before Tuesday afternoon, it is a most productive week. Needless to say, I did not have written lesson plans when I requested a sub at 7am this morning, so I had to go to school in my jeans with my wet hair to create lesson plans and make copies for my poor sub.

Don't get me wrong and assume that I'm a terrible teacher who never plans anything but just shows up and sees what happens. That's not at all the case. I'm just the kind of teacher who too often makes all the plans in her head (and sometimes in the morning in the shower), so they aren't the kind of plans she can pass on to another at a moment's notice. However, after about 25 minutes at school this morning, where I am sure plenty of people thought I was completely rude because I reciprocated their polite "Good Morning"s in a unenthusiastic manner, I finally made it back home to my chair where a large glass of ginger ale, a box of saltines, several chloraseptic lozenges, my ugly quilt, and the first season of Jed Barlett's White House awaited me. I enjoyed my morning as thoroughly as I could with Montana between my eyes, but the worst part about today, that I forgot to mention earlier, was that today was the day that final grades for the 1st quarter were due. At 3:25. I had finally finished reading and scoring all of the AP rewrites last night, but I hadn't put them in our online gradebook to be finalized yet, so I actually had to do a bit of work today. The sad news is that I, as a poor single private school teacher, do not yet have internet access at my home. So I was forced to venture out. Knowing that I did not want to have to be seen by people, my sweet Rob-Bob let me hijack her laptop in her office(after also bringing me lunch). Those of you who know Rob know how big of a sacrifice this really was for her. Fortunately, I was actually more caught up on grades than I thought , so it didn't take long for me to finalize things. Now, I'm back to resting and consuming fluids at a nearly alarming rate. I hope and pray that I feel better tomorrow and will be able to return to Room 2 at full capacity.....or at least a capacity where Montana has shrunk to New Jersey and I can think about something besides the activity of my intestines.

I never cease to be amazed at how quickly time passes when I'm sick. After lying around all day, I have no idea how it ever got to be 4:35 in the afternoon. I have done almost nothing productive all day. Wow.

Anyway, I'm not sure that this was of any interest to all of you, but I've felt rather lousy and lonely today and needed to at least pretend that there were some people out there who might at least like to read about my illness. At least from your computer screen, you aren't likely to catch it.

Logos

I've thought a lot about the truth of God's power in the spoken (and written) word over the past year or so. I intended to write my Senior Seminar paper in exploration of this idea last fall, but my mentor did not think it was a good idea, so I was pushed in another direction. Nevertheless, the idea of logos, our logo-centric faith, and God's power through the logos permeates my thoughts on a regular basis. A good friend and mentor sent me a link to a phenomenal blog post this morning that I could not leave alone. By far the most personal highlight of my first reading was the following statement: The tightly knotted bond between God and language is the secret truth of all writing. Isn't that profound? Not writing more often is one of my continuous regrets, but I allow life to get in the way too often. I love words, and the beauty that can be found through true self-expression is overwhelming. So, when I can't seem to make time to write myself, reading the words of others expressing profound truth is almost as good.

I'm in a difficult place in my life, and I've been trying really hard to see God working in my life to love me and show me what plans he has made for us. To say that I'm not very good at it would be an understatement. However, one of the ways I find God, his power, and his presence in my life regularly is through words. Whether it's through a song, a prayer, a scripture, or a few words from a sweet student, God is powerful and gracious and faithful, and he knows me. Looking for the secret truth in the writing of others is a balm for the secret longings of my heart, and I thank my creator for speaking so tenderly to me during this, my time of wilderness.

Thanks to all of you who allow God to work through you to minister to me as angels.

Musings from Room 2

It is no secret to those who know me that, although, as a teacher I'm not technically supposed to have favorites, the sophomores in 5th period are pretty special. I don't know what it is that makes that class so different from all the others. Maybe it's the personalities. Maybe it's the time of day, just before lunch. Maybe it's Memphis. Who knows? Nevertheless, there is an abundance of enjoyable moments and memories made daily in Room 2 during 5th period. I often wonder if these kids love me as much as I love them. Probably not. But some days they say things that just make my whole week. I could live on comments like "This class gets me through the day" for a lifetime. I don't know what I'm doing right with these kids, but they feel safe with me, and that is my #1 goal as a teacher.

Today was a day not unlike other glorious Wednesdays when I get to have all my sophomores for an hour and a half. There was random chatting and fun being had by all in the midst of grammar and learning and writing. It was heavenly, as you can imagine. But, for some reason, after several weeks of school, this class began to ask a plethora of questions about me and my life that they had not yet asked.

Are you married?
Do you have a "manfriend"?
Will you write a book? ( I later found out that they want me to write a book about them. Good thing they don't know about this blog.)
Do you have any siblings?
What is your favorite football team?: college and NFL

These are just the ones from today. I've also answered questions that range anywhere from what sports I played in high school to what my favorite movies are. I'm seriously considering creating an autobiography to share with them all. Since the readers of the pickle jar are among my greatest friends, I'm asking you for particular stories, facts, or parts of my life that should not be neglected, should I choose to tell my students about my life. Maybe I'll even dig out the ancient Facebook note on my 16 things for inspiration. The phone lines and comment boxes are now open.

Advice from the Pickle Jar

My juniors created autobiographies this week, and one of the requirements was a list of advice to others. It could have been "How to survive being"... a cheerleader, a junior, a football player, a younger sibling, etc. As long as it was something they learned from experience, it was valid. Here's my list.



1. Love like you couldn't breathe otherwise.

2. Don't do it all alone.

3. How things are and how you feel are not often the same.

4. You're not stuck. The only person you can change is yourself, but that doesn't give you the freedom to give up on that change. There's no such thing as "sorry, this is just the way I am."

5. Sometimes things end up better when they don't work out the way you planned.

6. Never let yourself get too busy to play with children and talk to them about their lives.

7. Never underestimate the power God has to create greatness out of the nothingness of your life.

8. Home isn't always a place; sometimes it's just being with the people you love who love you in return.

9. Laugh at yourself

10. Finish Strong.

A week in the life of a first-year English teacher

This week has been pretty crazy so far. I'm surprised by my own ability to miraculously shrug off the embarrassment and stress that have come from certain incidents. Things have happened this week that would usually have meant the end of the world as I knew it, but somehow I've had an attitude that has allowed me to simply laugh at myself. Don't get used to it.

1. I have been in charge of after-school detention this week. That is by no means the end of the world on its own, but when you combine it will all the other things I needed to do, staying for an extra hour after school every day was slightly overwhelming.

Bright Side: I was able to get some work done that I didn't have to take home or stress about the next morning.

2. Tuesday was.........um...........eventful. We only had school for half a day, and most of those 25-minute classes were taken up by school pictures, so the teaching aspect of the day was a complete wash. After the students went home at 12:30, the teachers ate a catered lunch from Pasta Grill, which is a new restaurant in town that I'd been meaning to try. I will definitely be eating there sometime in the near future. The lasagna was excellent, and as it's not my favorite pasta dish, I'm certain that the others must be even better. After lunch, I was able to rest a bit and make a trip to the grocery store to pick up a few snacks for the evening. At 3:00, parents arrived for my first ever Parent/Teacher conferences. I met with 23 parents in 4 hours. While that really isn't many considering the fact that I'm a brand-new teacher, it was still overwhelming. And the sheer business of being at school until 7:00 was exhausting.

Bright Side: The parents were gracious and sweet, and no one was angry with me.

3. Wednesday was the funny day. I'll set the scene: Wednesday is block day, so I only have odd-numbered classes for 1 1/2 hours each, plus 8th period. After my 3rd period planning, I made my way back to my room, where Coach L teaches Bible during 3rd period.
He hung around, talking to a student longer than usual. My students began to arrive and after my hourly trip to the bathroom, I re-entered my classroom to find everyone frantic. I immediately heard a very loud beeping alarm clock, but none of us could find its source. Coach L stayed to help. We even had a student standing on my desk to check the ceiling tiles because someone had placed an alarm clock in the ceiling of another classroom last year. Eventually, Mrs. S from next door and Coach M from the hall had also come to help with the investigation. Coach M pretended not to hear the sound so that the girls in my class would feel that they were going crazy. It worked for a while. Then he told us that he had played a prank and put the alarm in the ceiling. He was, again, joking. Eventually, Mrs. S and Coach M went to their own classes, and Coach L volunteered to get a ladder because we were all sure it must be coming from the ceiling. About the time he left, Dean M, who is my principal and boss, showed up. I'm not sure who told him about the situation, but he came to see what was going on. I was trying to just continue with class, but my efforts were mostly in vain. As I began to teach, or at least to get my students under control and Coach L went for the ladder, Dean M began to search my room. All of a sudden, I looked up, and he had picked up my teacher bag and put it on my desk as if the sound was coming from my bag. The only thing I could think of that might be making that incessant sound was my cell phone that I knew was on silent. Nevertheless, I got it out of my bag to check, and it was silent. Then we heard the noise again, and I discovered what had happened. The button on the side of my phone that adjusts the volume was being pushed inside my bag continually. It had been my cell phone and my fault all along. There's nothing like having your boss be the one to figure out that your cell phone is incessantly beeping and preventing you and others from having class. Still, after apologizing profusely, I was able to laugh it off and continue with what was left of my class. Coach M caught me in the teacher's workroom this morning (Thursday) to ask about what had happened and to share with the other coaches present the embarrassment of my Wednesday.

As if this alarm incident wasn't enough, I was also caught making grammatical mistakes in my Facebook status by my mentor and department chair, Mrs. S.

Additionally, during the Round-Table discussion in my AP class, I was hit by a paper ball that my students had been using to play a game that they thought I didn't know they were playing. The truth is that I was just happy they were actually talking to me and thinking critically.

Bright Spot: After our daily prayer in 5th period, one student told me that our prayers got her through the day. Another student extended her thought by declaring that my class got him through the day. Those are the comments we live for. I can live on that one for months.

4. Today (Thursday) was the day that Mrs. S had planned to come and observe my class to begin preparing me for the Praxis III observation that I will complete in the Spring in order to recieve my offical teaching license. The bad news is that she makes me nervous, even more so than when I had my offical principal's evaluation. So I had been slightly stressed about her coming to visit the class that is composed of the most unfortunate combination of personalities, abitilities, and circumstances imaginable. I'd spent several fruitless hours trying to be sure that I would not embarrass myself, yet again. But she had to leave school early this afternoon and was unable to come. That's a relief for the day, but it means that I'll just be postponing my stress until sometime next week.

Bright Side: I'm beginning to actually enjoy this class of poor, unfortunate misfits.

I greatly apologize to all my devoted fans and readers for the too-long hiatus you've been forced to endure while I spent the last month or so transitioning into my new life. I'm going to put blogging back on my priority list, but I'm not making any promises at this point as to how often you'll actually get an update. I love you all very much, but life is in session.

I suppose that the most efficient way for the pickle jar to make a comeback is to create a list of all the sweet and sour bits of life from the last few weeks. I'm a list maker by nature, but I'm terrible at hierarchies, so these are in no particular order.

1. I am and have been a real-live teacher for a month now. It still feels weird sometimes that I'm not the one in school anymore, but I love what I do. I'm sure that you all know someone in the teaching profession who could tell you all about the stress and mountains of work that go into molding young minds, and I am no stranger to climbing (and tumbling down) those mountains. However, I get to get up everyday and spend time with an amazing group of young people who continue to inspire, frustrate, encourage, and challenge me on a daily basis. I am certain that this is where I was made to be.

2. I just moved into a my very first grown-up apartment last week. It's a bit scary to actually be out on my own, paying my own bills, and coming home to an empty place every night, but I'm beginning to get used to it. I've always liked to be in control of how I spend my time, so that part is nice. I am confident that things will get easier. Some days are sweet; some days are sour. But everyday I am thankful for the opportunity to be able to be where I am.

3. Rob and I are still running, now on a daily basis. Our 5k for the JDRF is next weekend, and hopefully I'll have a post about how we were able to run the whole thing in roughly 45 min. It's still hard for me to keep going with the running routine, but I know I will feel so proud and accomplished when we cross that finish line.

4. Rob and I are also now sponsoring a child from Togo, West Africa through the Compassion International program. We send them money every month so that Francios can eat, sleep comfortably, go to school, and learn about Jesus. I am so excited to write my first letters and hear all about Francios' life. I still dream about being able to go hold babies in Africa someday, but until I get the opportunity to do that, I am doing what I can to make a difference.

In addition, here are a few things that you might see posts about in the near future, assuming that I can keep this up:

knitting

a new women's Bible study

Poetry Friday

experiences at a new church home

Wildcat Football

JDRF 5k

my sweet, sweet babies

ducks on the fishing pond

I hope this has been successful in satisfying your appetite for my interesting and witty entries. That's life in the pickle jar.