Movin' On Up

Fourth grade has been my heart since that August day 12 years ago when I greeted my first student. There are so, so many things I love about nine and ten year olds, and there are a multitude of assignments I have loved giving them over the years.

• Fourth graders almost always love their teacher. They make their teacher sweet cards, tell her nice things, and generally make her feel special. And they ALWAYS notice when their teacher changes her hair. 
• Fourth graders are funny. Sometimes it's intentional and sometimes it's not, but they're always funny. 

Still one of my favorite grading moments...

• Fourth graders find excitement in everything. Cleaning the floor, straightening the book case, taking the trash out...they do it all with a bounce in their step!
• Fourth graders take the time to get to know their teacher. They know what she likes to eat, what her favorite colors are, and how many times she has worn an outfit in a school year.
• Fourth graders put 100% of their effort into my most favorite assignments: memorizing "The Road Not Taken," writing a research paper about a specific dog breed, putting together an extensive notebook of their own poetry, making a game and commercial for The Sign of the Beaver, and writing a persuasive letter to parents arguing the benefits of a new puppy (a parent favorite). 😉

Why, then, would I want to leave my comfort zone full of familiarity and favorites? 

I have found myself taking on more and more responsibility over the past several years. I have been writing a lot and editing even more, and I truly believe it's because I have been longing for a new challenge. 

This spring, when a secondary English position opened up at my school, I was intrigued. When I passed the necessary certification test right away, I was interested. But when I felt God calling me to take the job, I was positive. God's been nudging me towards a position like this for many years; I just didn't see all the pieces until the job was right there in front of me. 

I'm under no illusion that it will be an easy transition. I know the hours will be longer initially, the grading will be more time-consuming, and the students will be a little wiser and a lot taller, but I know I'll love my job just the same.

I'm not sure what the future holds or what my new list of favorites will look like this time next year, but I do know that I'm ready to start over, to push myself and my students to our full potentials. Until then, keep me in your prayers as I take this small, yet life-changing, step of faith. 

Mother's Day

Mother's Day gets me. Every single year it sneaks up on me, and then I'm standing in church watching the baby dedications and weeping. Some years more than others, but always without fail.

Mother's Day is complicated. I watch people. I'm a people watcher by nature, and I'm especially attuned to people on this wonderful, difficult day. I see the woman longing to be a mom, yearning to be the one up on stage holding a little one, wondering if her time will ever come. I know her by the tears running down her face as she turns away from the happy scene. I see the woman smiling down at her child while silently grieving the ones she never met. I know her by the wistful look in her eyes as she rests her hand on her belly unconsciously, a habit that never seems to go away.  I see the woman who looks sadly at the empty seat next to her--a woman who would give anything to hug her own mother one last time. I don't know her yet, but I will someday--a day I will never be ready for. I see you.

I have been one of you, am one of you still. I have written many times about my losses, but I don't know that I was ever quite able to truly convey the overwhelming, all-encompassing pain and grief I felt sometimes. Mother's Day was excruciating for me. Staring up at a whole line of rosy-cheeked babies and doting moms and dads was torture every year, and I found myself wanting to skip church on the day I probably needed it most.

How can you be thankful on a day your heart is so full of everything but gratitude? Questions and shame and anger and desperation, yes. But not gratitude. Not today. Flutters on a screen, heartbeats there and gone, hopes and dreams destroyed. I know. I see you.

I don't know if you will ever be up on that stage. I certainly doubted that I would ever be. I'm not one for platitudes; I have been on the receiving end of way too many. But I do want to say that you are not alone. Don't cry by yourself today in a bathroom stall; don't watch Netflix all day alone in the dark. Don't do the things that almost destroyed me years ago. Reach out to someone you love--or someone you barely know. Reach out to me. I'm here. I see you.