The Plight Of A Writer

I didn’t always want to be a writer. In elementary school I wanted to be a ballet dancer, which I’m sure is typical of most eight-year-old girls. In middle school I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I was more concerned with figuring out how to wear my hair and why I had such a weird laugh. In high school I joined the school newspaper and I realized I was good at writing and I wanted to be a reporter. I imagined myself becoming the next Christiane Amanpour and reporting chaos from the Middle East, drug cartels in South America, and the horrid conditions plaguing Africa. As the big college decision began to loom over me, I realized that the likelihood of being Amanpour wouldn’t happen and I needed to change my mind.

As I entered college I decided that I could not imagine not taking another English class again. So I signed up for more and more English classes and realized that I can’t really do anything with a degree in English. So I double majored in Education and fell in love with helping “the future.” I’ve been teaching for five years and while I love it, and I know at my core I am a teacher, I can’t help but wonder what else I was created for.

I know I’m meant to write. I know that I have this innate desire to communicate, through writing, my deepest thoughts, my heartaches, my accomplishments, and these characters bouncing around in my head. But I can’t help but wonder, does anyone even care? I want to write something that moves people, that challenges view points, that forces people to discover more, and that makes people think. At the sake of being vulnerable, I want to affect people, but I’m not sure I can. And I’m not begging for compliments, I’m simply stating a fear that I have.

And I’m unsure as to what scale I want to write. Do I want to be a best selling author? Do I want to be an editor at a magazine? Do I want to write, in my free time, for blogs and newspapers? Do I want to write for me, and only me? I’m not sure. Although I do know I have lofty goals and yes, it would be great to see my name on the best seller’s list, but is that the point of writing? I don’t think so. What I do know, in all this questioning, is that I love writing. I was created to write. I was made to do this. At what extent, I don’t know. But I do know that I will continue to write, if it’s only for me or for a larger stage. 

"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

-Ernest Hemingway

Why I Became A Teacher

A few weeks ago I was having a discussion with my friends Bethany and Matt and some of us, mainly me, were feeling disillusioned with public education. The honeymoon period with our students was over. The district and state are shoving more and more tests down the pipe. We got a $30 raise this year. Then Matt began to mention why he became a teacher. If you know Matt, it was a wonderful speech, filled with beautiful images and memories, of course. Then he said, “You have that same experience. Of course you do, that’s why you’re here.”

That comment hung with me and made me feel all warm inside as I reflected back on why I became a teacher. Then I got busy and I crammed that feeling into a corner of my brain, forgotten and untouched. But recently, I’ve reflected on that moment and dusted off the memories.

Nancy Duffner, my sophomore English teacher and newspaper advisor for three years, is the reason I became a teacher. Ms. Duffner had high expectations and you were expected to meet those expectations by the end of the year. There was no room for foolishness or a lackadaisical attitude. However, behind the reputation for being a “hard teacher” and someone to “fear” I was taught immeasurable lessons. Beyond having my writing demolished and rebuilt, and realizing my love of reading, I was transformed and shaped, in part, by the lessons with Ms. Duffner. Spending those three years with Duffy, as we affectionately called her, I learned: how to speak up for myself, to fight for my beliefs, to strive for change, to advocate for those less fortunate, to be a leader, to be a follower, to acknowledge when I was right and wrong, to think outside of the box, and so many more qualities that make up the person I am today. Ms. Duffner taught me the most important elements that make up bits and pieces of my life, and yet, none of it can be measured on a test.

Teaching isn’t to get a certain test score; teaching is about the students. Teaching is about working with, challenging, praising, editing, and molding students. I didn’t become a teacher to give students busy work and reprimand them.  I became a teacher because I felt inspired as a student and I wanted to recreate that in my own classroom. I became a teacher because, as a student, I felt that I could go to a safe place, be myself, and face no judgment and I want that for my students. I became a teacher because in Ms. Duffner's class I knew I was going to be challenged and I was going to be better for it, and I know that my students deserve that opportunity too. I want my students to feel the way that I felt when I walked into H-2. That’s why I teach. 

If You're Like Me You Need Hope, Coffee, and a Melody

I can’t help but write a blog post about music. So if you don’t care about music or don’t like the kind of music that I do, then exit out of this blog and carry onward with your internet exploration. I’ve loved music my entire life. As long as I’ve loved reading, I’ve loved music. I know the two are related because listening to music stirs the same emotions as reading a book. Music has the ability to tug on heartstrings that I’ve only discovered I feel when reading a novel. The construction of the lyrics, the drums, the bass line, when their powers combine the joy I feel is practically indescribable.  

Currently, I’ve been doing my own study of song lyrics. I can’t exactly say when I started, but words have always been of interest to me. On my 36 minute drive to and from Riverside during the week I play, rewind, analyze, critique, sing along and create this inner dialogue between my head and my heart. I think a song lyric means something, then I get home, read (if I can find) the artist's inspiration, and reanalyze. I’m used to doing this with novels, historical texts, and biographies; so why should doing this with song lyrics be any different? But as I continue studying, I’ve realized that it just makes me fall more and more in love with music. And, I feel more connected to the artists behind the rhythms and rhymes. Just as when reading a novel, it’s as if I’ve stumbled upon some secret the songwriter is sharing with only me. Yes, I do realize that neither novel nor song was written for me, but I can’t help but be moved by both novel and song.

I’m going to list some of the songs that have influenced me to continue this music study. I encourage you to listen to the songs, if not for the joy of studying lyrics, but for the joy of solely enjoying art.

1. “An Introduction” by David Ramirez

2. “Spitting Fire” by The Boxer Rebellion

3. “Midnight Starlight” by Foy Vance

4. “O Theo” by Matthew Perryman Jones

5. “Fire and Dynamite” by Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors

6. “23” by Spencer Karges (Close friend and song was played at Crosspointe)  http://snd.sc/PFkMBa

7. “After the Storm” by Mumford and Sons

8. “The Fall” by Gungor

9. “Pyro” by Kings of Leon

10. “Run Dry” by Civil Twilight

Happy listening.

So Long Sweet Summer

The final day of summer is an emotional overwhelming day. It’s a day filled with regret, sorrow, loss, a smidge of excitement, and a bit of nervousness. It doesn’t matter if you’re a teacher or a student. If you’re going to sixth grade or starting your 22^nd year of teaching, it’s all the same feelings, just in varying degrees.  

This year doesn’t seem any different than any other year. Sure, new faces and new personalities will be present in room 146, but it’s the same concept. I teach, students learn. I joke, students pretend to laugh. I enforce rules, students still break them. I advise, students listen (or don’t). School hasn’t changed, I should know, I’ve been in school all my life. The core concepts of school are still the same. So this “end of summer” feeling is still the same. And yet, I’m still surprised by these emotions. Do I wish I could rewind summer? Not really. I loved my summer and I wouldn’t want to alter any of the events that took place; I just want a continuation. I think that’s called retirement.

But soon this will pass. Soon it will be Thanksgiving, a new semester, spring break, and then graduation. And then summer will start again. And time will continue on repeat. The same feelings and emotions will cycle back through again and again. So in reality, I feel this way every year. And yes, I’m losing summer. But we’ll meet each other again. And even though we will be separated for awhile; we will come back to each other, and pick up right where we left off. Summer’s like a best friend, always shows up when you need her, bringing warmth and a blissfully, enjoyable time.

Day One of An American in Michura

So I'm back from Kenya and after a few days of decompressing I've decided to post what I wrote after my first full day in Kenya. I wrote more as the week went on so I'll be happy to post those later on. I just wanted to share my thoughts after the first day in Michura. Also, at the bottom I've posted a few photos of the adventures we had later on in the week. 

The phrase that has been on repeat in my head all day today is, "I can't believe I'm in Kenya." Today was our first real day in Kenya and after staying in Nairobi for the night we headed straight for Michura. After a hysterical, adventurous, and yes, safe, bus ride we made it the place very quickly dubbed as "our second home". We began walking the 30 minutes to the village, since the road is incredibly rocky and our bus can't make it the entire way.

As soon as we parked the bus, women and children arrived to give us a greeting that was too perfect for words. Never in my entire life have I ever felt so welcome. Everyone was singing songs, hugging us, shaking our hands, and giving us flowers. They walked with us down to the village and then proceeded to ask us to dance with them. To see two groups of people, from two totally different worlds, unite and celebrate what God has done for us and will do for us, is an experience that surely only God could have designed. I never would have ever met the beautiful people that my team here and the people back home at Crosspointe are working to serve if it wasn't for God's most perfect and unfailing love.

The people of Michura don't know us as individuals, our personalities, or our baggage. And they loved us immediately. They see our team as a group of people who are willing to serve them to the best of our abilities. They see a group of people who traveled across the world to show them that we, and this 'we' includes Crosspointe, love them. They sang, danced, and rejoiced because we were here. That was it. No preconceived notions, no ill feelings, just love. Isn't that a beautiful thing? We are all so busy with our lives that yes, are meaningful, but we so often forget to just love someone. With no strings attached or commitments, just love. The people of Michura did nothing but show us incredible love today.

I can't believe that today is only the first day of our time together. There was already so much laughter expressed, tears shed, and sore feet that none of us are really sure what the rest of our time here will hold. And it is evident that God is here in every bit of laughter, every tear drop stain on our shirts, and in the aches in our feet. The people of Michura have it backwards, today they mentioned that they are so thankful that we are here to bless them. But I disagree, they have already blessed us, and it's only day one. 

 Our awesome team. 

 Checking out the zebras on one of the safaris.

Just hanging out with the wildebeests and zebras. We were able to walk around among the animals. 

 

We also went to the Giraffe Center in Nairobi and were able to feed giraffes. 

 This was my view of Lake Victoria from our hotel in Kisumu. 

"Somebody That I Used To Know"

I’ve been on summer break for a little over a week now and it’s been wonderful. I’ve slept, read, gone to the pool, watched T.V., worked out, and spent time with friends. It’s been a great week. I’ve fully embraced Summer and greeted her warmly each day.

However, in all this relaxation I’ve realized just how exhausted this past year has made me. Riverside is exhausting for a myriad of reasons, my family is, for lack of a better word, “interesting”, and I just constantly kept busy with one thing or another. I forgot about me. It’s so easy to do that too. I “had” to this, or “had” to do that. I didn’t stop for me. I didn’t hang out with friends as much as I wanted to, I didn’t read for pleasure, I didn’t write. I lost bits and pieces of me along the way and now I’m wandering around picking up the lost items, the things that make up who I am. I am beginning to reclaim my identity.

It’s sad to see how much of myself has disappeared since August. I care about my job and I want to do my job well, so I throw myself into teaching and if you’re a teacher, you know just how much it consumes your life.  My days are filled with teaching some of the greatest young people I’ve ever met, to some of the most “behavioral challenged” students anyone will ever meet. After teaching all day I then come home and grade vocabulary quizzes, edit thesis statements, plan for the next unit, correct subject verb agreement exercises, and spend hours pouring over essays.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about all the work, it’s the nature of the job and it’s something I take on gladly. But in doing all this, I carefully gave up small slivers of myself along the way. And summer creates the opportunity to realize that 1. I’ve forgotten what I love and 2. That I have the chance to go back and reacquaint myself with who I used to be. I am eternally grateful to be able to recognize these two opportunities and I plan on exercising them to the fullest. However, as much as I don’t want this to happen, to forget who I am, I’m glad it does happen. It reminds me of why I have certain passions, that I should be proud of who I’ve grown up to become, and how I’m being used throughout the school year and the summer. So thank you Summer, for reminding me who I used to be, and allowing me to fully become her again. 

"I'm Guessing This is Growing Up"

I’ve abandoned the 15-day blog challenge. It didn’t inspire me and stretch me in the way I thought it would. So I’m looking for another “Insert arbitrary number here” blog challenge in the meantime. But beyond that a lot of change has happened this week.

My brother graduated high school. I’m significantly older than Malik and I never imagined that he’d be big enough to go to college. In my head, I know everyone must grow up and morph into the person he or she is meant to become. But Malik can’t. He’s supposed to stay a baby, live at home forever, and always be my sweet, little brother. Now, I realize that some of those things will always be true. He will always be my little brother, he will probably act like a baby, and he might end up living at home again. But this is all happening too fast. I remember dropping Malik off for his first day of Kindergarten and now I had to watch him walk across a stage and grab his diploma.

But I think the reason why I’m so torn concerning this milestone event in my brother’s life is for selfish reasons. This event reminds me of how I felt when I was in his shoes. I was terrified of going to college but I was so thrilled to do anything I wanted. I felt scared and invincible at the exact same time. I wanted to do everything and thought that I actually could. I think I’m almost jealous of the fact that Malik has such opportunity in front of him. Would I want to go back and live in a dorm again? Heck no. But I think I’m coveting this new adventure Malik is embarking upon.

I am immensely excited and proud to watch Malik head off to Appalachian in the fall. I know he will create lasting memories, hopefully study hard, and form strong friendships. So I guess this new journey Malik is going on has ignited those dreams that I had when I was 17 and heading off to college. I guess it’s a bit of nostalgia, sorrow, and happiness that I’m feeling right now for my brother. I’m so happy for him and I hope he does feel like he can conquer the world. I know he will.