I told my students on Monday that they'd need to tiptoe around me all week because I'm a bit sensitive about my birthday (which was on Friday). As I reflect on those words, I can't really tell you why I told them that . . . I am not someone who dreads getting older or who thinks that a number (even if that number is "over the hill" plus three) defines me. And that's a good thing, because some of the OTHER numbers in my life are downright depressing.
Take that number staring out at me from the digital monster on the bathroom floor. Sigh. Too many biscuits, Coca-Colas, bowls of macaroni and cheese, and Twix bars and not near enough sustained aerobic exercise. Yep, I completely own that number and all it means even though I cannot dwell on it for long for fear of losing all hope of ever fitting into my "skinny" (VERY relative term) jeans or tucking in a shirt ever again.
Then, there are the number of hours I work: about 55 during an average week. At least 45 hours AT school and usually around 10 at home. I love teaching and am thankful to have a great job at a good school. I feel at peace when I'm standing in front of my class and even when I'm planning lessons at 10 PM for the next day. But working with teenagers takes so much out of you sometimes and the salary definitely doesn't feel like it's compensatory for my time and effort. So, I try not to dwell on that part of my job and instead think about the smiles, the "light bulb" moments in the classrooms, and the students (and parents) who come back and say "thanks."
Next, there is the number that represents the unsecured debt that we've procured over the years. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Even though we've steadily been making our way out of the pit for about 5 years now (thanks, Dave), the progress is slow (because we didn't do things like sell everything and start sewing our own clothes) and that number could still bring about some fairly significant moments of defeat, blame, and covetousness.
Another number that is suspiciously depressing is the number of Facebook friends I have versus the number of people I have had a serious conversation with in the last year. I do not want to pontificate on the evils of social media (I'll leave that for my acquaintances who eschew any involvement) because I love the connection with friends both far away and down the street. However, there is a philosophical "hmmm" that pops into my mind when I compare the two realities. I love a deep, controversial conversation with a friend who I admire, and unfortunately (mostly because of that third number I mentioned) I just do not have (or make) time for meaningful connections.
So . . . happy birthday to me! Why get upset about a number that I CAN'T change when there is so much more reason to be down in the dumps about the numbers that I CAN change, but don't make much effort to. The whole issue gets discombobulated by thoughts of my own mortality, my desire to enjoy good food, my determination that in order to be a good teacher, 50-60 hours of work ARE required, my habits of buying convenience and restaurant food coupled with my (sometimes prideful) desire for my kids to be "involved" in activities they love, and my introverted tendency to spend any "found" free moments with a book rather than with a friend.
The good news? I am more than a number. The commercials were right.
As important as health, financial stability, and friendship are, I still have to understand my own limitations and live in the grace of each moment as it comes. I do not know what my 44th year will bring me, but I am going to try to remember some numbers that are a bit more uplifting.
15, 694 - days God has given me on this earth. He creates and He sustains!
33 - years since trusting in the saving work of Jesus on the cross. He started a good work in me and will be faithful to complete it. Also the number of years He walked this earth - breathing and crying and laughing and loving perfectly.
27 - Elvis albums I own. No, they are not in mint condition.
23 - years since meeting Anthony. He's my rock, truly.
18 - years I've been a mom. My children are the best gifts ever, even though only one of them was "planned" (by us!).
14 - times I've read Little Women.
7 - years left until I can retire from teaching (lots of "ifs" in that one - IF we stay in Alabama and IF we move to Madison so Harley can finish school there), but still, it's fun to think about!
5 - driving trips I've made to Washington state - taking a different route every time and seeing most of this amazing country. Well, the last drive was in a a Ryder moving truck and it was the ONLY time we stopped along the way. Crazy, stupid, twenty-somethings! Fun times.
3 - amazing sisters: friends, co-commiserators, motivators, and all around wonderful women of whom I'm immensely proud!
2 - decades of marriage that have taught me so much about grace, forgiveness, and God's sovereignty.
1 - more birthday in the books!!
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Monday, September 3, 2012
Biting Blue Apples
"So, what's the deal with blue apples?"
This is one of the most commonly asked questions I get when students peruse the decor of my classroom, where I have several blue apple tributes. One of those, by the way, includes a 15-year old painted blue apple given to me as an end-of-the-year teacher gift by Bobby Higginbotham, who was in my very first 5th grade class in 1995 - it's made out of resin and filled with sand, and is now plugged on both ends with globs of hot glue because at some point when it was being used as my hall pass, some students had a bit too much fun playing with it and, if I'm not mistaken, the poke-a-pencil-in-the-blue-apple game got out of control...! But I still cherish it and prominently display it on a shelf behind my desk.
What is a blue apple? I'm so glad you asked! Basically, a blue apple is a metaphor. You knew it was coming. I'm an English teacher, so of course figurative language MUST factor into the discussion! The exact metaphorical reference, though, is hard to pin down. It's a combination of risk-taking and the lack of comfort; a weird mixture of venturing into the unknown and committing to persevere even when circumstances are mundane. Basically, when we bite blue apples in life, we move into a time/place/relationship/circumstance for which we have no guarantee of success nor do we know what the situation will feel or be like. I first heard the story of the blue apple during June 1986, when I walked into a huge gymnasium full of strangers at the opening session of the Mississippi Governor's School at MUW and heard the analogy in the director, Dr. Guy Rose's, welcome speech. I was honored to have been chosen as one of 150 Mississippi high schoolers to attend Governor's School, and even though it meant giving up cheerleading my senior year of high school, that decision was a HUGE blue apple for me and it was one that changed my life dramatically, in many ways.
When I introduce the concept to students, I ask them to imagine themselves walking among trees, looking up and all of a sudden noticing a bright, shiny blue apple in the midst of ordinary (green, red, yellow) ones. The question that they must then answer is: WILL YOU TAKE A BITE OF THAT BLUE APPLE?!?! Now, it's very interesting to me to see - without giving them a third option - which students choose to take a bite without hesitation and which say they would just walk away and pretend like they never saw it. After I allow them to verbalize some options for a third choice there are, of course, many suggestions for studying/testing the blue apple before actually taking a bite. The discussion is a nice ice-breaker for the first week of class and reveals some important insights about my students. But perhaps more importantly, the story illustrates a point that I want students to absorb and contemplate time and time again in my class: thinking about decisions and planning for the future is important, but there are sometimes moments that transcend logic and pro/con lists. Personal comfort and guaranteed success should not be our only decision-making parameters! For some students, taking an Honors or AP class is a blue apple . . . for another student, breaking off a bad relationship might be his or her blue apple moment . . . for yet another, auditioning for the school musical or trying out for (or dropping off!) an athletic team might be huge blue apples.
After 17 years, through both my classroom and DI experiences, I've witnessed some amazing blue apple-biting!! How amazing it is to see middle school and high school students break out of their "molds" and try something new, even if they have no idea what the new experience will be like. These students inspire me and boost my spirits in a way that is hard to describe. Even after they are not "my students" anymore, these young people (my oldest former students are 30-31 years old . . . so they are still young to me!) are still inspiring me via facebook (mostly, although I do get to see some in person on occasion)!!
Monday, August 20, 2012
First day of school!
Yep, story of my life . . . I'm running late! I did wake up before my alarm this morning, but I've piddled around (and am moving slow), so I'm about half an hour later than I wanted to be sitting down to write this "first day" post. So it's gonna be short, because I've got kids to wake up and wrangle.
Last week - full of professional development workshops, meetings, and workdays - I found myself succumbing to a fierce level of discouragment, negativity, and selfishness. I didn't want to be at school; I was griping and complaining about little things (really, THAT'S the best parking place I get after 17 years?!?); and although it was great to see my teacher friends, I could not even find a peace about celebrating where I was and who I was with. Over the weekend, I had an all-day board meeting for Destination Imagination which meant I missed all three of the soccer games played by my three younger children (including watching them score a total of five goals!), then a birthday party for my youngest, church, and a 6-hour stint of working in my classroom yesterday to finish getting things ready. So, no down time; no "me" time.
Whew. If I had time, I'd be getting really stressed out - ha! Seriously, I am not going to lie and say that all of a sudden, I had an overnight transformation to Pollyanna and now I am SO happy to be up before 6 AM getting ready for school and facing another school year. I am excited and a little nervous, but honestly I'm still battling some discouragement. I feel like my hard work for 17 years is not recognized or appreciated. I am already tired thinking about 60-hour work weeks. Like one of my new (although I've taught with her before, this is her first year at Bob Jones) colleagues said last week when she introduced herself and listed all the jobs she had prior to teaching, "Teaching is the most family un-friendly job I've ever had." And it's true. If you give your students what they need and keep up with the tasks the administration expects you to, there is no way you can work just a 40-hour week. Summers are wonderful, and having these last weeks off is truly the only way I could have made it 17 years!
So, I'm praying hard this morning, looking to the Word for strength, and trying to look up and around rather than inside. Sometimes it's not just "one day at a time," it's one minute, one hour at a time. I barely have my syllabus written, much less lesson plans. I'm teaching a new, challenging AP class that I'm honestly terrified about, even though I know I will love it. Basically, I'm at the end of me even here at the beginning, and I'm thankful because that is a good place to be. Now, it's off to school . . . !!
Last week - full of professional development workshops, meetings, and workdays - I found myself succumbing to a fierce level of discouragment, negativity, and selfishness. I didn't want to be at school; I was griping and complaining about little things (really, THAT'S the best parking place I get after 17 years?!?); and although it was great to see my teacher friends, I could not even find a peace about celebrating where I was and who I was with. Over the weekend, I had an all-day board meeting for Destination Imagination which meant I missed all three of the soccer games played by my three younger children (including watching them score a total of five goals!), then a birthday party for my youngest, church, and a 6-hour stint of working in my classroom yesterday to finish getting things ready. So, no down time; no "me" time.
Whew. If I had time, I'd be getting really stressed out - ha! Seriously, I am not going to lie and say that all of a sudden, I had an overnight transformation to Pollyanna and now I am SO happy to be up before 6 AM getting ready for school and facing another school year. I am excited and a little nervous, but honestly I'm still battling some discouragement. I feel like my hard work for 17 years is not recognized or appreciated. I am already tired thinking about 60-hour work weeks. Like one of my new (although I've taught with her before, this is her first year at Bob Jones) colleagues said last week when she introduced herself and listed all the jobs she had prior to teaching, "Teaching is the most family un-friendly job I've ever had." And it's true. If you give your students what they need and keep up with the tasks the administration expects you to, there is no way you can work just a 40-hour week. Summers are wonderful, and having these last weeks off is truly the only way I could have made it 17 years!
So, I'm praying hard this morning, looking to the Word for strength, and trying to look up and around rather than inside. Sometimes it's not just "one day at a time," it's one minute, one hour at a time. I barely have my syllabus written, much less lesson plans. I'm teaching a new, challenging AP class that I'm honestly terrified about, even though I know I will love it. Basically, I'm at the end of me even here at the beginning, and I'm thankful because that is a good place to be. Now, it's off to school . . . !!
Monday, August 13, 2012
Eagle's Wings
My favorite scripture passage for many years (since college) has been Isaiah 40:27-31. I like The Message's paraphrase of verse 41: "But those who wait upon
God get fresh strength. They spread their wings and soar like eagles,
they run and don't get tired, they walk and don't lag behind." The passage probably reaches out and grabs me because I'm such a "do-er"; I often struggle with fatigue (my husband tells me there is a cure for that and it starts with N-O...). I am a permanent member of the "20% of the people in an organization do 80% of the work" club. When something needs to be done, I just do it.
Now, let me be clear. I am not going to tie this post to the Nike slogan. I am NOT a runner . . . ! There were a few years in my late teens/early twenties during which I attempted to run a few miles here and there. Key words: "attempted," "here and there." However, I am definitely always on the go - both physically and mentally. Mr. Lorenzo, a wonderful custodian at my previous school and a precious friend, would see me power-walking down the school hallway and smile his sweet smile and say "Ms. Dauma, slow down now! You'll get there just as fast by going slow." Now, this of course did not make a bit of sense to me. Of course I'd get to my destination faster by walking faster! And I probably did. But I was tired. And I still am much of the time. So, what's the cure for chronic tiredness? Sleep? Walking slowly down the hallways? Good vitamins? Saying "no" to those who ask things of me? Probably a little bit of all of these should be a part of all of our lives, but how then does a "doer" manage his or her tendency to constantly be "doing"? God gives us innate personalities, energy levels, interests, and passions . . . and life stages certainly require at least some degree of busy-ness. So what's the solution? How do we soar like eagles and not lag behind?
I wish I knew the answer to this on a "make a list and check it off" kind of level. However, I do know that the times that I've felt my wings spreading have been when I've felt the most inadequate to fly. The times when the strength to grade five more essays as the clock approaches midnight seems to float down upon my shoulders. The times when the last thing I want to do is stop at Kroger at 5:30 PM traffic, but I know we need milk (or cereal, or eggs . . . hmmm, I should probably grab some paper and make a grocery list for tomorrow...) and - amazingly! - the self-checkout line is open with no waiting and the kids actually made it through the store without screaming. I cannot explain that kind of strength, that kind of soaring. I have a bit of a fear of heights, so I do not have any desire to take part in anything like skydiving or parasailing. But those who have done it say that the feeling of soaring through the air is indescribable. And in a metaphorical sense, I understand what they mean.
Today was the first day of school for the 2012-2013 school year. Thankfully, it was a teacher workday, so we got to ease back into the routine by having a day to set up and organize our classrooms. But nonetheless, this day is always hard. Being away from my family for 9.5 hours after being with them so much during the summer, eating lunch at my desk, walking down the hall to use a utilitarian school restroom . . . none of those things are fun, exciting, or comfortable. However, as I was unpacking boxes and listening to a little Elvis (of course), the first words of "Lead Me, Guide Me," reminded me of my position: "I am tired and I need Thy strength and power." Thy. Such an archaic word that holds so much meaning. Not me, my, mine. THY. His strength. The strength that hung the planets in space and holds them there. The strength that breathed life into man (and woman). The strength that endured the cruelest of undeserved deaths. A strength I cannot even begin to comprehend is dispersed to me, someone who finds it hard to relax and say "no" to anyone. Someone who has made some stupid financial decisions that have led to too much debt. Someone who loves the approval of others, loves to win, and loves to feel important and needed. Yep, that's me! And all those things plus four children = tired mom/wife/daughter/sister/teacher. The only way it even begins to work is through Jesus and the truth of God's provision in my life. His strength is enough. His grace is enough. Even when I lag behind and parents are emailing to complain that I've taken too long to grade assignments. Even when my kids eat ramen noodles three nights in a row. Even when I get too little sleep or "down time." Especially then.
I could wax eloquently (or semi-eloquently) here about the majesty of eagles. My mom can do a better job of that than I can - she loves her some eagles! However, I really feel that I am not an eagle at all. The simile hinges on that little word "like." English teacher moment: a simile is a comparison of two UNLIKE things. I really cannot become an eagle (thank goodness, because they are waaayyy up there...!). I really should not try to become an eagle. God can, however, give me strength LIKE the eagle's and for that I am - at the end of my eighteenth first-day-of-school-as-a-teacher - so grateful.
Now, let me be clear. I am not going to tie this post to the Nike slogan. I am NOT a runner . . . ! There were a few years in my late teens/early twenties during which I attempted to run a few miles here and there. Key words: "attempted," "here and there." However, I am definitely always on the go - both physically and mentally. Mr. Lorenzo, a wonderful custodian at my previous school and a precious friend, would see me power-walking down the school hallway and smile his sweet smile and say "Ms. Dauma, slow down now! You'll get there just as fast by going slow." Now, this of course did not make a bit of sense to me. Of course I'd get to my destination faster by walking faster! And I probably did. But I was tired. And I still am much of the time. So, what's the cure for chronic tiredness? Sleep? Walking slowly down the hallways? Good vitamins? Saying "no" to those who ask things of me? Probably a little bit of all of these should be a part of all of our lives, but how then does a "doer" manage his or her tendency to constantly be "doing"? God gives us innate personalities, energy levels, interests, and passions . . . and life stages certainly require at least some degree of busy-ness. So what's the solution? How do we soar like eagles and not lag behind?
I wish I knew the answer to this on a "make a list and check it off" kind of level. However, I do know that the times that I've felt my wings spreading have been when I've felt the most inadequate to fly. The times when the strength to grade five more essays as the clock approaches midnight seems to float down upon my shoulders. The times when the last thing I want to do is stop at Kroger at 5:30 PM traffic, but I know we need milk (or cereal, or eggs . . . hmmm, I should probably grab some paper and make a grocery list for tomorrow...) and - amazingly! - the self-checkout line is open with no waiting and the kids actually made it through the store without screaming. I cannot explain that kind of strength, that kind of soaring. I have a bit of a fear of heights, so I do not have any desire to take part in anything like skydiving or parasailing. But those who have done it say that the feeling of soaring through the air is indescribable. And in a metaphorical sense, I understand what they mean.
Today was the first day of school for the 2012-2013 school year. Thankfully, it was a teacher workday, so we got to ease back into the routine by having a day to set up and organize our classrooms. But nonetheless, this day is always hard. Being away from my family for 9.5 hours after being with them so much during the summer, eating lunch at my desk, walking down the hall to use a utilitarian school restroom . . . none of those things are fun, exciting, or comfortable. However, as I was unpacking boxes and listening to a little Elvis (of course), the first words of "Lead Me, Guide Me," reminded me of my position: "I am tired and I need Thy strength and power." Thy. Such an archaic word that holds so much meaning. Not me, my, mine. THY. His strength. The strength that hung the planets in space and holds them there. The strength that breathed life into man (and woman). The strength that endured the cruelest of undeserved deaths. A strength I cannot even begin to comprehend is dispersed to me, someone who finds it hard to relax and say "no" to anyone. Someone who has made some stupid financial decisions that have led to too much debt. Someone who loves the approval of others, loves to win, and loves to feel important and needed. Yep, that's me! And all those things plus four children = tired mom/wife/daughter/sister/teacher. The only way it even begins to work is through Jesus and the truth of God's provision in my life. His strength is enough. His grace is enough. Even when I lag behind and parents are emailing to complain that I've taken too long to grade assignments. Even when my kids eat ramen noodles three nights in a row. Even when I get too little sleep or "down time." Especially then.
I could wax eloquently (or semi-eloquently) here about the majesty of eagles. My mom can do a better job of that than I can - she loves her some eagles! However, I really feel that I am not an eagle at all. The simile hinges on that little word "like." English teacher moment: a simile is a comparison of two UNLIKE things. I really cannot become an eagle (thank goodness, because they are waaayyy up there...!). I really should not try to become an eagle. God can, however, give me strength LIKE the eagle's and for that I am - at the end of my eighteenth first-day-of-school-as-a-teacher - so grateful.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Endings and Beginnings
Today is the last day of summer for me, so I decided that an ending day would also be a great beginning day for a new blog that I've been considering. I have no idea if anyone but me, myself, and I will read my musings, but I feel led to do this, even if just as a creative and expressive outlet. Many who know me - especially the hundreds of students I've taught since 1995! - will know that "blue apples" are metaphors for risks . . . to "bite a blue apple" means to try something new or get out of your comfort zone. While I have had a family blog before, this is truly a blue apple moment for me as I try my hand at "real" writing for public view.
Entering my eighteenth year as a public school teacher, I always have mixed feelings at this time of year. Summer is such a sweet, laid-back time for me and my family, yet it is hard to deny the adrenaline rush and excitement I always feel as the first day of school draws close. Truly bittersweet. This year I will also be moving my oldest to college, which adds a whole other dimension to my emotions . . . she is SO excited, so mostly I am going with that feeling as well, but there have also been many misty-eyed moments since May when she graduated from high school.
God has been gracious to grant me a peace about working outside the home and a love for my job - and I am so incredibly grateful for His provision in that. Part of my reason for starting this blog, though, is that I have found in the "blogosphere" that there are an immense (and I do mean HUGE) number of blogs and web sites to support SAHMs, especially those who homeschool, but not very many out there for Christian moms who work outside the home (CMWWOTH . . . haha, not a very good acronym . . . gotta come up with something new . . .!). I believe that there has been too much division in the church because of this issue and I have to admit that makes me somewhat sad. I have many SAHM friends, including one of my own wonderful sisters, who homeschools her five children, ages 1-11. She is amazing and I love her and fully support her decision and love to hear her stories about how she does what she does every day, which I believe is miraculous! However, I also know and love many wonderful mothers who work outside the home - either out of necessity or choice. These women love Jesus, their children, and their husbands (those who are married). They really do!
I am not exactly sure where this blog will take me or anyone who cares to read it, but I hope that somewhere along the way I'm able to encourage someone and perhaps help build some bridges over what sometimes seems like a huge chasm between SAHMs and working moms. We are all moms who work! We all want to deepen and strengthen our walk with the Lord and to minister to our families! There are certainly many Christians who do not (outwardly, at least) criticize working moms and SO many of my friends have supported, encouraged, and offered logistical help to me over the years, so I do not at all mean this to sound like I'm some sort of victim! However, I have found myself nursing a few wounds - sometimes self-inflicted, sometimes inflicted by well-meaning "others" - over the last eighteen years . . . wounds I never believe God intended me to have, and I want to rip off the bandages and show the scars. They are faded and are part of the fabric of my life and I have faith that God can use each and every scar we bear for His glory and fame and this is my prayer today, the last day of summer.
Entering my eighteenth year as a public school teacher, I always have mixed feelings at this time of year. Summer is such a sweet, laid-back time for me and my family, yet it is hard to deny the adrenaline rush and excitement I always feel as the first day of school draws close. Truly bittersweet. This year I will also be moving my oldest to college, which adds a whole other dimension to my emotions . . . she is SO excited, so mostly I am going with that feeling as well, but there have also been many misty-eyed moments since May when she graduated from high school.
God has been gracious to grant me a peace about working outside the home and a love for my job - and I am so incredibly grateful for His provision in that. Part of my reason for starting this blog, though, is that I have found in the "blogosphere" that there are an immense (and I do mean HUGE) number of blogs and web sites to support SAHMs, especially those who homeschool, but not very many out there for Christian moms who work outside the home (CMWWOTH . . . haha, not a very good acronym . . . gotta come up with something new . . .!). I believe that there has been too much division in the church because of this issue and I have to admit that makes me somewhat sad. I have many SAHM friends, including one of my own wonderful sisters, who homeschools her five children, ages 1-11. She is amazing and I love her and fully support her decision and love to hear her stories about how she does what she does every day, which I believe is miraculous! However, I also know and love many wonderful mothers who work outside the home - either out of necessity or choice. These women love Jesus, their children, and their husbands (those who are married). They really do!
I am not exactly sure where this blog will take me or anyone who cares to read it, but I hope that somewhere along the way I'm able to encourage someone and perhaps help build some bridges over what sometimes seems like a huge chasm between SAHMs and working moms. We are all moms who work! We all want to deepen and strengthen our walk with the Lord and to minister to our families! There are certainly many Christians who do not (outwardly, at least) criticize working moms and SO many of my friends have supported, encouraged, and offered logistical help to me over the years, so I do not at all mean this to sound like I'm some sort of victim! However, I have found myself nursing a few wounds - sometimes self-inflicted, sometimes inflicted by well-meaning "others" - over the last eighteen years . . . wounds I never believe God intended me to have, and I want to rip off the bandages and show the scars. They are faded and are part of the fabric of my life and I have faith that God can use each and every scar we bear for His glory and fame and this is my prayer today, the last day of summer.
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