"I have made my final decision and am going to accept the offer of OSU these days..."
Joy filled my heart this morning as I read these words in an email from a former student.
Q's first year of high school coincided with my first year of teaching (at the same high school). We both learned how to navigate new waters that year.
At first, Q was a very quiet student. He seldom spoke up in class and disliked most lessons that involved class participation. Most of that was due to the cultural differences between the Chinese and American teaching style and the fact that I was probably his only teacher who encouraged class participation to such an extent. This was, after all, an Oral English class. How were the students going to learn if I did most of the talking?
Q eventually warmed up and it wasn't long before he was not only participating in class but had become an "Office Hours Regular." Soon, he was excitedly signing up for our English Club Parties and coming over to our apartment with his friends to sample Mr. M's famous hamburgers and try his first bites of Mexican food. We learned that he loved anything with cheese. Oh, did he love cheese. He consumed it with such glee that it made those bike or subway rides to the import store completely worth it.
My husband and I got to know Q quite well during our three years at that high school. Our first year was Q's first year; our last year was Q's last year (high school is only a 3-year experience in China). When we attended that class's high school graduation ceremony, we watched with glassy eyes as thoughts about how hard it would be to say "good-bye" to so many beloved students raced through our minds.
And now, my heart can't quite contain its excitement as I learn that I will, once again, get to say "hello" to Q! My husband and I will likely pick him up from the airport in August after his first painstakingly long journey from China to the U.S. At the airport, we will welcome him with smiles (and of course, a glittery sign) not just to this country, or to this state, but back into our lives.
=)
Update: After posting this blog, I checked my email and received a message from another student to share her news that she, too, was accepted to OSU! If I can't go back to Beijing anytime soon, maybe I can just convince all of my students to come here.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Springing Forward with Excitement
This time of year, groans and complaints fill the air as people lament over "springing forward" and losing an hour of sleep. In an effort to look on the bright side of things, I want to focus on the events that are now a wee bit closer. We may have lost an hour of sleep, but I'm 60 minutes closer to these life events which will, Lord-willing, happen between now and November 2nd (when we "fall back")...
- I will get to watch my husband walk at graduation after he has poured himself into pursuing excellence for the last two years and finally earns an MBA.
- I will finish all of my TESOL endorsement coursework thus, the last of my graduate studies.
- I will cherish the days of spring, summer, and fall, and marvel at the beauty in the change of seasons.
- I will submit job applications to every school in the near vicinity and hopefully receive some positive news from one of them, thus allowing me to begin my first ever full-time teaching job in the U.S.
- If the above happens, then I will get to experience a true American "first day of school," where I will see the faces of those whom I will spend the next year reaching out to and trying my best to do everything I possibly can to assist them in their language development.
- I will get to sit in the audience as my "little" brother walks across the stage at his high school graduation.
- I will spend two and a half weeks "island hopping" in Greece with my favorite travel partner (my husband).
- I will send my husband off to his first day of full-time work in the U.S. at a company he truly loves working for.
- I will celebrate with my sister and welcome a new little niece or nephew into our family.
- I will try, struggle, fail, and try again in so many areas as I seek to become a better Christ-follower, wife, daughter, sister, teacher, learner, athlete and friend. Then, hopefully, through persistence, I will make small steps toward achieving my goals, recognizing that the ultimate attainment of them will not come easily but it is important to persist in my pursuit of them each day.
- I will treasure the days God has given me and seek to use them well!
With so many things to look forward to, I can't help but be delighted that in springing forward, I am slightly closer to all of those events and experiences...and so many more!
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Missing My China Life
Every now and then, there's one thought I can't quite shake. It lingers with me all day and directs my daydreams. Perhaps I can't shake it because I don't want the thought, and the warm sentiments it brings, to leave. What is it?
I miss China.
I lived in Beijing for three of the best years of my life, working as a "foreign teacher" at a Chinese public middle/high school. I've been back in the U.S. for about a year and a half now, and while there are many comforts that come along with life on this side of the ocean, there are so many elements I miss about my life in Beijing. This morning, my heart is heavy with a longing to return, so I thought I'd write down some of the things I miss about my China life. Maybe it will be therapeutic. Or maybe it will just make me cry.
I miss my students.
I miss my students terribly. All of them (that's about 250 students each year). I still keep in touch via email with many of them, but I miss seeing and talking with them every day. I miss hearing about their lives, their worries, their dreams. I miss helping them practice and improve upon their English. I miss watching their eyes light up as they accomplished a task or gave a speech that they never thought they could. I miss the hilarious comments they often made or the antics that were inevitably present in certain classes. I miss hearing them insert our "Phrase of the Week" (an idiomatic expression) into their conversations...sometimes using it correctly, and sometimes finding "unique" ways to use it that just had to make a teacher smile.
I miss being a "real" teacher.
Spending the last year and a half as a full-time grad student/part-time substitute teacher has been rewarding in many ways but it has also left a big gaping hole in my life in other ways. Oh, how I miss being a "real" teacher...seeing the same students each week...developing relationships with them...watching the progress in their language use....having my own classroom.
I miss hearing my last name shouted out classroom windows, from basketball courts, down hallways, and along pathways.
By the end of three years at our school, either my husband or I had taught basically every child in the entire middle/high school. And it was a big school. Combine that fact with our students' tendency for extreme excitement, and it often resulted in hearing our last name (only the last name...no "Mr." or "Mrs.") shouted in glee every time we walked outside. We called the lunchtime walk to/from the cafeteria our "walk of fame," as we passed by almost every student and heard a chorus of children singing a one-word song that happened to be our name. I loved it.
I miss teaching students and colleagues how to bake cookies, decorate cupcakes, and cook American meals.
As the "foreign teacher," everything I did was intriguing to my students. They were particularly interested in American food. So, on Saturdays when I wasn't hosting a themed English Club party in my house, I often spent the afternoon teaching students (and some colleagues) how to measure ingredients (something they don't do in Chinese cooking), use an electric mixer (oh man, what fun they had with that...), follow a recipe, and then enjoy snacking on our finished products.
I miss the look on my students' faces when I would randomly respond to something they said in Chinese.
There is nothing quite like shocking students by eavesdropping on one of their conversations (which they had assumed you didn't understand) and then saying something about it...in Chinese. Gleeful cries of, "Laoshi ting de dong! (Teacher understands!)" would fill the room. So. much. fun.
I miss biweekly "Office Hours," when I never knew quite what to expect but I always left with a smile on my face.
Would we play hours of UNO or Headbanz? Would we talk about books? Would we chat for hours about life and school? Would we help students who were considering applying to universities in the U.S.? Would there be 25 students there, or just 1? We never knew what our "Office Hours" would hold...but it was always a good time.
I miss coming together with other "foreign teachers" on Sundays and swapping stories of our most recent teaching escapades.
There is something good for the soul about knowing that as you have daily crazy, hilarious, frustrating, inspiring, and sometimes unbelievable experiences, your friends are going through the same things. When you share your stories with them, they "get it." When I taught in China, there were 40-50 other teachers from my organization at other schools scattered throughout the city. On Sundays, we all got together to share a meal and have a church service. Inevitably, our meal time was spent swapping stories about our recent teaching escapades. I miss those Sundays...
I miss my daily visits to my Chinese merchant friends.
The owner of the local fruit stand...who always gave me secret deals on my purchase and wanted me to try samples of random pieces of fruit;
The lady who served lunch at my favorite line in the school cafeteria...and always seemed to dish out slightly bigger portions for me than she did for anyone else;
The shop owner who sold us our lunchtime Coke Zero...and thought we were insane for drinking so much soda;
The worker at the checkout line at our grocery store... who always seemed intrigued by what "the American" was buying.
I miss the relationships I had with all of these people. When I first arrived in Beijing and couldn't say more than "Ni hao" in Chinese, our "conversations" were limited to smiles and gestures. As time progressed, though, our conversation expanded. In the U.S., I bring my own lunch to school and only do grocery shopping once a week. I miss those daily interactions.
I miss how much time I had with my husband.
For three years, I had the exact same schedule as my husband. We taught the same classes at the same school and we did everything together. In fact, in our entire first year of marriage (which also happened to be my first year teaching in China), we were never apart for more than 6 hours at a time. Even that only happened once or twice. Most of the time, it was a rare day when I went more than 2-3 hours without seeing my husband. Everyone always asks if we got sick of each other or got on each other's nerves, but we didn't. We loved the borderline excessive amount of time we got to spend together. Perhaps it had something to do with dating long-distance for a year (I mean really long...as in, the distance between China and the U.S. long). Either way, it was wonderful. We knew everything that happened in each others lives. Now that we are back in the U.S. living more "normal" lives, we just simply don't see each other as often. We still carve out time to spend with each other, and the time we do have is more precious because it is limited commodity, but sometimes I miss the days of 24/7 husband/wife bonding.
I miss those random moments that tested my flexibility.
It's two days before the first day of a new school year and my husband asks the school officials if there is an update about which classes we'll be teaching. No? Ok...how about tomorrow? Maybe? Ok...
The bell just rang and there isn't a single student in my classroom. Ten minutes later, a Chinese teacher walks into my room and informs me that, due to a schedule change, I will not be teaching this period. They forgot to inform the "foreign teachers" of the change.
My entire lesson involves the use of technology. I unlock the computer desk and press the "power" button...nothing happens.
My phone rings at 7 in the morning on a day when I normally don't teach until 10. Oh, I'm teaching a class in twenty minutes? Wonderful...
Before I taught in China, I was not a flexible person. I always had a plan and always followed it. China beat that right out of me. I still like to have a plan, but my ability to be flexible and "go with the flow" has improved dramatically.
There are so many more things I miss about my life in China. I could go on for hours, but I've already written far more than I ever intended to, so I'll leave it at that. Now, I need to go grab a tissue to wipe my eyes.
I miss China.
I lived in Beijing for three of the best years of my life, working as a "foreign teacher" at a Chinese public middle/high school. I've been back in the U.S. for about a year and a half now, and while there are many comforts that come along with life on this side of the ocean, there are so many elements I miss about my life in Beijing. This morning, my heart is heavy with a longing to return, so I thought I'd write down some of the things I miss about my China life. Maybe it will be therapeutic. Or maybe it will just make me cry.
I miss my students.
I miss my students terribly. All of them (that's about 250 students each year). I still keep in touch via email with many of them, but I miss seeing and talking with them every day. I miss hearing about their lives, their worries, their dreams. I miss helping them practice and improve upon their English. I miss watching their eyes light up as they accomplished a task or gave a speech that they never thought they could. I miss the hilarious comments they often made or the antics that were inevitably present in certain classes. I miss hearing them insert our "Phrase of the Week" (an idiomatic expression) into their conversations...sometimes using it correctly, and sometimes finding "unique" ways to use it that just had to make a teacher smile.
I miss being a "real" teacher.
Spending the last year and a half as a full-time grad student/part-time substitute teacher has been rewarding in many ways but it has also left a big gaping hole in my life in other ways. Oh, how I miss being a "real" teacher...seeing the same students each week...developing relationships with them...watching the progress in their language use....having my own classroom.
I miss hearing my last name shouted out classroom windows, from basketball courts, down hallways, and along pathways.
By the end of three years at our school, either my husband or I had taught basically every child in the entire middle/high school. And it was a big school. Combine that fact with our students' tendency for extreme excitement, and it often resulted in hearing our last name (only the last name...no "Mr." or "Mrs.") shouted in glee every time we walked outside. We called the lunchtime walk to/from the cafeteria our "walk of fame," as we passed by almost every student and heard a chorus of children singing a one-word song that happened to be our name. I loved it.
I miss teaching students and colleagues how to bake cookies, decorate cupcakes, and cook American meals.
As the "foreign teacher," everything I did was intriguing to my students. They were particularly interested in American food. So, on Saturdays when I wasn't hosting a themed English Club party in my house, I often spent the afternoon teaching students (and some colleagues) how to measure ingredients (something they don't do in Chinese cooking), use an electric mixer (oh man, what fun they had with that...), follow a recipe, and then enjoy snacking on our finished products.
I miss the look on my students' faces when I would randomly respond to something they said in Chinese.
There is nothing quite like shocking students by eavesdropping on one of their conversations (which they had assumed you didn't understand) and then saying something about it...in Chinese. Gleeful cries of, "Laoshi ting de dong! (Teacher understands!)" would fill the room. So. much. fun.
I miss biweekly "Office Hours," when I never knew quite what to expect but I always left with a smile on my face.
Would we play hours of UNO or Headbanz? Would we talk about books? Would we chat for hours about life and school? Would we help students who were considering applying to universities in the U.S.? Would there be 25 students there, or just 1? We never knew what our "Office Hours" would hold...but it was always a good time.
I miss coming together with other "foreign teachers" on Sundays and swapping stories of our most recent teaching escapades.
There is something good for the soul about knowing that as you have daily crazy, hilarious, frustrating, inspiring, and sometimes unbelievable experiences, your friends are going through the same things. When you share your stories with them, they "get it." When I taught in China, there were 40-50 other teachers from my organization at other schools scattered throughout the city. On Sundays, we all got together to share a meal and have a church service. Inevitably, our meal time was spent swapping stories about our recent teaching escapades. I miss those Sundays...
I miss my daily visits to my Chinese merchant friends.
The owner of the local fruit stand...who always gave me secret deals on my purchase and wanted me to try samples of random pieces of fruit;
The lady who served lunch at my favorite line in the school cafeteria...and always seemed to dish out slightly bigger portions for me than she did for anyone else;
The shop owner who sold us our lunchtime Coke Zero...and thought we were insane for drinking so much soda;
The worker at the checkout line at our grocery store... who always seemed intrigued by what "the American" was buying.
I miss the relationships I had with all of these people. When I first arrived in Beijing and couldn't say more than "Ni hao" in Chinese, our "conversations" were limited to smiles and gestures. As time progressed, though, our conversation expanded. In the U.S., I bring my own lunch to school and only do grocery shopping once a week. I miss those daily interactions.
I miss how much time I had with my husband.
For three years, I had the exact same schedule as my husband. We taught the same classes at the same school and we did everything together. In fact, in our entire first year of marriage (which also happened to be my first year teaching in China), we were never apart for more than 6 hours at a time. Even that only happened once or twice. Most of the time, it was a rare day when I went more than 2-3 hours without seeing my husband. Everyone always asks if we got sick of each other or got on each other's nerves, but we didn't. We loved the borderline excessive amount of time we got to spend together. Perhaps it had something to do with dating long-distance for a year (I mean really long...as in, the distance between China and the U.S. long). Either way, it was wonderful. We knew everything that happened in each others lives. Now that we are back in the U.S. living more "normal" lives, we just simply don't see each other as often. We still carve out time to spend with each other, and the time we do have is more precious because it is limited commodity, but sometimes I miss the days of 24/7 husband/wife bonding.
I miss those random moments that tested my flexibility.
It's two days before the first day of a new school year and my husband asks the school officials if there is an update about which classes we'll be teaching. No? Ok...how about tomorrow? Maybe? Ok...
The bell just rang and there isn't a single student in my classroom. Ten minutes later, a Chinese teacher walks into my room and informs me that, due to a schedule change, I will not be teaching this period. They forgot to inform the "foreign teachers" of the change.
My entire lesson involves the use of technology. I unlock the computer desk and press the "power" button...nothing happens.
My phone rings at 7 in the morning on a day when I normally don't teach until 10. Oh, I'm teaching a class in twenty minutes? Wonderful...
Before I taught in China, I was not a flexible person. I always had a plan and always followed it. China beat that right out of me. I still like to have a plan, but my ability to be flexible and "go with the flow" has improved dramatically.
There are so many more things I miss about my life in China. I could go on for hours, but I've already written far more than I ever intended to, so I'll leave it at that. Now, I need to go grab a tissue to wipe my eyes.
Friday, March 7, 2014
Watching My Textbooks Come to Life
Nestled in the office of my apartment is a library of books on language pedagogy. Throughout their pages, I have been challenged, inspired, and intimidated by the seemingly endless list of research-based recommendations for my teaching they provide.
I have studied countless pages about the importance of authentic assessment, creating positive home/school connections, valuing students' home languages and cultures, allowing ELLs to share their "funds of knowledge," maintaining high expectations, and tapping into their multiple intelligences.
I have learned a lot from the pages in these books, but yesterday, something amazing happened. Yesterday, I saw my textbooks and their recommended strategies spring to life before my eyes.
I have recently been observing a currently-practicing ELL teacher at a local high school as part of the final class I must take before getting my TESOL endorsement. This teacher's classroom has been a flurry of activities for the last few weeks, as her ELLs have been working hard to create poster presentations about their home countries. The mission was for them to create these presentations in order to share information about their cultural backgrounds alongside native English-speaking peers at a school-wide celebration of cultures.
I attended this celebration yesterday and as I walked into the school cafeteria, I began to see the pages of my textbooks spring to life:
I saw ELLs engaged in an authentic assessment, boldly presenting information about their experiences right alongside their native English-speaking classmates.
I saw pride in their eyes as they shared their expertise.
I saw ELLs of all proficiency levels eager to talk about their cultural backgrounds with others.
I saw them taking risks with their language use.
I saw parents who stood off to the side, proudly watching their children.
I saw other parents who joined in the excitement and provided snacks, clothing, photos, and personal stories for their child's presentation.
I saw U.S.-born students delighted to learn from their classmates who were born abroad.
I saw the dissipation of labels.
I saw a room full of people excited about cultural diversity.
I saw all of the things my textbooks have told me to do...put into action.
I have studied countless pages about the importance of authentic assessment, creating positive home/school connections, valuing students' home languages and cultures, allowing ELLs to share their "funds of knowledge," maintaining high expectations, and tapping into their multiple intelligences.
I have learned a lot from the pages in these books, but yesterday, something amazing happened. Yesterday, I saw my textbooks and their recommended strategies spring to life before my eyes.
I have recently been observing a currently-practicing ELL teacher at a local high school as part of the final class I must take before getting my TESOL endorsement. This teacher's classroom has been a flurry of activities for the last few weeks, as her ELLs have been working hard to create poster presentations about their home countries. The mission was for them to create these presentations in order to share information about their cultural backgrounds alongside native English-speaking peers at a school-wide celebration of cultures.
I attended this celebration yesterday and as I walked into the school cafeteria, I began to see the pages of my textbooks spring to life:
I saw ELLs engaged in an authentic assessment, boldly presenting information about their experiences right alongside their native English-speaking classmates.
I saw pride in their eyes as they shared their expertise.
I saw ELLs of all proficiency levels eager to talk about their cultural backgrounds with others.
I saw them taking risks with their language use.
I saw parents who stood off to the side, proudly watching their children.
I saw other parents who joined in the excitement and provided snacks, clothing, photos, and personal stories for their child's presentation.
I saw U.S.-born students delighted to learn from their classmates who were born abroad.
I saw the dissipation of labels.
I saw a room full of people excited about cultural diversity.
I saw all of the things my textbooks have told me to do...put into action.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Experiencing the Power of Language
It started as a simple search for an outlet. I just needed to plug my laptop in so I could charge it.
"Excuse me," I asked the Mc Donald's employee who was diligently sweeping the floors nearby, "Do you know where I could find an outlet to plug my laptop in?"
She looked startled. Then, hesitantly, she replied, "uh....me....no English..."
"¿Hablas español?" I inquired.
At first, she seemed startled. Then, there was a light that sparked in her eyes.
I repeated my earlier question, this time in Spanish, and she immediately helped me find an outlet for my laptop.
Fifteen minutes later, we were still talking about her family. She told me about her daughter, a lawyer, who lives in the United States, and another one who is studying to become a teacher by taking online classes at a university in Mexico. I learned about her grand kids who still reside in Mexico. She asked about me...what I did and where I studied. We were two complete strangers but in that moment, we were connected by a common bond.
In that tiny slice of life today, I was reminded of the power of language. Language connects us to each other. Knowing more than one language isn't about becoming more marketable or about making us looking better on a resume, but about possessing the ability to connect with an entirely different group of people.
This morning, I am thankful for language and the wonderful opportunities I have had to study the languages of other countries. I am thankful that today it allowed me to connect with a kind woman from Mexico and I hope that maybe, just maybe, I was able to be a bright spot in her day, as she was in mine.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
The Phone Call That Made Me Reflect on My Inspirational 5th-Grade Teacher
My phone rang at 7:22 this morning. Curious, I looked at the caller ID to see that it was my sister calling. "H. is calling me at 7:22 in the morning....something must be wrong..." I immediately thought. Before I could let my brain race through the list of potentially horrible events that must have happened in order for her to be calling earlier than possibly ever before, I picked up the phone anxiously.
"Hey..." I answered, tentatively, waiting for the bomb to drop.
"Hey!"
The enthusiasm in her voice was far too chipper for something to be wrong. Could it be that she just wanted to chat at the beginning of our days, rather than on our way home from work like we often do? Maybe the pregnancy is messing with her body's clock.
"I was just listening to the radio in the car and heard that there is this new app you can get on an iphone that transfers smells!" she exclaimed.
My tension released. A few days ago, I had asked her to describe a smell to me of a substance I had never smelled before. Have you ever tried to do that? It's hard! Anyway, in light of our recent conversation, this radiomercial was just too intriguing to not call this morning.
Arriving at her destination, she had to hang up almost immediately, but although our conversation was short-lived, my thoughts about it were not.
Apparently, this "Scentee" accessory that can be plugged into a smartphone to emit smells is not as new as we had thought. (We're not incredibly tech-savvy in my family.) It is pretty incredible, though.
I started thinking about the person who developed this nifty little tool. What kind of reaction did he get when first shared his idea with his friends or teachers?
I can almost picture it:
"I'm thinking of developing a device that will let you send smells to your friends through a smartphone!"
Cue the laughter.
I bet it sounded absurd to the first people who heard the inventor's idea. But along the way, someone believed in him. Someone had to help him make his dream become a reality.
I was brought back to my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. C. I can remember clear as day when she asked us to create a plan for any invention we would like to make in the future. "Be creative. Dream big!" she told us. After giving us time to design our inventions, she then conferenced with each of us about what we had created.
My dream invention was a car that could drive itself. I will never forget that response I got from Mrs. C in our conference.
She didn't laugh or say, "Now, wouldn't that be great?" No, she encouraged me to do it!
My little 5th-grade self was shocked. I'll admit, I thought she was a little crazy. "Me, build a car that can drive itself? Riiiiggght." But Mrs. C persisted. She encouraged my dream, explaining that if I wanted to build this invention, I could do it!
She spoke with certainty. She spoke with belief. She spoke with inspiration.
I may have left my self-driving car dream back in that 5th-grade classroom (Google found it and made it a reality, though!). However, I will never forget the confidence that Mrs. C showed in me that afternoon. I walked out of that classroom a little taller that day. Someone truly believed in me and was confident that I could do great things.
Thank you, Mrs. C., wherever you are. I no longer dream of making cars that can drive themselves, but I do dream of inspiring students the way you inspired me.
"Hey..." I answered, tentatively, waiting for the bomb to drop.
"Hey!"
The enthusiasm in her voice was far too chipper for something to be wrong. Could it be that she just wanted to chat at the beginning of our days, rather than on our way home from work like we often do? Maybe the pregnancy is messing with her body's clock.
"I was just listening to the radio in the car and heard that there is this new app you can get on an iphone that transfers smells!" she exclaimed.
My tension released. A few days ago, I had asked her to describe a smell to me of a substance I had never smelled before. Have you ever tried to do that? It's hard! Anyway, in light of our recent conversation, this radiomercial was just too intriguing to not call this morning.
Arriving at her destination, she had to hang up almost immediately, but although our conversation was short-lived, my thoughts about it were not.
Apparently, this "Scentee" accessory that can be plugged into a smartphone to emit smells is not as new as we had thought. (We're not incredibly tech-savvy in my family.) It is pretty incredible, though.
I started thinking about the person who developed this nifty little tool. What kind of reaction did he get when first shared his idea with his friends or teachers?
I can almost picture it:
"I'm thinking of developing a device that will let you send smells to your friends through a smartphone!"
Cue the laughter.
I bet it sounded absurd to the first people who heard the inventor's idea. But along the way, someone believed in him. Someone had to help him make his dream become a reality.
I was brought back to my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. C. I can remember clear as day when she asked us to create a plan for any invention we would like to make in the future. "Be creative. Dream big!" she told us. After giving us time to design our inventions, she then conferenced with each of us about what we had created.
My dream invention was a car that could drive itself. I will never forget that response I got from Mrs. C in our conference.
She didn't laugh or say, "Now, wouldn't that be great?" No, she encouraged me to do it!
My little 5th-grade self was shocked. I'll admit, I thought she was a little crazy. "Me, build a car that can drive itself? Riiiiggght." But Mrs. C persisted. She encouraged my dream, explaining that if I wanted to build this invention, I could do it!
She spoke with certainty. She spoke with belief. She spoke with inspiration.
I may have left my self-driving car dream back in that 5th-grade classroom (Google found it and made it a reality, though!). However, I will never forget the confidence that Mrs. C showed in me that afternoon. I walked out of that classroom a little taller that day. Someone truly believed in me and was confident that I could do great things.
Thank you, Mrs. C., wherever you are. I no longer dream of making cars that can drive themselves, but I do dream of inspiring students the way you inspired me.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
A New Year's Resolution Redo
I'd like to request a mulligan on my New Year's resolutions. I need a second chance to start over, bring my theoretical ball back to the beginning of the course and take another crack at swinging successfully. Is that allowed?
You see, sixty three days ago, I decided perform an act that is very uncharacteristic of me. I created a list of New Year's resolutions. I can't remember the last time I made a single New Year's resolution. That's not to say that I don't constantly seek to improve in various areas of my life, but I have just always avoided the formality of calling it a "New Year's resolution." I'm not sure what came over me this year, but I caught an intensified version of the bug everyone else seems to catch at that time of year and I sat down to write some goals for 2014.
When I finished, I had composed a document of 35 New Year's resolutions. That's right...thirty five...organized into five different sub-categories. A bit excessive, right? When I do something, I apparently go all out.
The document I created that day mocks me from my computer's desktop, causing me to cringe each time I acknowledge how many of those 35 resolutions I've already given up on. My motivation to keep such specific goals waned as soon as I experienced my first failure(s).
However, I refuse to let my failure over the course of the last 63 days dictate how I will live the next 302. I recently read a quote by Oswald Chambers that convicted me: "Never let the sense of failure corrupt your new action."
So, it is with Oswald Chambers' words running through my mind that I am requesting my New Year's resolutions mulligan.
This semester, I have been observing a currently-practicing ESL teacher as part of my graduate coursework. I seem to learn new things from her each day I am in her class, but one thing I learned of in the beginning of the year was a new (or at least new to me) "trend" of making a one-word New Year's resolution. Rather than creating a laundry list of goals that are easily forgotten and forsaken, the idea is to embrace one single word that describes how you want to live and the kind of person you want to be.
Inspired by this teacher and neat concept, I have been pondering this idea for the last month or so and have decided that it is one I want to embrace. I have "tried on" various words, but one that keeps coming back to me is:
persist
Dictionary.com tells me that to "persist" is to "continue steadfastly or firmly in some state of purpose, course of action, or the like, especially in spite of opposition, remonstrance, etc."
I want 2014 to be a year characterized by my continual, steadfast pursuit of becoming the Christian, wife, daughter, friend, teacher, learner, reader, writer, runner, cyclist, chef...and all-around person I want to ultimately be.
Sometimes, I will fail. But failing to perfectly fulfill a New Year's resolution is not going to be enough to keep me from persisting on toward my goals.
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