a time for every purpose under heaven

Sixteen years ago, as a high school senior, I wanted to be an artist.

My dad told me that I should probably choose a real career.

Fifteen years ago, as a college freshman, I planned to combine my art skills and my interest in business into a career in marketing.

Everyone said I'd be successful.

Fourteen years ago, as a college sophomore, I fell in love with a group of third graders and decided to become a teacher.

My mama asked what had taken me so long.

Thirteen years ago, as a college junior, I found that elementary students were more than my patience could handle and I decided to teach high school instead.

People thought I might be crazy.

Twelve years ago, as a college senior, I found inspiration from a regular group of youth-center-drop-in kids and set my sights on teaching kids who needed me the most.

People said I reminded them of "the chick from Dangerous Minds."

Ten years ago, as a first year teacher, I worked harder than I ever thought I could with less than I ever thought I'd have.  Less time, less resources, less guidance, less places for students to sit than my enrollment required.  They told me that they would make me cry; I did not.  I thought I'd never be able to stay sane with more than a few teenage girls in one room.

People asked me if I was scared.  I wasn't.

Eight years ago, as a third year teacher, I changed schools.  Burnt out and losing steam, I was encouraged to give teaching a try in a new district.  The students booed me during an assembly. I got cussed out for the first time in my teaching career.  One of the first students I was able to make a connection with died of a drug overdose.

People said, "kids these days."

Yesterday, as a tenured teacher, I was told that my position was being eliminated and that I was being transferred out of the small, imperfect, often frustrating program where I have spent the last eight years.

My co-workers said, "Laura, we're sorry.  We'll miss you."

Tomorrow, I will tell my favorite group of homeroom students, 10 girls who I have grown to be so proud of, that our homeroom will be dissolved next year.  That I will not be their advisor or their teacher.  That I will not be there to greet them every morning or call them when they are absent or nag them about their grades and attendance.  That they no longer have to fear my English 3-B class.

I will tell them that I've never cried in front of a class before.

I know that my students will land on their feet, as will I.  We will move on and it won't be so painful as the days go on.  Doors will open for all of us that may not have otherwise.  They will form new connections with the teachers that remain.  But today, today is just kinda hard.

back from the abyss

Ya know how sometimes, when you take a break from something, you cross the threshold from "break" into "hiatus" and then into "abyss"?

Coming back from the abyss stage is kinda hard.

Which is why this little ditty will probably be short.  I just don't have my sea legs quite yet.

Luckily, my girl Julia is still hosting her Thankful Thursday link-up.  Being thankful will take the first-post-back pressure off, I think.

Here we go:

I'm thankful for...

{treadmills}

In addition to the blogging abyss, I fell into the running abyss as well.  Eleven holiday pounds had me weeping on the scale come January 1 and back on track {sort of literally} as of January 2.  Between the super cold days and the early sunsets, I'm thankful I have safe, warm, if not crowded and stuffy, treadmill on which to save my soul one mile at a time.

{LinkedIn}

There comes a point when a person, especially one who is surrounded by teenagers every day from 7:10-2:13, needs a space to learn and connect professionally.  Facebook is nice, but I relish social network that requires adults to be adults :)

{Overdrive}

While I have this nifty little function on my car, gas is far too expensive {as was my recent speeding ticket} to really get out on the road and pay it the attention it deserves.  I'm talking about the fabulous little app on my iPad that allows me to check out library books, read them, and then let them disappear when they are due.  No overdue charges.  Which is super good because I am currently banned from checking out real books from the brick-and-mortar library due to my excessive charges.  

{GTD}

I love love love love love making lists and organizing and labeling, and, well, you get the picture.  I love David Allen more because he taught me how to make big lists and not be intimidated by them.  I actually had to buy this book.  And.  It was worth it.  I feel all productive and ish for the new year.

It's good to be back, lovelies!  Toodles,

ode to a note

When I was in elementary school, the one where I had to bring my lunch, every so often I would find, stuck neatly in between the contents of my brown paper bag, a sweet note from my mama.

Handwritten notes are very important.  Especially in the age of 30-second, spur-of-the-moment text messages, e-mail, Facebook, and Twitter.


{We'll talk about the lost art of the face to face conversation some other day}

I've been reading a book about how the culture of Starbucks supports progress by following certain leadership principles.  The other day, I read the chapter about caring like you really care.  In that chapter, Howard Behar, the author, recounts how he sent a hand-written card to every employee on his or her birthday.  Every employee.  Every. single. one. of. them.

Whoa.

I mean, I spent a whole 31 days {ish} focusing on sweetness.  And.  I definitely covered the idea of caring like I care, even though I didn't really know that's what someone else had already called it.

I even planned to write a little ditty about the good 'ol thank you note.

But I didn't.

This week, though, I have been putting the idea of thank you notes into action.  With a twist.

The school where I teach uses a unique system to help track students' behavior and attendance over the course of a week.  The students carry a 4x5 in card to each of their classes, during class the teacher is able to mark if the student is not doing what he/she is supposed to be doing and the student is able to earn incentives if they have less than 3 marks on their card on Friday.

Because I hold on to the card during the hour and give it back to the student before they leave, I decided to use my trusty and super cute posty-note pad to leave encouraging notes to random students.  I don't write their names or mine on the note, because I don't want the kids to be embarrassed by the praise {or that I may have noticed they were feeling particularly down}; they know the note is for them because it is on their card and that is from me because it wasn't there when they gave it to me at the beginning of the hour.

I've given out five this week.

Most of the students have been very grateful and almost seemed to not believe that nice things could be said about them.  It makes me happy to know that they know I see the good in them.

it's the little things

It's Thursday again, y'all.  The second Thursday in November and right now that's a little bittersweet.  On one hand, I'm pretty pumped to be linking up with my blogger-buddy Julia and being thankful and all; but, it just hit me that this is only my 3rd post this month.  I guess I'm still suffering a bit from my 31 Days hangover.  At any rate, I've had tons to be thankful for this week.  So, let's get this party started...

feelin' all prettified 'n stuff
Very little makes me feel prettier than looking down at my hands when they are painted pretty.  Usually, Tuesday night is my nail 'n Hart of Dixie night.  Monday night, however, it became clear that my nails just could not make it to Tuesday {honestly, they shouldn't have even made it to Monday}.  I treated myself to a new color and painted away.  I'm still smiling at the cute new color and polka dots :)

repeating numbers
Some time ago, I decided that 11:11 was not enough.  The way I figure it, whenever a number is repeated three or more times, something special is happening.  In my world, it's a little love note from God to remind me that either I'm on the right track or that everything is gonna be okay.  Sunday, I received a phone call that came unexpectedly and answered a little prayer I've been praying lately.  When I hung up the phone, the time read 2:22.  I do not think this was a coincidence. at. all.

chivalry
I'm a strong, independent woman who believes enough in her own invincibility to occasionally attempt to break up fights between students.  Yesterday was one of those occasions.  Luckily, two male teachers saved me from myself and intervened, thus saving my fragile notion of invincibility and the bag of M&M's I was eating.

more chivalry
Upon the retelling of the incident to my principal, two Army recruiters, who happened to be in checking up with another student, overheard my peril and jointly offered their assistance.  They even volunteered to teach a class for me.  Complete with PowerPoints.  I love PowerPoints.  They are men after my sweet little heart {at least in my mind, anyway}.

running ridiculous distances and the cheering squad
I ran my fifth half-marathon with my super-duper running buddy on Sunday.  Last week was horrible. Not only was I able to leave the nonsense on the course, but I had an amazing and humbling outpour of support wishing me luck, cheering me on, and congratulating my finish.

Happy Thursday lovelies,

day 17: give thanks

Whoa!  I've kinda gotten a little bit off track on my 31 day goal.  No worries, though, I have full intentions of jumping back on track and gettin' it done.  Rest assured, my lovelies, even though I haven't been writing, I've been doing some thinking and experimenting.  Trust me, I've had a lot of opportunities to practice my sweetness.

But without any further ado...

Today we're gonna talk about being thankful and giving thanks.  It's really really easy to get caught up in the hardness of the world around me.  It's second nature for me to be looking for the better option.  It is not easy for me to be actively thankful as I pay my bills, get up for work before dawn, and go about all of my mundane daily tasks.  BUT.  Those are precisely the tasks that we need to be most thankful for.  Here are just a few of the less-than-bragworthy things I have to be thankful for today:

Source: sparkpeople.com via Laura on Pinterest

I'm thankful for the bills in my mailbox because they mean that I have a job and can afford to have warm running water, electricity to refuel my many electronic toys, gas to heat my house and cook yummy meals for myself and friends and family, a fun car to drive, and a cozy house to hug me.

I'm thankful for four o'clock alarm clock because it means that I have a job to go to.

I'm thankful for my most difficult students because they push me to be a better teacher and person.

I'm thankful for my exhausting, whirlwind trip this weekend because it meant that I could see my cousin get married and spend time with my mama, aunts, uncles, and cousins who live far away; because it gave me a chance to explore a new city; and because I was able to have a fabulously interesting conversation with a stranger on the plane.

I'm thankful for the dog-hair tumbleweeds in the corner of my living room because it means that my ferocious man-eaters are alive and well.

I am thankful for the muddy paw prints on the kitchen floor because they mean that I have a back yard for my man-eaters to run and play in.

I'm thankful for my dishwater-chipped nail polish because it means that I had the resources to cook, serve, and eat a good, hot, hug-in-my-belly kind of meal for my dinner.

It's easy to be thankful of the good stuff y'all, but the sweetness really comes from being able to take the costume off of the things that look like curses and burdens.  What are curses and burdens are y'all thankful for today?

day 11: relish

It was as the end of second hour today when, while patrolling the classroom, I looked back up at the board as a reference to the point I was making and experienced a small surge of joy run through my soul.   What, you might I ask, could a girl possibly see that could possibly bring so much excitement?

This:

I'm bringing diagramming back, yo!  

Then, ya know how there's always those people at the gym?  Today there was that woman who could not for the life of her seem to pick up her feet while she ran.  For reals, I could her the squeaking of her shoes fighting the belt on the mill over the Eric Church I was rocking out to.  And, a couple of weeks ago, I was on a machine next to that girl who used the treadmill like it was a ballet bar {for the record, I love me some fluidity bar workouts, I just tend to think it best to use a *bar*}.  At any rate, I think I became THAT girl tonight, right next to the squeaker, while I mouthed the words to every song {and maybe, possibly threw in a couple of head bobs or arm movements} over my whole. entire. fifty-five minute. workout.  and ya know what?  I don't care.

Earlier in this series, I mentioned the charming little objective of having a life that hugged me back as a priority to becoming more sweet.  In order to have this, a girl needs to relish in the things that build her up and while those things are different for everyone, the tend to fit into at least one of three categories:

• Things I love and I do not mean that I like them.  I mean I love, love, love them.  The reason doesn't matter, just the love.  
• Things I need.  I did not need to make pecan pie last night, although I do need to eat, but I love pecan pie and so I did make it and then ate it for dinner.
• Things I use.  Not the things I'm going to use when..., but things I use now or for a particular occasion, like my Christmas tree.

Of course not everything is going to fit into one of these categories, like say, the dear beloved who drives me batty with crazy talk about things that are not usually very important to me.  I do not love him, probably don't need him, and find very little applicable use in him {although once in a blue moon, he reveals tidbits of information that I find intriguing} BUT I do value him as a human and as a beloved and so it is important to me that I am sweet to him.  

You know the old adage about dancing like no one is watching, it's about creating that life that hugs you.  It's about relishing in the things that bring us joy.  Because as I realized while I mouthed along on the hamster wheel marinating over this post, the more I surround myself with and relish in the things that really matter, the more my life hugs me; and, the more my life hugs me, the more easily my sweetness flows.  When my life hugs me {for me it's when my relationship with God is open, my running is regular, and I've been able to, if only for a short while, let go of the what-if's that often plague me}, I feel balanced and that I can grin and bear the not-so-sweet aspects of life for just a little bit longer.  I may not particularly love that dear man, but I do love the peace that comes from an amicable relationship with him.  It becomes a cycle y'all. 

mojo

No.  I'm not talking about the dog in Transformers.  Although, I do <3 that movie.

What I'm talking about here is my drive, or lack there of it.

Changes to my schedule make my life difficult.  They bother my regularly scheduled programs and turn my OCD all kinds of pear-shaped.  Sometimes it takes such minimal effort to get myself back on track after a change that people have mistaken me as being laid-back or adaptable.  I'd really like to say that those are my strongest, most defining characteristics.  But then I'd be a liar, too.

While to some, at times, I may appear to handle life's little twists and turns with grace and composure; I can assure you that I am FREAKING out on the inside.  For the last four weeks that school has been back in session, my brain has been frantically summersaulting around the plausibilities, possibilities, and limitations of my new schedule.  All that equates to the accomplishment of absolutely nothing. 

Really, it's getting quite irritating.

I mean, it's not like my *new* schedule is all that new or even remotely crazy.  Which, to be honest, just makes the whole thing that much more frustrating.  My schedule now isn't even all that different from my summer schedule, except of course, that I have to go function on someone else's schedule for eight hours right, smack dab in the middle of my day.

I know, I know.  Waaa waaaa waaaa, cry me a river.  Seriously, I wanna knock myself out for being so crabby and whiny about all of this.  Here's the deal though, what I know from years of teaching is that sometimes the only way to get rid of the road block is to just deal with it.  This stupid lack of mojo has been effecting my running and writing.  two things I count on dearly for my sanity.  The running is still in a spot of limbo for at least the rest of the week, but hopefully this post will be the end of the writer's block.

Which is good 'cause I'm real ready for my mojo to come and kick my butt back into gear.

i don't wanna wear pants

When I was a kid, my mom consistently fought with me over two pieces of clothing.  Turtlenecks and dresses.  Eventually, she gave up both fights.

Flash forward thirty odd years.

I've been back at work now for a whole nine days, and I've determined that I'm over pants.  I'm sure they have their place and that I'll love them again someday.  But even my good 'ol worn-in jeans are just not doing it for me right now, it doesn't even seem to matter how high the heels or how cute the shirt.  The world just seems better in a skirt.

Currently these are the reasons why I hate pants:

Wearing pants means going back to work.

Going to work means that my leisurely mornings and morning runs have been deduced to being haphazardly fit in.

It's so hard to feel fun and flirty in a pair of pants.  At least it is for me currently.

Driving my car is not nearly as much fun in pants.  I don't know why, I know this is an odd one, but there's something powerful about wearing a cutie sun dress while driving a muscle car with windows down, hair up, and the music loud.   I'm also aware that this makes me a boarder-line train-wreck.  I'm not at all bothered by this.  possibly proud.  

It is still hot outside and I really do sweat more in those things.  eew.

I'm pretty sure that I am not as sweet or patient in pants.  This is a big deal.  I need all the help that I can get.

My mom thinks this is hilarious, by the way.  I'm glad she does.  Really.  Really, I am.  As I drive my car to work in the morning, constricted at the waist, all business like (I know that's what I'm supposed to look like, ugh, I know) and ish.  She's laughing.  

Tomorrow, I'm going to Macy's.  Toodles.

when i grow up

Sometime earlier in the year, I came to the conclusion that I was ready to move on to adventures that don't involve teaching.  I thought I might like to try my hand at entrepreneurship, and in a way I still do, but I have inevitably, and possibly begrudgingly, returned to my old classroom digs.  And now, because of some rearrangements in the department, I am teaching a job skills class where the first order of business is to lead students to explore what they want to do with their lives.  Really?!

I guess I've asked for all of these lessons.

While I was looking for different articles for my students to read, I found this.  We're reading it together as a class because I secretly need to learn this stuff too.  Basically, it all boils down to the idea that when we do what we love, the time we spend doing it seems more like a gift than a chore.  We recieve the benefits, rather than earn them.  We go to bed at night, in awe,  thinking, "I can't believe I get to live this life!"

Here's the epiphany.  Isn't everything like this?   Friendship, romance, what we do, where we live?  If we recieve everything as a gift, how much would that change our lives?  I think significanly.  If we cherrish the things and people in our lives like rare gifts, we are less likely to take them for granted, rush them, or hoard them.  Maybe we wouldn't be so afraid of not having enough, of not being enough.

I guess this is where my quest for patience really comes full circle.  Please excuse my vagueness here, as I skirt delicately around the specifics.  I truly feel that I know what it is I want to be when I grow up, and I feel pretty confident that I know where I'm gonna be it.  I just don't know how to get there.  It takes patience to welcome and learn from obsticales, it takes trust and courage to abandon common logic in pursuit of a dream, and it takes humility to undertand that all the hard work in the world isn't going to get the job done without a little divine intervention.  And that, my friends, is a gift in itself.

It's funny the paths that God leads us down, some of them make sense to us and others, no matter how hard we try, never will.  We just have to be willing to trust that whichever road He leads us is going to get us where we need to be, when we need to be there.  I guess what I really want to be when I grow up is not a title but a state of mind.

evidence of hoarding

In May, I packed up my classroom, locked the important things up in my desk and in my closet, and headed off to three months of summer bliss, oh, ok, only really one and a half because of summer school.  But, still.

On the 13th, I will dutifully pull up into the school parking lot and begin my meetings and embark into my tenth year as a teacher.  But my classroom will already be set up.

Nope, no one will do it for me.  Nope, I didn't leave myself that organized.

Even better.

I will have purged more paper, worksheets, and supplemental materials than a small library and compacted my teaching career into a single four-drawer filing cabinet.

Nope, I really wasn't that motivated.  Especially, not in my last.  week.  of.  summer.

Remember that closet that I, so diligently, locked my belongings in?  Yup, the one that no longer exists,  the one whose contents are currently scattered about my classroom?  It's housing an air conditioner now.

Thanks for the heads up, oh rulers of the HVAC kingdom!

I could complain.  And previously I would have.  But, really, it was kind of funny to see how creatively my carefully hoarded artifacts were stationed throughout the room.  Textbooks moved across the room. Papers stacked on my chair.  One of my large floor plants stationed atop a bookshelf.

And, I am grateful, really, because I don't need all of that stuff. So this week, instead of sleeping until noon and leisurely going about my business in lament of my last grasp of summer, I will be simplifying my life and taking a trip down memory lane one manilla folder at a time.

more to life than this

There comes a time in everyone's life, when they realize that what they've been doing just isn't working anymore; that it is time to jump off of the safety bridge and hope to God that the river underneath is deep and wide.

That time came this morning.

When I started teaching, statistics warned that the "good ones" left the profession after five years; I recently heard that it has been dropped to four.  Thanks to a tremendously supportive department, principal, and school district, I've managed to make it into my ninth year.

It has been creeping in on me; I've known it was coming.

Every year, it gets a little bit more frustrating to see kids more worried about Friday than their futures.  To see students preach about their desire for high grades and graduation and then sleep through the class.  To see them rendered helpless by their ADD labels and lack of understanding.  And yet, these things are not the hardest part of this job.  The hardest part is not the behavior, the fighting, or the pregnancies.

The hardest part of this job is looking into the eyes of my students and knowing that they are products of their environment; that our society, the one we, adults,  have all had a contribution in building and actively help to sustain, has done this to them.  We have raised them and we have taught them and we have rewarded them.

But.

This isn't a post about what needs to change in education, though there is a lot.  This isn't a post about how kids are unempowered, uninspired, and unmotivated, though too many are.  This isn't even a post about how over-worked, under-appreciated, and scapegoated teachers are, we are not victims.

This is a post about my journey.  I knew what I was getting into when I graduated college armed with a degree in Education and started applying for teaching jobs.  My first full time job was at a drop-in youth center, my first teaching job an inner-city high school, my current is an alternative school.  I find "those" kids inspiring.  I find the challenges rewarding.  I find the objective worthwhile.

And yet, I am done.

I love what I've done for the last eight and half years.  I love the kids, each one for what they bring to the table.  I know that I make an impact and I hope that my student's lives are better because of something I've taught or the example I've set.  I've learned so much from my students, they have been tremendous teachers themselves.   My greatest wish for my students is that they realize the power inside of themselves, though them I have been able to realize mine.