Consider Your Approaches

I find this time of year amusing. People are compiling lists of "bests" and "worsts" as we draw another year to a close. We also begin to generate lists of resolutions that will ensure a better, healthier year ahead. Cue P90X & Nutrisystem informercials. To be honest, I'm all about it. There is something refreshing about the idea of a new start. As we flip our calendars, we are granted a brand new year filled with endless possibilities.

We're approaching a new year. And because of that, it's important to think about how we plan to approach it. I got to thinking about a couple of my friends and their plans for the upcoming year. I thought about how their lives will change and even compared them to my own. I didn't spend too much time bathing in these thoughts because I realize we are all different. When I ask my students to read a poem, I expect them to approach it with an open mind. I know when they walk into their math classes, they approach that format differently. Maybe it's a stretch for me to be thinking this way, but I think we need to start considering how we approach different aspects of our lives.

The one element that is going to guide me into the new year is to approach it with an open heart. I want to be open to learn new things, meet new people, and seize each opportunity that comes my way. Life is exciting, and it's not meant to be spent with a closed heart.

What's Love Got To Do With It?

It's Sunday night, and I feel relaxed. With one more week of break to enjoy, I can't help but smile as I sip on chai tea and watch football. I had a productive day starting with a freezing run, followed by church, and a few hours at Panera Bread working on a semester test for American Literature. All in a day's work!

Yesterday, my family traveled to my grandpa's house for Christmas. While we did spend time reading the Christmas story and munching on sugar cookies, most of our time was spent packing up my grandpa's things as he transitions into an assisted living facility on the other side of the state. We shared laughs as we reminisced and worked to get things in order for Grandpa. I've always been close with my grandpa. We share words and prays by way of email and even a few pieces of snail-mail. We spent ten days in Haiti building desks for schools in Pignon. While we were there, we bonded with the others and created memories that no one else but us will ever be able to understand. As Grandpa pulled me into his office to talk, I started to feel a little sad. He is going to be farther away from me than ever before, and I will miss the home that I have visited him and my grandma at for so many years. I realize it's just a house, and I can email, call, and even visit, but I couldn't help but feel a little sentimental about the whole thing.

In pure Grandpa VR fashion, he prepared a message for all of us as we sifted through the Bible and remembered the true message behind Christmas: Love. God gave his only son so that we could have eternal life. Grandpa gave each of "his girls" a Jane Seymour Open Hearts necklace along with a note explaining why... "If your heart is open, love will always find its way in." In the year 2015, I want to have an open heart. I want to be on fire for God, and show His love to everyone I meet along my journey.

This morning in church, the minister spoke about our "love priorities." Most Christians would say they prioritize love in this order: God, my family, God's people, others. In reality, it should go: God & God's people, my family, others. I would do anything for my family. If my sister called and needed me, I would drop everything to help her. Most of us can relate to this; however, would we do this for our Christian brothers and sisters? God calls us to. He calls us to love everyone as we love ourselves. It's not always easy. I mean, it's not always easy to love my own sister, but that love is unconditional. As Christians, we need to pour that love on everyone. We need to be willing to help, share, and care for others. When our hearts are open, God can pour in us; He can use us the way He has intended.

So, what's love got to do with it? Everything.

Read Some E.E. Cummings Today

Every once in a while, I read something that makes me fall in love with literature all over again. The past two weeks, my American Literature class has been studying Modernism. We've analyzed Ezra Pound, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, and E.E. Cummings. Pretty much every story I assign I preface with, "Oh guys, this is my favorite." Generally they roll their eyes and tell me I say that about everything we read. Maybe someday they'll feel the same about at least one piece of literature. 

I'm a huge fan of Fitzgerald and fully plan on naming my child -- wait, at least my pet -- after him or his wife, Zelda. His rich diction along with superb characterization make me hungry for reading more. We completed his short story "Winter Dreams" last week, and I had a student tell me, "I've always thought I like Fitzgerald, but mostly because of the movie The Great Gatsby. Now I really know that I like him." How cool is that?!? (Side note: The new movie with Leonardo DiCaprio is not worth watching.)

On Thursday, I asked the students to read through poems written by E.E. Cummings, annotate one, and bring it to class on Friday to share. Now, if you know much about Cummings, his playful way with words is kind of fun to decode. Most of his poems relate to war and sex. With that said, it was quite interesting to see what they shared. Some students chose the shortest poem they could find, others tried to shock me with something seemingly inappropriate, and all of them did an excellent job of "reading between the lines." As we read through the poems and discussed them as a group, one student said, "What if these poets don't have really any meaning behind their work, and they're just sitting around laughing at people like us dissecting every word." I must say that I've thought about this a time or two, but my teacher-self responded with, "Yeah, but that's what's so cool about literature. We can all think whatever we want, and we're all right. No one really knows what Ezra Pound was thinking when he wrote the 14 word poem "In a Station of the Metro." We are all granted the right to decide that for ourselves."

I spent some more time reading E.E. Cummings this morning, falling in love with the wonder behind his words, structure, and off-beat style. I hope my students can see the greatness of literature, and if all else fails, at least have an appreciation for how it has and will continue to impact all of us. 

Being

It goes without saying that this time of year is crazy. Between the parties, traveling, and irregular schedules, it’s easy to forget the importance of “being.”

 This was our last full week of school before coming back Monday and Tuesday to wrap up classes before break. Needless to say, chaos has taken over in more ways than. To my best ability, I’ve been teaching as normal. We are plugging along with our reading and writing; however, the focus is lacking.

During my prep, I ran across an article from Edutopia titled “What Students Remember Most About TheirTeachers.” As teachers, we run around in between classes, rush around in the morning ensuring we have enough copies, and as the students leisurely make their way into our classrooms, are we really listening to them? I know I’ve caught myself finishing up emails or cleaning up my room as students tell me about their math tests and upcoming weekend plans. Instead of listening, I am really only hearing words come out of their mouths.

I needed to read this article to remember it’s time to just “be.” Be in the present, with each student, each class. Just as the article mentions, “Because we want our students to think we’re the very best at what we do, and we believe that this status of excellence is achieved merely by doing. But we forget – and often. Excellence is more readily attained by being.

Being available.

Being kind.

Being compassionate.

Being transparent.

Being real.

Being thoughtful.

Being ourselves.”

Our students don’t remember us by lessons. Yes, they may remember that cool activity that was linked to Shirley Jackson’s short story “The Lottery,” but more than anything, they remember how we make them feel. They will remember the kind of people we are.

There is no better time than now to stop and remember why we teach, and even more importantly how we are making our students feel. They matter. Be present and listen to each story because that’s what it’s really all about.

Old Stompin' Grounds

This past weekend, I visited some friends and celebrated my sister’s birthday. As the saying goes, I traveled back to my old stompin’ grounds. I lived there for nearly eight years, and a big part of my heart will always reside there. It was in this town that I experienced heartache and growing pains. I did a lot of things wrong and found out the hard way. But more than anything, I created lasting memories that continue to leave a smile on my face. When I look back on college and the years after, I remember being surrounded by people that love me. We laughed… a lot. We cried… probably too much. We loved… oh boy, did we love.

As I reflected on the weekend, I couldn’t help but continue smiling; however, now it’s for a different reason. I smile because those memories have crafted me. While it does sound cliché, I wouldn’t be the person I am today without those memories – both good and bad. To be completely honest, it took me a long time to feel okay with memories. There seemed to be too many that hurt, and for some reason, I focused on those. As I’ve gotten older, I know that those memories are not going anywhere. Nothing is going to erase them, and that’s okay. It’s okay because I’m better because of them. It’s important not to dwell in them. Otherwise, I would be left living in the past. Instead, I will spend my time creating new memories. 

What Thanksgiving Means to Me

Happy Thanksgiving! While it's true for every holiday, this day means something different to each of us. We all have different memories connected to Thanksgiving. Whether it means putting together a backyard football team, a house full of screaming kids, or your grandma's famous pecan pie, our memories are equally special.

I am not a person that invites a lot of chaos into my life. I'm not very good with "flying by the seat of my pants." This can be difficult on days like Thanksgiving because flexibility is a must. People are coming and going, conversations are constantly flowing, and the food is everywhere. In many ways, the whole day leaves me feeling a little bit anxious; however, this anxiety is soon cancelled out by the joy my family brings me. What I love the most about Thanksgiving is the laughter. Sarcasm is the vehicle in our family, and laughter is the tool that drives it. That's how we interact, and I would have it no other way.

The days leading up to Thanksgiving, I spent time reading various quotes and verses bathed in ideas of giving thanks. A common theme was to give thanks for all things.  You may be thinking, "duh!" But, do we really do that? Are we thankful for the times when life didn't go our way? There are aspects of my life that I struggle with; am I supposed to be thankful for these battles? The answer is simple: Yes.

It's important to be thankful for everything. Those battles we fight make us who we are. The scars we carry tell the story of our past and lead us into the future. 

Have a blessed day!

What I Love About Sundays

When I was growing up, we had a pretty regular schedule each Sunday. We'd head to Sunday school followed by a service at our traditional Methodist church. After throwing on some comfy clothes, our family would have dinner (usually a roast that smelled oh-so-good!). The afternoons were lazy -- filled with homework, naps, and football. Of course, we always made it up to open gym by late afternoon. While the routine would vary each week, one thing always stayed the same -- the tempo of the day. Sundays were always a little bit slower, and I preferred it that way. Monday morning was looming in our minds, but it didn't take away from the joy of the sun peaking through the front room window as we lounged around together as a family.

As we grow up and change, our routines do the same. When I left for college, the slowness of Sunday followed me; however, this pace wasn't quite as comforting. I still attended church and threw on sweats as I studied in my dorm room. It was always so quiet -- college kids napping and, let's face it, hungover. With all the stillness came time to think -- too much time to think. I always found Sundays to be a little depressing in college. Maybe it was the feeling of being homesick. Maybe it was the lack of "normalcy." Whatever it was, I was often sad on Sundays.

Now that I am little bit more settled in life, I've created yet another Sunday routine. To be honest, I love it. Since I've never learned to sleep in, I'm usually up before the world. I workout and then sit and enjoy coffee as I write. After church, I sit at a coffee house listening to music with lesson plans, a book, or my computer. It's a time to center myself before beginning another week. I wouldn't trade this time for anything.

I know this routine will change once again as I continue to grow. But what I love most about Sundays is the stillness and slowness, and that will never change.