Dear Room 134 Family,
At the beginning of the year, we spent so much time detailing our expectations and acclimating to the dynamic of this new 180 day adventure. Together we created a beautiful anomaly-- a safe place characterized by honesty, kindness, curiosity, and positivity. Gradually, you each accepted the invitation to belong to me, at least in part, for this beautifully ephemeral season, and gradually you trusted me with your time, effort, engagement, and needs.
I belong to you, too. I belonged to you the moment I received an email with my photo roster for this school year.
I belonged to you from our first conversation on your front lawn as we played Coop Battle Bounce.
I belonged to you when you entered my room on Back To School Night, and you told me that you wished for me before I even knew your name.
I belonged to you when you stayed positive in spite of receiving your first C.
I belonged to you as you cried to me on the phone... you didn't know that I was crying with you, too.
I belonged to you when you received your first "Keep Trying" in P.E.
I belonged to you when you were nominated for a Beacon Award for outstanding compassion and acceptance.
Even when you hesitated to belong to me, I belonged to you.
Being your teacher is not my job. It is my purpose. It is my passion. It is my favorite version of myself. I cannot define myself apart from each of you. When you hurt, I hurt. When you make a mistake, I feel disappointed. When you succeed, I am eagerly waiting with gallons of "Fantastic Spray." I carry you with me everywhere I go. My heart bears your fingerprints, alongside 93 other little prints with names and faces that dwell in my memories and prayers every day.
Recently, our family expanded. There have been some growing aches and pains. It is not easy to change a family's dynamic, and it is challenging to let go of our expectations-- expectations that were created with our original family in mind... We are all admittedly struggling to let go.
It is also difficult to be "new."
I belong to our new family member, too. I belonged to him from the moment I received an email with his name and birth date.
You see, I have lived this vignette before, and I admittedly failed many times, but I believe strength results from struggle. The struggle is also a choice. It is a choice to give compassion generously without expectation of repayment. It is a choice to forgive over and over again. It is a choice to be kind when the words have wounded our weaknesses and our pride.
Yet, we must forgive.
I am not asking you to 'tolerate;' I am inviting you to continue belonging to me, and to belong to each other, as well. Care for each other's needs and praise your successes. Wait for each other with gallons of "fantastic spray." Be honest when the words wound, but also be strong and willing to forgive.
And sometimes, when your well of grace runs dry, walk away. Seek a peer that encourages your confidence, or come to me. I will baptize you with fantastic spray and remind you of all the reasons why you are wonderful.
Because you are wonderful.. all of you... all 21 of you.
Sincerely,
Yours
Friday, November 17, 2017
Thursday, May 25, 2017
I Would've Dyed It Anyway
Dear Beloved Students,
Last week, one of you inquired regarding a reward for our class' performance on the SOL standardized assessments. Without much thought, I listed possible rewards that other teachers have used to inspire your achievement. You jumped on the chance to dye my hair, and I did not argue.
Later this evening, my hair will be blue. Your performance was outstanding, and I am so glad that your scores affirmed what I already knew. You are incredibly bright, capable, and curious.
In spite of my pride, I have not been at peace with my promise to you. You see, a standardized test uses standards that reflect important content, but I don't aspire to teach content. I aspire to teach character.
When I entered the local pharmacy earlier this evening and inquired about temporary hair dyes, the manager requested an explanation (after all it's not Halloween). Upon explaining my profession and my promise, he commented that I must be a "good teacher." Inside, I cringed. You DID this work. You demonstrated your knowledge concerning the oceans, PEMDAS, and plot structure. This accomplishment is yours, and it will be one of many on this journey of life.
I don't want my success as your teacher to be judged by your achievement on an SOL test. I do not want you to measure your worth in numbers. In life, we use numbers to define many things. Numbers are great for quantitative data, but they fail at defining the intangible qualities that make you unique. I want individuals to see your character, your confidence, your heart, and your kindness- I want individuals to see how you overcome challenges. I want those attributes to set you apart as members of Mrs. Hecker's fifth grade class.
Your scores were impressive, but I need you to know that I would have dyed my hair regardless of your test scores. The moment I acquiesced to your request, I knew that pigment change was unavoidable.
Here are 21 reasons why I would have dyed it anyway....
1) I would have dyed it anyway because you wrote me an encouraging note when I missed school for a family emergency. You shared it with me via Google Drive, and I read it while sitting in a difficult meeting. You wrote the words that I needed to receive. You shared tears of joy with me when we talked about your dedication this year and the growth in your confidence. You made me laugh over and over and over again with your silly dance moves.
2) I would have dyed it anyway because you became an outstanding writer this year, in spite of your self-doubt. You overcame your insecurity and thought deeply about global injustice. You inspired me with your kind words about your little brother in your gratitude project, and suddenly, I wanted to be a much better sister, too. I would have dyed it anyway because you chose to play basketball with two girls who were feeling excluded at recess rather than the other boys.
3) I would have dyed it anyway because you memorized 60 digits of pi for fun. Your love for learning created a ripple effect in our classroom... but more than that I would have dyed it anyway because you chose to be a project partner and friend to a student who needed your encouragement. I would have dyed it anyway because you ate lunch with your book buddy every day for several months as you built a relationship of trust and kindness. You became his greatest role model.
4) I would have dyed it anyway because you invited me to your birthday party. You allowed me to enter your family. You quietly and humbly wrote volumes of your fictional text. Your imagination inspired me. I would have dyed it anyway because you used your passions (from Harry Potter to chickens) to guide your coursework, and in that way, you made the assignments more personally meaningful... and that, dear student, is when true learning occurs.
5) I would have dyed it anyway because you met with me every Wednesday after school to write. You shared your passion with me. You invited me into your creative world and allowed me to add my own fingerprints to the elaborate epics you have penned. I looked forward to our editing sessions, and I learned so much from your creative vision and eloquence.
6) I would have dyed it anyway because you rediscovered your passion for teaching. You taught kindergarteners about the life cycle of our hermit crabs, and I still hear about your visit to Mrs. Neiditch's class. I would have dyed it anyway because you stayed in my room after school. Sometimes no words were exchanged, while other days we listened to music, and occasionally we exchanged banter. You are my quiet overcomer. You allowed my room to become a sanctuary for thoughts and for laughter as your friendships expanded. You reluctantly revealed your fears, yet you never hesitated to overcome... all on your own.
7) I would have dyed it anyway because you are not afraid to try. You believed that you could not debate a topic that you did not support, yet you researched your position and won the case for homework. I would have dyed it anyway because you are sensitive, and you want to share joy and laughter with everyone around you. I would have dyed it anyway because you love animals, and you treat them with so much care and kindness.
8) I would have dyed it anyway because you transformed and grew in ways that could never be measured with numbers. You ate breakfast with me and taught me about your favorite YouTube stars and South Carolina. You shared the gift of your creativity with every individual in our classroom. You created amazing pieces of art.
9) I would have dyed it anyway because you told me at the beginning of the year, that you were simply an "average reader." Your scores have skyrocketed in reading and in every content area. You found strength in your ability and confidence. I would have dyed it anyway because you push yourself every moment of every day. You see challenges as opportunities, and you constantly put forth your best effort without complaint.
10) I would have dyed it anyway because you allowed the work to frustrate you, but then you surprised yourself again and again. I would have dyed it anyway because you made me laugh and greeted me every morning, even though you would not accept a high-five, a hug, or even fantastic spray. I would have dyed it anyway because you gave grace to your peers and became friends with several students who really needed you... and they are better for having been your friend.
11) I would have dyed it anyway because you taught me about the benefits of a PC. You blew me away with your debate skills, and you became a leader among your peers. I would have dyed it anyway because you are quietly determined, intelligent, and resilient. You light up the room with your quick wit and your insatiable curiosity.
12) I would have dyed it anyway because you inspired our entire school with your GRIP project about homelessness in the United States. I would have dyed it anyway because your positivity never ceases. You make funny faces and maintain a silly facade, but compassion consumes your actions and hidden choices. You do not seek credit for the kindness that you bestow on others, yet your impact on those around you is evident. Certain students stop by our room every day, just to say hello to you, knowing that they will be uplifted by your kindness.
13) I would have dyed it anyway because you surprise me. You joined our class in the middle of the year- Surprise! You generally move so slowly, but then all of the sudden, you were the first one ready to go to art- Surprise! You wrote an unexpected note that made me cry. You became a source of honesty and joy in our classroom... and I would have dyed it anyway because you became a part of our family.
14) I would have dyed it anyway because of your humility. You waved at me when I drove past your house, and you told me stories about dog shows and working with horses. I would have dyed it anyway because you never make excuses for yourself, instead you take responsibility for your work. You always receive my feedback with gratitude, and you work tremendously hard to meet the goals set before you. I would have dyed it anyway because you meet those goals again and again and again.
15) I would have dyed it anyway because you are a friend to everyone. You are competitive, athletic, and bright, but you do not boast in any of these qualities. Your peers enjoy being on your team because they feel accepted by your positivity, kindness, and sportsmanship. I would have dyed it anyway because you possess a strong character. You want to include everyone, even if it means making a lot more pancakes!
16) I would have dyed it anyway because you are my Mary Poppins. You bring your bag of personal effects and a spoonful of sweetness to every lesson. You push yourself. You are incredibly dedicated, and I have never encountered an advocate quite like you. I would have died it anyway because you articulate exactly what you have in mind, and you will not settle for anything less.
17) I would have dyed it anyway because you invited me to your church's Christmas production. You shared your passions without trepidation. You wrote a beautiful song about your love for God and shared it at the talent show. I would have dyed it anyway because you accepted my son with kindness and joy. You created an atmosphere of acceptance in our classroom, and you became a respected leader among your peers.
18) I would have dyed it anyway because you make me laugh every day. You are known for your love of Takis, soccer, and Minecraft; however, more than any of those items, you care about people. I would have dyed it anyway because you seek acceptance for yourself and others. I would have dyed it anyway because you challenge yourself and others, and you are unafraid to apologize for your mistakes.
19) I would have dyed it anyway because you are the hardest worker I have ever met. You do not let disappointment defeat you, instead you allow it to make you stronger. You treat others with respect, and you are able to work well with every individual in our classroom. I would have dyed it anyway because you are humble and kind. You are unafraid to 'take the road less traveled,' even if it is difficult because you possess tremendous strength in your convictions.
20) I would have dyed it anyway because you moved after winter break, and you left an evident hole in our classroom. Your humor and enthusiasm for activities made it so fun to be your teacher. I would have dyed it anyway because you were unafraid of your beliefs, yet you never discouraged others from disagreeing. I would have dyed it anyway because you were the personification of positivity in our class, and we miss you dearly.
21) I would have dyed it anyway because you only joined our class for two months, but you taught us lessons that I could not deliver. You showed us the true meaning of resilience, compassion, and grace. In the two months that you were in our classroom, I watched your peers transform into even more compassionate versions of themselves. I would have dyed it anyway because your story taught us about gratitude and the capacity to overcome.
I could write volumes on the reasons why I would have dyed it anyway. Who you are is so much more than a 3 digit number, and it has been a privilege to be your teacher... for this gift alone, I would have dyed it anyway.
Last week, one of you inquired regarding a reward for our class' performance on the SOL standardized assessments. Without much thought, I listed possible rewards that other teachers have used to inspire your achievement. You jumped on the chance to dye my hair, and I did not argue.
Later this evening, my hair will be blue. Your performance was outstanding, and I am so glad that your scores affirmed what I already knew. You are incredibly bright, capable, and curious.
In spite of my pride, I have not been at peace with my promise to you. You see, a standardized test uses standards that reflect important content, but I don't aspire to teach content. I aspire to teach character.
When I entered the local pharmacy earlier this evening and inquired about temporary hair dyes, the manager requested an explanation (after all it's not Halloween). Upon explaining my profession and my promise, he commented that I must be a "good teacher." Inside, I cringed. You DID this work. You demonstrated your knowledge concerning the oceans, PEMDAS, and plot structure. This accomplishment is yours, and it will be one of many on this journey of life.
I don't want my success as your teacher to be judged by your achievement on an SOL test. I do not want you to measure your worth in numbers. In life, we use numbers to define many things. Numbers are great for quantitative data, but they fail at defining the intangible qualities that make you unique. I want individuals to see your character, your confidence, your heart, and your kindness- I want individuals to see how you overcome challenges. I want those attributes to set you apart as members of Mrs. Hecker's fifth grade class.
Your scores were impressive, but I need you to know that I would have dyed my hair regardless of your test scores. The moment I acquiesced to your request, I knew that pigment change was unavoidable.
Here are 21 reasons why I would have dyed it anyway....
1) I would have dyed it anyway because you wrote me an encouraging note when I missed school for a family emergency. You shared it with me via Google Drive, and I read it while sitting in a difficult meeting. You wrote the words that I needed to receive. You shared tears of joy with me when we talked about your dedication this year and the growth in your confidence. You made me laugh over and over and over again with your silly dance moves.
2) I would have dyed it anyway because you became an outstanding writer this year, in spite of your self-doubt. You overcame your insecurity and thought deeply about global injustice. You inspired me with your kind words about your little brother in your gratitude project, and suddenly, I wanted to be a much better sister, too. I would have dyed it anyway because you chose to play basketball with two girls who were feeling excluded at recess rather than the other boys.
3) I would have dyed it anyway because you memorized 60 digits of pi for fun. Your love for learning created a ripple effect in our classroom... but more than that I would have dyed it anyway because you chose to be a project partner and friend to a student who needed your encouragement. I would have dyed it anyway because you ate lunch with your book buddy every day for several months as you built a relationship of trust and kindness. You became his greatest role model.
4) I would have dyed it anyway because you invited me to your birthday party. You allowed me to enter your family. You quietly and humbly wrote volumes of your fictional text. Your imagination inspired me. I would have dyed it anyway because you used your passions (from Harry Potter to chickens) to guide your coursework, and in that way, you made the assignments more personally meaningful... and that, dear student, is when true learning occurs.
5) I would have dyed it anyway because you met with me every Wednesday after school to write. You shared your passion with me. You invited me into your creative world and allowed me to add my own fingerprints to the elaborate epics you have penned. I looked forward to our editing sessions, and I learned so much from your creative vision and eloquence.
6) I would have dyed it anyway because you rediscovered your passion for teaching. You taught kindergarteners about the life cycle of our hermit crabs, and I still hear about your visit to Mrs. Neiditch's class. I would have dyed it anyway because you stayed in my room after school. Sometimes no words were exchanged, while other days we listened to music, and occasionally we exchanged banter. You are my quiet overcomer. You allowed my room to become a sanctuary for thoughts and for laughter as your friendships expanded. You reluctantly revealed your fears, yet you never hesitated to overcome... all on your own.
7) I would have dyed it anyway because you are not afraid to try. You believed that you could not debate a topic that you did not support, yet you researched your position and won the case for homework. I would have dyed it anyway because you are sensitive, and you want to share joy and laughter with everyone around you. I would have dyed it anyway because you love animals, and you treat them with so much care and kindness.
8) I would have dyed it anyway because you transformed and grew in ways that could never be measured with numbers. You ate breakfast with me and taught me about your favorite YouTube stars and South Carolina. You shared the gift of your creativity with every individual in our classroom. You created amazing pieces of art.
9) I would have dyed it anyway because you told me at the beginning of the year, that you were simply an "average reader." Your scores have skyrocketed in reading and in every content area. You found strength in your ability and confidence. I would have dyed it anyway because you push yourself every moment of every day. You see challenges as opportunities, and you constantly put forth your best effort without complaint.
10) I would have dyed it anyway because you allowed the work to frustrate you, but then you surprised yourself again and again. I would have dyed it anyway because you made me laugh and greeted me every morning, even though you would not accept a high-five, a hug, or even fantastic spray. I would have dyed it anyway because you gave grace to your peers and became friends with several students who really needed you... and they are better for having been your friend.
11) I would have dyed it anyway because you taught me about the benefits of a PC. You blew me away with your debate skills, and you became a leader among your peers. I would have dyed it anyway because you are quietly determined, intelligent, and resilient. You light up the room with your quick wit and your insatiable curiosity.
12) I would have dyed it anyway because you inspired our entire school with your GRIP project about homelessness in the United States. I would have dyed it anyway because your positivity never ceases. You make funny faces and maintain a silly facade, but compassion consumes your actions and hidden choices. You do not seek credit for the kindness that you bestow on others, yet your impact on those around you is evident. Certain students stop by our room every day, just to say hello to you, knowing that they will be uplifted by your kindness.
13) I would have dyed it anyway because you surprise me. You joined our class in the middle of the year- Surprise! You generally move so slowly, but then all of the sudden, you were the first one ready to go to art- Surprise! You wrote an unexpected note that made me cry. You became a source of honesty and joy in our classroom... and I would have dyed it anyway because you became a part of our family.
14) I would have dyed it anyway because of your humility. You waved at me when I drove past your house, and you told me stories about dog shows and working with horses. I would have dyed it anyway because you never make excuses for yourself, instead you take responsibility for your work. You always receive my feedback with gratitude, and you work tremendously hard to meet the goals set before you. I would have dyed it anyway because you meet those goals again and again and again.
15) I would have dyed it anyway because you are a friend to everyone. You are competitive, athletic, and bright, but you do not boast in any of these qualities. Your peers enjoy being on your team because they feel accepted by your positivity, kindness, and sportsmanship. I would have dyed it anyway because you possess a strong character. You want to include everyone, even if it means making a lot more pancakes!
16) I would have dyed it anyway because you are my Mary Poppins. You bring your bag of personal effects and a spoonful of sweetness to every lesson. You push yourself. You are incredibly dedicated, and I have never encountered an advocate quite like you. I would have died it anyway because you articulate exactly what you have in mind, and you will not settle for anything less.
17) I would have dyed it anyway because you invited me to your church's Christmas production. You shared your passions without trepidation. You wrote a beautiful song about your love for God and shared it at the talent show. I would have dyed it anyway because you accepted my son with kindness and joy. You created an atmosphere of acceptance in our classroom, and you became a respected leader among your peers.
18) I would have dyed it anyway because you make me laugh every day. You are known for your love of Takis, soccer, and Minecraft; however, more than any of those items, you care about people. I would have dyed it anyway because you seek acceptance for yourself and others. I would have dyed it anyway because you challenge yourself and others, and you are unafraid to apologize for your mistakes.
19) I would have dyed it anyway because you are the hardest worker I have ever met. You do not let disappointment defeat you, instead you allow it to make you stronger. You treat others with respect, and you are able to work well with every individual in our classroom. I would have dyed it anyway because you are humble and kind. You are unafraid to 'take the road less traveled,' even if it is difficult because you possess tremendous strength in your convictions.
20) I would have dyed it anyway because you moved after winter break, and you left an evident hole in our classroom. Your humor and enthusiasm for activities made it so fun to be your teacher. I would have dyed it anyway because you were unafraid of your beliefs, yet you never discouraged others from disagreeing. I would have dyed it anyway because you were the personification of positivity in our class, and we miss you dearly.
21) I would have dyed it anyway because you only joined our class for two months, but you taught us lessons that I could not deliver. You showed us the true meaning of resilience, compassion, and grace. In the two months that you were in our classroom, I watched your peers transform into even more compassionate versions of themselves. I would have dyed it anyway because your story taught us about gratitude and the capacity to overcome.
I could write volumes on the reasons why I would have dyed it anyway. Who you are is so much more than a 3 digit number, and it has been a privilege to be your teacher... for this gift alone, I would have dyed it anyway.
Saturday, April 1, 2017
An Unwanted Choice
Our lives are no longer quiet. We are no longer neatly kept. Laundry spills over baskets. Small amounts of cat hair can no longer merit a full sweep. Dishes pile in the sink because the dishwasher is already occupied. Most mornings, hair is thrown into a messy pony tail and make-up is applied in the rearview mirror, but let's be honest... I have never spent much time on exterior maintenance. Thankfully, my husband is not vain.
My 'free' hours used to be from 4:00PM to 7:30AM. I no longer possess time, yet I am constantly trying to find more of it.
My husband and I used to govern our time with last minute dining decisions and spontaneous road trips. Spontaneity and wanderlust now entail hours of forethought... Where are the restrooms? Snacks... do we have snacks? Should we pack extra shoes? Parking? Will we be home in time for read-aloud and bath time?
Dawn to dusk and back again. Experienced parents know this, but I am a novice... even compared to my husband. He slipped into the dad role so effortlessly. Balancing motherhood with teaching and being a wife...I am constantly failing in at least one area.
Details cannot afford to be missed. With our foster agency, we are bound to other players in this parenting game. Home visits occur every other Monday. The CASA worker visits Saturday mornings. Therapy occurs every other Thursday. The Guardian ad Litem visits each month, as does the DSS worker. Our lives are a railway platform of strangers- entering and exiting. They are required to know us, yet they reveal very little of their own lives.
We are trapped in the vulnerability of our own world... constantly questioning our decisions as others cast mirrors instead of windows.
I once heard that you discover God, when you reach the end of yourself. I am learning that there is a LOT of 'me,' and I am weary of looking at my own reflection.
People comment that we are "noble" for choosing this path, but their praise is unmerited. I fail and question the destination of this journey daily.
Some days, love is a choice, and lately, it has not been an easy choice to make.
I try to 'put on love' like a pair of unwanted but necessary pantyhose, but many days, the result is itchy, uncomfortable, and too tight. I count down the minutes until I can remove the second skin.
We invited brokenness to take up residence within our own brokenness, and somehow expected a beautiful outcome. We are not 'noble;' we are closer to the definition of insanity.
I know Jesus did it, but sometimes the perfect example he set for us in adoption is offensive. No one can sacrifice that much without being admitted. I have been hurt and emotionally spent in this process.. I remind myself that certain challenges were expected, but the perfectionist in me wonders, isn't there another way, Jesus? Couldn't this be prevented?
I long for Eden... love before sin... before love became a choice.
Abba, how do you love someone who cannot reciprocate your affection appropriately? How do you love someone who demands so much time.. attention.. personal sacrifice? How do you love someone who is unpredictable and angry? How do you undo 7 years of pain, neglect, and rejection?
Abba, how much longer before I reach the end of me and find you?
My 'free' hours used to be from 4:00PM to 7:30AM. I no longer possess time, yet I am constantly trying to find more of it.
My husband and I used to govern our time with last minute dining decisions and spontaneous road trips. Spontaneity and wanderlust now entail hours of forethought... Where are the restrooms? Snacks... do we have snacks? Should we pack extra shoes? Parking? Will we be home in time for read-aloud and bath time?
Dawn to dusk and back again. Experienced parents know this, but I am a novice... even compared to my husband. He slipped into the dad role so effortlessly. Balancing motherhood with teaching and being a wife...I am constantly failing in at least one area.
Details cannot afford to be missed. With our foster agency, we are bound to other players in this parenting game. Home visits occur every other Monday. The CASA worker visits Saturday mornings. Therapy occurs every other Thursday. The Guardian ad Litem visits each month, as does the DSS worker. Our lives are a railway platform of strangers- entering and exiting. They are required to know us, yet they reveal very little of their own lives.
We are trapped in the vulnerability of our own world... constantly questioning our decisions as others cast mirrors instead of windows.
I once heard that you discover God, when you reach the end of yourself. I am learning that there is a LOT of 'me,' and I am weary of looking at my own reflection.
People comment that we are "noble" for choosing this path, but their praise is unmerited. I fail and question the destination of this journey daily.
Some days, love is a choice, and lately, it has not been an easy choice to make.
I try to 'put on love' like a pair of unwanted but necessary pantyhose, but many days, the result is itchy, uncomfortable, and too tight. I count down the minutes until I can remove the second skin.
We invited brokenness to take up residence within our own brokenness, and somehow expected a beautiful outcome. We are not 'noble;' we are closer to the definition of insanity.
I know Jesus did it, but sometimes the perfect example he set for us in adoption is offensive. No one can sacrifice that much without being admitted. I have been hurt and emotionally spent in this process.. I remind myself that certain challenges were expected, but the perfectionist in me wonders, isn't there another way, Jesus? Couldn't this be prevented?
I long for Eden... love before sin... before love became a choice.
Abba, how do you love someone who cannot reciprocate your affection appropriately? How do you love someone who demands so much time.. attention.. personal sacrifice? How do you love someone who is unpredictable and angry? How do you undo 7 years of pain, neglect, and rejection?
Abba, how much longer before I reach the end of me and find you?