So, I have to send a thank-you to my friend Meg for introducing me to the “cutest blogger on the block” website. There are tons of free downloads you can add to your blog for a mini-makeover. It’s so cool! I had to resist all of the Fall designs since, technically, we aren’t there yet. So, I settled for “school-girl charm” since the school year has officially begun and my husband will like it because he’s a guy and thinks anything that resembles a school-girl uniform is “hot”:)

The school year is well underway here in SW Missouri. It’s hard to believe that we’ll have almost three weeks of school under our belts before Labor Day!! Does anyone else remember the time when school began after LD and ended before Memorial Day? Ah well… it keeps me busy!

School is off to a great start! Well, my mentoring students are doing nothing at the moment, but they’re my D and F students so there quite accustomed to that. I can only do so much to get them to get their work done and into their teachers, so if they want to waste this time, I’m not going to stop them. At some point they’re going to have to make a conscious choice to DO SOMETHING! It will probably occur next year when they realize that they can actually graduate but need to get their butts in gear to make it happen. Then I will move from nagging them to death to patting them on their backs and telling them, “you can do it!”.

I’m trying to educate and cultivate my juniors at the moment. We’re watching part of the PBS documentary The New Americans. They get a first-hand look at the experiences of Dominican baseball players, a Palestinian bride, and Nigerian refugees. A lot of it is subtitled, but they’re handling it surprisingly well. Anytime they can watch TV in class, they consider it to be a worthwhile lesson:)

Speaking of lessons, Chris gave Garrett an amazing lesson in grace the other day. I was super impressed. I must confess that I don’t always give my husband all the credit he deserves in the parenting process. Like many mothers, I just assume that since I carried and gave birth to the children, I automatically know what’s best for them. One of Chris’s common sayings to me is: “I am his father, you know!” He’s actually an amazing father. He’s always there for the boys, gets them ready and to the sitter’s every morning, gets them to sleep at night and engages in instructive discipline. Which leads me back to my original story– a lesson in grace.

Garrett was being a major pain in the rear last Sunday. He threw temper tantrum after temper tantrum. On one such occasion, he got overly zealous and slammed a bathroom door in his little brother’s face, knocking his brother to the ground. He was immediately sent to time out and went, literally, kicking and screaming. Chris went through the time-out drill with him– hands in lap, feet on floor, face front, no talking. Instead of complying, however, Garrett started screaming at Chris, “No! No! No!” At one point he even yelled, “Shut up!”, which he’s never done before (thank you Shrek) I’d had it. I came marching into the living room and told Garrett to knock it off. I also told him that Daddy and little brother were going for a walk to the park to play and he was staying home with Mommy and going to bed if his attitude didn’t change.

Our routine with time-out is that before Garrett can actually get out of time-out, he has to tell Mommy and Daddy why he’s there and apologize for the behavior. Chris called Garrett to him and placed Garrett on his knee. He asked Garrett what he’d done wrong. Garrett told him. Chris then asked Garrett if he deserved to go to the park. Initially, Garrett thought yes, but after a review of the aforementioned behavior, decided that he indeed did not deserve to go to the park. However, and this is the truly brilliant part, Chris told Garrett: “No, Garrett, you don’t deserve to go to the park. But you know what? Daddy loves you, so you’re going to get to go.”

What an amazing lesson is that?! Of course, Garrett’s only three so some of the finer theological principles are going to be lost on him, but what a great little seed planted. I’m so proud of Chris and his thoughtfulness as a parent. He taught me a lesson too.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Well, another first day of school is under my belt and, aside from a projector not having power, all went well. I awoke this morning with my usual pre-school jitters. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been teaching, I always approach the first day of school with lots of excitement and a bit of fear as well. I took some time for a morning devotional, and it was so perfect I just smiled and thanked God then and there for the words.

The devotional was entitled “Good Enough?” and spoke to the insecurities all of us feel, especially on the first day of school. Will my lessons go smoothly? Do I have enough prepared? Will my students like me? Will my principal be impressed? Will my colleagues respect me? Am I a good enough teacher? Is she better than me? The devotional reminded me that, despite what I or others think, God has made me “good enough” for the tasks he has given me. There was scripture that went with it, but what kept going through my mind was that I “am fearfully and wonderfully made”. I just need to be myself and use the gifts God has given me.

The prayer that closed the devotional was the perfect prayer for my day. It was exactly what I had wanted to put into words. Thank you for loving me enough to make me good enough, and help me to show your unconditional love to others.

We’ve been talking about “bucket filling” to start the school year and all of the faculty and staff in the district have been given the book “How Full Is Your Bucket” by Tom Rath. It was written in coordination with his grandfather who was dying of cancer and had spent a lifetime researching positive psychology. Basically, the theory goes that we all carry with us an invisible bucket and invisible dipper. We can choose to fill the buckets of others and thereby enrich the lives of those we come into contact with as well as our own, or, we can be bucket dippers and spread around us an environment of negativity and apathy. Naturally, our superintendent would prefer us to be bucket fillers. I’m pretty confident that God feels the same!!

So, God doesn’t just know his stuff, he knows us and has created us to reflect his love to others.

Have you filled someone’s bucket today?

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Well, after a summer hiatus, I’m back at work–and I love it!! Don’t get me wrong, the summer at home with my boys was great. We had a blast, and I loved spending time with them, playing, swimming, watching movies, taking trips, but it’s good to be back in my own space doing something I love. My hat goes off to all of the stay-at-home mom’s out there. It is a really tough job with terrible pay but, I would venture, huge benefits. I am just not cut out for that line of work.

So, the boys are back at the sitter’s and I’m in my classroom getting lessons together. I’m doing more standards-based grading this year, which means that you only grade assessments which truly show mastery of objectives. It’s a lot of work to get together, but it will mean much less time spent grading in the long run.

I’ve recently realized that there’s a quiet revolution in education taking place, and it’s not sponsored by the government. Educators are working to take back their profession, to raise the level of expectations, and truly try and prepare our kids for the world they will live in, not the world we came out of. It’s good. There’s a lot of good stuff going on. Our district just invested $500,000 in new technology upgrades. We have a district website now on which each teacher has a class webpage. I’m going to attempt to create class blogs for my pages, as well as links to useful resources, etc… I’ve learned I am a digital immigrant teaching to digital natives. It’ll be slow going, but I’ll get there!

Well, it’s 3 o’clock. Time for me to pack up and hit the road.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Having children completely changes your life. Everybody knows that. All of a sudden, (although not really–you’ve had almost a year to prepare, right?) you become responsible, absolutely completely responsible, for another person, another life. Everything you once were gets shoved aside as you shift your focus onto growing and sustaining the life of this little person cradled in your arms. Your child becomes your focus, and you find yourself doing things you never thought you were capable of. Breast-feeding, pulling continuous all-nighters, cleaning up explosive poop, pulling buggers from noses. Most people expect this in some way shape or form when they have children. What they do not expect, what I did not expect, were the absolute changes in vocabulary.

I am an English teacher, so language is important to me. Whenever I sit down to blog, it takes me at least 45 minutes to get through a post. I have to choose my words carefully, edit, revise. I can’t even write in a journal without thinking about how I’m going to phrase my thoughts! So, when I find myself chanting, “Go Garrett, go Garrett, make some stinks, in the potty!” I realize I’ve come to the parenting point of no return. I mean, I have a Master’s degree for crying out loud! I can discuss eschatology and the hermenutical circle. I can deconstruct a Robert Frost poem (“Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Day is not about the beauty of nature, by the way) or provide an in-depth literary analysis of Pride and Prejudice. I despise text messaging because it’s so grammatically incorrect and I absolutely refuse to put in writing, “how ru?”. Yet, all of that seems to be thrown out the window when it comes to my children. Instead of discussing the symbolic nature of Poe, I discuss the symbolic nature of Lightning McQueen.
“Is that Lightning McQueen?”
“Yes, Garrett. That is Lightning McQueen.”
“What’s Lighning McQueen doing?”
“He’s racing.”
“Is he racing?”
“Yes, Garrett. He’s racing.”

Instead of discussing the principles of the Trinity, I discuss the principles of toddlers.
“Garrett, I swear if you’re playing in that toilet again I’m going to spank your bottom!”
“We’re not going outside until you put some pants on!”
“Did you color on the bathtub? Are you supposed to color on the bathtub? What are you supposed to color on? Is this paper? Then should you color on it?”
“Stephen, don’t eat the cat food!”
“Stephen, don’t eat the dirt!”
“Stephen, don’t eat your poop!”

And finally, instead of speaking with eloquence and thoughtfulness, I speak in raspberries.
“Hey Stephen, how’s it going there under the table? Finding any good crumbs to munch on?”
“Phlblblbblblblblbbl…..”
“Oh, really? Well, phlblblblblblbbl to you to, Bones.”

Yes, having children definitely changes you in many surprising ways. And as they grow and mature and become their own individuals, you don’t ever return to the person you once were. And although your teenage children might see you as a dithering, batty, out-of-touch, nosy nuisance, you’ll see that you’ve raised a thoughtful, eloquent, independent young man or woman and that you’ve grown in ways you never thought possible. Thank God for our children!

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Yesterday was “Warm Fuzzy Day” at school, a day in which both teachers and students are given necklaces on which a ball of bright yarn strings are attached. Throughout the day, people exchange these strings of yarn for hugs. The kids love it. PDA is acceptable for one day of the year and it gives them an excuse not to learn. Most teachers hate “Warm Fuzzy Day” for the same reasons. I, however, thoroughly enjoy it. Maybe I’m just an emotionally needy person, but I enjoy a day devoted to hugs. It’s only once a year, after all, and as high school teachers, we don’t really get the opportunity very often to show affection to our students. It’s a one-time opportunity to put your arms around your students and say, “You know what, you’re a good kid.” They need to hear that, and we need to say it.

I’ve embraced “Warm Fuzzy Day”, so much so that I’m actually thinking of recommending to my Congressional representatives that it should become a national holiday. Can you imagine? Think about it. Think about walking into a restaurant and having the hostess give you a welcoming hug saying, “I’m so glad you’re here.” Think about actually placing the tip in your server’s hand, then pulling him in for a hug and saying, “Thanks so much for all of your service this evening.” Think about the overly harried woman zooming through the aisles of the grocery store with a screaming child in the cart, a list in one hand, caffeine in the other. Picture yourself pulling your cart alongside her as she frantically scans the meat at the deli counter, placing your arm around her shoulder, smiling, and saying, “You have such a beautiful child.” Or, picture the older woman, her shoulders stooped over her grocery cart, shuffling slowly through the aisles, her list grasped tightly in her weathered hand. Her cart is mostly empty, save for a box of Folger’s Singles and a box of vanilla wafers. Imagine yourself going up to her as she reaches up for a loaf of whole-wheat bread, pulling the bread down for her, smiling, saying, “That sweater really brings out the blue in your eyes.” And give her slight frame a gentle squeeze.

The world would be much different, I think, if we had a national “Warm Fuzzy Day.” Instead of cursing other drivers on the road, we could smile and wave. Instead of honking in impatience, we could honk in joy, smiling and waving madly to our fellow travelers. We could hold doors open for people again, ask “How are you?” and genuinely want an honest response, compliment one another on jobs well done. On “Warm Fuzzy Day” hurt feelings would be put aside, anger would be let go of, and adversaries would come together for a warm embrace saying, “It’s really good to see you today.”

Yes, I am a fan of “Warm Fuzzy Day”. It’s only one day, after all. How hard can it be to show only kindness for one day?

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

As today is the official National Day of Prayer, I thought I would commemorate it by praying through my blog. When I pray, I just talk, so if it doesn’t always make sense, I’m sorry. God gets it.

Dear God,

Thank you so much for this day. Thank you for the sunshine that was out this morning and the warmth and lightness it brought to the day. Thank you that I was able to get out of bed this morning and thank you that I have a job I love to go to, even if I’m half-asleep when I begin!

Lord God, thank you that I got to spend some time with my boys this morning. Thank you for the joy that they bring to my life. I pray that your Spirit would be with them this day, that you would guide and direct the steps that they take. I pray that you would help Chris and I to raise them in your light, that they would come to know you and choose to follow you. I pray that they would know love and peace, compassion and mercy, and that they would show these things to others in need.

I thank you also for Chris, for bringing him into my life. I thank you for his compassion, his honesty, his thoughtfulness, and the strength that he brings to me. I thank you that he is a wonderful father and husband. You made us to be partners in this life, and I thank you that I get to share the journey with him. I pray your blessings upon him today, that he would feel your presence. I pray that you would give him wisdom and understanding as he works, and that you would give him clarity of purpose and vision. I pray that you would minister to him as he ministers to those in need.

Lord God, I thank you too for my family and friends. You have blessed me with an abundance of love and support. Thank you for my sister, for her friendship, for her strength and courage and passion. Please be with her this day. Give her peace in her job and security for the future. Help her see the direction in which you want her to go.

Thank you for my parents, for their truly unconditional love and support. Thank you for their always being there. Thank you for the gifts they’ve given me and help me to be for my boys what they have been to me.

Lord, I thank you for all of my friends. We’ve shared so many journeys and walked down so many roads. You know the desires of each of their hearts, you know where they’re hurting and where they’re questioning. I pray that you would be with each of them today, that they would feel your presence, that they would hear your voice, and that they would know that they are completely and ultimately loved.

Lord God, I know I am horribly imperfect and that I fail you every day. I pray that you would forgive me my sins. Forgive me my selfishness and self-centeredness. Forgive me my judgmental and critical nature. Forgive me for not looking beyond myself and my own needs to see the needs of others. Forgive me for wasting time, for being lazy. Forgive me my impatience, especially with Chris and the boys, and forgive me my lack of discipline, especially with food! Help me to be the person you’ve made me to be. Let your light shine through me to others I meet along the way so that they may encounter you.

Lord, we live in a crazy world, and it seems to get crazier every day. It’s hard to see your presence at times. Please be with those who are truly suffering. Be with those who have lost loved ones, who are grieving this day. Continue to be with the Meyer family as they work through the loss of their son. Be with those who are suffering abuse. Please lead them to safety. Be with those who hunger, let them be fed. And be with those who are homeless. Let them find shelter. Be with those who live in war-torn nations. Let them know peace. Please be with the children of this world. Protect them and keep them from harm. Let them know love, let them know kindness, let them have faith, and let them grow up and change this world to be your kingdom. Be with the leaders of the world. Grant them wisdom as they lead. Help them to make decisions that will further your work, Lord. Speak to them and help them listen to you.

Be with me through this day. Guide and direct all that I do: my actions, my thoughts, my words. Let them bring glory to you. Help me to be an effective teacher, a good friend, a loving wife and mother.

Thank you again for this day and all of the opportunity it brings. Help me not to waste it. I love you and praise you, Lord God!

In Jesus’ Name I Pray,
Amen

I should be on my way home to exercise right now, but I just don’t want to. It’s been raining for a week and a half and I’m tired and am enjoying the quiet of my empty classroom. I’ve been fighting the Battle of the Bulge again, but my heart just isn’t in it. After having Stephen I joined Weight Watchers and lost almost fifteen pounds. I was nursing, so I got tons of points and it was, really, pretty easy. I quit Weight Watchers after I stopped nursing and lost all of my extra points. I thought I could go it on my own and save $20 or so a month. I was exercising regularly and doing okay, until Spring hit. Spring is always a busy season. Warmth returns and people go crazy planning events. It’s also the end of the school year in which we teachers try to ram everything we haven’t gotten to over the past eight months into our student’s with one fell swoop.

I’ve also had to accept the fact recently that I am an emotional eater. It doesn’t really matter what emotion I’m feeling, I eat my way through it. Call me an equal opportunity eater! So, the pounds are slowly coming back on. To top it off, several of my friends are having great weight loss success this spring, and although I’m very happy for them, it leaves me feeling a bit demoralized and strangely rebellious. Some latent jealousy creeps up and I decide to strike back at healthy people everywhere by eating a few cupcakes. Where is the logic in this?!

My husband, with his keen pastoral sensibilities, told me that I wasn’t going to lose weight by wishing it away and that I basically had three options: 1) eat less and healthier, 2) exercise more and eat what you want in moderation, 3) accept your weight and stop complaining. I’ve sort of started a combination of all three, which I think isn’t really the point. I don’t know why God couldn’t have created our bodies to run on chocolate instead of fiber. Carbohydrates could have served us much better than vitamins, right?

Oh well… so much for wishful thinking. I guess I’ll go home and make a salad and chase the kids around the house for awhile. That’s got to count for something, right?

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Okay, it’s official. I have become that parent. You know that parent. The one whose kids you hear clear across the restaurant or, better yet, the one whose kids are running through the restaurant screaming in delight as you give chase. The one whose kids get into a wrestling match under the coffee table of someone else’s house. The one whose kids “explore” other people’s homes and stores with their hands, bringing things out of rooms or pulling items into carts. The one whose kids grab everything edible within reach, without asking before they sink their little fingers into someone else’s food or beverage. You know that parent: you’d really like her company if it wasn’t for her kids.

Before having children, let me rephrase that, before I had my children, I always used to look down my nose at that parent. I thought to myself, why can’t this parent control his/her kids? Why are these people just letting their kids run wild? And my favorite, “When I have children, they’re not going to act like that.” Ha! I have since learned that those thoughts signal the kiss of death.

I realize now that I have my own wild things what it feels like to be on the other side of that parent. And I have to admit, I think my preconceived notions were all wrong. It’s not a parental control issue, it’s a boundary issue. That parent realizes you have to choose your battles carefully when dealing with an active almost three year old boy and his 11 month old little brother. Compromise is a key strategic move. Yes, you may throw the little plastic balls in the house as long as you’re not aiming at anyone, any animal, or toward a window. Basically, throw it to someone to play catch with or toss it up in the air. Or, there’s this: the cabinets under the china hutch are off limits, but you may, however, play with the items in the kitchen cabinets that are not locked. This involves Tupperware being scattered throughout the house, but it is a compromise, after all. All water is off limits, especially that which resides in the animal’s bowl and the toilet. An exception is the master bath tub faucet which may be turned on and played with while Mommy and Daddy are taking a shower or using the facilities. You get the gist.

The real struggles for that parent come in taking the children out of the home and into the public. “The Public” is to that parent what “The Colosseum” was to the early Christians: terrifying, painful, humiliating. Those children sense the fear and anxiety emanating from that parent and use it to their full advantage. Fun family outings turn into the Battle of Bull Run and those children go home feeling contrite and disagreeable while that parent, in her humiliation, profusely apologizes to all innocent bystanders and cleans up the collateral damage, all the while silently committing to hire a babysitter for the next time in the frailest of hope that there will be a next time.

However, when that parent cuddles up next to those children as she puts them to bed, she realizes just how lucky she is to have them. And they, in wrapping their little arms around her shoulders and nuzzling into her neck, realize just how grateful they are to have her.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

It should come as no shock to most of those who know me that I am not a disciplinarian. My husband is, in fact, emphatically nodding his head as he reads this. As a high school teacher, I do my best to demonstrate to my students the behavior I would like them to display. I try and be friendly with them, to not blow things out of proportion, to avoid power games and demonstrate respectful speech and attitude. However, as Spring has fully arrived in our little corner of the globe, Prom weekend has finally come, and the end of the school year is almost in sight, I have lost my patience with my students who, quite frankly, have plumb lost their minds. Snippy attitudes have emerged out of nowhere, effort is plummeting and concentration is non-existent. We have a full five weeks until Finals begin and I still have a two units, one of which is a novel, to get through. Saying that this is the time to buckle down is an understatement. There is no room in my schedule for attitude and disruptive behavior, which could explain my outbursts in class the past few days.

It all began yesterday with my third-hour juniors. My third hour kids can best be likened to a classroom full of slugs. None of them is very ambitious. School is something they show up to every day (every day) but not something they actively engage in. At the moment, we’re in the middle of a major project, a multi-genre research paper, which will be the bulk of their fourth quarter grade. We’ve been working on this project for a month now and are almost to the finish line. I decided that it was time to tackle the dreaded “Works Cited Page”. I don’t know how many of you have written an essay lately, but the rules and guidelines around citation have become a major pain in the butt. It’s a tedious process to go through and I was trying to highlight some key information for my students. Half of my third hour class decided this would provide an opportunity for them to catch up on some much-needed rest. Needless to say, this didn’t sit so well with me. So when my fourth hour students came in and started up with their “Why do we have to do this–it’s so beneath me” attitude, I just couldn’t stop myself from saying to them, “How about you all just shut up and take the notes?” Normally, I would never use this phrase in my class, but desperate times call for desperate measures. They perked up after that and paid attention through both yesterday’s and today’s notes.

But my volcanic explosion came today during my 7th hour class. I have 14 students in my 7th hour, 10 of which are boys. For those of you experienced with teenage boys, I don’t need to say anymore. We were a day behind in lessons because of an assembly yesterday, so I wanted to quickly cover the information on works cited pages and move into a discussion of word usage and verb tense. Riveting, I know, but important information for them. First came the question of whether or not I was going to check their notes, because if not, they weren’t going to take them. Then, I had to stop what I was doing to tell two boys to, essentially, shut up and pay attention. Finally, one of my students told me that Microsoft Word would automatically form a works cited page for them in the MLA format and that she wasn’t taking notes over this. Several others agreed. My blood pressure hit the roof and busted into the sky. I stopped teaching, sat down at my desk, and told them I didn’t care what they did for the rest of the hour. If they were so smart, they didn’t need me and could figure out how to do a works cited page on their own. A handful of students approached me individually and asked me to show them how to make one, which I did, but the rest just started chatting as if nothing had ever happened. Of course, this infuriated me even more and when I mentioned it one of my girls asked, “What do you want us to do? You told us to sit here the rest of the hour and wouldn’t give us the information…” I had to stop myself from screaming, “I want you to freaking care!!”

I love teaching, and I love teaching in the district in which I work. Overall, our kids are wonderful and I have few problems. I just can’t handle the absolute apathy at times. I know, as an educator, it’s my responsibility to make learning relevant to them. But, they have a responsibility to actively engage in the process as well. And I cannot abide disrespectful attitudes, especially when I feel that I go out of my way to treat my students with respect. At least Monday is a new day. Prom will be over, it will have rained all weekend, and we’ll start the week with a reading day. We’ll forget our bad behaviors of the past few days and move forward. Heck, I might even show my seventh hour how to write a proper works cited page. If nothing else, I can chock it all up to a bad case of Spring Fever!

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Our baby got his first hair-cut yesterday. It was a bittersweet moment. It all happened in a moment of spontaneity on my part. I had given T-Bone a bath and was towel-drying his hair. Bone came out with a full head of hair, and it has only grown since. Unlike some babies, he doesn’t have a head of thick curls, just long strands that hang down and around his face. So I decided, on a whim, that it was time for a trim.

I grabbed Chris’ goatee trimmers, dug out a comb from a random bathroom drawer, and secured Bone in his high chair. The moment had come. Chris was out praying at a city council meeting and would be home shortly. Since I wanted to tackle the hair while it was still wet, I went ahead and made the first cut. The silky strands fell smoothly through my fingers into my open palm. There was no going back now. It took several minutes for me to work my way around T-Bone’s head. I had to sacrifice my comb in order to keep him happy. Needless to say, his daddy was a bit shocked when he walked in the door and saw his newly shorn boy. Although he was a bit disappointed, he wasn’t angry and conceded that although he wasn’t ready to get rid of “the mop head”, the new ‘do was fairly cute. Chris then got the hair clippers and rounded out my choppy (literally) work.

After it was all said and done, we were left with a chubby cheeked baby boy whose expressive face we could see much more of. Although I’m a little sad in the end (the mop hair was pretty cute) I feel good about the change, and Bone wears the new ‘do very well. I’m also proud of Chris and I that we were able to manage the cut on our own. The whole process sort of illuminated the areas in which Chris and I excel. I jumped right in and started chopping, and Chris came along and worked through the details.

This is the first of thousands of haircuts T-Bone will have throughout his life. However, no matter how much hair we remove from his head, he will always be our “sweet baby boy”.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara