Oh, there's Dunkin Donuts next to Espresso. And also everywhere else inthis city, for that matter

Some days I just need to get out if the house. I've been spending a lot of time in it recently as I no longer teach (although that time is coming to a close which is really awesome although slightly terrifying because that voice in my head says that I've probably started to suck more and I'll have no management and blah blah blah... Shut up voice.)

Anyway. Today I needed to get out. Now, I probably could have asked someone to come out with me. People are generally great and stuff. But for some reason I wasn't REALLY interested in having company.

So this is my life. I got on one of the buses that chills at the bottom of the hill by my house. They cost 11 lempira (50 cents) and are usually about full by the time we get close to my destination. I think I'm supposed to tell you it's an adventure, but during the day it feels pretty safe and its a really convenient way to get to places in its route.

So I hop on the bus (and wait for a bit as they finish cleaning it out... The joy of living at the beginning of the route!) and off we go.

My first stop was Espresso Americano, m y coffee shop of choice. I love it more than Starbucks. Cafe Latte, check. Grading, check. Retrieve iPod from secret hiding place among my clothing, check.

And as I sat there, sipping and grading, I felt so at home. It was like home working on job stiff or reading by myself in Grand Rapids or lesson planning on my own in Milwaukee. Except for, of course, the mountains and sunshine out the window that was separating me and the 82 degree weather, of course. Can't say that's normal in December in Michigan or Wisconsin.

And I realized how little time I spend out on my own here. I travel in groups. Always. And I'm getting comfy in my groups. I'm loving it. It makes me feel like me to have go-to people and consistency and I really am so grateful for my dear friends here.

But when I think back to my on my own moments during the months I spent out of college but not yet in Honduras, I learned so much while spending more time alone. I was more comfortable with myself when I learned to enjoy my own company. I felt independent, adult, and alive. I felt confident and content.

And my relationship with God was different. Somewhere in that mix of driving on my own to places on my own... I spent more time thinking about and praying to and listening for him and less time thinking about and listening to and thinking what clever things I was going to say to someone else. It was different.

Maybe I'll have to add alone time into those routines I'm getting used to. Spend time getting to know myself on my own again and get used to how I've changed. Spend time with God and maybe even deal with that voice in my head a bit.


Or maybe it just an excuse to get more donuts. You never can tell.

My Grandma e-mails me nearly every day. I try to respond, although I wonder whether or not she gets them because my questions always go unanswered. And sometimes I don't respond right away or think about waiting a day, and then I get another one.

Because she e-mails me, regardless of whether or not I respond. It's not about her needing something back from me. It's about letting me into her life and telling me what she's thinking about and asking what she's wondering about and always ending with "love you and am praying for you. Grandma."

And I wonder... how did I get so blessed? How do I have so many people supporting me and loving on me? Why was I born into a family where I have Grandparents and Parents who pray for me on such a regular basis?

So blessed.

Miracles

We were talking about miracles in Bible Study tonight.

One miracle I should have mentioned buy didn't is the amazing healing happening in my body. It's still shocking to me how much progress it has made in just a few weeks.

Another was bible study itself. It's been a second-guessy sort of week, and it was exactly what I needed to feel included and wanted and loved.

Yay for miracles.

Here's hoping to go back to school next week?

December

Somehow it is December. Somehow it ha been two weeks since my sleepless night of pain that I thought was nothing but actually was something.

Wow. Crazy.

Somehow in the past two weeks my body was opened up and taken apart and put back together, and it still somehow works. I can feel my abs getting stronger, can see my skin growing back together. I'm still working on normal digestion, but I can eat normally and walk around and more or less live my life with relatively no pain.

And life keeps moving forward, and we all keep moving with it.

Somehow I'm going home in 17 days. Somehow everything that needs to be done before that will get done.

I can't believe it's December.

I am a people person

Part of me is tempted to write a really whiny post. I'm feeling whiny today. Nobody knows the troubles I've seen, nobody knows my sorrows, etc etc etc.

But honestly, I know that's not REALLY true, because there are a lot of crappy things in the world. And even non-crappy things, like teaching all day every day and going home and prepping to teach some more, can kind of suck sometimes. My life is just a life, like everyone elses.

So this is what I know. But I'm warning you, I still feel kind of whiny.

But. A good thing. I stopped by school today (no, I did not work, and no, I was not there all day. Just the very very end of the day). I was in the office until the bell rang, and then I stepped in the hall to see some of those people who make everything worthwhile. I made it maybe 80 cm (that is a joke. It was probably more like 280 cm). Then... students.

So many students.

So many hugs.

So many "Meese!"'s. (That is NOT how to properly punctuated that. At all.)

So good. So very good. I missed them a lot.

And as they headed to the bus and the hallways cleared, I was left with a shadow. It was a student who doesn't necessarily do a whole lot in my class, but was fully ready to come home with me and cook all my meals as well as to talk my ear off and tell me everything about everything. And I didn't know we were close, but now I do. I'm good with that too.

And I loved it. Because that is what makes me feel like a teacher. Being there, having discussions, knowing and loving my people, that is what I love. I do not love making grammar powerpoints or writing quizzes and discussion questions. But, right now, that's just the way it is.

But tomorrow is already Thursday. I've been home almost a week, and life is flying by. Soon enough, things will be back to normal and I'll probably still be whiny. And that's that, and I apologize in advance.

Dizzy

I cried today. Like, kind of a lot.

My big sister left, and that was sad. And it maybe set off the pity-party that has been waiting to happen but hasn't because, honestly, all things considered, life is still pretty good. I mean, my big sister was here, people have been so great, I'm not dead and didn't explode, I'm healing well... I mean, pretty great.

But then she left, and the sucky parts started coming through - the hospital on my birthday, no Thanksgiving dinner ever, no ocean and not getting to hang out with my friends, no school, being far away from home and missing 60-80 cm of my intestines (sorry about the false report earlier) and no more sister... I could make the list longer. But I won't.

Tonight I got my stitches out. Looking at them, feeling the fabric of my shirt against my skin for the first time in a week, everything, it was a lot. It made me dizzy and slightly nauseous. This has been a lot.

But then I saw people who I truly care about a lot and who are great and funny and fun to hang out with, even if they aren't family. I came home to e-mails from parents and students who still, a week later, care about how I'm doing and write such sweet notes about missing me. I also have a hilarious and lovely loveable e-mail from my Grandmother who is praying for me and writing me every day.

And I might cry again. Because bad things happen and good things happen and I have less intestines and sometimes life is a little sucky but also there are so many lovely people in the world who, for some inexplicable reason, choose to share some of that love with me.

How overwhelming. Maybe it's bedtime.

Thanks

I'm writing this from my very own big girl bed. It feels so good to be in my space with my music and my things surrounding me.

You may have noticed a lack of posting for the last 5 days. I promise, I have a pretty good reason for this.

I've spent the last 5 days in the Honduran Medical Center because, on Friday night, I started experiencing extreme pain in my abdomen. I tried to wait it out, which resulted in a very sleepless Friday night and and an exceptionally uncomfortable Saturday. I'm so thankful I had never experienced pain like that in my life and would be ok if I never experienced it again. the last time I laid in this bed, I just remember crying out that I couldn't do this, that I wasn't strong enough to handle the pain. But I didn't take action to get help for the pain I couldn't fix.

I'm so thankful for my dear roommate who determined on Saturday that it was time to take me to the hospital. We got to the emergency room and thankfully no one was there, so they were able to get us in right away. After some tests and a very grim looking ultrasound technician, we were told we needed to talk to the surgeon.

When he arrived, he explained that there was about 400 mL of fluid that didn't belong around my intestines and my white blood cell count was over twice as high as it should normally be. Now, I'm very proud of my super blood, but it just wasn't enough.

Because they weren't sure of the reason for all the fluid, they needed to do a laparoscopy to see what was really going on. I don't really remember what happened next because I was blissfully anesthetized, but 5 hours later I woke up in my own private room with a largeish bandage on my stomach, a tube coming out of my nose, and a fancy-looking bag of intestine juice attached to my side. Hmm. Thank goodness for my friend and roommates who had been waiting and staying in contact with my family through the whole procedure. I clearly had the easiest job.

When the doctor arrived later that afternoon, he informed us that part of my intestine had created a ring around another part of my intestine. This caused the trapped intestine to lose blood flow and essentially die. They had to remove 10 cm and also my appendix, which I'm super happy about since I've been scared of that little organ ever since my cousin got hers out 12ish years ago. Good riddance, I say.

Anyway. The next few days were filled with bed rest, good visits with friends, an unexpected birthday visit from my favorite older sister, and lots of prayers and love from friends and family from all over the place.

And those prayers were heard, because my healing process went so much quicker than expected. So thank you to all of you who who offered me up. I really can't express my gratitude and how much it means to me.

This afternoon I bid farewell to the best nursing staff in the world (seriously, so great!) and headed home to my own space with my very caring sister.

It might be hard for me to be dependent, but I'm trying, as I'm so aware that I very well could not be here if it weren't for all the people who have been involved in caring for me these past few days. And also in the past 23 years, as, holla, I turned old in the hospital!

All this is mainly to say that I am so thankful for everything from my bed to my stuff, but much more than that, I am thankful for all the people in my life and for their amazing love and support. Most of all (note the move from positive to comparative to superlative) I am thankful for a God who can fit organs together and who gave them the ability to heal back together after something goes wrong. I'm thankful for a God who shares wisdom with humans so they can diagnose and fix these problems. I'm thankful for a God who puts the people you need in your life and for a God who answers prayer. Most of all, I'm thankful for a God who is always there, in the moments of extreme pain and of joyful overwhelmedness. I'm thankful I know he holds tomorrow, and I know he holds my hand.

And you can blame any sappiness on pain meds and any typos on my iPod touch.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Fill and be filled

 Homeroom is my hardest class. It seems so silly that a 20 minute class that is supposed to be a family of people who trust each other that I "in theory" don't even have to plan for would be more difficult to teach than 47 minutes of English... but it is.

I think one of my biggest issues is that I know that a lot of the stuff I'm teaching isn't interesting or really relevant. I mean, yes, bullying is definitely relevant, but presenting the facts seems to result in more jokes than life changes.

I had a plan for today, a lesson about listening because I feel like they never listen to me. It's a terrible motivation, I know. But I also am at my wits end.

When these babies walked in today, I couldn't do it. I couldn't fight the battle again, didn't want to fight a battle again. So we spent the time talking.

I was talking to a group of girls, and they started asking hypothetical boy and girl drama questions. Oh, middle school drama. So serious. So hard. So confusing.

And I thought about my past, about the back-stabbing best friend and all the boy drama and the insecurities and self-loathing and the mess that was (and, let's be serious, sometimes/often still is) me, and I can be thankful for the ways that I am equipped to have these conversations. Because I really have been there.

I teach better on Fridays after I watch Glee. I know this is silly, but watching it with my roommate, giggling and caring about these fictional characters and their made-up lives, it giddifies me (no, that is not a word, don't look it up.) And that flows over into my students.

Today, I had a friend share her teaching triumphs after a slumpy week. It reminded me to look for little triumphs in my day.

So I'm thankful for that fact that we don't exist in isolation. I'm thankful for interconnectedness and relationships.

And I'm a tiny (lot) bit thankful that I only have 3 teaching days before Thanksgiving Break. Hey, relaxation will make me a better teacher too!

There's a reason I've been posting more lately, in case you've been wondering.

Last year I kept a blog where I tried to write almost daily. November of last year was chronicling my lows of Student Teaching. Mm, were they low sometime.

This has been a lower week for me. I feel the darkness, the icky inadequacy, the doubts, the loneliness, and the desire to just sleep all the time.

Yesterday I had a dear friend over and we talked for a brief amount of time about feeling like we suck at teaching and whether or not that is normal. You know what they say, misery loves company.

Well, it's not exactly misery. There are still a lot of good moments and breakthroughs. My day today wasn't even that bad after I got through second period and homeroom.  It's just that feeling of gloom that I can't quite shake.

Regardless of what it is, it's nice to be able to read back and reminisce, not because I want to dwell in those feelings, but to remember that it won't always be like that/this. It's good to see the lights that happened then, and think about how much life has changed. It's a good reminder of what God has done and is doing.

Anyway.

Blogging more. It's easier to find this day last year on a blog than in a journal.

Here's a secret. I don't love asking for help. I don't love needing other people. I don't love not being in control.

Here's a fact. I live in Honduras, which is a great place, but doesn't always allow for a lot of independence. That being said, I did spend some time alone at the mall this weekend. So that's a thing.

This weekend I was attempting to get bus tickets for a group of us who are going up to one of the Bay Islands over Thanksgiving. The phone number didn't work, no one knew where the bus station was, and it was unclear what we needed to purchase the tickets and how much they'd cost.

We taxied on over, because at least the taxi driver knew where we needed to go, although that is a different type of vulnerability altogether. When we got there, we were able to reserve seats, but needed effectivo (essentially cash) to pay for them. This was a problem because the last time we went to the store, we couldn't use our cards and had to pay cash there. Anyway. We take a different taxi to a mall that is nearly across the seat, he waits for us to get cash and takes us back to the bus station, we purchase tickets, and that same taxi drives us home. Tickets = purchased.

In the States, I'd expect to just get in my car and take care of things. I need to make more than one stop? Ok, that's do-able. Nbd, yo. I need groceries? Done. This needing rides, translating, everything... it just gets to me sometimes. I haven't been this dependent since I was 15. When people asked me my most prized possessions, my car was almost always on the list. It symbolized my freedom and autonomy. Oh, how I miss it.

I watched a couple episodes of Scrubs last week with a dear friend/cousin. The theme song has been running through my head. "I can't do it all on my own, no, I'm no superman." I probably shouldn't have put that in quotes, as I'm not sure it's completely accurate. Please lyric fact check at will.

Here's a secret. That is true of me.

We keep about talking about using our own strength and whatnot in devotion like things. It's also come up a lot in my personal devotions. This is my number one bad habit (and you thought it was biting my nails...) I really really really get so wrapped up in being able to do this, in being able to balance work and living and communicating with people back home and being awesome and appearing put together and everything that I use up almost all the limited strength I contain. It's really not that much, you know.

Depending on God for strength, depending on others for prayers and space to talk about the secret (or not secret) failures of my life... this is hard for me. I hate being dependent, wrong, or vulnerable.

But I can't do this all on my own. I'm not superman.

So this is a topic I'd normally avoid...

I grew up believing that Christians belonged to one political party and that it was my job to pray for everyone who belonged to the other party. I'm my exactly sure where this came from, probably some random interpretation of my parents' political preference mixed with my concrete-thinker's sense of right and wrong. To clarify, it was not explicitly taught to me.

When I was 14, I wrote a report on a First Lady and developed what was probably my first woman crush. The only problem? Well, there were two. One was that she was dead and two was that she was from the "wrong" political party. I was forced to start thinking about why I believed what I did, what it means to be a Christian, and what that meant for my future as a citizen of this country.

Over the years, my thinking had changed. I've thought and prayed about authorities and what they should do and how to choose good ones. Do I have all the answers? Absolutely not. So that's a thing.

Anyway. Today is/was Election Day. The president was reelected. Is he perfect? Nope, not in the slightest. Would the other option have been more perfect? Meh.

A new or old president isn't going to fix the world. There is no perfectly right or wrong man or woman to lead this country.

Today I was talking with some co-workers about who they would have voted for (ok, the truth comes out, I never got around to getting an absentee ballot). We didn't all agree, but I think we could agree to see each others points and respect each others educated decisions. This was a far cry from the tumultuous divisions on my floor four years ago. In my opinion, that's progress.

Here's praying for wisdom, humility, and sensibility for the next four years.

Remember, Remember the 5th of November

So I have this big sister.
She born on this day 25 years ago.

She's pretty awesome.

So, she's almost exactly 2 years older than me, the perfect distance apart for her to try everything first and for me to follow close behind.

She taught me how to read when I was three, because she had already tested the waters.
She played the slightly harder part on our piano duets, because she started first.
She consistently found the best books and music.
She led the way on most bike trips to the library and candy store.
She shared her paper route with me.

She turned 16 before I did (funny how that works) and we would go on road trips to see her friends in Grand Rapids who she so generously shared with me. I remember one trip where we got energy drinks (and I counted how many stars there are on Rockstar Energy Drinks... no, I do not remember), and we saw a bus trailing a parachuting army man behind it, a la Napoleon Dynamite. Nice.

Speaking of sharing, once we had boyfriends with the same name. Don't worry, they were different people.
Sheesh.

Since we worked at the same Farm Market for most of high school, we had to mix things up. We worked in different departments and I remember a day or a week when we wrote cheesy song lyrics on order pads and posted them for the other. I still have one that says "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Sister, that's all I ask of you." Yes please.

Stories like these... I could go on forever. Playing Little Women with the neighbors, the time she made me drink Orange Juice and Milk mixed together, visits to her dorm room in college... it's a long list.

Still, even without the stories, it's important to note how important she is. She is a huge part of the reason I love learning, she taught me how to read, which is more or less English related. She took a chance and moved out of the country after college and is not attending a ridiculously prestigious Law School. She is encouraging and positive and intelligent, and is a humungous part of who I am today.

Sorry, it's not all about me. It's about her, and how incredibly thankful I am that God in all his wisdom put her and I in the same family. I'm sad to miss this birthday, but I know there'll be many more. Besides, despite the distance, we'll always be sisters, right?

Sister... Happy Birthday. I love you more than words.

  

Hearts

It's been a busy week. We had exams, we need to get ready for next quarter, we need to finish this quarter, everything has been all up in the air the past few weeks with testing and days off and retreats... I guess you could say it's been a busy month. Actually, now that I think about it, I suppose you could say it's been a busy school year. There is always SOMETHING more that could be being done.

About a month ago, there was an opportunity to go to an orphanage and hang out for the afternoon. I didn't go because I was too busy. I don't remember what weekend that was, but probably I ended up spending a good deal of time on things other than work even though I had enough work to fill up the weekend. This is, embarrassingly enough, something that happens often.

Anyway, when the opportunity came around again this month, I assumed (silly) I'd have everything done by the weekend and wouldn't have anything to do... the perfect time to go hang out with some small children.

MMMRRRNNNPPPP. (That is the sound of an incorrect buzzer. Ask me to demonstrate sometime.)

Anyway. Perfect time, right? Until this week happened and everything took longer and more things became due and I tried to have a social life and suddenly it's Friday and I have more work than I've ever had in my life. Great.

I can't back out on the orphanage thing because there are only 4 of us going and we're splitting a bus and I've already committed. So I stay up late last night and get up early this morning and grudgingly go.

Was it the best experience of my life? Did I see God or was my heart deeply moved by those kids? Honestly, probably not. It was fine, good, whatever. I gave piggy-back rides and combed and pony-tailed the hair of an adorable three year old. But mostly I just felt ok. Which is ok. But not mind-blowing or life changing.

However, on the bus back... I was thinking. It's generally too hilly and curvy for me to read or work on the bus, so I had some time to look out the window and think.

Yesterday I spent about 6 hours getting to the mall and hanging out with people and seeing James Bond. Thursday I spent a good chunk of my evening getting dinner with some friends. Wednesday I saw people who I really like a lot at Bible Study. Tuesday two of my favorite people in Honduras were over. Monday... I might have probably worked on Monday, but that was after going to the post office and grocery store.

One suppon a time I had a conversation with this boy about tithing, and putting your money where your heart is. It also turned into a conversation about gift giving and relationships and a lot of other things, but it's one of those things that keeps coming back to me.

I mean, this isn't really money related, but it's definitely time related. I'm willing to give up sleep and productivity to see people and get out. It's important to me, so I'll rarely say no. But service-y things? Youth group? Orphanage trips? I get so wishy-washy about having the time to do them.

And I have to wonder, is it because I don't feel I get much out of them? Is the whole point of my life my gratification? Where is my heart? What is it doing?

I went to an orphanage today. Honestly, my life didn't change that much. I didn't get much out of it.

But maybe it wasn't all about me, anyway.

On being the woman I want to be

Tonight a ran through a crowded mall.

This is silly, and probably not remotely grown up. Yes, I know. But this was also exhilarating and thrilling and excited and risky, at least a little bit. It felt like something some super brave and quirky character in a move (think Zooey Deschanel) would do.

Now, I love my life. I don't mind me most the time, although we have our moments. But I'd be lying if I said I felt like I was already the person I'd like to be or that I'm not still developing. That's life, yo. I understand that growing up, growing wiser, and making progress is a process.

Still, tonight was a good reminder that maybe there are times you just have to go for it. Maybe that's silly. But I ran around a mall tonight. What did you expect?

Voice

There has been a major focus on the 6+1 traits if writing in my life lately. Ideas, organization, voice, word choice, sentence fluency, conventions, presentation. Yes, I can recite them in my sleep.

I have determined that voice is my favorite because I absolutely love reading writing that sounds like the author. I give my students the example of reading my sisters' blogs and how joyful it is or was to read their words and hear their voices because the writing is so inherently them.

I think about the time I took a class with Gary Schmidt and about listening to him speak at the Teacher Commissioning Ceremony about his book, "Ok For Now". Now, when I read it, I hear his voice, his stories come out.

I spent most of the day reading my 7th grader's stories. Some of them just made me smile because they were so clearly THEM. It's exciting to watch this trait develop, and middle school is prime time for it.

Still, all this leads me to think about me, and my voice in my writing. Do I sound like me?

To some extent, probably yes. Nearly run-on sentences and bad grammar? Fragments? Sounds like me. And I talk about myself a lot, which is definitely normal for me, even though it probably shouldn't be.

So I'm thinking about my voice, and how to develop and grow even though I'm not technically a middle schooler (although, let's be serious; I'm awful close). I'm thinking about the words I chose both in speaking and writing. I'm thinking about the shallowness of my topics. I'm thinking about the emphasis on me, and the balance of excepting that, yes, the stories I tell are often my life stories and I happen to be the main character of my life, but also, yes, there is more to the world than me.

So I don't know. Still praying an working through that one, as I probably will be for approximately forever.

Exams happen this week-- I have one day left with each of my classes. Pray for them as they study and demonstrate their knowledge and abilities. Pray for me to be the best guide and steward of their time that I can possibly be this week and that the peace I've felt for the last week and a half will continue.

Today, as I was unlocking the door to Room 4, it hit me.

I am a teacher. I have a classroom that is mine to invite students into. I have ridiculous amounts of work to do because I get to do my own planning and create my own lessons. I have students who I know by name.

I've been doing this for 8 weeks.

I am a teacher.

It makes me smile. And, yes, I knew it before today. Do not be alarmed.

Still, sometimes, it just hits me. And I love that this is for real.

I'm not going to lie, I don't spend much time thinking about what I'll wear in the morning. I'm tired, I'm cranky, I'm not ready to start a day. Whatever is lying around is probably good, provided I didn't wear it the day before. I'm pretty sure that would be noticed. Although, maybe I should test it for science. They notice when I don't wear purple. Don't ask how often that happens, I can't tell you.

Anyway, today was a day that made me sad. Yes, I was wearing black, no, this was probably not the reason. My socks were purple. Anyway. Today made me not want to go back tomorrow, not want to try to love those students. Today they hurt me.  


There's a verse written on the wall over my bed. Actually, it's multiple verses, but same difference.

 Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.    - Colossians 3:12-14


So I'm going to bed soon. I'm laying out kindness and patience and I'm forgiving my grievances because when it comes down to it, Lord knows I have been forgiven, both by him and by those precious children who drive me insane. 

The reason I post this? Not because I'm super spiritual. I promise, that is not really a thing. Not because I want you to think I'm humble or wise, although, a little bit I do, even though I know it's not true.

Honestly? The real reason?

One of my students offered me up as a prayer request today. She wanted us to ask God to give me the strength to be a good teacher and to do everything I needed to. And I needed that. Still need it. 

Pray that I can put on love. Pray that I'll have patience. Pray that I'll be willing to forgive. Pray the same things for my students.

I've been e-mailing one of the other teachers every night with 3 things that I'm thankful for. It's a good reminder of the good that sometimes gets hidden inside the day to day struggles of being a first year teacher. Some days are easier to find those things than others.

1. Overall, my students did a lot better on the last round of tests and have been turning in more work. I still struggle with figuring out how to deal with students who really seem not to care at all about how they're doing, and to let some of that go instead of internalizing all of the failure. But also there have been some students who have made some really good progress. Like, super good. They would recognize that last group of words as a fragment. Hopefully.

2.  I was out subbing yesterday and it was so good to come back into my room and see my students again. I'm thankful that for the most part, they were excited to see me too. I'm thankful that seeing them is almost always a highlight of my day. That lets me know that, despite the grumpiness about how much work I have to do always and how much I hate not feeling successful, I'm probably right where am supposed to be.

3. I'm thankful that I live with roommates who understand what it is like to be a first year teacher. I'm thankful they listen to me and put up with me and encourage me. I'm also thankful for a silly puppy who thinks she owns my bed but still lets me take up all the room I want. That one is a bonus.

I am overwhelmed. There is a puppy sleeping on my pillow, I have one last section to grade quizzes for, I have tomorrow's lessons to look over, I have summer reading projects left to be graded, I have a study guide left to type up, I have tests to create, I have parents to respond to, and I need to make plans for next week.

And my head says "If you do one more thing, I will explode, thank you very much."


The puppy just stretched and gave me a look like "are you coming?"

And I suppose I am, because I missed those babies today while I just proctored exams. I want to be excited to see them tomorrow because they are lovely. For that to happen, I need sleep.

Everything gets done eventually, right? Oh dear. I totally just typed write instead of right. Don't explode, brain.

Teaching 12 year olds

Do you remember being 12?

I remember having big bushy hair and large glasses. I remember trying to fit in with the cool group at Home School Performing Arts and West Michigan Home School Bands. I remember the drama that went on every time I hung out with my best friend - the kissing pillows, mad crushes, and ridiculous ideas. We were going to create a make-up company called Av-OFF, and we tried various "beauty products" made of household ingredients. Thank goodness this was pre-zits.

Every relationship was a big deal. It was like a new world that I'd been living in for years. Instead of only caring about the people who I was with at the moment, I started caring about EVERYONE and their opinion.

12 year olds are hilarious to spend time with. They have opinions about nearly everything having to do with pop culture (did you know Justin Beiber threw up while performing, which also outed him for lip synching?) They are super interested in your life, especially if you are old (but not too old), beautiful(ish), and single (this is clearly the most exciting of the three). 

I teach 12 year olds. Approximately 80 of them, with 40 up and coming 11 year olds following closely behind.

This is the best thing in the world. There is no other age group I would choose to spend my days with.

I teach 12 year olds. As much as they care about everything else... school WORK is not always that important to them. Responsibility is dumped on them... but they're just babies.

Failing 12 year olds? Detending 12 years? 12 year olds who you KNOW are struggling to figure out how they fit with their friends, in their bodies, in this world? 

This is the worst thing in the world. It breaks my heart.

I'm thankful I live in a world where mees is a word.

I'm thankful for students who are willing to be honest with me and to come in on their lunches to catch up on reading.

I'm thankful that I can come home to a clean home on Mondays and that I never have to clean my floor or shower.

agradecido

Tuesdays are a rough day. We do writing, which is the least favorite part of English class for the majority of my students (and the hardest to teach for me), the week stretches out ahead of us, I need to start thinking about planning but don't want to, and the word looks really ugly when you write it out. Tuesday. Seriously? Not an attractive word. I rarely wear my Tuesday socks because of that. Also because they're actually really ugly.

Anyway. I should ban myself from posting on Tuesdays, as I'm usually pretty beat by bedtime.

This has been a rough week though. I had a good number of students do poorly on a quiz, and because I really don't want them to fail and I want them to know the material, I contacted parents and offered a study period and make-up quiz during my free lunches. In theory (and probably in reality) it was a good idea, but my goodness. So much extra work to communicate with all the parents and all of a sudden, all these kids have questions, which is GREAT but also I have about a billion things to do and I feel the extra drain of this on my time. I didn't get my quizzes made, my study guides for next week, or my lesson plans done on their normal days. I've been scrambling to catch up in every spare moment.

Sorry. Too much rant. Needless to say, I was very tired and wondering if it's really worth all the life I put into this.

Then today, I was awarded Teacher of the Month for Middle School. The award itself, not a big deal. I mean, I'm a little pleased to have received it, but I also know it could have gone to any of my colleagues because they're all quite deserving (more-so than me, in my opinion). It wasn't the award. It was the wording that went with it that noticed the work I've been doing and the effect it has on my students and the promising future I have ahead of me.

I needed to hear that it matters, and there's promise there, especially after this week.

I am thankful, both for the award AND that tomorrow is Friday.

Please notice the wonderful use of the BFF conjunction pair both/and. Yeah 6th grade :-)

PS - Agradecido means thankful. It's a word I've seen in a lot of the parent communication I've received this week.  Estoy agradecido por sus agradecida.

The things I don't know, and wouldn't mind learning sooner rather than later

I don't know how to be this person.

I don't know how to balance whole group instruction with the very real needs of individual students.

I don't know how to balance doing my job well with having a normal life.

I don't know how to do my job well.

I don't know how to develop real, unforced friendships intentionally.

I don't know how to balance the fact that this is truly one of the greatest things I've ever done and that this is also one of the hardest things I've ever done.

I don't know how to convey all those emotions to people who aren't here without giving them the impression that it's all good or all bad. It's new. It's good and bad.

I don't know how to give up all the stress and anxiety and worry and doubt and anxiety to God and trust that he's working through me.

I don't know.

But I'm working on it.

I don't know what else to do.

As seen or head in Room 4...

"I'm excited because I will be Mr. Kroon" (journal entry speaking about ring excited to travel with me for Festival Catracha. Written by a female student.)

"Once suppon a time..."

"Ms. Kroon plays x-box all day. Ms. Kroon barks like a dog. Bears are made out of cheese." (build your own sentence with subjects and predicates.)

"Ms, you should have 5 Grammys. You are Angelina Jolie."


"meeeeees...."

"mees?"




"Hello Ms." (at lunch)
"Hi, did you need something?"
"No, I just came to see you."

Roots

Today I feel dry.

My skin, well, yes, it's been a while since it's had any sort of proper care. Silly 5:30 am showers.

But not really my skin.

I am in the midst of my 4th week of teaching, and I'm feeling drained. My enthusiasm, my ideas, my stamina... it's all waning. I'm feeling my inadequacies more, I'm feeling my inexperience more, and I'm feeling my inaccessible standards of success weighing down on me. I'm also feeling my English slipping away with each verbal or writing interaction with students. Whoops.

I sat alone in my room today, and I felt it all. The weight that has been building over the end of last week and this week finally hit me, and I felt the real threat of being crushed by it.

I came home, called my mom, and fell apart. I sent facebook messages to people who I trust. I gchatted with dear friends. I even got a "short" phone call in. All those roots, the relationships that, although they are farther away than I'd really like, dug in to hold me into place.

It sounds corny, I know. Nerdy, yes. But it's truly what I feel and see when I think about tonight.

It's so nice to have people to draw on when I feel like I've got nothing left.

Thank you.

And there are even purple rocks here.

Sometimes I feel like I'm in a foreign country. Usually I don't. Yes, my students are all ELLs, yes, I buy food with Spanish labels and wait in long, inefficient lines to buy it with thousand of lempira, but still, everything seems relatively normal. People ask what Honduras is like and I say busy, because right now, for me, Honduras is more or less equivalent to teaching on my own for the first time, which is more or less equivalent to spending all my time at home or school.

This weekend, my roommates, two other teachers, and I went out to Honduras' famous lake to stay for a couple of nights. This was because we had Friday off for Honduran independence day, which was another foreign experience for me. I should post about that too. Man, more to add to the to do list.

Anyway, as we were hiking through beautiful mountain jungle (the next mountain over is home to jaguars, ocelots, and toucans, but ours mostly contained blue morpho butterflies, coffee plants, beautiful flowers, gigantic lemons, and banana trees) to get to a real live waterfall, it hit me. I live here. I live three hours away from jaguars. I live in a county where there are just random waterfalls and you can hike out there and swim in them for free (at your own risk, of course, although, there really aren't any signs). I live in a country of lush green mountains. I live in a country of flowers that we would have killed for at my landscaping job back home. I live in a country where mangos and oranges and guava and avacados grow freely.. I live here!

On our way back to the bed and breakfast, we stopped at a pulparia (small store) to get some more water and chocolate. The little girl there was coloring away, drinking a bottle of 7 up. When she finished it, she threw it out in the grass behind the shop to pile up with previous bottles, chip bags, and who knows what else. This is such a common sight, and it's so sad to see so much trash EVERYWHERE. On the bus, I saw eyes that clearly and obviously only saw me as a foreign object to be oogled. This too happens everywhere, especially to those of us who are gringas. Every man in the country has a right to whistle, stare, or comment, because this country is a man's world. Again, as I was sitting there hugging my roommates backpack to help cover up, I though, this is where I live. I live here.

And I do. It's not always out of the ordinary, because it's becoming my ordinary. Yes, there are surprises. I suspect there always will be. But it's my life. I live here.

Why I love my job

A response for the imaginary friend project.

Chewy is my best friend,
We play since morning til the end
He lets me play with his crossbow,
But I shoot to the target and shout WOW!

He is big and hairy,
He would rather be called Murry.
His other best friend is Han Solo
and he loves the word YOLO.

When I was in high school and I got really overwhelmed or stressed, I would get physically ill. My body would decide it had had enough, and that'd be that.

Once college hit, there wasn't time for that. I don't really know how I handled stress in college. I think that maybe it didn't get to me because I was using it as a way to avoid thinking too much.

This week? No time to be sick, the only thing on my mind to escape from (or really ever) is the same thing that I'm stressing about, so that's out....my body has turned to tears. Tears brought on for reasons, out of the blue., about friends, family, fall. Tears for students, tears because of students, tears because all the uncharacteristic tears.

It's annoying, and it makes me feel weak and ashamed of myself.

But I have to remind myself that this is all new. Teaching is hard, moving is hard, new relationships are hard, change is hard. It's ok to cry. I just wish I was a little closer to people whose shoulders I know.

Total (sleep) depravity.

People who know me would probably agree that I like to be and feel successful. I've never really played sports because I'm not good at them and hate losing. Bad grades brought on mini-life crises. I struggle whenever I feel like someone doesn't like me to a point where I'll sometimes bend who I am to avoid being the bad guy.

And I can't do that, can't be that right now. I have to let some things go and do the best I can, even if it's not the best ever. I need to be willing to make decisions that my students might not like as much for their own good, and possibly for mine right now. I need to figure out when to be the bad guy.

The question that has been going through my head this past week is this: How do you know what your students know?

Am I using our time wisely? Can I be more effective? What is realistic to expect of myself?

When do I get to sleep?

Oh, first year.

On the bright side - here are after-school volunteers to help Ms. Kroon have a picture to show friends and family. Based on the line-up, I think it's safe to say there will be at least a couple more to follow.

The other bright side? Well, there are a couple every day. These kids are great. So that's a thing. But the most recent one was actually pretty dark. A big thunder storm rolled through this evening that cut out our power for almost an hour (rhyme time :-D ). A night that was supposed to exclusively be spent being productive had a nice break of chilling with the roommates in the dim light of the storm, unable to work because of my dead computer. I needed that today.

I have spent a good portion of the last couple days grading procedures quizzes. Again, a lot of students. This is the last time I'll say that. Maybe.

I realized after printing all the quizzes that there were a couple of true or false questions that were almost trick questions, so I felt guilty and therefore gave silly extra credit questions. The questions were: What is Ms. Kroon's first name? and What is Ms. Kroon's favorite color?

While grading tonight, I was a little surprised to see which students did well and which ones didn't. More often than I would have expected, the ones who I'm starting to feel like I know didn't do that great and the ones who I generally know nothing about did pretty well. The guy in the back who I think is never paying attention? A perfect 12/10. The kid who I think hates my class because he's goofing off all the time? He knows all the expectations AND the reasons behind them (which was not required). The girl who sits quietly in the front row? She knows my first, middle, and last name, AND knows that I don't usually use my middle name because I'm not convinced my names go well together. And she wrote the answer to my favorite color in purple pen.

The first week I felt invincible. I felt like the world was my stage. If I could get names down, I could do anything. Or something.

This week I'm learning how much more there is to learn. And I'm learning just how many people are listening. The responsibility is feeling greater.

Stimulation (not to be confused with flight simulation, which was the topic of one of the writing samples I read today)

I went to the market downtown this morning. So many things! Nearly every fruit and vegetable imaginable (except, of course, all the ones normally grown in Northern Michigan - apples, cherries, peaches, pears, asparagus, etc)! Liver, tongue, stomach, fish, shrimp, and other random slabs of meat just hanging around, waiting to be chunked up and sent home. Flowers and freshly prepared food, cheese and eggs, and even random juices that were ladled into bags and tied around a straw. All packed under a covering of tarps that were not QUITE tall enough for this American girl.

It was so visually stimulating! Everything was exciting and new (even though most of the food was more or less familiar) and everyone was speaking in a language that I understand to a point, but isn't MY language.

And, even though it was so good, I felt a tad bit overwhelmed and worn out.

I've been reading through my students' writing. I'm loving the chance to get to know them a little better, but I'd be lying if I wasn't at least a little daunted by the challenge a lot of their writing presents. They've got great content and ideas, but the mechanics of English verbs and prepositions need some work.

And then I remember, it's only the first week. There's been so much going on, they're moving into new building and a completely new system of changing classes and they're learning and speaking and writing in a language that isn't THEIR language. And I felt overstimulated?

Oh, my brave, creative, funny, intelligent babies.

I really think they're great.

Week 1 is over.

How quickly it has gone! How many things have happened!

I am nearly finished memorizing names. There are a couple of really good, really quiet kids who I struggle with when I see them in the halls, but for the most part, I have completed this week's homework.

One of my students told me I'm her favorite teacher because my class is funny. Maybe not the best reason, but I do want them to be comfortable.

It's real. It's mine. A classroom of my own students. Responsibility of my own. It's scary. It's lovely.

They're good kids. It's been a good week. Here's hoping for a good year.

Was it a perfect week? Of course bot. There were so many things that didn't go as planned. I've been way nicer than I mean to be, and it's probably going to kick my butt in the next few weeks. So much to do, so much for me to learn.

But I'm getting to learn. I get to grow. Gah! Love it.

125ish

I have massive blisters on my feet. My body is falling apart even after my nap this afternoon. My head is aching. I haven't felt all that well since waking up this morning.

Yet today, while my kids where in my room, I felt on top of the world. I felt confident, I felt free. I don't know how to describe it, really. And it sounds so silly, because it is silly. This is hard, this is a challenge, but this is me.

125ish names to remember, 125ish faces to study, 125ish individuals to get to know and love. 125ish minds to explore with. 125ish worldviews to challenge.

It's a big year, and there are so many days left. Yet, I couldn't be more thrilled. And I know it won't always be so fabulous. But I'm enjoying it while it lasts.

Tomorrow

I need to go to sleep because it's almost ten and I have to get up around five tomorrow, but I just can't bring myself to do it. Tomorrow, in less than 12 hours, I meet my 6th graders!

Suddenly all the years of preparation for this point seem like minutes. I am scared, yes, but the wait and the preparation are finally over (sort of). He work? Yeah, that's barely started. But this day... the first day I've been anticipating, dreading, hoping for, dreaming of... it's tomorrow.

Tell me how I'm supposed to sleep?

Progress

I was a bit overwhelmed today. School starts so soon, I'm new at this and new at here, my room felt chaotic, my plans felt non-existent and I woke up tired.

By a not overwhelmed, I mean overwhelmed for real. To be honest, I just wanted my mom and to be getting ready to GO to school, not TEACH it!

But that wasn't really an option, so forward I went.

And now it's 11:15, after a very log day.

My classroom is starting to look like a classroom. I have more or less 8 lessons planned - all of one grade level and 3 (minus a couple page numbers) of the other. My quarter is more or less in order.

And I still got to call my mom. And there was a baby gecko in my room (that we caught and released outside, don't worry, no parent trap lizard in mouth moments should occur tonight!).

I'm still feeling overwhelmed. I'm still feeling questionable about my adequacy. But I'm feeling slightly less overwhelmed and inadequate than I did this morning. Progress. I guess that means that all in all, it was a pretty good day.

Sometimes I worry that I'm not right for this. I worry that I'm not a good enough teacher or Christian or person to even attempt something like this. Really, me? This?

But when I stop to think (which let's face it, hasn't been a whole lot this week), well, I still don't have any answers. So I guess that was probably a bad start to a paragraph.

But when I don't stop to think? Is that better? It certainly happens more often these days... But when I don't stop to think, I feel more or less peaceful. Overwhelmed, yes. A little stressed and apprehensive about getting life together before classes start? Certainly. Worried about myself? See top paragraph. But despite those doubts, I don't really have them about whether or not this is where I should be right now. Perhaps that doesn't even make sense. But it still feels real.

I'm so incredibly grateful for the group of people who are here who are probably a huge part of that peace.

I would generally say that large groups overwhelm me and make me feel extremely uncomfortable and awkward. And I get really awkward around new people sometimes.

I also struggle with outright, sincere Christians. I don't know at what point I became so jaded and therefore mildly embarrassed to be overtly Christian, but it's definitely out of my comfort zone and usually something I avoid.

But both the returning and new teachers here seem so genuine. Even though the majority of them seem much more open about their faith than I'm used to, I trust them. I find that they seem to be real, human, genuine people who I legitimately enjoy being around and who I am very grateful for.

In other news, I hailed a taxi in Spanish today. Also I accidentally forgot to barter with one because what he said was too much. So that was embarrassing. But overall, hooray.

I also wrote my classroom procedures out today. It's kind of like a syllabus that doesn't have the schedule for the year in it. I followed someone else's pretty closely, but it still feels a little surreal that I'll be going over it with my first class in a little less than a week. I'm still working to wrap my head around that fact.

I also found out today that my students will almost certainly know One Direction and Justin Beiber. This, along with everything else, means I can go to bed with a smile. If I didn't have so much to do to prepare, Friday couldn't come soon enough. :-)

Whoops!

Do not be alarmed. I am here. I am just crazy busy almost all of the time being filled with information and new things and responsibility. This is a good thing. But it makes me less inclined to blog and more inclined to go to bed immediately when I arrive at home.

I finished my 2nd day of school orientation this afternoon and am very much looking forward to the weekend, although I have lots of things to work on.

My house is very nice and I have a lovely full-sized (read grown-up!) bed, so that is one thing crossed off my bucket list. I'm still working at finishing putting some pictures up and on starting putting all the non-clothes stuff away, so I don't have any pictures yet.

My classroom is still a work in progress, but I've been pintresting for ideas, and I'm sure it'll feel much more like home once I unpack all my books, which is something that will HOPEFULLY happen on Monday.

I just google voiced my mom, and that makes things seem much less far away. To be honest, I'm much more preoccupied with school and starting and the fact that my first classes start a week from today than the fact that I am abroad. Maybe that will change this weekend as we go on some city tours and eat out and go to church. Also I guess when I walk through my gate which is opened by a watchyman (the guard paid to watch our neighborhood which is a gated community), that feels a little bit foreign to. And the shower. And the water from a jug and never the tap. Hm. Turns out I'm not in the States. Fascinating.

Anyway. This is a little factual, but I wanted to have something, just in case anyone was wondering.

I have pretty good internet access most of the time, so feel free to e-mail me or whatever if you so desire!

Records

Tomorrow I say goodbye to my men. I'm bummed for sure.

At points it feels like everything is falling apart and that I just can't do this.

So I looked back at how I was feeling last year at this time as I started to get ready for Milwauk.

First post I saw? This.

debabifying.blogspot.com/2011/08/on-babies.html?m=0

Worried they wouldn't recognize me, and that this was the end.

And now I've had another summer to tickle and laugh and memorize their faces and voices and smiles and laughs. As an added bonus, now they even sing.

Hooray for reminders that there is a future, and moving forward, scary as it is, is a good thing.

I've recently done a lot of sorting and sifting.

I've sifted through clothes, through all the stuff I feel guilty getting rid of because I "loved" it so much when I bought it, but haven't really worn much since but MIGHT wear if I ever got around to it, but I secretly know I won't, and that makes me feel like kind of a crappy person. Anyway. There's that.

Today I sorted through dishes. The good news is sorting through dishes is non-nostalgic. I wish I had more dishes.

I've sorted through papers. So many papers. Letters from my students introducing themselves to me. Reading through them now, after spending 6 weeks getting to know them, is even more enjoyable than the first time. Now that I know what I'm looking for their personalities pop in their handwriting and word choice and it makes me miss them in the good way that is mainly just a "I'm happy I met this person" miss. I don't know how to describe it, but it's not a regretful or sad miss like I miss my family when I'm feeling particularly lonely or my friends when things happen and I just can't be there.

Papers from college that make me miss thinking things and feeling so strongly about subject that I have never felt strongly about before. Papers that make me miss learning.

Letters from friends and family that I saved in case I ever needed a reminder I was loved. Letters I've read through the past few days because 1) I need to remember I am loved and 2) I need to cut down on my boxes of papers. It's hard to part with those, but so good to read them.

My room? An absolute mess. Part of me thinks I need to clean it up RIGHT NOW, but that part will probably not win tonight because it's getting later and I'm not feeling all that motivated, and, when it comes down to it, it's not the worst thing in the world to live in a messy room for a few days, especially when the mess is necessary for what comes next.

I've been grumpy with myself lately for feeling like an emotional mess. I feel like my feelings have been out of control and I want them to be ordered RIGHT NOW. I feel like it's not ok to live with them all a mess.

But maybe I can just live with them, except them as a necessary part of the getting ready for what's next process. Maybe I can just sleep on them, work through them a little at a time. At least for tonight.

Progress

How to start a new blog?

Some kind of purpose, I suppose.

My first attempt seemed like a failure. It took very few posts for me to realize that I was setting up a dumping ground for all my fears and worries and doubts. Not that those things don't have a place, or that they won't show up here. I can learn from them, I am learning from them. They, for better or for worse, are a part of this experience.

But I'm hoping and am confident that they aren't the only part. Also I know that, because I'm quite excited, to be honest.

But that's beside the point. I need a point. I've been throwing ideas around in my head, but everything seems so cliche and/or really hard to keep up with over a long period of time and/or too narrow. I need the freedom to write about whatever it is that makes my experience meaningful but guidelines to push me past just recording whatever events pop into my mind. Except that's what'll happen anyway.

Which leads me to the purpose of leaving in the first place.

It's not (contrary to popular opinion) because I don't have strings tying me down here. Now, I know I'm guilty of using this phrase, so it's fair of them to assume. But I do have ties. My family is here. A lot of my friends are here. I have a life that is familiar and that I enjoy. There are strings that will be cut.

It's not the desire to travel. Yes, that's a perk. I won't lie, I'm looking forward to the experience. It would be ridiculous to go if I wasn't. But to live abroad? That was never really the plan.

I'm going because I want to grow, to develop, to learn with my students. I want to gain experience and insight into teaching middle school. I want to can experience and insight, period. I want to work with other teachers who are growing with me and who I can share this experience with.

I want to, need to grow, but I don't want to do it alone. And that desire led me to this school.

So this space is for growing and recording growth. It's for sharing in that, whether it be positive or negative. Will there be lots of nerdy teacher stories? Probably yes. Will I gush about my students? I certainly hope so. Will there be periods of stretching that will hurt? Yeah.

So those are my expectations, my objectives, if you will. Consider yourselves warned.