mommato1teachertosum-blog

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What’s “Normal?”

From a young age we all have these big ideas of what our future will look like. We spend a great deal of time dreaming and planning how this might look and taking steps to achieve these goals… and then you reach these milestones and… Is it all you had imagined? Are you living out these plans as you’d envisioned?

In our Friday morning prayer meeting, many momma’s came carrying the weight of parenting. Some are struggling through teenage years, while others feel the stress of single parenting. Before becoming parents, we had these grand ideas of how we would raise these tiny humans and what our family dynamic would look like.

“Our children will be raised in a home with two parents.”

“Our family will eat dinner around the table together every night.”

“We will never co-sleep.”

“Our children will spend no more than 30 minutes on electronics every day.”

And then…

In the middle of your fairy tale, life happened. You’ve found yourself unexpectedly raising your child solo, eating bowls of cereal for dinner in the living room, co-sleeping, and handing your toddler your phone in order to keep them from screaming in the doctor’s office waiting room.

I have spent a great deal of time trying to correct the actions and habits of a seven year old, that ultimately I created. I’ve kicked and cussed myself 100 times as I walked a sleepy boy back to his own room, in an effort to end our 2 year stretch of bed sharing. I am currently in the midst of forming a “good” eater (I’m open to tips) after allowing pre-packaged peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and the McDonald’s drive-thru to be our meal prep. Y’all, I didn’t intend to raise this “monster.” I also didn’t intend to be a single parent who felt comfort from her young son in the same bed at night. Nor did I plan to spend twelve hours a day at school and still have to go home and feed myself and a picky eater.

I shared with my prayer group friends that C has recently shared his desires to have and do things like a “real family” on the weekends. To him, “normal” or “real” means having both mom and dad to attend functions and activities. I know that in no way does he mean to hurt my feelings, but… choke that one down. We may be small, buddy, but boy are we mighty. ;-)

Here’s the deal… While these may not be ideal parenting strategies, the parenting plan you had envisioned or the family dynamics you dreamt of, know this:

There is no normal.

There are 7 billion different standards of “normal” on this earth. Do not compare your version of normal to others.

There is no right or wrong.

Just because you aren’t parenting the way others are, doesn’t mean it is wrong. We all have our opinions, but breast milk over formula, nor public schools over private determine the love given to your child. Do what is best for the needs of your family, no matter the size, and be okay with it. Don’t just be okay with it, be proud of it.

They will be okay.

The standards to which you envisioned parenting may feel far off, but this does not determine the success of your children. Frozen dinners will fill your kiddo’s belly in much the same way as a well thought out and prepared organic meal. A single parent’s love has a way of expanding. Your family may not look like that of the family next door, but it’s enough. You’re enough.

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Teaching Is Not My Superpower…

A letter to the parents of my students.

Contrary to what my kinders think, I do not live in the school, I do require food (other than coffee) and restroom breaks, I do have a family of my own, and though I claim to have eyes in the back of my head, I do not. Shocking, right? To these tiny humans, it really may be. What they see is a teacher who tends to their every need for 8+ hours a day. They see teachers who arrive for school long before they do and leave after their departure. They see lessons that are prepared and classrooms that have been cleaned in their absence. We are mothers and fathers of the classroom. Though not in our job description, we perform parental duties in your absence throughout the day. We love these kids as our own, because let’s be honest, we spend more time with them than our personal children. We nurture their wounds, both physically and emotionally and form a bond with each individual student who enters our classroom. We do these things because our main goal in our job, is to meet the needs of each child who enters our door. While the state demands we meet deadlines, rubrics, and a certain amount of growth based upon standards, we choose to put “our” children above all state requirements and do what we feel appropriate to see our students succeed. We do these things because we love our students, we love their creative minds and their caring hearts and truly have their best interest at heart.

Having little people watch our every move is exhausting. Each move we make has 40+ eyes watching, just waiting for our first error. Not only do we have the eyes of little ones watching us daily, administration is in and out of our room evaluating our performance, the district and state are pressing standards and expectations far beyond what is age appropriate and maybe the most important magnifying glass we perform under is that of your guardian eyes.

As a momma, I expect nothing but respect and professionalism from my student’s teacher. With that being said, I understand that my child’s teacher, is *gasp* human. (S)He has a family and life beyond these brick walls. I know (s)he spends far more time focused on the growth of my child, rather than the academic growth of her own children. I know (s)he spends his/her own money to provide my child with tools to help him and his peers be successful in their classroom. Why does my child’s teacher do this? Because (s)he truly cares about the needs, wants and success of our children. Each day I send my child to school knowing that the educators in his life are doing the best they can to meet his academic, emotional and physical needs. I will continue to be his number one advocate, but I trust that the decisions being made within the walls of the classroom are in he and his classmate’s best interest.

I hope that you can understand that each day we leave our own families and children to focus on yours. My dedication to your child is not limited to the hours of 8-4 when (s)he resides in my classroom. My passion for your child’s education does not shut off when I “clock out” each night. I spend time during my evenings preparing engaging lessons to meet the individual needs of each one of your children. I spend my personal time responding to your emails and messages to ensure that you are involved in your child’s education. I do these things, because I genuinely care about you and your child.

With all of that being said, please remember that I am human. I am a teacher, but I am also a parent, I understand your concerns far more than you think. Teachers are held to a very high standard and understandably so, but please respect my professional opinion and judgement. I am one person, loving 20+ kids the best that I can. I do more than my job description entails, but fall short occasionally. I will not send home homework folders from time to time, because I chose to eat my lunch during my 20 minute break instead of pack the new assignments. I will send home important papers 3 days late, because I’ve been out with a sick child. I will inevitably make mistakes as a teacher, a mom and a human. Please allow me some grace, teaching is not my superpower.

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Lord it’s been some time since I held his hand

when he closed his eyes for the last time

‘til that screen went flat line

 sorting through his stuff

then I picked it up

had NKJ written on the side

his name engraved on the front bottom right

 I remember growing up and watching him read it

back then I didn’t know how much I’d need it

funny how you finally start to listen

when you know they’re dead and gone

it wasn’t in the strength of his hands

or being a man that made him strong

I can almost hear him saying,

“to get through anything,

everything you need to know

is right in this New King James”

 Love the way its worn pages are marked and torn

he read it on the front porch 6 o’clock every single morn’

 I remember growing up and watching him read it

back then I didn’t know how much I’d need it

funny how you finally start to listen

when you know they’re dead and gone

it wasn’t in the strength of his hands

or being a man that made him strong

I can almost hear him saying,

“to get through anything,

everything you need to know

is right in this New King James”

        -Harper Grace, “New King James”

 Over the past few weeks our small group has been talking about how we, as parents, have the responsibility to give our children a vivid awareness of who God is. It is our job to provide tools that will lead to a spiritually wise life and to build habits that will lead to good character.

Through this discussion, we spoke of those who helped build our relationship with God and the influences we had as children or young adults.

I’ve been blessed with many role models in my life, but none in quite the same way as that of my Grandpa Jim. A man who loved his God deeply and his family well. A man who didn’t just “talk the talk,” but lived each day “walking the walk.” He was slow to anger and spoke genuine words to all. Each line in the lyrics of, “New King James,” reminds me of the man who laid such a solid foundation for his family.

We spoke this evening of habits and routines that can lead to an awareness and presence of the Lord within our homes. As we spoke, I was flooded with reminders of such routines that appeared daily in my grandparent’s home. “Back then I didn’t know how much I’d need it.”

 I remember the spot by his lazy chair where he kept his Bible. The leather bound Bible cover that snapped. The Bible that was filled with bookmarks, scribbles and highlights of favorite verses.

I remember him and grandma sitting at the kitchen table reading their daily devotional together, while grandpa stirred his Metamucil.

I remember spending Saturday nights at Grandpa and Grandma’s house and sitting between the two at church on Sunday morning. Some of my earliest memories are right there in the bright red church pews. I remember exactly where they sat.

I remember Sunday afternoon lunches at the farmhouse blessed by Grandpa.

I remember the stack of Gideon Bibles that grandpa carried in his car and truck looking for any opportunity to share the Word.

I remember the white Bible with our name etched in the bottom right hand corner in golden letters that each grandchild received for their 10th birthday.

I remember in Grandpa’s final months sharing that he wasn’t afraid to die, because he knew of the home prepared for him in heaven.

Back then I didn’t know how much I needed this influence and these memories.

While I’ve always appreciated my grandparents, it hasn’t been until recent years that I can truly grasp how unbelievably lucky we are to have them and their strong values.

May we all implement routines within our daily lives that encourage others.

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Travel not to escape life, but for life not to escape you...

As I crawl into bed tonight, I reflect upon a perfect weekend.

Friday night I was still unsure of where my car would be traveling Saturday morning, but clothes were washing and we were headed to bed at a decent time for our morning departure. Since moving south, most of our long weekends or time off from school are spent traveling to and from Iowa to visit with friends and family, but this weekend was for us. We invited a few friends, but for various reasons they were unable to make the trip. At one point in my life this would have put the kibosh on my plans. I’d have stayed home, rented a movie, still put my lesson plans off until the last night and called it a weekend. Though the path my life has taken has been far from what I’d have expected for myself, I’m forever thankful for the independence and spontaneity it has given me.

For those of you that know me, I love a good road trip, I’m a sucker for a view and my favorite color is sunset. A two and a half hour drive down I-24 gave us that and so much more.

If you don’t count packing your house and moving 550 miles away from everything you’ve ever known as an adventure, than this would be considered one of C and I’s first solo adventures. Sure we have daily adventures and explore locally, but to actually travel somewhere new just he and I, this was a first.

We took family trips when I was younger, continue to go places with my parents and I have traveled alone and with friends, but through each trip I have gained something much different than my experience this weekend. C and I spend an exceptional amount of time together on a daily basis, but until this weekend I didn’t realize how much we are truly going through the motions. Each morning we roll out of bed and spend the next hour hollering needs throughout the house in order to get us out the door at a reasonable time. We then get to school where I give him a quick kiss and squeeze, wish him well and shove him out the door for the next 8 hours. After school we attempt homework for both him and me, to be followed by dinner, showers and bed. Routine, right? This weekend we made plans, but nothing set in stone. We went where we wanted, we ate when we were hungry, we slept when we were tired, and we talked. Not a holler, not a demand, not a question. Talked. Y’all, my kid is really freakin’ funny. For what seemed like the first time in a long time, I got to actually enjoy our conversation and listen. My mind was not worrying about what I needed to be doing or what wasn’t getting done. We talked about memories, told stories, jokes and shared our favorite parts of our day. Not only did we talk, but we smiled. A LOT. As I looked back through my pictures, there is ONE picture in which we are not smiling. That one picture, isn’t a smile, but a look of complete disgust from C, pertaining to the “wreck” that Logan’s Steakhouse was because of their peanut shells on the floor policy. HAHA!

After a walk across Walnut Street Pedestrian Bridge and pizza, C says, “Can we move here?” While I’m aware that vacation is far from the norm of daily life, I couldn’t help but smile at this. This boy is more like his momma than I ever knew. His sense for adventure is that of mine. Our love for new places, people, experiences and scenery are undeniably similar. As much as we hated to, we ventured back to CV and are now snuggled in preparing for our return to the grindstone, but we return with broader horizons, greater experiences and much fuller hearts.

Here's my advice to you:

GO! Go near. Go far. Go wherever you can feasibly go, but GO! Do what you have to do to make it possible to experience life apart from your small corner of the world. Eat out one less time a month, a week, whatever. Wear your jeans twice to save water. Use coupons. Sit in the dark and bump the thermostat a few degrees. Stay in the worst hotel in the best neighborhood. Pack your food. Do what you have to do to get out there and see the world. Take time to enjoy your family outside of your home. Not only do you get to see new cities, sites, and views, but you get to see your family in a whole new light. Don’t worry about what is not getting done at home. It will still be waiting on you when you return. Part of me said, “Stay home and get your life together this weekend.” The other part said, “You’ve been working on that for years, do you really think you can accomplish that in 3 days?” So we went. Enjoy the journey, for this is your life.

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Empathy

Goals for the 2018-2019 school year:

1.       Empathy

“It is easy to judge. It’s more difficult to understand. Understanding requires compassion, patience and a willingness to believe that good hearts sometimes choose poor methods. Through judging, we separate. Through understanding, we grow.” – Doe Zantamata

Through a wide range of life experiences, my ability to empathize for others has grown far from what it once was. I’ve always felt that I was a sympathetic person, but it wasn’t until recent years that I’ve truly been able to see the difference in sympathizing vs. empathizing. Sympathy is the ability to show compassion or pity for someone’s hardship, while empathy is being able to take the perspective of another person, to truly feel with this person. A wise friend of mine would refer to empathizers as the “ditch sitters.” Those who are going to feel your pain and sit in it with you instead of wishing you well from the road.

In my early years of teaching I had big ideas for how I would do things if I were a school age child’s parent. Some could relate this to, “Well when I’m a parent, my kids will/will never….” In the fall of 2016 I got the same wake-up call that those “big idea, never co-sleeping parents-to-be” got when their sweet sweet offspring screamed for 3 nights straight and wound up horizontal in the bed between them and their partner, because they’d have gone to mad extremes to get 5 hours of sleep. In what was easily one of my hardest years yet, I sent my dear son off to preschool. At this point I’d taught kindergarten for 4 years and knew I’d rock the preschool mom gig. HA! In previous years I’d rolled my eyes to folders that were shoved full of a week’s worth of papers, homework that wasn’t done and no sign of a field trip permission form I’d sent two weeks ago. What on earth were these parents possibly doing? Wasn’t their child’s education top priority?

In my mind I would most definitely put C’s (son) education as a priority easily placed at the top of importance in our household. It may be preschool, but nonetheless important and a solid foundation for which all other educational years would build on. Guess how I showed this level of importance to C and his teachers? I MIGHT empty his folder out. If I did, it was on the way to school and thrown in pile in the passenger’s seat to be, or not to be sorted through later. Upon this organized system I missed several important notes, leading to missed deadlines and needs. Working in the school and being down the hall and an extension dial away, as well as his amazing teachers who happened to know my messy heart well, was really my only saving grace. The real eye opener was the day his teacher (bless her) called to see if I had remembered I’d signed up to bring his lunch for the school field trip that day and also did I have any shorts for him, it was 90 degrees out and my kid was in jeans and boots. I knew in my momma heart that I loved this boy more than life itself, I cared about him and his schooling and I wanted to be a good mom. Why and how was I being so awfully miserable at this most important job? Let me tell you why… I had some major shit (for lack of better terms and bold honesty) going on in my life. I was learning how to adjust to a curve ball life had thrown at us, I was sad that I was raising a sweet boy without his father, I was mad that I was the only one to empty that damn folder and to be truthful, I was just sucking at life for a minute. Excuses? I suppose you could call it that, but those excuses have helped me to become a more empathetic person in life and as a teacher.

As we enter our third week of school, I have a few beginning of the year paperwork forms still floating around out there, a few students without supplies and unfinished homework. In my beginning years of teaching I’d have found myself frustrated with the “lack of responsibility” coming from parents. Now, I think to myself, “You have no idea what is going on in these homes.” Maybe they are highly unorganized, or MAYBE they are struggling. Emotionally, physically, financially. Maybe they are having a “2016.” I encourage you to stay out of judgement. Challenge yourself to meet people where they are. Most likely they are giving you all of what they have, even if it’s 100% of the measly 20% they have to give. I have a long ways to go, but I am forever thankful for the empathy I received from the sweet preschool teachers who loved my boy (and me) well. If making a phone call for necessary information, buying a pack of crayons and reading a child’s homework during breakfast can help them “sit in the ditch,” consider it done. Life is a journey, love one another in all parts of the journey.

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Some people celebrate fresh beginnings in January, as a teacher I spend much of my summer reflecting and setting new goals for the upcoming school year. I had a lot of reflecting to do this summer as last year was my most difficult, yet most rewarding year of life and teaching yet.

After a 500+ mile move south, I not only began working in a new school system, but would be teaching 3rd grade after 5 years with my kinder babies. Upon spending my first week in Tennessee buying a new car to replace the old, that was all but in a pile of pieces on the interstate, learning the hard way that our “bypass” speed limit was not that of our home bypass and locking myself out of my dead bolted house; I nearly threw in the towel before I’d begun. By December I was wishing I had. Third graders didn’t love near as freely, I was teaching 50 kids in a gym with my partner teacher (who by the way is nothing short of AMAZING), I was drowning in test scores and deadlines, missing my people and living for Friday at 5 at the local Mexican joint. How on earth could this possibly be what I’m supposed to be doing with my life? I was sure God was teaching me a lesson, but I had no idea it would turn out to be the lesson that it did.

Somewhere in the second semester I regained my balance, enough so, that I was able to quit living at the school (figuratively speaking, of course) and take time to appreciate our new home and our new friends. No words will ever be enough to thank the friends, who quickly became our family, for making Tennessee feel like home. During this time I found myself branching out, trying new things and being involved in events and activities that I had never been a part of. I played on the kickball team, for goodness sake. Not once, but twice. If you know me at all, you know I’m about as awkward as Gumby. I was bad, really bad, but I was having fun and totally sucking was very low on my list of concerns. I haven’t always been the best about dedicating my personal time, but when the opportunity to be a part of the first Good News Club at GE arose, I jumped with both feet. The Good News Club allowed me to share God’s word with 100+ kids right within our school walls. If there was any doubt left of my belonging in CV, it was now gone. I still questioned my ability to teach and connect with third graders, but if the last several years of my life could be turning around then surely this mess of a classroom could too.

It wasn’t until just this week, when those 3rd graders whom I felt merely tolerated me, walked back through the doors at GE as 4th graders, did I realize what a success my year was. I can’t even tell you how many of those 3rd graders have walked down my hallway just to say hello and give me a hug before heading off to their 4th grade classrooms. As teachers and humans in general we know that some personalities tend to clash. When my biggest teaching career personality battle to date walked down my hallway to give me a hug and tell me to have a good day I was reminded, I’m a whole lot better at loving than teaching and sometimes that’s enough.  

We learn to appreciate the good, because of the bad, the easy, because of the hard, and the happiness because of the sadness. Be present in all stages, for your life is a journey, not a destination.