If you're reading this blog, dear reader, it's because I didn't delete the paragraphs I had been trying before this one. All my blogs are self-therapeutic, my feeble attempt to answer the God questions I have in my life. Some of them get answered, and some lead to more demanding questions. Nevertheless, they also offer a trend of sorts, an EKG of my life since I became a Christian. There are moments of mountainous highs, and there are moments in the valley. This February has been more of a valley.
Tonight I was again left with my questions and a moment to reflect. Even though the youth event was going on in front of me, there I was asking myself why I felt detached from the situation. Where was my heart? As the music played, the answer came as swiftly as my tears. The heart is there. The Holy Spirit is there. It's you who doesn't think it's there.
I continue to have these spiritual experiments with God, where I see just how far I can go "on my own." Most of the variables I use change. Sometimes its food. Let's see how many pounds I can gain! Sometimes its with my medicine. Let's see how my mood swings can go from zero to 100 in a matter of minutes! Who needs anti-depressants! Other variables are more devastating.
On February 3rd of this year, I opened my Bible to read 2 verses from my devotions. One was from 2 Timothy 2:1-6 about enduring hardship. The other was Matthew 5:13-16 about being the salt and light. I didn't open my Bible again for ten days.
Among the highlights of those ten days: My son ends up spending almost 100 dollars on the X-Box buying game packs (the one thing I liked about our games growing up, there weren't all these extras to buy. Nothing to suck a kid into wanting more and more. Not nowadays). He gets it taken away. My paycheck ends up short that pay period. When I went on my mission trip, I did not have enough personal days to cover my absences. So I was docked 2 days of pay. We're stressed financially, moving money around to cover our needs and arguing about what we don't need. My son ends up getting in trouble at school too. An in-school suspension. The pressures of my own job (well-documented on my last blog) increase and my wife's as well.
Those ten days were by far the longest I've had in quite some time. My exodus from my devotions disrupted every facet of my life. There are some things I'm not telling you, dear reader, the arguments, my viewing and computer habits when I as alone, closing the door on the Holy Spirit when it tried to intervene.
When I ended the latest experiment on Feb 13th, I was not the same. True to form, God was the same. That day's devotion? Psalm 119:17-24.
Open my eyes that I may see.
I am a stranger on earth.
My soul is consumed
Remove me from your scorn.
Those were the lines I wrote in my journal. Amid that passage was God reaching down and pulling me from the muck. Again, he held my hand. Even when I thought I didn't need him, He was there to rescue me. However, I still wasn't ready to listen. I was reluctant to pray. I knew I needed to pray. I knew that there needed to be submission on my part. Still, I was reluctant. Petulant. Stubborn. I wanted to revise the experiment. Check the boxes. Go through the motions.
Starting my devotions did not unleash the heavenly armies down on the Cordova home to heal every one of us. Financially we were still recovering. We hosted a fundraiser for our oldest daughter Lisa, who hopes to make it to Tanzania this summer. School was still crazy. My son, who was still grounded from getting in trouble that previous week, got in trouble again. 2 more days with in school suspension. That day's devotion? James 3:1-12.
The tongue is small but makes great boasts.
No man can tame the tongue.
God, again in all his glory, is directly intervening in my life. My son is in love with curse words, much like myself back at that age. The downside of today's technology is that there is so much at the fingertips for our kids to become exposed to. As a parent, I dhad relaxed my standards. The X-Box was first. Parenting by game console. At night he had access to YouTube videos on his iPod. I wont even repeat the words he was writing on paper but I will say that they have become a teaching tool in our home.
Slowly, the effects of the experiment were beginning to waver. On February 19, God spoke again, this time from 2 Corinthians 4:15-18.
All this is for your benefit
Therefore do not lose heart
February 20th, Hebrews 12:1-5.
Let us run with perseverance.
Fix your eyes on Jesus
The Lord disciplines those he loves and punishes everyone he accepts as a son.
I passed the Bible over to my wife that day. We're both sitting here with tears in our eyes. This life is difficult. This life is tough. But amid the battle that I choose to fight alone, there come lessons for survival. We need each other, that's for sure.
And the kids? Now that my son has been off electronics, he's been creative, playful with his sister. There's a mess in her room from all the blankets being used to build a fort. There are Nerf darts all through the upstairs (both of them have been battling ISIS).
My heart? It's doing just fine. I drove around a group of 8th grade girls to their destinations today despite some of the messiest road conditions this month. My wife asked me if I was stressed. No, I told her. I have a job to do, to get them there safely. I will drive as slow as I need and keep my eyes on the road. This weekend was their weekend. A weekend where God is asking them to breathe in his grace and breathe out his praise. It's a good lesson for me too. One breath at a time. One verse at a time. No more experiments.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Squishy Love Faces
I hate February.
Even my apps remind me of how much I hate February. Timehop is one of those apps that shows you what you posted on various social media accounts from last year, 2 years ago and 4 years ago. Over the course of this month I've realized that hating February is nothing new (and neither are typos, apparently). Looking back on my trends I have really no one to blame but myself.
February is especially tough as a teacher. It's conference month. It's the month that our students get maybe 1 day outside for recess to run around and be kids because the wind chill is unbearable. It's the time when bad habits are magnified. It's the calm before the storm of mandated state tests, none more important o more scrutinized than this year's PARCC tests. For the next 4 weeks, our computer lab is under lockdown mode. Every week I get a new packet from the office detailing the many nuances that these new common core test will feature. We're basically going in blind. Let me remind you, dear reader, that test scores are over half of my formal evaluation. I can't even begin to help the students do well on the test when we haven't even had a practice. The curriculum and the types of questions are being changed daily. To let you know how unstable the whole process is, I just received notice that one of the subjects I taught for about a month in science will not even be evaluated on this year's PARCC test. I'm teaching curriculum that wont even be tested. What a total waste.
As I file another packet that goes unread, life goes on in a classroom of 28. I still have attendance issues. Both my partner and I, including our building principal have met our Goliath and it's name is attendance. While I cannot give you specific numbers, imagine though the course of a day that four or more of your students are leaving early. At least three are tardy each morning. 2-3 more are absent. This is not a one day occurrence. This happens each day in my school for both fifth grade classes. The excuses aren't much different from what they were 12 years ago when I began teaching at Broadleigh. Kids are needed at home for babysitting. Others are chronically sick and they have a parent that feeds into their fear. Kids miss because no one wakes them up on time to catch the bus. Others don't have anyone tucking them so they stay up all night. I've had ragged-eyed looking kids each year that look as if they are weeks short of a good nap. I don't know all the other excuses. I'm sure some range between car troubles, doctor appointments and just plain apathy.
Conferences are typically a good time to hash out some of the stresses that come with attendance, because a lack of attendance inevitably lead to poor grades. However, conferences are a one stop shop and generally they are best when the focus is academics. This month, I've relied heavily on my phone calls. In the past, I have always been reluctant to call a parent when there is trouble in the room. Part of this is my own ego. My call to a parent is a sign that I've run out of resources, patience or time. As a male educator, I'd like to think that I present a source of strength and stability as a teacher. I also remember the lessons I learned, and the utter embarrassment, from the calls that went home to my mom. When you're singing the remixed foul-language version of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" over the phone from the principal's office, you become emotionally scarred for life. I feel for these kids. No way I want them grounded, or want them getting disciplined in the way of the belt despite the pleadings and warnings I've given them. I want to call and give their moms great news. Even when I do a reverse call, when it's actually good, most of the parents act as if I'm calling from Candid Camera studios.
Perhaps with the evaluations that cloud over me, the stress of making phone calls and having these very personal conversations with students who are in the midst of their own personal rebellion, makes February even more volcanic. There are diamonds among the ruins of a busted lesson plan. Perhaps this is the time of the year when my parents also feel like they have lost some sense of sanity with their kids. I know this has been a troubling month for my own son (perhaps a different blog for that one) as well. The phone calls are coming in from his school, and I'm on the other end feeling untethered, lost. I know that I'm not the only parent to feel this way. I know my parents are frustrated with the lack of respect from their child, or the dips in their grades.
And as I'm getting fired up amid the exhaustion I feel, there are moments of redemption. Every upheaval in the room is grounds for a teachable moment. Even when I'm chewing some kid out for their behavior, I do simply because the love I have for them far outweighs the frustration. Before the start of the lesson the other day, I began to see them in the way God always intended. They weren't just a number, a factor in my evaluation.
In the novel we have just finished there's a character who has challenged my students to think beyond what they know about slavery. Sampson is a slave who has worked on the Henfeld Plantation most of his adult life. His has raised a son there named Charles. Sampson, upon first reading, seems like a slave who has given up on life. He says things like, "Slavery is the best thing that has ever happened" and he doesn't understand why the newly purchased slave, Joe, isn't more appreciative of his newfound predicament. In Sampson's mind, he's not beaten, he has his needs met and he has a job. Without white folks, he claims, where would slaves be?
Once slavery was abolished, Sampson never left the plantation. He stayed by Mistress Henfeld's side until his death. He never regretted not searching for the freedom that his own son found in Canada when he escaped. He found it foolish that slaves wanted their freedom. You see, Sampson had lost all hope many years ago, and Mistress Henfeld, the slave owner who wished the escaped slaves would all drown, became his crutch. As a teacher, I explained, as your teacher this year, I have a responsibility to push you outside of your comfort zone. If that means I have to raise my voice, call your mother and have you work harder than you ever have, it's because I don't want you to end up like Sampson. I don't want you to tethered to the Mistress Henfeld of your life, the excuses and excuses that take strangle a life worth living.
A few blogs ago I was having trouble with the phrase, "taking it personal." I basically told my students the same thing. I want you to take it personal, I told them. I cannot and will not sit by and watch you fail simply because you're too afraid to try. If trying makes you mad, if trying gets you in trouble and if trying makes you not like me, then I'm doing my job. So I'm making you owe recess when you don't do your homework. I'm making you do an assignment over when it isn't up to par. I will not sit by while you throw away that potential.
All the above wasn't word for word from last week's talk with my students. But the one thing I know for certain was the reaction I got from them when I told them, I care because I love you." I saw their faces turn squishy awkward. Who is this guy, they were thinking. If telling them that they're loved means they respond with squishy faces, it's all worth it. You surely can't put that on any evaluation.
Even my apps remind me of how much I hate February. Timehop is one of those apps that shows you what you posted on various social media accounts from last year, 2 years ago and 4 years ago. Over the course of this month I've realized that hating February is nothing new (and neither are typos, apparently). Looking back on my trends I have really no one to blame but myself.
February is especially tough as a teacher. It's conference month. It's the month that our students get maybe 1 day outside for recess to run around and be kids because the wind chill is unbearable. It's the time when bad habits are magnified. It's the calm before the storm of mandated state tests, none more important o more scrutinized than this year's PARCC tests. For the next 4 weeks, our computer lab is under lockdown mode. Every week I get a new packet from the office detailing the many nuances that these new common core test will feature. We're basically going in blind. Let me remind you, dear reader, that test scores are over half of my formal evaluation. I can't even begin to help the students do well on the test when we haven't even had a practice. The curriculum and the types of questions are being changed daily. To let you know how unstable the whole process is, I just received notice that one of the subjects I taught for about a month in science will not even be evaluated on this year's PARCC test. I'm teaching curriculum that wont even be tested. What a total waste.
As I file another packet that goes unread, life goes on in a classroom of 28. I still have attendance issues. Both my partner and I, including our building principal have met our Goliath and it's name is attendance. While I cannot give you specific numbers, imagine though the course of a day that four or more of your students are leaving early. At least three are tardy each morning. 2-3 more are absent. This is not a one day occurrence. This happens each day in my school for both fifth grade classes. The excuses aren't much different from what they were 12 years ago when I began teaching at Broadleigh. Kids are needed at home for babysitting. Others are chronically sick and they have a parent that feeds into their fear. Kids miss because no one wakes them up on time to catch the bus. Others don't have anyone tucking them so they stay up all night. I've had ragged-eyed looking kids each year that look as if they are weeks short of a good nap. I don't know all the other excuses. I'm sure some range between car troubles, doctor appointments and just plain apathy.
Conferences are typically a good time to hash out some of the stresses that come with attendance, because a lack of attendance inevitably lead to poor grades. However, conferences are a one stop shop and generally they are best when the focus is academics. This month, I've relied heavily on my phone calls. In the past, I have always been reluctant to call a parent when there is trouble in the room. Part of this is my own ego. My call to a parent is a sign that I've run out of resources, patience or time. As a male educator, I'd like to think that I present a source of strength and stability as a teacher. I also remember the lessons I learned, and the utter embarrassment, from the calls that went home to my mom. When you're singing the remixed foul-language version of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" over the phone from the principal's office, you become emotionally scarred for life. I feel for these kids. No way I want them grounded, or want them getting disciplined in the way of the belt despite the pleadings and warnings I've given them. I want to call and give their moms great news. Even when I do a reverse call, when it's actually good, most of the parents act as if I'm calling from Candid Camera studios.
Perhaps with the evaluations that cloud over me, the stress of making phone calls and having these very personal conversations with students who are in the midst of their own personal rebellion, makes February even more volcanic. There are diamonds among the ruins of a busted lesson plan. Perhaps this is the time of the year when my parents also feel like they have lost some sense of sanity with their kids. I know this has been a troubling month for my own son (perhaps a different blog for that one) as well. The phone calls are coming in from his school, and I'm on the other end feeling untethered, lost. I know that I'm not the only parent to feel this way. I know my parents are frustrated with the lack of respect from their child, or the dips in their grades.
And as I'm getting fired up amid the exhaustion I feel, there are moments of redemption. Every upheaval in the room is grounds for a teachable moment. Even when I'm chewing some kid out for their behavior, I do simply because the love I have for them far outweighs the frustration. Before the start of the lesson the other day, I began to see them in the way God always intended. They weren't just a number, a factor in my evaluation.
In the novel we have just finished there's a character who has challenged my students to think beyond what they know about slavery. Sampson is a slave who has worked on the Henfeld Plantation most of his adult life. His has raised a son there named Charles. Sampson, upon first reading, seems like a slave who has given up on life. He says things like, "Slavery is the best thing that has ever happened" and he doesn't understand why the newly purchased slave, Joe, isn't more appreciative of his newfound predicament. In Sampson's mind, he's not beaten, he has his needs met and he has a job. Without white folks, he claims, where would slaves be?
Once slavery was abolished, Sampson never left the plantation. He stayed by Mistress Henfeld's side until his death. He never regretted not searching for the freedom that his own son found in Canada when he escaped. He found it foolish that slaves wanted their freedom. You see, Sampson had lost all hope many years ago, and Mistress Henfeld, the slave owner who wished the escaped slaves would all drown, became his crutch. As a teacher, I explained, as your teacher this year, I have a responsibility to push you outside of your comfort zone. If that means I have to raise my voice, call your mother and have you work harder than you ever have, it's because I don't want you to end up like Sampson. I don't want you to tethered to the Mistress Henfeld of your life, the excuses and excuses that take strangle a life worth living.
A few blogs ago I was having trouble with the phrase, "taking it personal." I basically told my students the same thing. I want you to take it personal, I told them. I cannot and will not sit by and watch you fail simply because you're too afraid to try. If trying makes you mad, if trying gets you in trouble and if trying makes you not like me, then I'm doing my job. So I'm making you owe recess when you don't do your homework. I'm making you do an assignment over when it isn't up to par. I will not sit by while you throw away that potential.
All the above wasn't word for word from last week's talk with my students. But the one thing I know for certain was the reaction I got from them when I told them, I care because I love you." I saw their faces turn squishy awkward. Who is this guy, they were thinking. If telling them that they're loved means they respond with squishy faces, it's all worth it. You surely can't put that on any evaluation.
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