I think if my students were asked to rate my mental stability they'd rank me a yellow or red on the crazy-o-meter. I can imagine what they must think when they hear me telling a kid that when he says "I don't care," that I'm going to "care times 10" (like that guy in the Bible, "Jesus, do I forgive them 7 times? Response: 7 x 7!). You shrug your shoulders, I unshrug mine 10 times. So I'm walking next my class in the hallway trying to "unshrug" my shoulders while they tried not to laugh.
Or the other day when some of students and others saw, during dismissal, a grandmother "go off" because she was ignorant of our dismissal procedures. At one point she told me that she was 51 and wasn't going to argue with me, peppered with a few choice words the building crowd of kids surely heard. Afterwards I claimed that my ten plus years in school allowed me to fire back when parents (and grandma's) get unruly. I feel like Howard Beale from "Network" ranting on the airwaves: I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!"
So what am I complaining about?
Perhaps it's the urgency of teaching as we know it. Or as I have become to know it. It's 2 hours of Reading, almost 2 hours of math and it's mostly intervention because the kids come so behind. I had a first grade teacher tell us in exasperation that she gets all her kindergartners on level and where there are supposed to be. So what happens by the time they reach 5th and they are barely reading above 2nd grade level? All I keep referring to is that the #1 thing all the kids and parents need is an infusion of the Holy Spirit.
I know what that must sound like to a skeptic reader. News headline: Teacher confirms Holy Spirit raises tests scores! But that's what's different about the teaching of today. Data, short cycle assessments and individualized instructional plans. I try to get in God as much as I possibly can by just living life in a such a way that's attractive and energetic. I get fired up over "I don't cares" and ask my fifth grade girls to give me ideas to make their recess more of a safe place instead of the current pack-of-wolves mentality where they feasts on each other's insecurities (They want to play volleyball and board games). But how much of a positive change can I really make when I can't mention the one difference that lasts a lifetime?
I met a former teacher a few days back and reminisce about the old days. You can chuckle with any veteran teacher about mission statements, resurrected reading programs, defunct math initiatives and new administrator regimes. Our new superintendent fits this new breed of thinking. He sends weekly emails with craft ideas, random thoughts and pump-me-ups. My old friends remember when the last superintendent came in with fanfare only to retire years later before the idea of change flamed out along with 6-figure a year cronies and failed proposals. The "good ole days" were somehow these idyllic images of white kids in rows sipping instruction through twisty straws of knowledge.
All I remember from my early days of education were ruler knuckle slaps, bus ride shenanigans and holding my food tray above my head during 2nd grade lunch detention. If those were the good ole days, I somehow missed the memo.
But that's what we do in most facets of life. We hark back to some bygone era with fond remembrance and it gives us that distant, far-off look. I love my memories. My Uncle Richard and his hairy legs, my cousin's birthday parties where we blasted pinatas and ate a never-ending supply of beans and rice. My dad working for Ozarka water, that blue uniform of his that made him look like a water mail man. My mom's dabble with smoking. Running the neighborhood with Jon Patterson and trick or treating until the homeowners grew too tired to stay up and decided to leave their candy bowls on the front porch with a note. But in times of change and and upheaval, we cling to the old with such ferocity that we fail to see the advantages coming our way.
Our church is going through some major changes. New initiatives, a strengthened vision and the dust and new paint smell of reform. I haven't been in church long enough in my adult life to know any different. How can I when my son looks for his friend on the "new members" bulletin board in hopes of seeing them for the first time. But other families have chosen to leave. Good men, strong families. One of the reasons I've been just as urgent with the men's study is I want not to lose one more good man to the lure of another church. Where's the adversity and trial by fire spirit? We want to be fed by the Holy Spirit but we don't always like to feel the flames of conviction.
It reminds me of serving on team for Emmaus walks. During the weekly meetings, the scripted details and logistics are spoon fed to us so that the experience for the new pilgrims will be enriching and inspiring. Inevitably it comes down to standing aside while the Holy Spirit leads. Then there's the meatloaf. On each Emmaus walk, because it's a live-in retreat, you're fed like no other church function in the history of food. The meals are quite legendary, and when any of them are changed, people react. The meatloaf dinner was a Saturday night staple of each walk, but really only for those team members who were blessed to serve on team. As far as the pilgrims knew, it was a meatloaf dinner. To the live-in team, the experienced Christians who were the leaders and conduits of Jesus, the meatloaf was akin to the fond cul-de-sac bike rides of their youth. Several years ago, the meatloaf went away for some new meal, I think a pork loin. Someone hijacked the meatloaf. And Christians, men and women alike, took issue. Not with doctrine, not with the delivery of the tent poles of faith, but the meaty goodness of a meatloaf that was no longer there. There became so many rumblings, the leaders finally had to literally remind the live-in team that their longing for the days of the meatloaf were coming off as more of a complaint.
In class tonight, one of the men were studying the sermon notes from our previous pastor almost 19 years ago. It was his last sermon from the pulpit, and from what I understand, it laid a foundation of changes to come and an inspiration to adhere to. I wonder if his words were prophetic or lip service. How many people who listened live 19 years ago are still members now? How many of them have been awaiting the new changes like songbirds, or have they kicked themselves because the money they tithed is now considered a loan rather than payment.
There's been some serious prayer for direction and discernment towards the men's class and where God is taking me and the men of our church next. The more I blog and talk about trusting God, God inches me further away from my comfort zone. The meatloaf was never mine to begin with. Lucky for me, I like to share.
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