Muster every ounce of confidence I have

I guess I haven't written a real update in a wee bit.

I started a brand new semester yesterday with all new kids. They are primarily freshman and they are absolutely adorable :) I have a great feeling about this semester. A lot of that can be attributed to the fact that I am much more dedicated to doing a good job. It's really important to me to do my best and be a good teacher.

There's a poem by Tupac that goes as follows:

Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong it learned to walk without having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else ever cared.

I explained to my kids that the fact is living here means that educationally speaking they are roses in the concrete. There are schools where the kids are planted in a nice garden, carefully tended to with fertilizer and watered, perhaps in a greenhouse, but here they are in concrete. For them to walk without feet and to grow and live it's all about their own efforts.

My kids are seven times less likely to go to college than a kid from a suburbs. By the third grade my kids were on average 3 grade levels behind their wealthier peers in higher-income areas. A valedictorian from recent years went to a mediocre NC college and was put in a remedial reading class. My roommates teaching elementary school have children whose parents don't read well enough to understand even first grade level assignments.

I have utmost respect for the custodians and lunchroom workers in my school, but who wakes up in the morning and says, "Man I can't wait to grow up and clean up after or feed teenagers for minimum wage and even less respect." The fact is that in the US you are not valued if you aren't educated. There's an absolutely minimal chance that you might make it on your looks or some talent (singing, sports, etc) but that's nearly impossible.

We talked about such things and more. I kept it real, relating these types of issues to my own life- growing up poor, on welfare, white trash, etc, and making the choice to succeed in school. So that was Monday.

On the boo side, I had a really bad migraine yesterday and simply couldn't go to school. It is SO frustrating because it was only day two but I tried to get up and I was sensitive to light, and nearly threw up just walking up the stairs to go call for a sub. So frustrating.

Hoepfully tomorrow goes really well though. We shall see. I hope everyone is doing well, and please feel free to comment and not just be lurkers.

Motor City, here we come!

We're going to the Superbowl.

I just pinched myself. I am not dreaming.

THE SEATTLE SEAHAWKS ARE GOING TO THE SUPERBOWL!!

I am elated. Nay- Delirious!!

To Seattle, all the fans, the much beloved #12 (big props if you get what that means), congrats. It's been a long time coming, baby.

See ya in Detroit.

Let's be SUPER!!!

GO SEAHAWKS!!

12th man = GREATEST FANS EVER

Nothing but love for Seattle.

I was young but I wasn't naive

Friends are amazing, are they not?

You can not see someone face to face for two entire years, and then you see one another and suddenly you are just as close as ever. It's curious how that works. In my relationship with Sharon, it's a God thing. Through everthing we've seen, all the far-reaching places we have been, the people who have had various levels of impact on our lives... all of it, through every piece, we are in a place where we are familiar with one another for the simple fact that the bond of Christ unites us.

We've both changed. A lot. We've grown, stretched, and parts of us have been shed like baby fat or totally abandoned like baby teeth. It's been good to see some of the awkwardness, the slight "Will she disagree with this?" parts of our lives and then to see that the other person not only accepts it but totally agrees and is on the same page. And it's good to be reminded of the healthy outlook of a life focused on Christ. I know, and have known in my heart for awhile, that I have strayed from that.

In many ways, though, this is a good thing. Some might read that last sentence in the paragraph above and say, "So you must have been wrong to leave Spokane and your church home." I disagree. It's been the best thing for me to go to a place where no one is there to tell me to stay on the right track. No one makes sure I am seeking God's face. And the healthy part of that is that I have to make that choice on my own. The Lord will never force me to do so, and I have to determine with my heart- and life- to make Him number one. And to be honest... at home- Spokane, Crossover, etc.- that choice had some level of doing what I knew others expected wrapped up in it. My motives weren't entirely wrong, but I am grateful for the reminder that though I fall six times, the Father picks me up seven. Maybe it's fall seven and He picks me up eight. But you get it.

It would be easier to be less honest. To pretend I am fine and that I am unconcerned with my current spiritual health. But that's not being real, and there is one thing I am not- fake. Even when I am messing up royally it's all out there. But one strength in my character is that I have never been afraid to say that this is me, as I am.

That all said... it's late. I am tired. Good night, world.

To get through to you

Today is the day Sharon gets here. Yay! It will be so nice to see someone from home. Especially Shar since she's been in Siberia- yup, you read that right, and I was serious- for two years.

I am excited for the chance to catch up with her, and just to be around someone that knows me. I know, that sounds incredibly selfish, but it's not to say that I don't love my roommates. I do. They're wonderful. But I also miss the comfort of being around people who know me, who know the questions to ask that pierce to the depths of who and where I am.

I can't quit listening to this song: For You I Will (Confidence) by Teddy Geiger.

Well... I am sitting here in my robe post-shower so I suppose I should get dressed. Have a lovely day... and next time I update it will be after seeing Sharon for the first time in two years!

Do you think time would pass us by?

I love my third period class. Well, now they are technically my former third period class. Their class name was "The Incredibles", and they were. Sometimes they were Incredibly frustrating- and yeah, I capitalized that "I" on purpose. Other times they were Incredibly funny.

On some days I envisioned writing the script for Dangerous Minds 2: Rural North Carolina Edition on my drive home because of third period. Other days I wished there was a big cliff that I could drive my car off of, again primarily thanks to third period.

We made memories- when the boy I dubbed Reverend Wright preached a very southern and Black rendition of how Bill Clinton was the greatest president ever, the "Black people's" president. Big John passing gas every day at the back of the class. Shanika's friends joking that she walked with Jesus- literally, because she's so old (she's 19 but still has Sophomore standing because she really struggles with reading comprehension), and her laughing just as much as they did. Carter saying, "Shut yo' mouf" in his funny lisp 50 times in 90 minutes every day. Josh tripping and falling over everything just to get a laugh. Big John and Josh standing up front, on either side of me, self-proclaimed bodyguards of Ms T*K.

Good times.

My favorite memory, however, was made today: they finished their E*OC (once again, the state distributed end-of-cou*rse exam) with a half hour left so we just ate cake (Shanika makes a mad red velvet cake, believe you me) and took pictures. I played a little Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell cuz, baby, there ain't no mountain high enough. Then the requested song was- and remember that this class had three white kids and 21 African-Americans- A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton.

That's right- the whitest white girl song ever. I almost died laughing. My favorite part was everyone singing and dancing, raising their hands in the air, to it as the bell rang and they went out the door- everyone in the halls thought we be crazy.

Update: It's fourth period, the EO*C's are done for me (perhaps forever, since my class next semester doesn't have one and I don't plan to live in NC for more than a few years), and wouldn't ya know it- my kids (still majority black) are rocking out to more Vanessa Carlton and even a litte John Mayer. With a little Kanye West, and a splash of Ray Charles, thrown in there too.

How can I not love this life?

Accursed Curse

Eve is not on my good list today.

Remember that whole incident with the crafty serpent in the garden? And then the subsequent child-bearing consequences including, but not limited to, menstruation?

Thanks to her weak moment of character I get to suffer.

I have been in a horrible mood since Sunday. You know the bad moods where you are frustrated but deep down you don't want to be that way and you make the conscious effort to be more kind and obliging and all things sweet? Well I don't feel that way.

Rather, I have that jolly good attitude where you hate everyone and everything and you have zero desire to get over it. Pious Christians always say that hormones are no excuse and that women need to be just as servant hearted when PMS'ing. You know what? They can bite me.

As Becky so eloquently pointed out, there's a reason why women were sent outside the camp for a week every month in the Old Testament- the Bible says they were unclean, but we all know the real reason is that no one wanted to deal with grouchy, snappy, hormonal women.

Ladies, you know what I am talking about- commercials make you cry. Not being able to tear your frozen turkey burgers apart to go grill one feels like the end of the world. When whoever you live with asks how your day was you are convinced they are part of the conspiracy to ruin your life. Every step on a set of stairs causes sharp bursts of pain to explode in your tender and sore breasts.

The worst part? This is PRE-menstrual syndrome. At this point you haven't even started cramping and bleeding yet. That's next week.

If I run into Eve in Heaven one day it's a good thing that I will have discarded this sinful human flesh I now inhabit. Otherwise I'd probably allow her face to make stinging acquaintance with my right hand.

Yeah, that's right- I'd whip up on Eve. I said it. Bite me.

I told you I had PMS.

Satan's Spawn

Beloved blog reader, meet my friend, the spawn of Satan.

Spawnie, meet blog reader.

Who is this detestable reject of heaven, you ask?

Just your average, ordinary, non-spectacular, run of the mill copy machine.

In the beginning God created all things. At some point Lucifer took his sinful pride, and one-third of all the angels, to hell. At this time he began plotting how he would curse the world. He started with blocks used in the late ninth-century in the far east (China), and kept inspiring the technology until the mid-fifteenth century when Gutenberg started developing European equivalents for what was already in use in other areas (most notably Korea, India, and the Arab world).

When the first printing press was built in Venice in 1469 it was auspiciously marketed as a tool for mass production of Bibles. Oh how the world was fooled. The bright and morning star, long since fallen, could cackle at the supposed "wisdom" of man.

Today we see the full-flung effects of Satan's most effective weapon in turning otherwise decent and kind homo sapiens into wretched blackmarks of humanity. The number one target? Teachers. You ask why, but it's obvious that educators are light-years ahead of the masses in piety and all things good and even holy. Pshaw.

Daily the well-intended inspirational leaders of this world we inhabit are led astray by the Devil's contemptible quasi-antichrist. A good and pure teacher painstakingly creates lessons and activities for his/her beloved students. This same instructor arrives at the workplace early, nearly before the first yawnings of the sunrise, ready to simply produce 80 or so of their carefully wrought plans. Smiling, joyful, and all-together far too unassuming the man/woman approaches the beast.

The process is carefully followed: Carefully load the paper. Meticulously align the edges of the master to the guides on the plate so as to avoid cutting off any edges. With much tenderness enter the number of copies needed. Only after an extremely heartfelt prayer infused with both worship and petition, gently press the print button.

It is at this point that the teacher experiences Job's wife reincarnate. All copiers are of her same essence, in that they are best known for exhorting the afflicted teacher to curse God and die in the midst of adversity. Copy machines should be known as jamming machines, error machines, kick-me-and-just-maybe-you'll-get-two-copies machines, death by ink on the fingers machines. Copying is the antithesis of all actual copy machine functions.

To say "copy" machines are the bane of my existence is an understatement.

Don't even get me started on printers.

I still haven't found what I'm looking for

So normally I am completely content with being single. I haven't met that person who makes me suddenly realize that, though I was ok before them, I can't live without them. I joke that I will marry Tom Brady, but I recognize that the likelihood of that is, oh... nil. Though, let's be honest- Tom and Tami Brady? How freaking cute is that?

All that said... I was reading the blog of a friend from high school and he had posted some pictures of friends who recently had a baby. They were from the hospital, with the mom still in her hospital gown and in her room. Seeing them, people so young- my age, perhaps younger- twisted something in me. That yearning, the hidden layer normally kept concealed, for my own beaming husband gazing at his son. Me calling friends and family to announce our addition to the world. The dull, distant hunger that normally seems so satiated but all at once roars in a split-second's worth of fury.

This is rare for me. Think what you may, but I am not your normal 24 year old. Not only am I a virgin in the sexual sense, but I also have never had a real relationship (6th grade, where you hold hands during the science movie but never talk to one another doesn't really count, in my opinion). It's a choice I made, recognizing my own propensity to give all of myself. I love fiercely and wholeheartedly. If I were to date, fall in love, and then break up with a guy it would ravage my heart. I also am steadfast and determined to give my future husband not only my actual virginity, but to be as pure as possible. I want him to know that he's the only one who's ever held me that way, stroked my hair, kissed my lips, rested his hand on my leg when driving in the car, etc.

Some think that this is crazy. Others assume it can't be done. Countless people attack me, be it from malice or simple misunderstanding, simply because they don't think it can be done- to only have a relationship with the person you marry. They worry that I'll feel robbed, or like I missed out. I won't. This is what's right for me. I have no doubt.

Still... every now and again a certain couple, or pictures of people clearly in love with one another and their child, reminds me that I am just that much closer to my own love story. The man of my dreams. The man better than what I can dream up because my God will fit us together.

Wherever you are, my love, I'm still waiting. Our time will come.

Tell me what this life is all about

It seems that my school is plagued by tragedy.

Last night three kids from our school were in a car going 125 miles per hour* in a 40 mph zone. They got into a wreck (can you call it an accident when they were clearly not driving wisely?) and two were killed. A third was in the car- I don't know her status at this time. So my kids came back to school today to face the tragedy of last night.

*This is based on reports from students, but enough people are saying the exact same thing that it very well may be true. Many people on the volunteer fire fighting squad, which often responds to these emergencies, are in the high school so they may know these details.

In a selfish way, I praise God that none of the students are in my classes, and I didn't know them. Yet seeing my kids crying this morning was enough to nearly cause me to break down. I was able to hold it together, but my heart is aching for them. I am reminded how much I love these kids, and how much they need a positive light in their life.

If you are one who prays, please pray for opportunities to witness- not only for me, but also for students who are serious about the Lord. Please ask the Lord to help the students to see the frailty of life and the need to take what they say they believe and put it into action, for what they have heard their whole life to take root and become real in their hearts.

I myself am reminded how precious life is. Granted, when you drive so fast you are putting yourself in danger, but at the same time we will never know when our life will end. The number one fear in this world is of death. Is it because no one entirely knows what to expect? I have no doubt that when I die I will be with Christ, and yet I still don't know what to expect. I can't imagine the ache and void in those who don't know the God who made them.

It's times like this that you need to step back from your life- your education, your job, your family, friends, philosophies, the mundane details- and ask yourself one question:

Am I ready to die?

In that, are you living your life such that you could die tomorrow and from where you stand today you wouldn't regret a thing? Have you worked to your fullest potential? Apologized to and sought forgiveness from those you've hurt? Forgiven those who have hurt you? Embraced yourself for being who you are? Have you done the things you say you want to do? Expressed the love you have in your heart for those you care about?

We always assume that we will have tomorrow. For two boys, and for their friends and family and all who knew them, there is no tomorrow. Forever they will be 16. The first day of 2006 was their last.

Live with no regrets.