Thanksketching: Day 2

'

I am thankful for

employment

among children

and colors.

NPM: Three, Two, One

I am just barely making it under the wire. But it's been one of those weeks. So, here are the last three poems for National Poetry Month. It has been an adventure, as always. I got to share NPM with my students this year (we studied Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein) so that's a wonderful bonus.

Anyways. Here they are! Until next year.

1. Will Not Persist - April 28, 2015

A child who hangs his head
has a mother, she sighs and swears
when progress will not persist
at the perfect pace
or in tactical timetables.
Every other week he works,
fingers frenzied with paper and pencil,
her grave gaze at the doorway,
as if this helpless hour
will charge the change she seeks.
But no one learns life lessons
from a perpetual pinching,
nor from distant discomfort
that dims or dies in the daylight.
But give a boy a beating
and the man will remember,
take a squandering sum
and the pauper will prevail.
Do not forsake the function
or lament life’s teacher
if you only listen lazily,
as seconds and lessons are lost,
all while you wait,
all while you worry
and will not work.

2. The Confirmation - April 29, 2015

My fear of the future is only equal to
my memory of terrified stillness
and the coldness of abandonment.
I step forward ambitiously,
warm-hearted and open-armed.
But my heart is the sun.
My arms are flaming tongues.
This must confirm the reality
I face in the resulting solitude.
Yet I cannot fade or burn away,
remaining too much, or too little,
who can tell?
All I can conclude is that
where there is no goodbye
there is no justice.

3. Beacon - April 30, 2015

There is a guiding voice
of gilded echoes and force
which judges and passes
each merit or curse
and trebles the ethers
with sanctified meter
behind his mouth.

And there is a song
of persuasive, lifting light
which casts out and contains
what you may love or fight
and waves a beacon
for the heart you weaken
behind your doubt.

Imperative

Last week when I asked for prayer and sort of announced I was having surgery, I don't know what I expected. But I was overwhelmed with love and support, and it was incredible. The prayers for the pre-surgery issues were at least a success. It's scheduled for tomorrow, and I'm all ready to go. But getting to this point was like climbing a mountain while wearing roller skates--clumsy, and uncomfortable to watch OR experience, and felt like I was getting nowhere most of the time.

I did get here, and that, at least, is a blessing. But it was so difficult I actually feel compelled to retell the last several days.

Friday was when I called the nurse hotline to ask about the blood tests I would need to get done, and it wasn't until this Monday I was informed I wouldn't be getting them done until the day of surgery. While on the phone I said, "Oh, okay," and moved on. 

On Monday night I felt differently. On Monday night and then again on Tuesday morning, I remembered some important details. 1. My veins literally move around after a phlebotomist finds them. In order to compensate for my sneaky veins I drink approximately 60 oz. of water before I donate blood or have blood tests taken. 2. The times I have tried to donate blood/have blood tests while not hydrated have been horribly painful and I end up looking like someone beat me up because my arms are covered in bruises. 3. I am not allowed to drink or eating anything after midnight tonight, therefore. 4. Getting blood tests done tomorrow morning before surgery, while hungry and dehydrated, would be a terrible experience.

I had two anxiety attacks thinking about how awful it would be. I was scared. And angry. The nurse had also told me that, despite the hospital's letter explaining I would need the tests done a week prior to surgery, my doctor "is new to this hospital" and "we're just getting used to the way she does things." It seemed backwards and nonsensical. 

Tuesday afternoon the nurse called me back to confirm my medications and other details. It was then that I told her about my concerns, and she said I could call my doctor's office to change the time for the blood tests. I did, gladly! And I went to get them done today.

Of course, it couldn't be that easy. I drank my 60 oz. of water and felt great when I got to the lab. They didn't immediately mention I needed a urine test, so when I asked to go to the bathroom they let me go. A few minutes later my nurse read the entire chart and, YES, I did need a urine test. AND... they needed to take blood from both arms.

Wait, what?

Yeah, that's right. Both arms. I didn't ask them why because all the explanations they were already giving were WAY over my head. I was tired (because I'm also not allowed to take my vitamins for a week prior to surgery) so I just told them how difficult it would be to use both arms, but they could try.

So here I am. I have cotton ball/masking tape bandages on my both arms. I am exhausted (because no vitamins) and stressed (because I'm at work and trying to get everything ready for my absence) and really, really... excited.

When I was teaching 6th grade language arts we had long discussions about the different types of sentences--declarative, interrogative, imperative. They could never remember the last one because it didn't have a matching word. Declarative sentences declare things, interrogative sentences interrogate, but imperative sentences don't imper... or perat... or anything. So they just had to memorize the facts: if it's imperative, it has to happen. It's a confusing word but it is so important. 

And this feels the same way that word must have felt to those 12-year-olds... It's so confusing. And it's hard to remember the facts. There are all these other things that make sense, all these other things I can remember and wrap my head around. And this is baffling, the process is making me tired and cranky, but it has to happen. 

When it's over, I can't wait to find out if everything was successful. I can't wait to hear the results of all this exhausting work. I can't wait for what comes next, the following step in this very incredible life I have been given. 

Thirty Thanks, Day 10: Mistakes

Everybody makes mistakes. It's one of the purposes of this blog--to fully accept my failures, my blunders, my losses. Every body is a loser at some point (some more often than others) and so it's easy for people to connect to the concept. We all fail, we all mess up. Processing and healing (or letting go of) these things is easier if we can start by accepting that they happened.

I'm thinking about this because I totally messed up today. It wasn't anything too horrible, but it was pretty embarrassing. Today was a math day at kindergarten, and I'd been planning this awesome lesson. It's "Around the World" month, and this week we're in Mexico. All of that is beside the point, because I was going to teach them about "touch numbers," which is when each number has dots on it to help you count. I made a poster for the wall and bookmarks for each student. My co-teacher (an awesome undergrad student getting Service Learning credit) and I laminated everything right before class and they looked great.

So we taught the touch numbers, and the kids caught on pretty quickly. We had moved on to practicing counting +2 and +3 with dice when a student asked me, "Why do the numbers go five, seven, eight, nine? Where's six?"

My co-teacher looked at me and then we both looked at the bookmarks and, surprise! There was no six. I designed the poster over a week ago, and worked on the bookmarks all weekend. We had sat there, cutting out the bookmarks and then laminating them and cutting them out again from the laminating sheet AND doing that whole process over again because the papers moved inside the laminating machine and somehow... somehow... neither of us had noticed that there was no six.

I have nothing to blame it on except that I didn't notice it. I spent so much time lining up the stupid little dots that I inexplicably did not notice I was missing a number. There was no 0, or 10. I knew that. But no six? Completely escaped me.

Tonight I went and remade it all. Re-laminated everything. Placed it all nicely on top of the supply box. I sat in the dark office all alone, still bewildered at how I could have missed it.

But you know what makes everything better?

Several things. 1. The problem was easily fixed, and I can give them updated bookmarks tomorrow. 2. My students laughed it off with me. They didn't get upset, or say something mean. (They don't know how.) 3. It gave me the opportunity to be humble in front of my students, and to accept my mistake gracefully.

I am so thankful for mistakes. In a world where social media allows us to only ever show our good side, our triumphs and victories, our ever-impressive lives... it is good to be reminded of what we are. We're human. We are all sinners, all in need of a savior. We mess things up. We say hurtful words and think destructive thoughts, we judge and curse and condemn, we ignore and neglect and abuse, we deceive and cheat and manipulate. Sometimes our mistakes are small and we need comfort or affirmation, but sometimes they're big mistakes and we find ourselves in need of grace, forgiveness, and redemption. Our mistakes give us the space to need saving. It's okay to need saving, you know. It doesn't make you less of a woman or less of a man.

It makes you human... a loser, just like me.

Thanks, mistakes. You make us incredible.

Thirty Thanks, Day 3: This Job

It seems to be the trend for college graduates to go out and work somewhere that doesn't quite match their degree. Maybe I get it from my dad, who, after getting his BA and MDiv and working as a pastor for several years, decided to move to Seattle to work in a parking garage and a Jewish bakery and even delivered newspapers. (Don't worry, I know the real story behind that. I think. But maybe if I make fun of him enough, he'll read my blog.)

My job isn't completely unrelated to my degree, but it is a little bizarre. I majored in English and Secondary Education. My life's dream (other than to be a famous published author with a big fancy house in which most rooms are actually libraries) is to be a middle school English teacher. That's right, I love middle schoolers. I think they are precious and pesky, wise and wild, but above all... they are hilarious. They make me laugh without offending me, and usually without offending each other. They are are that perfect age when they still admire their teachers but they can also have great conversations, like mini-adults.

But I teach kindergarten.

It's not full time, or anything. I actually work for my university, despite graduating over a year ago. I'm the "lead tutor" there for undergraduate tutoring. Students come to me with their papers and essays and other writing assignments--even articles! I love every minute of it. But as part of the University Student Success Center, I also teach the "Kindergarten Enrichment" program for an hour on Mondays and Tuesdays. It doesn't seem like a lot, but those two hours occupy much of my mind, and my heart.

I don't think I could ever teach this age group for a whole day. I would rip my hair out. Kindergartners are hilarious, just like middle schoolers, but they also require frequent potty breaks and often have sticky hands and I am always asking them to stop playing with their clothes. (Middle schoolers do this too, but if you notice and ask them to stop the embarrassment will keep them from doing it again.) I love them, but it's just not my passion to teach them.

Still, I am thankful for my wonderful job. 

I am thankful for the tiny child hugs, their absolutely hilarious misnaming of things (like calling sequins 'scorpions'), their unknowingly encouraging words, their total faith in me ("You're the teacher, so you already know how to do everything."), the joy I find in planning lessons and activities, the creativity I experience with them, the learning I experience with them. I am also thankful for the courageous college students that come to see me, who press on in spite of the "going to tutoring" stigma and ask for help. I'm thankful for their desire for improvement and their graciousness when I don't know how to use their Mac laptop or when it takes me more time than usual to explain something. I'm thankful, above all, for the opportunity to teach in these circumstances. I learn something every time I teach something. And I find that incredible.

Thanks, job.