Throughout the course of student teaching, there's bound to be some days that end with the questions, "Why do I even want to be a teacher? Is all this worth it?" I definitely had some of those days about a month ago when things started getting hard for the first time, after hard feedback, after days and weeks struggling to control my class, after days full of tears.
Yesterday was another one of those days. The kids were so restless and chatty, and complained about the smallest things. Some complained about their stick not being pulled from the cup when I asked for a volunteer to explain a math problem and draw it out on the board, even going as far as to accuse me of throwing away their sticks as they hadn't been pulled the past few times. Some complained about not having a designated snack time (they still got their snack. They just had to eat and work at the same time due to having the book fair in the morning.) Others complained that I hadn't taught the material on a test (maybe I didn't teach it as well as I should've, but it was on the study guide we made in class and was sent home over the weekend so they would have several nights to study.) Others complained about not getting extra outdoor recess (did they deserve extra recess? 100% no.) I had my fill of it, and it's probably the most frustrated I've ever gotten with my students. With the combination of exhaustion (#parentteacherconferences #13hourdays), being sick, frustration with my students, and frustration with myself, I spent much of lunch break in tears, asking myself those questions.
But it is worth it.
The look on a student's face when she finally understands multi-digit multiplication for the first time.
When a student tells me he's always struggled with subtraction, but the way I've explained it helped made it click.
The obvious pride of a student when she tells the class the answer to a science question I had asked her to look up at home the night before.
When a student says "Wow. This is so much fun. I like social studies!" during a simulation.
When a parent tells me at a conference that their son (whom I haven't connected with very much) can't stop talking about me and how much he's going to miss me when I leave.
Conferencing with a student on his writing, and seeing the joy in his eyes and his huge smile when I compliment his great vocabulary.
When my highly disorganized and distracted student comes back after leaving at the end of the day because he remembered that he forgot to copy down the homework and asks if he can borrow my planner so he could copy down the homework.
When it comes up that I only have three weeks left, and a couple students initiate a class-wide group hug.
I want to be a teacher because of these moments. I want to be a teacher to help students realize that they can do it. I want to be a teacher to help students discover their potential. I want to be a teacher because kids make me smile and remind me of the simple joys. I want to be a teacher in order to be an advocate for students. I want to be a teacher to help students discover a love of learning.
Only three weeks left. Only three weeks left. Only three weeks left.
Friday, October 23, 2015
Friday, October 16, 2015
Success
Success is a funny thing. What qualifies as success? What doesn't qualify as success? Is trying your best success? Or is accuracy success? What about those tricky situations where there's no quantifiable measure?
I can measure success as a teacher based on my student's scores, and gain scores from a pretest to a posttest. I can measure success as perseverance-not giving up even when I'm exhausted, when a student asks the same question for the millionth time, when that student misbehaves (again). I can measure it by my lessons-were my students engaged? Do they understand the concept? Did they take ownership of their learning? Did I talk too much? Did they not talk enough?
The list goes on and on. Wheaton students are ambitious and perfectionistic. And although I often don't classify myself as either of those things, I've felt myself floundering this semester because I do have those some of those qualities in me. I haven't defined what success is for me in student teaching-well maybe I did, but if I did, it was something along the lines of "be the best student teacher ever." Not a very achievable goal, right? And I don't think I have ambition...
So this afternoon, I took some time to define success for myself. And yes, I'm gonna brag a little. After 3 really really hard weeks, I want to brag about a really really good one.
So for me, success this week looked a little like this:
Survive 11 school days without cooperating teacher. (check)
Not only survive those days, but thrive in the midst of them by growing in classroom management, confidence as a teacher, and collaboration. (check)
Receive a compliment from the principal (check) (okay. So it wasn't a flat out compliment, and it wasn't said directly to me. But apparently telling my cooperating teacher on the day of her return "well, I never had to go into your classroom and intervene" is a compliment.)
Teach the best lesson I've ever taught-students engaged and excited, student ownership of learning, inquiry incorporated, building student confidence, student to student discourse (check)
Bonus point: Best lesson ever observed by supervisor (check)
Be able to let loose and be a little silly with my students without fear of losing them because of the expectations I've set for the class (FINALLY) (check)
Leave school before 4pm, feeling energized and excited to be a teacher (check)
Be 3/4 done with full time teaching (check)
Be 2/3 done with student teaching as a whole (check)
Okay. So obviously I still have a lot to grow in. I always will. I can always incorporate more inquiry. I can always make my lessons more student centered. I can always create a better classroom environment. I can always be more patient with my students. But I have to admit, today (and this week) felt really really good. But the struggle of the past few weeks made the success of today even sweeter. I can see so concretely my growth in the past 4 weeks. And that's success.
I can measure success as a teacher based on my student's scores, and gain scores from a pretest to a posttest. I can measure success as perseverance-not giving up even when I'm exhausted, when a student asks the same question for the millionth time, when that student misbehaves (again). I can measure it by my lessons-were my students engaged? Do they understand the concept? Did they take ownership of their learning? Did I talk too much? Did they not talk enough?
The list goes on and on. Wheaton students are ambitious and perfectionistic. And although I often don't classify myself as either of those things, I've felt myself floundering this semester because I do have those some of those qualities in me. I haven't defined what success is for me in student teaching-well maybe I did, but if I did, it was something along the lines of "be the best student teacher ever." Not a very achievable goal, right? And I don't think I have ambition...
So this afternoon, I took some time to define success for myself. And yes, I'm gonna brag a little. After 3 really really hard weeks, I want to brag about a really really good one.
So for me, success this week looked a little like this:
Survive 11 school days without cooperating teacher. (check)
Not only survive those days, but thrive in the midst of them by growing in classroom management, confidence as a teacher, and collaboration. (check)
Receive a compliment from the principal (check) (okay. So it wasn't a flat out compliment, and it wasn't said directly to me. But apparently telling my cooperating teacher on the day of her return "well, I never had to go into your classroom and intervene" is a compliment.)
Teach the best lesson I've ever taught-students engaged and excited, student ownership of learning, inquiry incorporated, building student confidence, student to student discourse (check)
Bonus point: Best lesson ever observed by supervisor (check)
Be able to let loose and be a little silly with my students without fear of losing them because of the expectations I've set for the class (FINALLY) (check)
Leave school before 4pm, feeling energized and excited to be a teacher (check)
Be 3/4 done with full time teaching (check)
Be 2/3 done with student teaching as a whole (check)
Okay. So obviously I still have a lot to grow in. I always will. I can always incorporate more inquiry. I can always make my lessons more student centered. I can always create a better classroom environment. I can always be more patient with my students. But I have to admit, today (and this week) felt really really good. But the struggle of the past few weeks made the success of today even sweeter. I can see so concretely my growth in the past 4 weeks. And that's success.
Thursday, October 8, 2015
Tales of a 4th Grade Teacher
Have you ever heard of/read Judy Blume's book Tales of a 4th Grade Nothing? We read it at the beginning of the year in our daily 4th grade read aloud. Hence the title of this post and my hashtag for posts about student teaching. Laugh at the cleverness of it. Please. Humor like this goes unappreciated by 9 year olds, so lately I've been feeling absolutely un-clever and not funny at all.
It's hard to believe, but I am more than halfway done with student teaching-last week was the halfway point. And today marks the end of (I'm really, really, really, really hoping) my hardest 3 weeks of student teaching. It's felt like a never ending reality check. Something will happen that makes me think, "Woah. I have not been working hard enough. I need to kick it into gear, or else my students are going to suffer the consequences." I try to fix what I was doing wrong, I feel good about it for like a day (if I'm lucky), and then something else will happen, and the cycle repeats itself. I will forever think of these past 3 weeks as the "weeks of daily cries". (My mom and roommate from last year *may* have received a few phone calls from me that consisted of mostly crying throughout the past 3 weeks). First it was classroom management. Then it was unsatisfactory planning. Then it was classroom management (again) (and again). Then it was disorganization. Then it was exhaustion and literally not being able to hold onto my train of thought for more than 3 minutes.
The past 2 weeks have been a whole other realm of difficult (and amazingly growth filled) as my cooperating teacher was gone (and still will be until next Wednesday). I've had an amazing sub with me who has years of teaching and subbing experience, but I was still the lead teacher for the past 2 weeks, and the sub was out of the room for majority of this week, leaving me completely in charge. Even though my teacher's absence lined up nicely with the timing for me to go full time, there has been so many other responsibilities I've had to pick up that I was not expecting. When people (myself included) think of teaching, they often think of planning lessons, teaching those lessons, and grading. It is so so much more. I have be organized, I have to make sure I give enough assessments to fairly know if a student understands a concept or not, I have to be in contact with parents, I have to handle serious student misbehavior, I have to attend meetings, I have to be an advocate for my students in those meetings, I have to collaborate with the other teachers, I have to write weekly newsletters to the parents, I have to prepare Friday Folders to send home... all on top of a couple hours of planning and prep every night. The list goes on and on. I averaged probably 10 hours a day at school these past 2 weeks, with the record being 13. The most sobering part of that day, was driving home, and realizing that I would be back at school in less hours than the amount I had spent at school that day.
Don't get me wrong. I love this. It is so extremely hard, and it makes me doubt whether I am really meant to be a teacher or not, it makes me cry out of frustration and feeling overwhelmed, but I still love it. Though my kids sometimes frustrate me to tears, I still love them and they make it so incredibly worth it.
The past three weeks, I've experienced disrespect (to me and to other students), tears (my own and students'... some out of joy, some out of frustration), hard conversations, great conversations, a kid hiding under a desk in fetal position, fights on the playground, fights in the classroom, a lesson interrupted by a student walking up to me as I was teaching to ask me a question (yes. I'm serious. I was doing whole class lesson, and was in the middle of it-he gets up out of his seat, and asks me what he should with an assignment I had collected a half hour before. As I was in the middle of teaching a lesson to the whole class. I cannot understand what was going on in his head.)
But I have learned so much from these kids and because of these kids. I am a better teacher and a better person because of these past 3 weeks, and I will continue to grow in my last 5 of student teaching. I will forever remember these students as my first students. I'll remember the student that tells me the most random and interesting facts (I've lost track of the amount of times I've heard "Miss Gibson. Did you know....?), the student who gives me fashion advice, the student who keeps me up to date with the latest 4th grade drama, the student who gives me at least 2 hugs a day, the student who thanked me for helping her finally understand subtraction, the student who has the most amazing scientific knowledge for a 4th grader (there's things he knows that I don't remember ever learning). Though it's been the most difficult 7 weeks of my life thus far, I cherish this time, and I am so glad for these crazy tales of a 4th grade teacher.
It's hard to believe, but I am more than halfway done with student teaching-last week was the halfway point. And today marks the end of (I'm really, really, really, really hoping) my hardest 3 weeks of student teaching. It's felt like a never ending reality check. Something will happen that makes me think, "Woah. I have not been working hard enough. I need to kick it into gear, or else my students are going to suffer the consequences." I try to fix what I was doing wrong, I feel good about it for like a day (if I'm lucky), and then something else will happen, and the cycle repeats itself. I will forever think of these past 3 weeks as the "weeks of daily cries". (My mom and roommate from last year *may* have received a few phone calls from me that consisted of mostly crying throughout the past 3 weeks). First it was classroom management. Then it was unsatisfactory planning. Then it was classroom management (again) (and again). Then it was disorganization. Then it was exhaustion and literally not being able to hold onto my train of thought for more than 3 minutes.
The past 2 weeks have been a whole other realm of difficult (and amazingly growth filled) as my cooperating teacher was gone (and still will be until next Wednesday). I've had an amazing sub with me who has years of teaching and subbing experience, but I was still the lead teacher for the past 2 weeks, and the sub was out of the room for majority of this week, leaving me completely in charge. Even though my teacher's absence lined up nicely with the timing for me to go full time, there has been so many other responsibilities I've had to pick up that I was not expecting. When people (myself included) think of teaching, they often think of planning lessons, teaching those lessons, and grading. It is so so much more. I have be organized, I have to make sure I give enough assessments to fairly know if a student understands a concept or not, I have to be in contact with parents, I have to handle serious student misbehavior, I have to attend meetings, I have to be an advocate for my students in those meetings, I have to collaborate with the other teachers, I have to write weekly newsletters to the parents, I have to prepare Friday Folders to send home... all on top of a couple hours of planning and prep every night. The list goes on and on. I averaged probably 10 hours a day at school these past 2 weeks, with the record being 13. The most sobering part of that day, was driving home, and realizing that I would be back at school in less hours than the amount I had spent at school that day.
Don't get me wrong. I love this. It is so extremely hard, and it makes me doubt whether I am really meant to be a teacher or not, it makes me cry out of frustration and feeling overwhelmed, but I still love it. Though my kids sometimes frustrate me to tears, I still love them and they make it so incredibly worth it.
The past three weeks, I've experienced disrespect (to me and to other students), tears (my own and students'... some out of joy, some out of frustration), hard conversations, great conversations, a kid hiding under a desk in fetal position, fights on the playground, fights in the classroom, a lesson interrupted by a student walking up to me as I was teaching to ask me a question (yes. I'm serious. I was doing whole class lesson, and was in the middle of it-he gets up out of his seat, and asks me what he should with an assignment I had collected a half hour before. As I was in the middle of teaching a lesson to the whole class. I cannot understand what was going on in his head.)
But I have learned so much from these kids and because of these kids. I am a better teacher and a better person because of these past 3 weeks, and I will continue to grow in my last 5 of student teaching. I will forever remember these students as my first students. I'll remember the student that tells me the most random and interesting facts (I've lost track of the amount of times I've heard "Miss Gibson. Did you know....?), the student who gives me fashion advice, the student who keeps me up to date with the latest 4th grade drama, the student who gives me at least 2 hugs a day, the student who thanked me for helping her finally understand subtraction, the student who has the most amazing scientific knowledge for a 4th grader (there's things he knows that I don't remember ever learning). Though it's been the most difficult 7 weeks of my life thus far, I cherish this time, and I am so glad for these crazy tales of a 4th grade teacher.
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
I Will Miss the Days We Had
"Tell me something, give me hope for the night
We don't know how we feel
We're just praying that we're doing this right
Though that's not the way it seems
Summer gone, now winter's on its way. I will miss the days we had"
-Winter Song, The Head and The Heart
This is the song that I've been listening to on repeat the past few days. As I packed up my room I listened to it over and over. I don't think there's a song that could better fit where I am as I close my time at HoneyRock and return to Wheaton to student teach.
I don't know how I feel.
I'm excited to be back in Wheaton, to start student teaching next week.
I'm sad that I had to say goodbye to my team from the summer; some for just a few weeks until they come back to Wheaton for the fall, others for I don't know how long.
I'm relieved that I never have to schedule camper activities again, and I will never have to spend day after day, hour after hour in the HoneyRock computer lab again.
I rejoice in the friendships I made, in being reunited with campers from last year, in the memories made.
I mourn the difficulty of the summer, but celebrate the growth it brought.
Perhaps it's not right to say I don't know how I feel, but rather I don't know how to feel with so many emotions in my head. So bear with me as I process through what the past 13 weeks have been.
"We're just praying that we're doing this right though that's not the way it seems."
This is my summer in a nutshell. Over and over again, I felt like I was messing up, that I was failing at my job, that I wasn't doing things right. And I would pray, trusting that God would redeem my mistakes. And I would continue to feel like a failure. But my prayer throughout the summer that I was doing something right, even though it didn't seem like it.
One night of the last session, I was listening to the song Beautiful Things. "All around hope is springing up from this old ground. Out of chaos life is being found in you. You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the dust. You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us." God makes beautiful things out the most broken, messed up things, including me.
Listening to the song reminded me of the first night at HoneyRock. We had some time to journal and prepare for the summer. I had written out the lyrics of another song:
"I lean not on my own understanding, my life is in the hands of the maker of heaven.
I give it all to you God, trusting that you'll make something beautiful out of me."
That was the attitude I entered the summer with, and it was my prayer for the summer. I didn't always hold to it in the midst of the summer, but it's where I'm at now-God makes beautiful things. He's made beautiful things out of my work this summer, he still is now, and he will continue to do so.
This is just the tip of the iceberg of this summer. There was so much more growth, so many more memories, but I'm going to leave this post here.
We don't know how we feel
We're just praying that we're doing this right
Though that's not the way it seems
Summer gone, now winter's on its way. I will miss the days we had"
-Winter Song, The Head and The Heart
This is the song that I've been listening to on repeat the past few days. As I packed up my room I listened to it over and over. I don't think there's a song that could better fit where I am as I close my time at HoneyRock and return to Wheaton to student teach.
I don't know how I feel.
I'm excited to be back in Wheaton, to start student teaching next week.
I'm sad that I had to say goodbye to my team from the summer; some for just a few weeks until they come back to Wheaton for the fall, others for I don't know how long.
I'm relieved that I never have to schedule camper activities again, and I will never have to spend day after day, hour after hour in the HoneyRock computer lab again.
I rejoice in the friendships I made, in being reunited with campers from last year, in the memories made.
I mourn the difficulty of the summer, but celebrate the growth it brought.
Perhaps it's not right to say I don't know how I feel, but rather I don't know how to feel with so many emotions in my head. So bear with me as I process through what the past 13 weeks have been.
"We're just praying that we're doing this right though that's not the way it seems."
This is my summer in a nutshell. Over and over again, I felt like I was messing up, that I was failing at my job, that I wasn't doing things right. And I would pray, trusting that God would redeem my mistakes. And I would continue to feel like a failure. But my prayer throughout the summer that I was doing something right, even though it didn't seem like it.
One night of the last session, I was listening to the song Beautiful Things. "All around hope is springing up from this old ground. Out of chaos life is being found in you. You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the dust. You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us." God makes beautiful things out the most broken, messed up things, including me.
Listening to the song reminded me of the first night at HoneyRock. We had some time to journal and prepare for the summer. I had written out the lyrics of another song:
"I lean not on my own understanding, my life is in the hands of the maker of heaven.
I give it all to you God, trusting that you'll make something beautiful out of me."
That was the attitude I entered the summer with, and it was my prayer for the summer. I didn't always hold to it in the midst of the summer, but it's where I'm at now-God makes beautiful things. He's made beautiful things out of my work this summer, he still is now, and he will continue to do so.
This is just the tip of the iceberg of this summer. There was so much more growth, so many more memories, but I'm going to leave this post here.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
"Strengthen Your Feeble Arms and Weak Knees"
Oh boy. I have not blogged in a very very long time-not since the beginning of the semester.
I survived second semester of senior year. It was a crazy one. One that deserves it's own blog post at some point, especially as I process through the craziness that was the elementary methods block as I prepare for student teaching in the fall. Pretty much, to summarize it in a sentence, this past semester was the most difficult, yet growth filled semester of my life. I had an amazing time in the classroom, and I already get along great with my cooperating teacher.
Anyways, that is not what I want to write about in this post. I want to talk about the past 3 weeks.
3 weeks ago, I was still in Wheaton. I walked across Edman stage. I said goodbye to my fellow seniors, and finished packing up the apartment. 2 1/2 weeks ago, I drove up to HoneyRock and have been in the throws of summer preparation since then.
This summer, I am working at HoneyRock as the residential camp unit leader admin. Pretty much, I help run res camp which is the program I counseled for last summer. Rather than working directly with the counselors like other the unit leaders, my role is more administrative, and is kind of a do-whatever-is-necessary kind of job.
Last week, the res camp ULs (unit leaders) went on our 2 night wilderness training trip. On the morning of the last day before leaving our campsite to come back to camp, I twisted my knee, causing the knee cap to dislocate. This is what I want this post to be about. I want it to be about how in the last week and a half, I have been humbled and experienced servant leadership. Immediately, my team helped carry me to a canoe so they could canoe me to the campsite across the channel where a van was waiting to take me to hospital. My awesome roommate has been chauffeuring me around camp in a golf cart, even when it's inconvenient for her. I've had to ask for help carrying things, walking around, sitting down, standing up... down to the nitty gritty details of having to sit at a particular spot at the table for meals since I can't bend my knee. I am very independent person, and I hate asking for help, so this past week and half has been a shot to my pride, but a very necessary shot.
But I also have been amazed by how quick the people around me have been to serve and help. The service I have experienced from my friends at camp has given me a better picture of what servant leadership is.
Though I do admit I have learned a lot from this whole ordeal, I won't deny it's been extremely difficult. I try to have a good attitude, but honestly, sometimes it's really hard. Camp is not exactly a convenient place for a knee injury to heal. I have to be driven around in a golf cart when going to different parts of camp. It's difficult for me to get into town because I can't drive myself because my knee still can't bend, and it's inconvenient for others to drive me because I have to have my leg stretched out across the whole car seat row. I couldn't go canoeing into town to get ice cream with the rest of the SLS people (though I did get a ride into town, so I still got ice cream :)). I had to miss the wedding of a family friend that I had been planning to drive to over Memorial Day weekend. During this past week, I kept a positive demeanor on the outside, but on the inside I was bitter and frustrated with God.
This last Thursday, so exactly a week after the accident, the unit leaders had an 8 hour solo. I found a spot to hammock, and sat in my hammock all day. I've been reading Hebrews the past month or so, and finished it up in the midst of my solo. I spent much of the morning in Hebrews 12. In this chapter, the author talks about hardship:
"Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? If you are not disciplined—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of spirits and live! They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.
Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. “Make level paths for your feet,” so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed."
Even if the first line hadn't grabbed my attention, the last verse definitely did. "Strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees." It was one of those moments when everything clicked, when I realized what God had been trying to teach me all along, I just needed a little nudging to get to the point. This is hardship. God is disciplining me, helping me see my weak areas and pushing me to grow.
Tangent time: I hate the word discipline. I hate that it has become a negatively charged word. I feel like people forget there is more than one meaning of the word; they automatically think of discipline as punishment, as a result of wrongdoing. It also means training, or the way I like to phrase it, "the practice of". I haven't done any exegesis on this passage, so I'm not sure which meaning the original Greek used, but I'm guessing that it's the latter. Hardship is to be viewed as training. Training to be more like Jesus. And that's exactly what God is doing through this time of healing for me. My pride had to be taken down a notch, I have to have servanthood modeled for me, and my patience is definitely being tested throughout all this. But this is all to help me grow more into Christ likeness.
I could go one about this for much much longer, but this post is already much too long. Chances are I will blog about the healing process many times throughout the summer.
I survived second semester of senior year. It was a crazy one. One that deserves it's own blog post at some point, especially as I process through the craziness that was the elementary methods block as I prepare for student teaching in the fall. Pretty much, to summarize it in a sentence, this past semester was the most difficult, yet growth filled semester of my life. I had an amazing time in the classroom, and I already get along great with my cooperating teacher.
Anyways, that is not what I want to write about in this post. I want to talk about the past 3 weeks.
3 weeks ago, I was still in Wheaton. I walked across Edman stage. I said goodbye to my fellow seniors, and finished packing up the apartment. 2 1/2 weeks ago, I drove up to HoneyRock and have been in the throws of summer preparation since then.
This summer, I am working at HoneyRock as the residential camp unit leader admin. Pretty much, I help run res camp which is the program I counseled for last summer. Rather than working directly with the counselors like other the unit leaders, my role is more administrative, and is kind of a do-whatever-is-necessary kind of job.
Last week, the res camp ULs (unit leaders) went on our 2 night wilderness training trip. On the morning of the last day before leaving our campsite to come back to camp, I twisted my knee, causing the knee cap to dislocate. This is what I want this post to be about. I want it to be about how in the last week and a half, I have been humbled and experienced servant leadership. Immediately, my team helped carry me to a canoe so they could canoe me to the campsite across the channel where a van was waiting to take me to hospital. My awesome roommate has been chauffeuring me around camp in a golf cart, even when it's inconvenient for her. I've had to ask for help carrying things, walking around, sitting down, standing up... down to the nitty gritty details of having to sit at a particular spot at the table for meals since I can't bend my knee. I am very independent person, and I hate asking for help, so this past week and half has been a shot to my pride, but a very necessary shot.
But I also have been amazed by how quick the people around me have been to serve and help. The service I have experienced from my friends at camp has given me a better picture of what servant leadership is.
Though I do admit I have learned a lot from this whole ordeal, I won't deny it's been extremely difficult. I try to have a good attitude, but honestly, sometimes it's really hard. Camp is not exactly a convenient place for a knee injury to heal. I have to be driven around in a golf cart when going to different parts of camp. It's difficult for me to get into town because I can't drive myself because my knee still can't bend, and it's inconvenient for others to drive me because I have to have my leg stretched out across the whole car seat row. I couldn't go canoeing into town to get ice cream with the rest of the SLS people (though I did get a ride into town, so I still got ice cream :)). I had to miss the wedding of a family friend that I had been planning to drive to over Memorial Day weekend. During this past week, I kept a positive demeanor on the outside, but on the inside I was bitter and frustrated with God.
This last Thursday, so exactly a week after the accident, the unit leaders had an 8 hour solo. I found a spot to hammock, and sat in my hammock all day. I've been reading Hebrews the past month or so, and finished it up in the midst of my solo. I spent much of the morning in Hebrews 12. In this chapter, the author talks about hardship:
"Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? If you are not disciplined—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of spirits and live! They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.
Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. “Make level paths for your feet,” so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed."
Even if the first line hadn't grabbed my attention, the last verse definitely did. "Strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees." It was one of those moments when everything clicked, when I realized what God had been trying to teach me all along, I just needed a little nudging to get to the point. This is hardship. God is disciplining me, helping me see my weak areas and pushing me to grow.
Tangent time: I hate the word discipline. I hate that it has become a negatively charged word. I feel like people forget there is more than one meaning of the word; they automatically think of discipline as punishment, as a result of wrongdoing. It also means training, or the way I like to phrase it, "the practice of". I haven't done any exegesis on this passage, so I'm not sure which meaning the original Greek used, but I'm guessing that it's the latter. Hardship is to be viewed as training. Training to be more like Jesus. And that's exactly what God is doing through this time of healing for me. My pride had to be taken down a notch, I have to have servanthood modeled for me, and my patience is definitely being tested throughout all this. But this is all to help me grow more into Christ likeness.
I could go one about this for much much longer, but this post is already much too long. Chances are I will blog about the healing process many times throughout the summer.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Rivers and Roads
"A year from now, we'll all be gone, all our friends will move away. And they're going to better places, but our friends will be gone away." --Rivers and Roads by The Head and the Heart
With 17 weeks until graduation and saying goodbye to friends that have walked alongside me for the past 3 1/2 years, and a year until I finish my time at Wheaton and jump into the next adventure God has planned for me, this song is feeling pretty relatable right now. I'm currently on the plane heading back to Wheaton for my last semester of classes. Though I'm beyond excited to return to Wheaton and finish up senior year, leaving home felt more bitter than sweet this time. Leaving home this time met admitting that spring semester of senior year is starting, and that this is the last semester I have with many people very dear to me. It means admitting that some friends are finishing their Wheaton career by studying abroad this semester and it's possible I may never see them again (although unlikely). It means admitting that I won't be home or see my friends again until December.
I hate change and I hate the unknown. This is the first time in my life that I have literally no idea what I'll be doing next. And I hate it. Student teaching in an extra semester means that I finish up in the middle of a school year, making it pretty difficult to find a teaching job right away. Therefore, I have no idea what I'll be doing. If somehow a teaching job comes up somewhere, I'll go there. Otherwise it will be back to Washington for at least the semester. I could end up abroad, like my brother, I could end up staying in Wheaton, I could end up in Washington, I could end up somewhere that I never thought I'd live. And though it's exciting to think about life after college and finally getting to teach after dreaming about it for as long as I can remember, it's also terrifying. I like college. I like Wheaton. I like living in an apartment with my friends. I like being no more than a 10 minute walk from my friends. I don't like the idea of not being with them anymore. I don't like the idea of my friends who have been my support the past 3 1/2 years being spread across the world. I especially don't like not knowing whether I'll have a job this time next year.
Yesterday, I fell off my horse after she refused a jump at the last moment and bolted off to the side. You would never know she's almost 22 based on the way she acts... she's a little bit crazy. Once my friend that was with me caught Marlee and calmed her down, she asked if I wanted to get back on. I didn't hesitate-my answer was a clear yes. Not only because I didn't want my last ride for 11 months to end with a fall, but also because I've always been told to get right back on after falling off-that I can't let fear keep me from doing what I love.
As I nursed my sore back and leg last night, I started thinking about what I could learn from falling off Marlee other than that it probably was stupid to be jumping a horse that hadn't been ridden regularly in months, especially since I hadn't ridden or jumped in months either. But I can also apply it to what I've been talking about here. Maybe a better word than hate for my feelings towards the unknown is fear. When I think about the next year, I recognize so much fear in myself. I'm afraid it's going to be harder than I expect to be away from home for a year. I'm afraid that I'll be over my head in my job at HoneyRock this summer. I'm afraid I'll do poorly at student teaching. I'm afraid won't stay in touch with my Wheaton friends. But I can't let fear keep me from doing what I or my friends love and are called to do. Rivers and roads (and maybe oceans) will separate me from those I love, but I can say in confidence we will be in better places, living out God's calling for each of us.
With 17 weeks until graduation and saying goodbye to friends that have walked alongside me for the past 3 1/2 years, and a year until I finish my time at Wheaton and jump into the next adventure God has planned for me, this song is feeling pretty relatable right now. I'm currently on the plane heading back to Wheaton for my last semester of classes. Though I'm beyond excited to return to Wheaton and finish up senior year, leaving home felt more bitter than sweet this time. Leaving home this time met admitting that spring semester of senior year is starting, and that this is the last semester I have with many people very dear to me. It means admitting that some friends are finishing their Wheaton career by studying abroad this semester and it's possible I may never see them again (although unlikely). It means admitting that I won't be home or see my friends again until December.
I hate change and I hate the unknown. This is the first time in my life that I have literally no idea what I'll be doing next. And I hate it. Student teaching in an extra semester means that I finish up in the middle of a school year, making it pretty difficult to find a teaching job right away. Therefore, I have no idea what I'll be doing. If somehow a teaching job comes up somewhere, I'll go there. Otherwise it will be back to Washington for at least the semester. I could end up abroad, like my brother, I could end up staying in Wheaton, I could end up in Washington, I could end up somewhere that I never thought I'd live. And though it's exciting to think about life after college and finally getting to teach after dreaming about it for as long as I can remember, it's also terrifying. I like college. I like Wheaton. I like living in an apartment with my friends. I like being no more than a 10 minute walk from my friends. I don't like the idea of not being with them anymore. I don't like the idea of my friends who have been my support the past 3 1/2 years being spread across the world. I especially don't like not knowing whether I'll have a job this time next year.
Yesterday, I fell off my horse after she refused a jump at the last moment and bolted off to the side. You would never know she's almost 22 based on the way she acts... she's a little bit crazy. Once my friend that was with me caught Marlee and calmed her down, she asked if I wanted to get back on. I didn't hesitate-my answer was a clear yes. Not only because I didn't want my last ride for 11 months to end with a fall, but also because I've always been told to get right back on after falling off-that I can't let fear keep me from doing what I love.
As I nursed my sore back and leg last night, I started thinking about what I could learn from falling off Marlee other than that it probably was stupid to be jumping a horse that hadn't been ridden regularly in months, especially since I hadn't ridden or jumped in months either. But I can also apply it to what I've been talking about here. Maybe a better word than hate for my feelings towards the unknown is fear. When I think about the next year, I recognize so much fear in myself. I'm afraid it's going to be harder than I expect to be away from home for a year. I'm afraid that I'll be over my head in my job at HoneyRock this summer. I'm afraid I'll do poorly at student teaching. I'm afraid won't stay in touch with my Wheaton friends. But I can't let fear keep me from doing what I or my friends love and are called to do. Rivers and roads (and maybe oceans) will separate me from those I love, but I can say in confidence we will be in better places, living out God's calling for each of us.
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