Goodbye, Good Friend. I'll See You in Nine Months.

To students, the day that summer ends is like a funeral.  They mourn the days they didn't get to fully enjoy, and dread the coming days of work and schedules.

But to teachers?  The last day of summer is like an old friend leaving for the umpteenth time.  It's bittersweet.  We'll miss Summer.  But the coming adventures in the classroom are something to look forward to.  Summer and teachers pick up right where they left off.  There is no mourning...at least not until mid-October (that's when the need for a personal day ALWAYS begins tempting me).

This was a great summer.  I'm not mourning at all. 

I just posted this on Facebook tonight about my summer adventures:

"Signs of a Successful Summer:

A visit to cooler climates to see marvelous friends.
A week at the beach, soaking up sun and laughter with Samantha.
An INCREDIBLE week of youth camp with Delta Chi.
LOTS of time with my Lesslie/Hada family AND my Blain family.
TWO family engagements, which means TWO new sisters.
For King and Country with one of OKWU's summer ministry teams.
Road-tripping with my favorite fella.
A tour of the convent.
Game night with fellow teachers.
One-on-one time with lovely teens.
Baking? Check.
Painting? Check.
Sleeping? Check.
Reading? Check.
House organized? Check!
Yep. I'd say this summer was successful!" 

I need to remember this so that when October hits, and especially when May slowly peeks its head around the corner and the chaos of end-of-the-year begins, I can remember that every long marathon of a day, every research paper graded, every cranky student, and every "well meaning" parent were completely worth it.  

And Summer will be visiting to pick up where we left off again.

I've heard many comments this summer about how teachers "have it made; they only teach nine months a year and get paid a full salary."

Yes... we do... but we're also exhausted.  We take our work (even though every wise college professor tells us not to) home with us.  And our work does not just include grading.  It includes the burdens of our students.  The drama of those "well-intended" parents.  The kick-back of nationally inducted fix-alls to education that will only last for five or six years until the next fix-all comes along and the cycle repeats itself all over again.

I'm proud of what I do, and I love that I get to do it, but summer is my reprieve.

However, I cannot lie.  I'm so excited for the beginning of a fresh school year I may have trouble sleeping tonight.  

Last year was a great year teaching in Kansas.  I work with an incredible team of teachers and administrators, and I loved my students.  It was a grueling year, though.  I was exhausted with all of the extra curriculars I picked up (Scholars' Bowl, SADD, after prom, and softball), but they were worth the exhaustion.  

God has called me to teach so that I can live in such a way that others can see Him.  Education, like so many of the jobs you all fill and feel called to, is a mission field.  I fail so often at being his hands and feet.  But I am called to merely plant seeds.  God will grow and nourish those seeds.  

The exhaustion is worth it, because I know I'm not doing it alone.  Even if I don't see the harvest, I know the crops will flourish under the Son.

And Summer will visit again.  We'll smile at one another, jump right back into our last conversation, and play until the departure calls again.

I have the best job in the whole world.  I get to be a teacher.

Cheap Shots and Word Scars

 I overheard a student calling her mom this morning; I was in the zone of early morning preparations, and her tone snapped me out of my thoughts.

“I KNOW, Mom!  I don’t care if you told him I would.  Mom.  Mom.  Mom!  I’m NOT going!  Well you don’t know…Mom.  Mom!  MOM!!!!  I’M NOT GOING!  I’ve got to get to class.  Click.”

My heart surged for a second due to the anger I felt on the mother’s behalf, and then a great sadness as disappointment and a jolting reality hit.

My disappointment was due to the stereotype of “this generation is so bad; back in my day…”

But then reality: I’ve talked to my mother like that. 

There are so many phases of being a teenager, and sadly, teenagers think they know it all and can talk down any person who contradicts them.  How very brazen.  And I remember that phase.

But I’m seeing things very differently the older I get.  I cherish my mother, and wish I had listened to her wisdom that I now covet when I was a teen.  I swallowed a large dose of pride somewhere in college as the Lord broke my rebellion and softened my heart to authority.  I won’t lie- I still have to pray for God’s help in this area.  I’m a bold woman who has a large independent streak, which God knows is in me.  But as a teacher, I’m called to model teamwork and character, and my at-times snotty attitude can’t come into play or I won’t keep my job, a job I feel called to.

A student called me a “bitch” this week, and maybe this is why this one phone call is so disturbing to me.  I’ve seen God work in my life, but so many of my students don’t know him.  The student on the phone?  She’s living for herself, and has not desire to make time for God in this phase of her life.

What I see in this generation is a desire to justify every ill thought, mean word, and hurtful action rather than take responsibility, rather than apologize, and rather than change. 

The student who called me a “bitch” didn’t mean for me to hear, but I did.  So when I confronted her to tell her that kind of behavior would not fly with me, she said, “I said it about you, not to you.”  As if that made it okay?  That absolutely justified nothing.

People, I don’t care who they are, deserve respect.  They deserve grace and great forgiveness.  So I write to remind myself that with God’s help, I can love and forgive students who use cheap and hurtful words.  If God could change me in that way, I know he can change them too.  I thank the Lord he has shown me the value of people, especially my incredible mom and dad.

I want to be more like Christ.  Today is a great reminder of where I used to be and how far God has brought me; but it’s also a reminder of how much more I need to strive to emulate his heart, actions, and words.