"It Is so Happy to Love..."

"It is with great revelry and pride

that we send our

physician into the future.

Join us for the graduation of

Dr. M. M. G.

from Des Moines University

College of Medicine

on May 25, 2013"

M. was in my first class at my present school, one of the sparkliest diamonds in a pretty dang sparkly class, let's see, waaay back in 1998-1999. She is 26 now, having chosen the most difficult degree to pursue, and the world is better off because of her.  I am soooo proud.

When you love someone, you are vulnerable. When someone you love makes bad choices, you hurt, too. As a teacher I love about 160 new people a year. I have been teaching over 20 years. Frankly, that's a lot of hurting. I have corresponded with a former in prison who can't seem to shake drugs and the accompanying crime. I have attended the baby shower of a former who dropped out when she got pregnant during her senior year in high school (well I tried, but her water broke that morning so the shower was cancelled). I have heard of formers who work in the porn industry. One of my formers ran a drug ring at SDSU and will be in prison for a while. I have heard news about formers shot dead. One student fell to her death jumping out of a window to elude police crashing an underage party. These events are devastating. The hurts are nigh inconsolable.

This graduation invitation boosts me. She did not become a doctor because of me, nor did I steer her from bad decisions. She came out of the womb, I think, with her head on straight, and she kept it straight. This success boosts me because when you love someone who achieves her goal, you feel her exhilaration, her relief, her joy. It warms me because she is including me in her circle, knowing how great this makes me feel, who have always cheered her on, admiring her, knowing she could do anything with her big brain and bright smile. 

Here is a quote from my favorite allegory, Hind's Feet on High Places, that sums up why Love is always worth it, even though Pain is the risk:

     “She bent forward to look, then gave a startled little cry and drew back. There was indeed a seed  lying in the palm of his hand, but it was shaped exactly like a long, sharply-pointed thorn… ‘The seed looks very sharp,’ she said shrinkingly. ’Won’t it hurt if you put it into my heart?’

     He answered gently, ‘It is so sharp that it slips in very quickly. But, Much-Afraid, I have already warned you that Love and Pain go together, for a time at least. If you would know Love, you must know pain too.’

     Much-Afraid looked at the thorn and shrank from it. Then she looked at the Shepherd’s face and repeated his words to herself. ’When the seed of Love in your heart is ready to bloom, you will be loved in return,’ and a strange new courage entered her. She suddenly stepped forward, bared her heart, and said, ‘Please plant the seed here in my heart.’

     His face lit up with a glad smile and he said with a note of joy in his voice, ‘Now you will be able to go with me to the High Places and be a citizen in the Kingdom of my Father.’

     Then he pressed the thorn into her heart. It was true, just as he had said, it did cause a piercing pain, but it slipped in quickly and then, suddenly, a sweetness she had never felt or imagined before tingled through her. It was bittersweet, but the sweetness was the stronger. She thought of the Shepherd’s words, ‘It is so happy to love,’ and her pale, sallow cheeks suddenly glowed pink and her eyes shown. For a moment Much-Afraid did not look afraid at all.”
― Hannah Hurnard, Hinds' Feet on High Places

Sandy Hook: Our Children

Collective anguish
All of us somehow bereaved
Sorrow comes in waves

 (The grown ups, too, are
Someone's children.) Oh parents--
 How we ache for you

My students have vowed
In memoriam: to be
Kinder and gentler

Young Scholars: ¡Vivan los Cerebros!

Why sponsor another club and have even less time to do the things I already don't have time to do? In reply, all I can do is show you pictures of the Reasons I do what I do. And when you see them, you'll understand why our school will be participating in the third annual Young Scholars Academic Fair this coming spring:

March 17, 2012: second place winners at YSAF (but first cutest)

Last year was our first year, and we took first place! Well not quite, but second place was pretty close. You can perhaps see our translucent trophy held by our captain, K, on the rainiest Saturday of 2012.

We won every pre-final match--we beat every team, including the dreaded Marshall Middle School, the previous year's champs. Matches were tightly controlled, academic league style, which is probably not as cool as gangnam style, but waaay more inspiring:

Kicking academic booty

We were beyond excited for the championship match against Oak Valley Middle School--after all, we had A. whom we nicknamed WMD because really, his knowledge of everything in the world was atomic, plus we had beat them in an earlier match. We had team spirit--kids thought calling themselves The Skittles was awesome since the candy is bright (as are they) and sweet (as are they) and they could wear different colored t-shirts. Other teams wore dressy clothes and looked sharp, but our team was united by our theme, plus a mom sent packs of Skittles for us to eat as brain food. We were officially Team B, so while we awaited the final match, we threw up our team sign, the letter B in ASL:

Team B in da house

And then we got served. Oak Valley had a WMD of their own, and ours just couldn't seem to launch. We got obliterated. We were disappointed, and a few feisty ones were angry because our W-L record was the same as OVMS yet we took second, and it took all of my teacher powers to scrape their spirits off the floor and send them over with sincere faces and kind words to congratulate the team that bested them fair and square. And I think that helped them find their pride again.

This year we have three returning players and a flood of new talent. I don't think anyone is on A.'s level of weird retention of every fact about everything in the known universe, but the students had so much fun at our first practice this week and expressed such a desire to take first place that Oak Valley better watch out.

I suppose part of my sponsorship is my deep angst that sports overshadows academics in this land I love. Music programs get cut, but not football. So long, Art, but football is the sacred cow. I wish brains got the same accolades that catching a ball brings, but our country largely distrusts intellectuals and dismisses them as out of touch (one reason Obama gets bashed). Yet aside from my philosophy of education, just look at their faces: they are excited about being smart! And that's reason enough.

Feeling like a loser....

Why oh why do my kids bomb the Constitution test every year?

I give them a study guide. The study guide even tells them the exact essay question on the test.

My lessons teach what's on the study guide. Our notes explain the text.

The kids are involved in the Convention--they "become" a member of one of the original states and see how the compromises would affect their state.

The homework reinforces what was in the lesson that will appear on the test. They have a project wherein they actually draw the powers and checks of each branch.

I relate the past with their present with school-based analogies. For example, federalism divides power between the national govt and the states, just like school, because the front office has power like the national government and so do the classroom teachers, like states. Another example is when we have a three-legged race to show how our three branch government prevents any one branch from abusing power, the effectiveness of separation of powers. Or when we use rock paper scissors to show how each branch gets checked by the others.

I truly am not just a talking head.

Granted, the concepts are abstract and the terms are fancy: ratification, federalism, checks and balances, separation of powers. I check for understanding. In the moment, they get it.

I am turning to my colleagues for help, because I am apparently being blind to some glaring weakness or issue. I need their eyes to help me see what's going on. Or not going on.

I do expect them to look at their notes for one minute every night, and pretty much no one does. Is that me shifting the blame to them? Is it wrong for me to expect them to carry some of the intellectual weight around here? How much learning responsibility is theirs? If I don't blame them, I have to blame me. Doggone it, I work so hard it's demoralizing to accept responsibility for the results.

Fourteen kids in each of the three classes earned a grade below C level--even with a free point for the question #34: "Hey! How'd you like to earn a free point right now? A. No thanks, trying to cut back.  B. I am just randomly bubbling, hoping to work two minimum wage jobs someday. C. Why thanks Miss M--that's so awesome!"

Every year.

Ugh.

Haiku about Hollywood & History

Lewis, Spielberg, and
John Williams--AHHH! "Lincoln"
has to be awesome!!!

(Releasing it now
seems strange...why not in April?
....January 1?

Or Veterans' Day?)
"The Alamo" was so lame,
my heart almost broke,

And so my fervent
prayer: Please, Lord, let this film,
"Lincoln," be worthy

AMEN.

Sweet Encouragement

A teacher's life is pulled in many directions, and the truth is, teaching can consume one's entire existence if s/he isn't careful (to wit, read Rafe Esquith's Teach Like Your Hair's on Fire). 
  
More than twenty years after starting, I still struggle with balance and time. There is no time to visit friends AND stay fit AND grade it all conscientiously AND design mind-stretching lessons AND stay current in research AND read for pleasure AND get flu shots AND refinance. I have to pick and choose, and so friends, research, flu shots, the gym, and refinancing get short shrift. (Which is a Shakespearean phrase, which I know because reading for pleasure always makes my time cut.) 

This past Monday, I was staring up a steep hill--forgetting to get personal snacks for myself, and teaching four classes in a row and then immediately going to the auditorium to help supervise our Bible Club's dodgeball event (I am the guarder of the food while players play--they grab bites between games), and then immediately going to my classroom to have the class participate in the mock election, and then immediately returning to the auditorium to clean up. All these "immediatelys" meant that lunch wasn't going to happen until 2:30. It also meant that the beginning of my week was going to require more energy than last week put together. 

And then the blessings came. First period, O. opened a container and told me she was giving me cupcake shoes--"I made some to test for my salon project and thought you'd like a pair."  I was so overjoyed! Something to munch on to keep me from low blood sugar. And then period 4, K. brings me (for no reason) a bag of Dove dark chocolates. My God takes care of me! To top it off, at lunch my colleague brought me some cookies. 

As my blood sugar spiked, I reflected that one of the amazing things about what I do is that I get so much back. I don't mean sweet treats, although Monday was sweeter than most. The Lord always reminds me that He is cheering me on so I can love the kids for Him.

Today was hard for a number of reasons. It is my beloved principal's last day at our school and we began the day with our last staff meeting with her. Many were in tears as the bell rang for period one. I am heavy-hearted. So imagine the lift when a former (over 30!) wrote this on my Mug Book page:

"Please keep doing what you are doing. You will never understand how you have touched our lives. You made it 'cool' for students to strive to become teachers one day. You taught young girls grace and self respect. You taught young boys how to respect those princesses. I don't know if you realize how powerful that is? Thank you" 

I didn't cry at the staff meeting, but I bawled as I read this. God took care of my blood sugar on Monday, and my heartache today.

Day One, Harry Wong, and Pie

The first day of school isn't, really.

I mean, it's not a normal day of school. Colleagues who ordinarily wear polo shirts are wearing ties. Every student's binder is perfectly neat and orderly. Usually, not the least because teacher demigod Harry Wong says to, the hour is spent establishing the rules and norms of the classroom.

I try something different.

As I wrap up a truncated version of The Rules & Consequences information, I pass out slices of pumpkin pie to random students. The slices are not evenly cut--some are wide wedges; others, narrow slivers. Not everyone gets a piece. In fact, only about ten kids get any at all.

I ask them what they think is going on. The unusual event--random, unequal pie distribution on the first day of school--is enough to get the conversation going, something that can be reallllly hard at the beginning of the year.

"You gave us pie," says one genius.

 "No, I didn't. I gave SOME of you pie."

"You gave pie to the people who weren't talking."

"Nobody was talking when I gave out the pie."

"Some pieces were bigger." "We didn't all get any." "The pie is pumpkin." "I'm hungry."

"This year, we will be looking at three big ideas that drive everything that happens in US history: ideals, economy, and POWER. I gave you pie to symbolize power. In a society, power is not usually distributed equally, and sometimes not everyone gets any power at all. Is that fair?"

A strong chorus of Nos, mostly from boys who received no pie.

"Should I take away pie from kids who had it and divide it that way?" I query.

In fluent Middleschool-ese, a student points out "there wouldn't barely be nothing for no one, just a crumb." Another student, full of pie, points out that taking away his pie would make him mad, even if it was more fair that way. "So would you agree that making a society more fair could be a struggle? Maybe people don't want to share their pie--er, their power. That is what this year is about, folks--trying to build a country where more and more people get a piece of pie--preventing some people from hogging it--all sorts of power struggles."

"Couldn't you just buy more pie so we all could have some?"  It's too early for me to tell if he is wisecracking or serious. I choose to believe he is joking. "Uh oh, no pie for you, ever!" I laugh, and the class laughs with me.

Do you know it can be hard to find pumpkin pie in September? I needed a pie that was easy to slice and would maintain its shape and not schmoosh all over the tables or kids' new clothes.

We end by taking notes (some groan--work already? ha! I am establishing the norm of the class--academic and hardworking from day one, but hopefully unpredictable) on the nature of power, and the bell rings, but they wait to be dismissed by me, because, after all, I have more pie than they do: I am the Pie Master.