I am no longer a high school English teacher. In the past two years I have been a teacher for grades nine through twelve, a volleyball coach, a high school pageant director, the Key Club advisor, and the Prom sponsor. The secondary roles, after the teaching, were like hot potatoes passing from me to other teachers. But the teaching remained the same, and now it is gone.
The feeling of finishing something like teaching is a bit more complicated than just relief. Maybe since it was a job, a lifestyle even, I feel more than just relief. I feel a bit lost and fearful of the prospect of being a student again.
Feelings change after "the big thing," whatever it is, passes. These last few months of teaching, I had a number in my planner which I changed every day that passed: 21 days left, 14 days left, 1 day left. Sounds like I was pretty anxious to leave, huh? However, towards the end of teaching- like maybe the month of May, I started to see all the good things about my job.
Remember the scene in Father of The Bride Part II where George Banks (played by Steve Martin) and Nina Banks (played by Diane Keaton) are driving home after receiving the news that Nina is not going through menopause, but is pregnant? George Banks looks out his car window and sees a father with a wrinkled forehead running after his crying, yelling three year old son. Nina Banks looks out her car window and sees a young, long-haired mother with her six year old daughter. They are skipping, hand-in-hand, down the sidewalk. Much of the time I worked as a high school teacher, I saw a lot of the bad parts (just like George Banks). Toward the end, I saw the rosy parts (like Nina Banks).
Since I don't think my blog is the place to carp about the bad parts of my job, let me share some rosy parts:
1) My tenth graders (the class that tested my sanity the most) brought food on the last day of class before finals. One boy brought his mom's famous candy topped brownies. Another boy brought Mountain Dew, lots of it. By the end of the party which lasted into seventh period, all thirteen of us were pretty jumpy which led to some pretty hilarious conversations. Kid: Miss Johnson, if I go up to the University of Alabama to visit and you see me across the quad will you wave at me or just ignore me? Me: Ummm, I would wave at you and say "Hi!" Seriously, I am not going to ignore you. Another kid: Miss Johnson, right after graduation I am sending you a friend request on Facebook. Another kid: Miss Johnson, I am definitely not sending you a friend request.
2) On some of my final exams, after the essay section at the end, I wrote something like "I am going to miss y'all next year and I hope next year is wonderful!" Not in a million years did I expect some kids to write back on the exams "I'm going to miss you too, Miss Johnson" and "Don't forget the time capsule we buried, Miss Johnson." Those were some sweet moments sprinkled into the grittiness of grading final exams.
3) On the seniors' last day at school, I made them take the last quiz on Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie. After some whining and complaining about how I was the only teacher who made them do work on the last day of school, I conceded to making the quiz open book. One of my senior boys who is country as it can get came up to me and hugged me. As if he needed an explanation for his sudden paroxysm of kindness toward a teacher he said "I knew you were nice, Miss Johnson."
4) I spoke at our schools' assembly we have once a week where pastors come and speak on a designated word of the week. I like to think that the words come off the posters that are on the walls of the office on The Office. Example: A picture of a lone canoe at sunset with the words "Integrity: being who you really are" beneath. Anyway, I spoke on "Sincerity" and began my talk by telling the kids that it was hard for me to stand up and speak about the Lord to them since they had seen me in some bad moments of me being condescending and mean. I had several students audibly say "It's okay, Miss Johnson." Ok, now I am starting to cry.
I don't know why things get better right before you leave. Maybe you put less pressure on your job, or your family, or your friends to be "just right" since you know you don't have enough time to change them, only time to enjoy them for what or who they are.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Friday, March 9, 2012
Psalm 69
One of the psalms today in the Book of Common Prayer was Psalm 69.
These verses stuck out to me: "For it is for your sake that I have borne reproach, that dishonor has covered my face. I have become a stranger to my brothers, an alien to my mother's sons." (vv. 7-8)
I do believe that Jesus was (and is, I guess......oh theological reflections) fully human and fully God. But, I never really thought Jesus is fully human like I am fully human. I figured that He has such an intimate union with the Father that rejection by humans, or anxiety during times of suffering, or fatigue hurt Him, but not to the extent that I have been hurt due to rejection, or paralyzed due to anxiety, or exhausted due to fatigue.
But these verses reminded me that Jesus felt all His emotions, just like me. He felt them strongly. Thankfully, He didn't allow His emotions to control Him. But, He had them and felt them.
Which helps me understand that living the Christian life doesn't mean denying that I am upset, or anxious, or despairing. It means bringing those emotions to Him, since He understands and can be fully trusted with them.
How He loves us :)
Blessings Friends!
These verses stuck out to me: "For it is for your sake that I have borne reproach, that dishonor has covered my face. I have become a stranger to my brothers, an alien to my mother's sons." (vv. 7-8)
I do believe that Jesus was (and is, I guess......oh theological reflections) fully human and fully God. But, I never really thought Jesus is fully human like I am fully human. I figured that He has such an intimate union with the Father that rejection by humans, or anxiety during times of suffering, or fatigue hurt Him, but not to the extent that I have been hurt due to rejection, or paralyzed due to anxiety, or exhausted due to fatigue.
But these verses reminded me that Jesus felt all His emotions, just like me. He felt them strongly. Thankfully, He didn't allow His emotions to control Him. But, He had them and felt them.
Which helps me understand that living the Christian life doesn't mean denying that I am upset, or anxious, or despairing. It means bringing those emotions to Him, since He understands and can be fully trusted with them.
How He loves us :)
Blessings Friends!
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Vulnerability
Happy February!
A couple of months ago, I stumbled across this TED talk entitled Vulnerability. Brene Brown, a research professor with a doctorate in social work, speaks about different barriers to vulnerability she has found from her research (interviews/letters with thousands of people). She also shares a bit about her own "battle" with vulnerability.
At the time I watched the video I was wrestling with the fact that I had just ended a three month dating relationship. Though I knew it was right that we both ended it, I also knew that the relationship brought to light the fact that I did not like to take risks ( at all! ).
Right now in my life, I am taking some risks. It is scary! Applying for graduate school in a program that I don't know for SURE will work out, going out on dates with guys who I'm not SURE are right for me, and investing in high school students who I am not SURE I will ever see again after this year.
One thing I have learned: that embracing life in joyful and painful moments is better than trying not to feel at all :)
Enjoy the video! Tell me what you think!
Vulnerability
A couple of months ago, I stumbled across this TED talk entitled Vulnerability. Brene Brown, a research professor with a doctorate in social work, speaks about different barriers to vulnerability she has found from her research (interviews/letters with thousands of people). She also shares a bit about her own "battle" with vulnerability.
At the time I watched the video I was wrestling with the fact that I had just ended a three month dating relationship. Though I knew it was right that we both ended it, I also knew that the relationship brought to light the fact that I did not like to take risks ( at all! ).
Right now in my life, I am taking some risks. It is scary! Applying for graduate school in a program that I don't know for SURE will work out, going out on dates with guys who I'm not SURE are right for me, and investing in high school students who I am not SURE I will ever see again after this year.
One thing I have learned: that embracing life in joyful and painful moments is better than trying not to feel at all :)
Enjoy the video! Tell me what you think!
Vulnerability
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Laughing
This morning I pressed the snooze button twice, finally waking up at 6:45 am. With no light coming out of the windows in my bedroom, I was proud of myself for the accomplishment of putting feet on floor. Once feet were on the floor, I remembered the 7:15 am faculty meeting. I commute thirty minutes to my work. So, after throwing myself together, I flew out the door and arrived last at the faculty meeting.
Now, this was no ordinary faculty meeting. It was the "let's gripe about uniforms" meeting. Anyway, our principal was reminding us that we teachers had not been nearly strict enough on enforcing dress code.
Which is why there was a line of 5-10 kids in the office at 8:00 am with "uniform violations." This means, for teachers, lots of eye-rolling and death looks from teenagers when we inform them of their violation.
Add to the uniform drama, the gray day, and the fact that today was composition notebook entry day in which all my classes have to write about an assigned topic at the outrageous length of FIVE sentences, I was fading quickly.
By 12:45 pm, after lunch, I sat at my desk during some free time in which I was supposed to be productive and stared at my Bible. I knew I needed to read it, but all I could do was just sit and stare blankly. I allowed some self-pity to pile.
My last period of the day I had four tenth grade boys. The nine other members of their class had left for an away basketball game. Like the rest, they complained about the five sentence requirement for the composition entry. By the time we got around to reading "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" by Washington Irving, I was ready to yell, or cry.
That's when one kid in the class volunteered to read. Now, this kid doesn't have a speech impediment or a stutter. He simply reads in a very stilted, awkward way...on purpose. While he was reading, one of my students looked up and caught my eye. We pursed our lips first, then held our hands up to our mouths, and then started making choking sounds to suppress the giggles. Another student looked up at us with a smile that turned into a laugh. The kid who was reading caught on and began giggling. Then, I just let myself go- I laughed so hard I started crying. Some of the boys fell out of their desks, laughing. These tenth grade boys let out some high-pitched cackles that would rival the wicked witch of the west. After we finished laughing, we read the rest of the story and I finished class five minutes early.
Praise God for five minute laughing extravaganzas. It turned my day around. A joyful heart is good medicine :)
Now, this was no ordinary faculty meeting. It was the "let's gripe about uniforms" meeting. Anyway, our principal was reminding us that we teachers had not been nearly strict enough on enforcing dress code.
Which is why there was a line of 5-10 kids in the office at 8:00 am with "uniform violations." This means, for teachers, lots of eye-rolling and death looks from teenagers when we inform them of their violation.
Add to the uniform drama, the gray day, and the fact that today was composition notebook entry day in which all my classes have to write about an assigned topic at the outrageous length of FIVE sentences, I was fading quickly.
By 12:45 pm, after lunch, I sat at my desk during some free time in which I was supposed to be productive and stared at my Bible. I knew I needed to read it, but all I could do was just sit and stare blankly. I allowed some self-pity to pile.
My last period of the day I had four tenth grade boys. The nine other members of their class had left for an away basketball game. Like the rest, they complained about the five sentence requirement for the composition entry. By the time we got around to reading "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" by Washington Irving, I was ready to yell, or cry.
That's when one kid in the class volunteered to read. Now, this kid doesn't have a speech impediment or a stutter. He simply reads in a very stilted, awkward way...on purpose. While he was reading, one of my students looked up and caught my eye. We pursed our lips first, then held our hands up to our mouths, and then started making choking sounds to suppress the giggles. Another student looked up at us with a smile that turned into a laugh. The kid who was reading caught on and began giggling. Then, I just let myself go- I laughed so hard I started crying. Some of the boys fell out of their desks, laughing. These tenth grade boys let out some high-pitched cackles that would rival the wicked witch of the west. After we finished laughing, we read the rest of the story and I finished class five minutes early.
Praise God for five minute laughing extravaganzas. It turned my day around. A joyful heart is good medicine :)
Saturday, January 14, 2012
December 30, 2011
On December 30, 2011, I sat in front of a computer, a stack of articles, and three chunky reference books, at the far side of the Houston Love Memorial Library in Dothan, AL. I was on my second full day of re-writing a paper comparing Olaudah Equiano and Mary Rowlandson. It was not going well.
Here is some background on the subjects of my paper. Olaudah Equiano was an African slave in the 1700s who came to America by the Middle Passage (he is portrayed in the movie Amazing Grace). Mary Rowlandson came to the colonies one hundred years earlier, as a child, when her Puritan parents moved from England. Both experienced captivity- Equiano through slavery and Rowlandson through her kidnapping by Native Americans during King Phillip's War. I wanted to compare the similar (I thought) ways that both interpreted/made sense of their suffering as Christians. I secretly hoped that I would have an epiphany on the meaning of suffering while I was writing the paper, too. I guess that was a little ambitious.
It took me a couple of weeks to realize why the paper wasn't working out- why I left the library that day with a totally un-finished paper and ended up turning in another paper to Alabama and Auburn for my writing sample.
I thought that both people, since they had written about their lives for goodness sakes, would have a fully-formed coherent understanding of WHY they suffered. As I read more and more critical sources and looked and re-looked at each narrative, I realized neither Rowlandson nor Equiano could quite make sense of why they suffered- at times they spoke about God punishing them for past sins, at times they spoke about the fact that they felt closer to God in their sufferings, and at times they simply lamented ("Why God!") Both still struggled with pain over the trauma they had experienced- Rowlandson more so than Equiano.
I left the library, my computer, my books, and my scholarly articles in the far corner of the library after I, out loud, said "This is ridiculous!" When you start talking to yourself out loud in the library you know you need to externally process with SOMEONE. So, I called Jen, then Meg, and then my lovely Mother. After crying and yelling about how I may not want to go to graduate school in English and how I cannot write papers anymore and how I am so confused about the direction of my life and that my life story doesn't make sense, my Mom calmed me with the simple truth that God is good. He knows the direction of my life.
Which means, I don't have to sit in a library all my life and figure out the meaning of suffering, for every person who has ever suffered. I felt so much freedom in giving up writing that paper for the time. I have felt freedom when I think about the possibilities of graduate school in counseling psychology or even seminary (what.... this idea is a new one!).
Mostly, though, I truly find, now, freedom in the fact that I am not the ultimate "interpreter" of my life. Or anyone else's. The Lord helps each person interpret their suffering and find joy in daily life. And sometimes the Lord gives us friends who help us interpret our suffering because they have experienced suffering themselves :)
My prayer: Oh Great God, Thank you for our lives. You have given us the gift of life and you knew all our days before one of them came to be. Remind us of your careful attention when we feel our lives are not what they should be. You have not turned away, or forgotten. Every word of Yours proves true. When we accept your love, our story, no matter how difficult, has a happy ending with joy interspersed throughout. Love you Jesus!
Love you all!
Here is some background on the subjects of my paper. Olaudah Equiano was an African slave in the 1700s who came to America by the Middle Passage (he is portrayed in the movie Amazing Grace). Mary Rowlandson came to the colonies one hundred years earlier, as a child, when her Puritan parents moved from England. Both experienced captivity- Equiano through slavery and Rowlandson through her kidnapping by Native Americans during King Phillip's War. I wanted to compare the similar (I thought) ways that both interpreted/made sense of their suffering as Christians. I secretly hoped that I would have an epiphany on the meaning of suffering while I was writing the paper, too. I guess that was a little ambitious.
It took me a couple of weeks to realize why the paper wasn't working out- why I left the library that day with a totally un-finished paper and ended up turning in another paper to Alabama and Auburn for my writing sample.
I thought that both people, since they had written about their lives for goodness sakes, would have a fully-formed coherent understanding of WHY they suffered. As I read more and more critical sources and looked and re-looked at each narrative, I realized neither Rowlandson nor Equiano could quite make sense of why they suffered- at times they spoke about God punishing them for past sins, at times they spoke about the fact that they felt closer to God in their sufferings, and at times they simply lamented ("Why God!") Both still struggled with pain over the trauma they had experienced- Rowlandson more so than Equiano.
I left the library, my computer, my books, and my scholarly articles in the far corner of the library after I, out loud, said "This is ridiculous!" When you start talking to yourself out loud in the library you know you need to externally process with SOMEONE. So, I called Jen, then Meg, and then my lovely Mother. After crying and yelling about how I may not want to go to graduate school in English and how I cannot write papers anymore and how I am so confused about the direction of my life and that my life story doesn't make sense, my Mom calmed me with the simple truth that God is good. He knows the direction of my life.
Which means, I don't have to sit in a library all my life and figure out the meaning of suffering, for every person who has ever suffered. I felt so much freedom in giving up writing that paper for the time. I have felt freedom when I think about the possibilities of graduate school in counseling psychology or even seminary (what.... this idea is a new one!).
Mostly, though, I truly find, now, freedom in the fact that I am not the ultimate "interpreter" of my life. Or anyone else's. The Lord helps each person interpret their suffering and find joy in daily life. And sometimes the Lord gives us friends who help us interpret our suffering because they have experienced suffering themselves :)
My prayer: Oh Great God, Thank you for our lives. You have given us the gift of life and you knew all our days before one of them came to be. Remind us of your careful attention when we feel our lives are not what they should be. You have not turned away, or forgotten. Every word of Yours proves true. When we accept your love, our story, no matter how difficult, has a happy ending with joy interspersed throughout. Love you Jesus!
Love you all!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Fear of the Lord
Fear is a struggle for me. At times, I have been afraid of very specific things that are external to me. Cancer, dating, and Hell come to mind. (Dating doesn't seem to fit in with cancer and Hell, does it? :)
At other times, like more recently, I have been afraid of myself. I have wondered if I could do anything that would make my friends, or family, or the Lord reject me. This fear, the fear of doing something wrong, has controlled me at times in the past couple of months. And I have got to tell y'all- the fear of whether or not people would reject me loomed much LARGER than God's possible rejection.
I've realized that the things I fear are the things I can be in slavery to- I have feared failure which means I have been a slave to success. I have feared people disapproving of me which means I have been a slave to the approval of others. I have feared loneliness which means I have been a slave to intimacy however false or contrived. And, please don't misunderstand me. I think we all fear these things to a degree, but I am talking about when the fears consume your thoughts and prevent you from pursuing LIFE :)
I have always wondered why in the Bible, the "fear of the Lord" was a good thing.
Fear of ___________ (person in my life) meant that I 1) doubted their love for me 2) wondered when they would get tired of me 3) avoided all their eye contact 4) stuttered around them or 5) didn't confront them when they hurt me / didn't apologize when I hurt them.
So, why would I fear the Lord when this was what is was like for me to fear a person?
Because if I fear God, I can be a slave to HIM. And, I'm realizing, being a slave to the Lord is the truest kind of freedom there is. When the Prodigal Son came back to his Father after squandering his Father's money, he asked his Father if he could be one of his slaves (hired servants, technically). The Father, instead, dressed him in a robe and placed a ring on his finger and threw him a banquet. The Father says to his servants "For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found." Being a slave to the Lord means being His daughter. Fear of the Lord means trusting His character. He is a good Master and Lord- He will never abandon me, misunderstand me, lead me on an ultimately destructive path, did I say He will never leave me? That's a big one for me.
Why would I not want to be a slave to a Master like that? I won't have to second-guess His love. I won't have to fear rejection.
I might just want to replace my fear of everything else with a fear of the Lord.
At other times, like more recently, I have been afraid of myself. I have wondered if I could do anything that would make my friends, or family, or the Lord reject me. This fear, the fear of doing something wrong, has controlled me at times in the past couple of months. And I have got to tell y'all- the fear of whether or not people would reject me loomed much LARGER than God's possible rejection.
I've realized that the things I fear are the things I can be in slavery to- I have feared failure which means I have been a slave to success. I have feared people disapproving of me which means I have been a slave to the approval of others. I have feared loneliness which means I have been a slave to intimacy however false or contrived. And, please don't misunderstand me. I think we all fear these things to a degree, but I am talking about when the fears consume your thoughts and prevent you from pursuing LIFE :)
I have always wondered why in the Bible, the "fear of the Lord" was a good thing.
Fear of ___________ (person in my life) meant that I 1) doubted their love for me 2) wondered when they would get tired of me 3) avoided all their eye contact 4) stuttered around them or 5) didn't confront them when they hurt me / didn't apologize when I hurt them.
So, why would I fear the Lord when this was what is was like for me to fear a person?
Because if I fear God, I can be a slave to HIM. And, I'm realizing, being a slave to the Lord is the truest kind of freedom there is. When the Prodigal Son came back to his Father after squandering his Father's money, he asked his Father if he could be one of his slaves (hired servants, technically). The Father, instead, dressed him in a robe and placed a ring on his finger and threw him a banquet. The Father says to his servants "For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found." Being a slave to the Lord means being His daughter. Fear of the Lord means trusting His character. He is a good Master and Lord- He will never abandon me, misunderstand me, lead me on an ultimately destructive path, did I say He will never leave me? That's a big one for me.
Why would I not want to be a slave to a Master like that? I won't have to second-guess His love. I won't have to fear rejection.
I might just want to replace my fear of everything else with a fear of the Lord.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Life Goal
Hi Friends,
I hope you all are well. Life has been full, lately. When people say their life is "full" I assume they mean full of good, successful, productive ventures. But when I say "full" tonight, I mean it has been full of growth. And you know what growth means.... uncomfortableness! awkwardness! change! having to rely on the Lord! Nonetheless, growth is good. In times of a lot of growth, I feel the need for constant affirmation. Just like a baby taking toddling steps toward her oohing and ahhing mom and dad, I need messages of love from the Lord and close friends to continue to move forward instead of back into comforting sameness.
I sometimes read a blog called "Experimental Theology" written by a psychology professor from Abilene Christian University in Texas. The professor posted a great quote by Dorothy Day that I want to share. During this season of feeling needy for love and affirmation, this quote reminded me of what I want my life to be about- loving others. Sometimes, loving others doesn't feel successful and productive, but it does make your life so much more full.
This is who I want to be: a lover of people and of the Lord. I can only do this when I receive the constant affirmations of love from the Lord and people. Good night!
I hope you all are well. Life has been full, lately. When people say their life is "full" I assume they mean full of good, successful, productive ventures. But when I say "full" tonight, I mean it has been full of growth. And you know what growth means.... uncomfortableness! awkwardness! change! having to rely on the Lord! Nonetheless, growth is good. In times of a lot of growth, I feel the need for constant affirmation. Just like a baby taking toddling steps toward her oohing and ahhing mom and dad, I need messages of love from the Lord and close friends to continue to move forward instead of back into comforting sameness.
I sometimes read a blog called "Experimental Theology" written by a psychology professor from Abilene Christian University in Texas. The professor posted a great quote by Dorothy Day that I want to share. During this season of feeling needy for love and affirmation, this quote reminded me of what I want my life to be about- loving others. Sometimes, loving others doesn't feel successful and productive, but it does make your life so much more full.
"Even the best of human love is filled with self-seeking. To work to increase our love for God and for our fellow man (and the two must go hand in hand), this is a lifetime job. We are never going to be finished.
Love and ever more love is the only solution to every problem that comes up. If we love each other enough, we will bear each other's faults and burdens. If we love enough, we are going to light that fire in the hearts of others. And it is love that will burn out the sins and hatreds that sadden us. It is love that will make us want to do great things for each other. No sacrifice and no suffering will then seem too much.
Yes, I see only too clearly how bad people are. I wish I did not see it so. It is my own sins that give me such clarity. If I did not bear the scars of so many sins to dim my sight and dull my capacity for love and joy, then I would see Christ more clearly in you all.
I cannot worry much about your sins and miseries when I have so many of my own. I can only love you all, poor fellow travelers, fellow sufferers. I do not want to add one least straw to the burden you already carry. My prayer from day to day is that God will so enlarge my heart that I will see you all, and live with you all, in His love."
This is who I want to be: a lover of people and of the Lord. I can only do this when I receive the constant affirmations of love from the Lord and people. Good night!
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